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

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'The boats at a distance saw that the cutter was enveloped in flames,
and therefore considered it impossible to assist her. All that
Lieutenant Willoughby and his companions could do while the cable was
running out and binding their boat more firmly to the ship, was to
keep the sparks and flames as much as possible from the uncovered
parts of their persons. Providentially, however, although the inner
portion of the cable had been burnt through, the anchor took the
ground, and gave the ship's head a check to windward, before the less
consumed part had entirely left the tier; and thus the very event
which had seemed to seal the doom of the cutter was in all respects
ordained by the Almighty for her preservation. The change in the
ship's position enabled the boat to get clear, but not before every
individual in her was more or less severely scorched, and the heat was
no longer endurable.'

The wreck drifted on shore on the north side of the island of Tenedos,
where, at five o'clock in the morning, she blew up with an explosion
which might be felt on the adjacent shores of Europe and of Asia; and
all that remained of the Ajax were a few smoking spars, which rose to
the surface of the sea.

Such was the fate of this noble ship, destroyed by a conflagration
more rapid than had ever been known, and of which the cause has never
been clearly ascertained. It appears, however, certain that, contrary
to orders, there had been a light in the bread-room; for when the
first lieutenant broke open the door of the surgeon's cabin, the after
bulk-head was already burnt down; and as the purser's steward, his
assistant, and the cooper, were among the missing, it is but
reasonable to suppose that the fire had been occasioned by their
negligence.

'I trust,' says Captain Blackwood, in his defence before the court of
inquiry, 'that I shall be able to prove to the satisfaction of this
court, that I had instituted a regulation, which obliged the first
lieutenant, the warrant officers, and master at arms, in a body to
visit all the quarters, store-rooms, wings, &c, and report to me at
eight o'clock on their clearness and safety; and that I had also
received at nine o'clock the report of the marine officer of the
guard.' ... 'I trust this court will consider that in ordering the
first lieutenant and warrant officers to visit all parts of the ship,
whose report, as well as that of the master at arms, I had received at
a few minutes past eight o'clock, I had very fully provided for every
want, and might with perfect confidence have considered my ship in a
state of perfect safety with respect to fire.'

Captain Blackwood, his surviving officers and men, were all most
honourably acquitted of any blame respecting the loss of the Ajax.

Out of six hundred men, three hundred and fifty were saved by the
boats of the squadron; but two hundred and fifty perished that night
by fire or water.

Amongst the lost were Lieutenants Reeve and Sibthorpe; Captain Boyd,
Royal Marines; Mr. Owen, surgeon; Mr. Donaldson, master; twenty-five
midshipmen; two merchants of Constantinople, and a Greek pilot.

The melancholy fate of the gunner must not be passed over unnoticed.

This poor man had two sons on board, whom he was bringing up to his
own profession.

When the first alarm of fire was given, he had rushed below, and was
soon seen emerging from the smoke with one of the boys in his arms.

He threw the lad into the sea and the jolly-boat picked him up; but
on going down for the other, the unfortunate father fell a victim to
his paternal affection, and either perished in the flames, or was
suffocated.

Of three women who were on board, one saved herself by following her
husband down a rope from the jib-boom, and was received into a boat.

Captain Blackwood served as a volunteer in the subsequent operations
of the squadron in forcing the passage of the Dardanelles, and his
services then were most highly spoken of in a letter from Sir J.
Duckworth to Lord Collingwood. He had distinguished himself on many
previous occasions. He was in the memorable action of 1st of June,
1794; and he commanded the Euryalus at the battle of Trafalgar.

When Sir Henry Blackwood bade farewell to Nelson, on leaving the
Victory to repair on board his own ship, before the commencement of
the action, Lord Nelson said, with prophetic meaning, 'God bless you,
Blackwood; I shall never see you again.'

In 1810, he commanded the inshore squadron off Toulon, and for his
gallant conduct on that station he received the thanks of the
commander-in-chief, Sir Charles Cotton.

