Narratives of Shipwrecks of the Royal Navy; between 1793 and 1849 by William O. S. Gilly

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The first cry from the rock was--'water! water!' but water they had
none. They had found it impossible to procure anything but earthen
vessels, and these could not be carried through the surf. The
coxswain, however, informed them that next morning a large vessel
would come to their relief; and in this hope of a speedy deliverance
they were encouraged to further endurance. The morning broke at last,
but no boat appeared; then came a reaction, and the heart-sickness of
hope deferred. The scenes that occurred on that day were too dreadful
to relate--it was the fourth on which they had not tasted food.

......Savagely
They glared upon each other;
.............
.... and you might have seen
The longings of the cannibal arise
(Although they spoke not) in their wolfish eyes.--BYRON.

They must now either taste human flesh or perish--there was no
alternative.

A young man who had died the previous night was selected to be food
for the rest.[9] Most of them had not power to masticate or to
swallow--

For every tongue, through utter drought,
Was withered at the root.
COLERIDGE (_Ancient Mariner_).

Before evening death had made fearful ravages, and had numbered
amongst its victims Captain Palmer and the first lieutenant.

Another night came on; long and anxiously had they gazed upon the
horizon--in vain had they strained their blood-shot eyes to see some
vessel coming to their relief. The shades of night closed round them,
and sadly they awaited the dawn of another day, resolving that if they
lived to see it they would construct a raft and commit themselves to
the waves, rather than remain to die of hunger and thirst.
Accordingly, at daylight they began to put their plan into execution
by fastening some of the larger spars together, and in a few hours the
raft was completed. The eventful moment for launching it arrived, when
with bitter grief and disappointment they beheld the work of their
hands, which it had cost them so much labour to achieve, dashed to
pieces in a few seconds and scattered adrift upon the waves. Some of
the men, rendered desperate by seeing their last chance of escape thus
snatched from them, rushed into the sea, grasping at such parts of the
wreck as came within their reach; but they were all swept away by the
current, and their unhappy comrades saw them no more.

In the afternoon, the coxswain arrived in the whale-boat, but he came
without bringing them any food or means of escape--for all his
entreaties had been unavailing to persuade the Greek fishermen to put
to sea whilst the gale continued. They had, however, promised to come
to the relief of the sufferers the next day if the weather should be
more favourable.

This was the fifth day that these wretched men had passed without food
of any kind except the disgusting morsel they had attempted to
swallow. Many who were completely exhausted, stretched their weary
limbs on the hard rocks and expired, and before night the greater
part of the survivors were in a state of complete insensibility.

On the sixth morning they were scarcely able to raise themselves from
the rock to look once more upon the sea, when one less feeble than the
rest exclaimed, 'the boats are coming.' And most welcome was the sight
of four fishing vessels, and the whale-boat steering towards them.
Such joy was theirs as can only be understood by those who have
experienced a similar deliverance from the jaws of death. The boats
reached the rocks; they contained a supply of water and food, which
were distributed in moderation among the perishing seamen, who, when
they were a little renovated, were taken on board the boats, and in a
few hours landed on Cerigotto.

The poor but hospitable inhabitants of the island received the
strangers most kindly, and tended them with the utmost care. Out of
one hundred and twenty-two, sixty-four only survived. And when we
think of the complicated miseries they had so long endured, we may
wonder that so many were spared.

After remaining eleven days at Cerigotto, the remnant of the crew of
the Nautilus went to Cerigo, and from thence they sailed to Malta.

Lieutenant Nesbitt and the survivors were tried by a court-martial at
Cadiz for the loss of the Nautilus.

The court gave it as their opinion, 'That the loss of that sloop was
occasioned by the captain's zeal to forward the public dispatches,
which induced him to run in a dark, tempestuous night for the passage
between the Island of Cerigotto and Candia; but that the sloop passed
between Cerigotto and Pauri, and was lost on a rock, on the south-west
part of that passage, which rock does not appear to be laid down in
Heather's Chart, by which the said sloop was navigated.

'That no blame attaches to the conduct of Lieutenant Nesbitt, or such
of the surviving crew of the Nautilus, but that it appears that
Lieutenant Nesbitt and the officers and crew did use every exertion
that circumstances could admit.'

Lieutenant Nesbitt died in 1824.

