THE 'BLUE JACKET.'
APRIL FOOLS' DAY--A SHIP IN SIGHT--THE 'PYRMONT'--THE RESCUED 'BLUE
JACKET' PASSENGERS--STORY OF THE BURNT SHIP--SUFFERING OF THE LADY
PASSENGERS IN AN OPEN BOAT--THEIR RESCUE--DISTRESSING SCENE ON BOARD
THE 'PYRMONT.'
_1st. April_.--I was roused early this morning by the cry outside of
"Get up! get up! There is a ship on fire ahead!" I got up instantly,
dressed, and hastened on deck, like many more. But there was no ship
on fire; and then we laughed, and remembered that it was All Fools'
Day.
In the course of the forenoon we descried a sail, and shortly after we
observed that she was bearing down upon us. The cry of "Letters for
home!" was raised, and we hastened below to scribble a few last words,
close our letters, and bring them up for the letter-bag.
By this time the strange ship had drawn considerably nearer, and we
saw that she was a barque, heavily laden. She proved to be the
'Pyrmont,' a German vessel belonging to Hamburg, but now bound for
Yarmouth from Iquique, with a cargo of saltpetre on board. When she
came near enough to speak to us, our captain asked, "What do you
want?" The answer was, "'Blue Jacket' burnt at sea; her passengers on
board. Have you a doctor?" Here was a sensation! Our April Fools'
alarm was true after all. A vessel _had_ been on fire, and here were
the poor passengers asking for help. We knew nothing of the 'Blue
Jacket,' but soon we were to know all.
A boat was at once lowered from the davits, and went off with the
doctor and the first mate. It was a hazy, sultry, tropical day, with a
very slight breeze stirring, and very little sea. Our main-yard was
backed to prevent our further progress, and both ships lay-to within a
short distance of each other. We watched our boat until we saw the
doctor and officer mount the 'Pyrmont,' and then waited for further
intelligence.
Shortly after we saw our boat leaving the ship's side, and as it
approached we observed that it contained some strangers, as well as
our doctor, who had returned for medicines, lint, and other
appliances. When the strangers reached the deck we found that one of
them was the first officer of the unfortunate 'Blue Jacket,' and the
other one of the burnt-out passengers. The latter, poor fellow, looked
a piteous sight. He had nothing on but a shirt and pair of trowsers;
his hair was matted, his face haggard, his eyes sunken. He was without
shoes, and his feet were so sore that he could scarcely walk without
support.
And yet it turned out that this poor suffering fellow was one of the
best-conditioned of those who had been saved from the burnt ship. He
told us how that the whole of the fellow-passengers whom he had just
left on board the 'Pyrmont' wanted clothes, shirts, and shoes, and
were in a wretched state, having been tossed about at sea in an open
boat for about nine days, during which they had suffered the
extremities of cold, thirst, and hunger.
We were horrified by the appearance, and still more by the recital, of
the poor fellow. Every moment he astonished us by new details of
horror. But it was of no use listening to more. We felt we must do
something. All the passengers at once bestirred themselves, and went
into their cabins to seek out any clothing they could spare for the
relief of the sufferers. I found I could give trowsers, shirts, a pair
of drawers, a blanket, and several pocket-handkerchiefs; and as the
other passengers did likewise, a very fair bundle was soon made up and
sent on board the 'Pyrmont.'
Of course we were all eager to know something of the details of the
calamity which had befallen the 'Blue Jacket.' It was some time before
we learnt them all; but as two of the passengers--who had been
gold-diggers in New Zealand--were so good as to write out a statement
for the doctor, the original of which now lies before me, I will
endeavour, in as few words as I can, to give you some idea of the
burning of the ship and the horrible sufferings of the passengers.
The 'Blue Jacket' sailed from Port Lyttleton, New Zealand, for London
on the 13th February, 1869, laden with wool, cotton, flax, and 15,000
ounces of gold. There were seven first-cabin passengers and seventeen
second-cabin. The ship had a fine run to Cape Horn and past the
Falkland Islands. All went well until the 9th March, when in latitude
50 deg. 26' south, one of the seamen, about midday, observed smoke issuing
from the fore-hatchhouse. The cargo was on fire! All haste was made to
extinguish it. The fire-engines were set to work, passengers as well
as crew working with a will, and at one time it seemed as if the fire
would be got under. The hatch was opened and the second mate attempted
to go down, with the object of getting up and throwing overboard the
burning bales, but he was drawn back insensible. The hatch was again
closed, and holes were cut in the deck to pass the water down; but the
seat of the fire could not be reached. The cutter was lowered,
together with the two lifeboats, for use in case of need. About 7.30
P.M. the fire burst through the decks, and in about half an hour the
whole forecastle was enveloped in flames, which ran up the rigging,
licking up the foresail and fore-top. The mainmast being of iron, the
flames rushed through the tube as through a chimney, until it became
of a white heat. The lady-passengers in the after part of the ship
must have been kept in a state of total ignorance of the ship's
danger, otherwise it is impossible to account for their having to rush
on board the boats, at the last moment, with only the dresses they
wore. Only a few minutes before they left the ship, one of the ladies
was playing the 'Guards' Waltz on the cabin piano!