In 1814, Captain Blackwood was advanced to the rank of rear-admiral,
and in 1819 he was appointed commander-in-chief in the East Indies.

He died a vice-admiral in 1832, and his name is enrolled among the
first class of naval heroes who have fought under the British flag.

The memory of Blackwood is still held in veneration by the old
weather-beaten tars of the Nelsonian school.

Lieutenant Willoughby, whom we have seen displaying so much gallantry
in his efforts to save the crew of the Ajax, entered the service in
the year 1790.

Before big promotion to the rank of lieutenant, in the year 1798, he
distinguished himself on more than one occasion by that promptitude of
action for which his after career was so remarkable.

In 1801, he served on board the Russel, at the battle of Copenhagen.
The gallant manner in which he boarded the Provestein block ship,
excited so much admiration, that the Russel's crew gave him three
cheers upon his return to the ship. We next find this young officer
performing a most important service when the French forces capitulated
at Cape Francois, St. Domingo, in 1803.

He was at this period serving on board the Hercule, flag-ship to Sir
John Duckworth. According to the terms agreed upon, the French
men-of-war were to keep their colours hoisted until they got outside
of the harbour, when they were each to discharge a broadside in return
to a shot fired athwart their bows, by one of the British ships, and
then to make the usual signals of submission.

The Clorinde frigate, in going out of the harbour, grounded under Fort
St. Joseph, at the moment when the launch of the Hercule, commanded by
Mr. Willoughby, was entering the harbour. When Mr. Willoughby saw the
critical position of the Clorinde, and the danger which menaced all on
board of her (for he knew that even if they succeeded in gaining the
shore, which was doubtful, no quarter would be given them by the
blacks), he pulled towards the frigate, and when he came alongside, he
proposed terms to General La Poyne (who was on board of her) by which
the safety of the crew would be secured.

Mr. Willoughby promised, that if the frigate would hoist English
colours, he (Mr. Willoughby) would wait upon General Dessalines, and
demand that the British flag should be respected; and in the event of
the Clorinde going to pieces during the night, the crew and passengers
should be considered prisoners of war.

General La Poyne readily accepted the proposed terms, and
accordingly, Mr. Willoughby proceeded to negotiate with General
Dessalines, who promised compliance with his request.

The boats of the Hercule were sent to the assistance of the Clorinde,
and they succeeded in heaving her off.

Thus by the timely exertions of this zealous young officer, some
hundreds of lives were saved, and the British navy obtained a frigate
which, for many years, was one of the finest of the 38-gun class.

At the attack on Curacoa, in 1804, Mr. James relates, that for the
sake of encouraging his men, Mr. Willoughby used to take his meals
sitting in a chair upon the breast-work of a battery, while the earth
was ploughed up all around; and one man, we believe, was killed on the
spot; but still the table and chair, and the daring officer who sat
there, remained untouched.

In the following year, the Hercule had captured a merchant schooner,
and one of the prisoners gave notice that a Spanish corvette of twenty
guns, was lying in St. Martha, South America. Mr. Willoughby thereupon
volunteered to attack her; and on the 4th of July, he took the command
of the prize, and parted company with his ship, accompanied by three
midshipmen and thirty volunteers. On the 6th, they entered the harbour
of St. Martha; Captain Samuel Roberts, then a midshipman, was at the
helm, with a check shirt on, his head covered with a French kerchief,
and his face blackened. The rest of the men were below, except a
black, and a mulatto.

The schooner being well known, the deception was perfectly successful,
and she passed the batteries without interruption; but, to the
disappointment of all on board, no corvette was to be found.

Mortified in the extreme, they put about, but not in time to escape
detection. The enemy had found out the trick that had been played upon
them; and the batteries from the island and harbour opened upon the
schooner a volley of no very gentle reproaches. However, she luckily
avoided the danger, and returned in safety to the Hercule, without
receiving a single shot.