FOOTNOTES:

[9] 'I well remember,' says a naval surgeon, 'the above melancholy
event, and particularly from one of the survivors being drafted on
board the ship to which I belonged, (the Thunderer, then in the
Dardanelles.) The poor fellow became my patient; he complained of no
pain but that which arose from the horrible recollection of his having
tasted human flesh to preserve his life. This preyed so deeply on his
mind, that it rendered him incapable of performing any duty, and when
I saw him sinking under the heavy load, I felt it to be my duty to
order him to the hospital, that he might be invalided and sent home.'

THE FLORA.

Early in January, 1807, H.M. ship Flora, of 36 guns, under the command
of Captain Otway Bland, had been cruizing off the Texel, for the
purpose of reconnoitring the ships of the enemy. This object having
been effected, they shaped a course towards Harlingen, the captain
ordering the pilots not to run the slightest risk, but to give the
sands of the island sufficient berth, so as not to endanger the Flora;
and so often did he reiterate these instructions, that the pilots
appeared hurt that their nautical skill and knowledge of the track
should be doubted. However, to the astonishment of all on board, and
to the dismay of the pilots, the ship took the ground, and struck on
the Shelling Reef, about noon on the 18th of January. It was only just
past high water when she struck, and there was therefore no chance of
getting her off till the next tide. In the meantime all weight was
removed from aloft, and the topmasts were lowered over the side, to
shore her up. Towards evening the wind increased to a gale, and a
heavy swell came on, which prevented their getting out a bower anchor,
although a raft was made for the purpose; but the night became so
dark, and the sea so rough, they were obliged to relinquish the
attempt, and resolved to wait with patience for high water, lightening
the vessel as much as possible, by starting the water, and heaving
most of the shot and other heavy articles overboard. All hands took
their turn at the pumps, and worked vigorously; yet the water gained
rapidly upon the vessel: this was partly attributable to her having
struck amidships, and having a hole through her bottom, instead of her
side, to supply the cistern. At about nine o'clock P.M., she began to
heave, but as the tide made, the wind freshened, the sea rose, and she
brought home the stream anchor, backed by the kedge, and forged on the
sand. At half-past nine o'clock, a last effort was made to get her
off, by letting go a bower anchor with a spring abaft, which brought
her head round. They then made all sail and forced her over the reef.
The ship once more floated in deep water: but this object was not
attained without a most serious loss. The rudder had been carried
away, and with it the launch and the jolly-boat, so that only one
anchor and the worst boat were left for service. After those moments
of breathless anxiety, and after giving utterance to a short but
fervent expression of thankfulness that they had got clear of the
reef, the men, almost worn out as they were, by so many hours of
continued labour, again betook themselves to the pumps, in hopes of
keeping the water under until they could reach an English port. But in
spite of every exertion, in spite of continued bailing and pumping,
and though a thrumbed sail was under the ship's bottom, the water
gained to eight feet. As the danger increased, so did the vigour of
the men. All was order, energy, and steady obedience throughout. The
captain perceiving that it would be impossible to keep the vessel much
longer afloat, gave orders to wear ship, and run her on the enemy's
shore; nor could even this be done without much difficulty and danger,
as it was necessary to let go their last anchor. Most of the guns were
now thrown overboard, and everything done to lighten the ship; and
about half-past six A.M., on the 19th, her head was brought round,
and, steered by the sails and a cable veered astern, towards the
islands. The weather was becoming more gloomy and threatening, and
before ten o'clock A.M. the vessel was so terribly shaken, that it
became absolutely necessary to cut away the main and mizen masts,
leaving the foremast standing, with sail set, to force the ship on as
much as possible, and also to prevent her drifting off with the ebb,
or with a change of wind. Although the dangerous situation of the
Flora was clearly perceived by the people on shore, no boat put out to
her assistance, the authorities having forbidden them to render such
aid on pain of death.

Captain Bland, during his cruize on these seas, had allowed the
fishing-boats of the enemy to range unmolested, and had given strict
orders that not a fish should be taken from them without payment; but
even these boats now came near the labouring ship and passed on,
leaving her and her crew to perish. About four o'clock in the
afternoon when she seemed to be sinking, she took the ground and there
remained, surrounded by breakers, the crew in vain firing guns, and
making other signals of distress, which were totally disregarded. All
hands that could be spared from the pumps had been employed in making
rafts, and these were now launched into the surf, and about one
hundred and thirty of the crew got upon them, and were fortunate
enough to gain the high land.