There was no hope of safety but in the boats, which were hurriedly got
into. On deck, everything was in a state of confusion. Most of the
passengers got into the cutter, but without a seaman to take charge
of it. When the water-cask was lowered, it was sent bung downwards,
and nearly half the water was lost. By this time the burning ship was
a grand but fearful sight, and the roar of the flames was frightful to
hear. At length the cutter and the two lifeboats got away, and as they
floated astern the people in them saw the masts disappear one by one
and the hull of the ship a roaring mass of fire.
In the early grey of the morning the three boats mustered, and two of
the passengers, who were on one of the lifeboats, were taken on board
the cutter. It now contained 37 persons, including the captain, first
officer, doctor, steward, purser, several able-bodied seamen, and all
the passengers; while the two lifeboats had 31 of the crew. The boats
drifted about all day, there being no wind, and the burning ship was
still in sight. On the third day the lifeboats were not to be seen;
each had a box of gold on board, by way of ballast.
A light breeze having sprung up, sail was made on the cutter, the
captain intending to run for the Falkland Islands. The sufferings of
the passengers increased from day to day; they soon ran short of
water, until the day's allowance was reduced to about two
tablespoonfuls for each person. It was pitiful to hear the little
children calling for more, but it could not be given them: men, women,
and children had to share alike. Provisions failed. The biscuit had
been spoiled by the salt water; all that remained in the way of food,
was preserved meat, which was soon exhausted, after which the only
allowance, besides the two tablespoonfuls of water, was a
tablespoonful of preserved soup every twenty-four hours. Meanwhile the
wind freshened, the sea rose, and the waves came dashing over the
passengers, completely drenching them. The poor ladies, thinly clad,
looked the pictures of misery.
Thus seven days passed--days of slow agony, such as words cannot
describe--until at last the joyous words, "A sail! a sail," roused the
sufferers to new life. A man was sent to the masthead with a red
blanket to hoist by way of signal of distress. The ship saw the signal
and bore down upon the cutter. She proved to be the 'Pyrmont,' the
ship lying within sight of us, and between which and the 'Yorkshire'
our boat kept plying for the greater part of the day.
Strange to say, the rescued people suffered more after they had got on
board the 'Pyrmont' than they had done during their period of
starvation and exposure. Few of them could stand or walk when taken on
board, all being reduced to the last stage of weakness. Scarcely had
they reached the 'Pyrmont' ere the third steward died; next day the
ship's purser died insane; and two days after, one of the second-cabin
passengers died. The others, who recovered, broke out in sores and
boils, more particularly on their hands and feet; and when the
'Yorkshire' met them, many of the passengers as well as the crew of
the burnt 'Blue Jacket' were in a most pitiable plight.
I put off with the third boat which left our ship's side for the
'Pyrmont.' We were lying nearly becalmed all this time, so that
passing between the ships by boat was comparatively easy. We took with
us as much fresh water as we could spare, together with provisions and
other stores. I carried with me a few spare books for the use of the
'Blue Jacket' passengers.
On reaching the deck of the 'Pyrmont,' the scene which presented
itself was such as I think I shall never forget. The three rescued
ladies were on the poop; and ladies you could see they were, in spite
of their scanty and dishevelled garments. The dress of one of them
consisted of a common striped man's shirt, a waterproof cloak made
into a skirt, and a pair of coarse canvas slippers, while on her
finger glittered a magnificent diamond ring. The other ladies were no
better dressed, and none of them had any covering for the head. Their
faces bore distinct traces of the sufferings they had undergone. Their
eyes were sunken, their cheeks pale, and every now and then a sort of
spasmodic twitch seemed to pass over their features. One of them could
just stand, but could not walk; the others were comparatively
helpless. A gentleman was lying close by the ladies, still suffering
grievously in his hands and feet from the effects of his long exposure
in the open boat, while one side of his body was completely paralysed.
One poor little boy could not move, and the doctor said he must lose
one or two of his toes through mortification.
One of the ladies was the wife of the passenger gentleman who had
first come on board of our ship. She was a young lady, newly married,
who had just set out on her wedding trip. What a terrible beginning of
married life! I found she had suffered more than the others through
her devotion to her husband. He was, at one time, constantly employed
in baling the boat, and would often have given way but for her. She
insisted on his taking half her allowance of water, so that he had
three tablespoonfuls daily instead of two; whereas she had only one!
While in the boat the women and children were forced to sit huddled up
at one end of it, covered with a blanket, the seas constantly breaking
over them and soaking through everything. They had to sit upright, and
in very cramped postures, for fear of capsizing the boat; and the
little sleep they got could only be snatched sitting. Yet they bore
their privations with great courage and patience, and while the men
were complaining and swearing, the women and children never uttered a
complaint.
I had a long talk with the ladies, whom I found very resigned and most
grateful for their deliverance. I presented my books, which were
thankfully received, and the newly-married lady, forgetful of her
miseries, talked pleasantly and intelligently about current topics,
and home news. It did seem strange for me to be sitting on the deck of
the 'Pyrmont,' in the middle of the Atlantic, talking with these
shipwrecked ladies about the last new novel!
At last we took our leave, laden with thanks, and returned on board
our ship. It was now growing dusk. We had done all that we could for
the help of the poor sufferers on board the 'Pyrmont,' and, a light
breeze springing up, all sail was set, and we resumed our voyage
south.
Two of the gold-diggers, who had been second-class passengers by the
'Blue Jacket,' came on board our ship with the object of returning
with us to Melbourne, and it is from their recital that I have
collated the above account of the disaster.