In 1807, Mr. Willoughby was appointed to the Royal George. We have
already alluded to his humane exertions to save the crew of the Ajax,
while the squadron was off the Dardanelles. He soon afterwards
received a severe wound whilst he was taking more thought for others'
safety than for his own. Upon the return of the squadron from
Constantinople, an attack was made upon a large building on the island
of Prota.

Lieutenant Willoughby perceiving that three men were very much exposed
to the enemy's fire, called out to them, desiring them to stoop. At
that moment, he was himself struck by two pistol balls; one entered
his head, just above the right jaw, and took a slanting direction
upwards--and has never been extracted; the other shot cut his left
cheek in two; For some minutes he lay apparently lifeless, but
fortunately the movement of an arm indicated enough of life to awaken
hope in his companions; and they carried him on board the Royal
George.

In 1808, he was promoted to the rank of commander, and appointed to
the Otter sloop, then employed in cruizing off the Isle of France.
Here he distinguished himself in cutting out some vessels under the
protection of the batteries of the Black River; and for his services
at the capture of St. Paul, he was appointed to the Xereide.

In 1810, he made an attack upon Jacotel: he thought this a somewhat
dangerous enterprise; and, therefore, to inspire his men with more
than usual courage and ardour, he headed them himself, in full
uniform. After a desperate resistance on the part of the enemy, he
succeeded in spiking the guns of the fort, and taking prisoner the
commanding officer. For this service he was promoted to the rank of
captain.

In the course of the same year, 1810, a musket burst in the hands of
one of the men, so near to the place where Captain Willoughby stood,
that his jaw was fractured, and the windpipe laid bare, so that his
life was despaired of.

He had hardly recovered from this wound, before he was engaged in an
attack upon Port Louis, Isle de France. The disasters which befel the
squadron upon this occasion have now become a matter of history, and
they need not be recounted here,--suffice it to say, that Captain
Willoughby continued to keep up an unequal conflict until nearly all
on board the Nereide were either killed or wounded. Nor did he
surrender, although he had entirely lost one of his eyes, and the
other was much injured, 'until (to use the words of Vice-Admiral
Bertie) after a glorious resistance, almost unparalleled even in the
brilliant annals of the British navy,'

Upon his return to England, Captain Willoughby had a pension of
550_l._ per annum awarded to him in consideration of his wounds.

Having no immediate prospect of employment at home, he repaired to St.
Petersburg, and offered his services to the Czar.

In his very first engagement in his new career, Captain Willoughby was
taken prisoner by the French.--falling a victim to his own generosity.
During the action, he saw two Prussian soldiers severely
wounded,--dismounting himself, and desiring his servant to do the
same, he placed the wounded men upon his own horses, and attended them
on foot. They were quickly overtaken by some French cavalry, and
Captain Willoughby was made prisoner. He was soon afterwards informed
that if he would sign a paper, pledging himself to hasten to France by
a certain route, he would be allowed to travel alone.

He gladly consented to this; but to his astonishment, after signing
the required paper, he was ordered to march with the other prisoners.
In vain he protested against this breach of faith--he was obliged to
proceed. His sufferings from cold and hunger whilst crossing the
deserts of Russia and Poland were intense. After witnessing the
heartrending scenes of Moscow, he at length reached Mayence. Thence he
was removed to Metz, and he had scarcely reached the town, before an
order came for his confinement in the Chateau of Bouillon, where he
remained a close prisoner for nine months. He was then taken to
Peronne, and there he continued until the arrival of the Allies at
Chalons, when he contrived to make his escape.

Soon after his arrival in England, Captain Willoughby received the
Order of the Bath,--an honour scarcely commensurate with the many and
valuable services he had performed for his country. It may safely be
asserted that no officer living has been engaged in so many
hard-fought actions, or has received so many dangerous wounds. From
his first entrance into the service, to the end of the late war, all
his energies were devoted to the service of his country; and now that
his services are no longer required, with a constitution shattered by
age and wounds, he is employing the remainder of his days in deeds of
charity and kindness towards his fellow-creatures.