Captain Bland, with a few officers and men, pushed off in the barge,
the only boat that was left, and after rowing for eighteen hours
without any sustenance, they reached the Island of Amoland, where they
were made prisoners.

The rest of the crew, who had chosen to stay by the ship, remained on
board for four days and nights, and, excepting nine, who perished from
the severity of the weather, they all got safe on shore. The above is
a plain, unvarnished account, taken from the narrative of Captain
Bland: it is a true tale, and needs not the aid of romance to give it
interest. For more than twenty-four hours the crew suffered the
horrors of uncertainty; their vessel thrown upon a hostile shore,
whose inhabitants were forbidden on pain of death to assist them,
whilst of all their boats one only remained. Yet, even during this
time of trial and danger, discipline was not for a moment abandoned;
no man's heart appeared to fail him; each one performed his duty with
cheerfulness and alacrity; and nobly did they all earn the praise
bestowed on them by their commander.

'I cannot help paying here,' said Captain Bland, 'the last tribute of
praise to my crew; they behaved with order, respect, and perfect
coolness to the last moment; nor would they quit the ship's side in
the barge, though at the risk of her being dashed to pieces, till I
took the place they had reserved for me.'

The gallantry and seamanship displayed by Captain Otway Bland, when in
command of the Espoir, 14-gun brig, in his attack and subsequent
capture of a Genoese pirate, well deserve a place in these pages.

On the 7th of August, 1798, the Espoir was sailing near Gibraltar in
charge of part of a convoy, when a large vessel, which appeared to be
a man-of-war, was seen steering apparently with the intention of
cutting off some of the convoy. Captain Bland, notwithstanding the
superiority of the force with which he had to contend, determined upon
attacking the stranger, which proved to be the Liguria, mounted with
26 guns of various calibres.

On approaching within hail, an officer on board the Liguria ordered
the commander of the Espoir to surrender, or he would sink his ship,
enforcing the demand by one shot, and afterwards by a whole broadside.
The fire was returned in a spirited manner by the Espoir, and was kept
up on both sides by the great guns and musketry for upwards of three
hours, when the captain of the Liguria hailed the Espoir, begging her
captain not to fire any more, as he was a Genoese. Upon this, Captain
Bland desired him to lower his sails, and come on board. As no
attention was paid to this demand, and the Genoese appeared to be
attempting some manoeuvre, the Espoir poured in another broadside,
which the Liguria returned; but on the Espoir tacking to fire her
opposite broadside, her opponent surrendered.

The crew of the Liguria consisted, of one hundred and twenty men of
all nations, whilst that of the Espoir was but eighty men, of which
the master was killed, and six men wounded.

Captain Bland died in 1810.

THE AJAX.

On the evening of the 14th of February, 1807, H.M. ship Ajax, 74 guns,
commanded by Captain the Hon. Sir Henry Blackwood, lay at anchor off
the mouth of the Dardanelles, in company with the squadron of
Vice-Admiral Sir John Duckworth. The wind, which during the day had
been boisterous, was partially lulled, and in the clear moonlight
every object was visible with a distinctness almost equal to that of
day.