Captain Willoughby became admiral in 1847, and since the foregoing
pages were written, death has closed his eventful life.

FOOTNOTES:

[10] _Life of Sir Nisbet Willoughby_.

THE ANSON.

The year 1807 was most disastrous to the British navy: during that
period, we lost no less than twenty-nine ships of war, and, unhappily,
the greater part of their crews. Some of these vessels foundered at
sea, others were wrecked or accidentally burnt, and it was at the
close of this eventful year that a calamity occurred which equalled,
if it did not surpass, any previous disaster.

The Anson, of 40 guns, under the command of Captain Charles Lydiard,
after completing her stores for a few months' cruise, sailed from
Falmouth on the 24th of December, to resume her station off Brest. The
wind was adverse, blowing very hard from the W.S.W., until the morning
of the 28th, when Captain Lydiard made the Island of Bas, on the
French coast. As the gale was increasing rather than subsiding, he
determined to return to port, and accordingly shaped his course for
the Lizard. At three o'clock P.M. land was discovered, apparently
about five miles west of the Lizard, but owing to the thickness of the
fog, there was a difference of opinion as to the land that was seen,
and therefore the ship was wore to stand out to sea. She had not been
long on this tack before land was descried right ahead.

It was now evident that their position was extremely dangerous,--the
ship was completely embayed, and the wind raged with increasing fury.
Every exertion was made to keep the Anson off shore, but without
success, and it was not until she was fearfully near to the rocks that
she could be brought to an anchor, in twenty-five fathoms, with the
best bower anchor veered away to two cables' length. The top-gallant
masts were lowered upon deck, and in this state she rode from five
o'clock P.M., when she anchored, till four o'clock the next morning,
when the cable suddenly parted. During the night, the gale was
tremendous, and the sea ran mountains high; they had nothing now to
depend upon for the safety of the ship but a small bower anchor, which
was immediately let go, and this held until eight o'clock, when it
also parted. The ship was no longer an object of consideration;
Captain Lydiard felt that he had done his utmost to save her, but in
vain, and that now every energy must be put forth for the preservation
of human life. The tempest raged with such fury that no boat could
possibly come to their aid, nor could the strongest swimmer hope to
gain the shore. It appeared to Captain Lydiard that the only chance of
escape for any of the crew was in running the ship as near the coast
as possible. He gave the necessary orders, and the master run the
vessel on the sand which forms the bar between the Loe Pool and the
sea, about three miles from Helstone. The tide had been ebbing nearly
an hour when she took the ground, and she broached to, leaving her
broadside heeling over, and facing the beach.

The scene of horror and confusion which ensued on, the Anson striking
against the ground, was one which baffles all description. Many of the
men were washed away by the tremendous sea which swept over the deck;
many others were killed by the falling of the spars, the crashing
sound of which, as they fell from aloft, mingled with the shrieks of
the women on board, was heard even amidst the roar of the waters and
the howling of the winds. The coast was lined with crowds of
spectators, who watched with an intense and painful interest the
gradual approach of the ill-fated vessel towards the shore, and
witnessed the subsequent melancholy catastrophe.

Calm and undaunted amidst the terrors of the scene, Captain Lydiard
is described as displacing in a remarkable degree that self-possession
and passive heroism, which has been so often the proud characteristic
of the commander of a British ship of war under similar harassing
circumstances. Notwithstanding the confusion of the scene, his voice
was heard, and his orders were obeyed with that habitual deference
which, even in danger and in death, an English seaman rarely foils to
accord to his commanding officer.