The scene from the deck of the Ajax was one of surpassing beauty and
interest. The bright moonbeams rested on the waters, and left a
silvery track upon the waves. Ahead and astern, the lofty masts of the
squadron tapered darkly towards the sky, whilst the outline of every
rope and spar was sharply defined against the clear blue vault of
heaven. Every man in the ship, from the commander to the youngest boy,
could feel and understand this natural beauty; but there were many on
board the squadron who had still higher enjoyment, as they gazed on
those isles and shores which recalled the classic verse of Homer and
of Virgil. For them every island, cape, river, and mountain was
fraught with interest. There lay Tenedos, renowned of old; there the
mountain isle of Imbros stood out in bold relief from the snow-clad
summits of Samothracia. In the distance appeared Mount Ida, and at its
foot lay stretched the plains of Troy, o'er which the 'gulfy Simois'
wanders still as it did of old. There is Cape Sigaeum, and on it the
tomb of Patroclus, round which Achilles dragged the godlike Hector's
corpse; there, too, the ashes of Achilles repose near those of his
friend; and a little further north, on the Rhoetian promontory, is the
tomb of 'mighty Ajax.' Homer, Euripides, and Virgil have, it is true,
a very small share in the studies of a youthful sailor, as they do not
form an essential ingredient of a nautical education; but an English
gentleman, although his head be crammed with mathematics and
equations, always contrives to pick up enough of classic lore to
enable him thoroughly to enjoy such a scene as that we have attempted
to describe. He is much to be pitied who cannot appreciate such
enjoyment; but in these days, when the schoolmaster is aboard, and
when, by the wise liberality of the Government, our ships are
furnished with useful and interesting books, none need of necessity be
deprived of the exquisite pleasure which is to be derived from
visiting scenes which have been 'dignified either by wisdom, bravery,
or virtue.' We are constantly reminded that 'knowledge is power;' but
it might be well to impress upon youngsters, that '_knowledge_ is
enjoyment.' There is, indeed, no acquirement in literature or science
that will not at some time or other be productive of real pleasure.

We have lingered on this subject longer than we should have done, for
we must now relate how soon the tranquillity of that fair scene was
disturbed--how for a time another light, redder and fiercer than that
of the moon, shone on the blue waters of the Hellespont.

Soon after nine o'clock P.M., Captain Blackwood had received from his
first lieutenant the report of the safety of the Ajax, and all, except
the officers and men who were on duty, had retired to their berths. A
very short time, however, had elapsed, before the stillness of the
night was broken by the appalling cry of 'Fire!' It must be a fearful
sound to hear--the cry of 'Fire!' as awful as the voice of him who

Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,
And would have told him half his Troy was burned.

The officer of the watch instantly informed Captain Blackwood of the
alarm. He hastened upon deck, and found too surely that flames were
bursting from the after-part. He gave orders to beat to quarters--to
fire the guns as signals of distress, and directed Lieutenant Wood and
a midshipman to proceed in one of the boats to all the ships of the
squadron to request assistance.

These orders were promptly given, and promptly obeyed; but who can
enter fully into the feelings of Captain Blackwood at that awfully
critical moment. Here was his ship and six hundred men threatened with
immediate destruction, and each one of that six hundred looked to him
for direction and guidance.

In order to inspire others with courage and confidence, he must
display decision in every look and gesture. Whatever others might do,
his lip must not tremble, nor his eyelid quiver--no look of
apprehension must be seen on his brow. He must stand forth calm and
undaunted--the recollection of tender ties and loving hearts might
wring his soul with agony, but these thoughts must be banished; the
safety of six hundred human beings depended, under God, on his
firmness and exertion, and every eye was directed to him in anxious
inquiry. When the ship's company had turned out, every man took his
station calmly and in obedience to orders.

The captain, followed by several of his officers, went down to the
cockpit, from whence issued clouds of smoke. Every effort was made to
extinguish the flames in that part of the ship, but they increased so
rapidly, it soon became impossible for any one to remain below.
Several of the men who were throwing down water fell from suffocation
with the buckets in their hands. To give more air to the men so
employed, the lower-deck ports were hauled up; but this rather
increasing than diminishing the density of the smoke, they were closed
again, and the after-hatchway shut down. The carpenter's attempt to
scuttle the after-part of the ship was also ineffectual.

Ten or fifteen minutes only had elapsed after the first alarm had been
given, before the flames raged with such fury, that it was impossible
to hoist out the boats; the jolly-boat had fortunately been lowered in
obedience to the captain's orders when he first went upon deck. As the
flames burst up the main-hatchway, dividing the fore from the
after-part of the ship, the captain ordered all hands to the
forecastle, and seeing that it was utterly beyond human power to
prevent the destruction of the vessel, he desired every man to provide
for his own safety.

The silent plague through the green timber eats,
And vomits out a tardy flame by fits;
Down to the keels, and upwards to the sails,
The fire descends, or mounts, but still prevails;
Nor buckets pour'd, nor strength of human hand,
Can the victorious element withstand.
DRYDEN'S _AEneid, Book V_.

The luckless ship was now wrapped in flames from amidships to
taffrail, and the scene of horror is beyond the powers of description.
Hundreds of human beings were assembled together on the forecastle,
bowsprit, and sprit-sail-yard. No boat had yet come to their
assistance. Their perilous situation had levelled all distinction of
rank; men and officers were huddled together, watching with despairing
hearts the progress of the fiery element, which threatened to hurry
them so quickly into eternity. Volumes of black smoke rose in huge
pillars from all parts of the ship, whilst far above the hissing and
crackling of the flames, as they ricked the masts and rigging, rose
the shrieks and death yells of the hapless men, who, unable to gain
the forecastle, had sought safety aloft, where the flames had now
reached them.

Some, rather than endure the horrible suspense, trusted themselves to
the mercy of the waves, and by plunging overboard, ended their lives
and sufferings in a watery grave. Many, in their agony, fell on their
knees, imploring God for that help which they despaired of receiving
from mortal agency. Perhaps these men would not have thought of prayer
to heaven in face of a human foe, but now that the 'last enemy' glared
upon them in so fearful a shape, they felt compelled to fly to Him who
hath said, 'Call upon me in the day of trouble.'

The booming of the guns, as they exploded, echoed far and wide over
the waters, and added to the horrors of that awful night.

In the midst of his people stood the captain, endeavouring to sustain
their sinking spirits, and exhorting them to be firm and to depend
upon the boats which were now heaving in sight. He then bade them
farewell, and sprung into the sea; he breasted the waves for a length
of time, but his strength was nearly exhausted, when, happily, he was
seen, and picked up by one of the boats of the Canopus.

As the boats from the squadron neared the Ajax, the agonizing fears of
the sufferers were changed into wild transports of joy; so sudden was
the transition from despair to hope, that many of the crew lost all
self-possession, and perished by jumping into the sea in their
impatience to reach the boats.

Such details as these, showing the effects of fear upon untutored
minds, make us thankful that a great change for the better has been
effected within the last forty years with respect to the religious and
moral instruction of our sailors.

Every ship's company is exposed to casualties similar to that which
befel the crew of the Ajax,--to shipwreck, fire, and sudden
destruction,--and no man will deny that in times of extreme peril, a
calm and composed mind is the greatest of blessings--the want of it,
the greatest misery. Few will be sceptical enough to deny, on the
other hand, that the best security for such composure, in a moment of
unforeseen danger, or of unlooked-for deliverance, is a firm and sure
trust that there is a God above, who 'ruleth over all;' whom the winds
and the sea obey, and who is 'mighty to save,' even in the hour of
man's direst extremity. To instil this knowledge and trust into the
hearts of our seamen, and by it to make them both better men, and
better sailors, should be the chief object of every improvement in
education.

Lieut. Willoughby, of the St. George, had hastened in a cutter to
assist the crew of the Ajax, and he very soon rescued as many men as
his boat could carry. Numbers, however, were still surrounding him,
who, for the safety of those in the already overladen boat, were, with
much reluctance, left to their fate. Fortunately some launches and a
barge arrived in time to pick them up, and convey them to the
different ships of the squadron.

The Ajax all this time was drifting towards the island of Tenedos,
with her stern and broadside alternately presented to the wind. The
humane exertions of Lieutenant Willoughby had been twice crowned with
success; his boat was, for the third time, nearly filled with people,
when he observed the Ajax round to, and that several men were hanging
by ropes under her head. He resolved, at all hazards, to rescue these
poor fellows before she again fell off. Dashing, therefore, towards
her, he succeeded in the first part of his object, but not until the
vessel was again before the wind, flames issuing from every part of
both hull and rigging, and with the cutter across her hawse.

To extricate himself from this perilous situation was almost
impossible, for every moment increased the speed with which the Ajax
was surging through the water, and the sea thrown up from her bows
threatened his small boat with instant destruction.

We will now take up the account as given by Marshall, in his _Naval
Biograghy_:[10]

'Whilst the Ajax was propelling the cutter in the above alarming
manner, the flames reached the shank, painter, and stopper, of her
remaining bower anchor, and it fell from her bows, nearly effecting
the destruction of the boat at its first plunge into the water. The
cable caught her outer gunwale, over which it ran, apparently one
sheet of fire; orders, exertion, and presence of mind were now of no
avail. Death to all in the cutter appeared inevitable. The sole
alternative was either to be burned or drowned, for they were all too
much exhausted to be able to save themselves by swimming.

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