He was the first to restore order, to assist the wounded, to encourage
the timid, and to revive expiring hope. Most providentially, when the
vessel struck, the mainmast, in falling overboard, served to form a
communication between the ship and the shore, and Captain Lydiard was
the first to point out this circumstance to the crew. Clinging with
his arm to the wheel of the rudder, in order to prevent his being
washed overboard by the waves, he continued to encourage one after
another as they made the perilous attempt to reach the shore. It was
fated that this gallant officer should not enjoy in this world the
reward of his humanity and his heroism. After watching with
thankfulness the escape of many of his men, and having seen with honor
many others washed off the mast, in their attempts to reach the land,
he was about to undertake the dangerous passage himself, when he was
attracted by the cries of a person seemingly in an agony of terror.
The brave man did not hesitate for a moment, but turned and made his
way to the place whence the cries proceeded; there he found a boy, a
protege of his own, whom he had entered on board the Anson only a few
months before, clinging in despair to a part of the wreck, and without
either strength or courage to make the least effort for his own
preservation. Captain Lydiard's resolution was instantly taken,--he
would save the lad, if possible, though he might himself perish in the
attempt. He threw one arm round the boy, whilst he cheered him by
words of kind encouragement, with the other arm he clung to the spars
and mast to support himself and his burthen. But the struggle did not
last long; nature was exhausted by the mental and physical sufferings
he had endured; he lost his hold, not of the boy, but of the mast, the
wild waves swept over them, and they perished together.

It must not be supposed that the people on the shore were unconcerned
spectators of the fearful tragedy that was enacted before their eyes.
British fishermen are proverbial for their daring and intrepidity.
Inured from childhood to the dangers and hardships attendant on their
perilous calling, with very few exceptions our fishermen have always
been ready to succour the wrecked and tempest-tossed mariner. There is
not, we believe, a fishing village between the Land's End and the
Orkneys, that cannot produce its true _heroes_--men who have risked,
and are willing again to risk, their own lives to save others. Our
fisheries are the best nurseries for our navy. Englishmen may be
justly proud of the boatmen, from amongst whom spring those 'hearts of
oak' which have so long rendered our fleets pre-eminent over those of
every other country in the world. But, besides the generous
disposition to assist any perishing fellow creature, there were in
this instance more powerful motives to exert every effort to save the
crew of the Anson. This ship had been stationed for some time at or
near Falmouth, so that acquaintances, friendships, and still dearer
ties, had been formed between the inhabitants of the neighbouring
towns and villages, and the people of the unfortunate vessel. But a
few days before they had witnessed a far different scene, when she
left their shores in all the pride of a well-ordered and
well-disciplined man-of-war, amidst the shouts, and cheers, and
blessings of the multitude, who now beheld her lying within a few
fathoms of them a helpless wreck, her masts gone, her bulwarks broken
in, the waves sweeping over her, and breaking up her timbers.

The surf ran so high, it was impossible that any boat could reach the
wreck. The life-boat, in 1807, had not been brought to the state of
perfection it has attained in our day; and the many inventions which
science and art have since introduced for the preservation of life,
were for the most part unknown in the times of which we are now
writing.

Several men attempted to swim to the ship, but without success; they
were all, one after another, cast back exhausted upon the beach, and
many of them without sense or motion. At last, when there seemed no
hope left of affording aid to the sufferers, Mr. Roberts, of Helstone,
seized hold of a rope, and boldly struck out in the direction of the
Anson. He was a powerful swimmer, and his courageous efforts were
watched from the shore and from the wreck with intense interest, and
many a heartfelt prayer was breathed for his safety and success.
Tossed on the foaming waters, at one moment lost to sight, and almost
suffocated in the spray, and at another rising on the top of a huge
wave, he at last reached the ship, and was hailed as a deliverer by
those who were still clinging to the spars and rigging. The rope which
Mr. Roberts had taken with him was made fast to the wreck, and this
formed a communication with the shore, by which many a poor wretch was
saved who must otherwise have perished.

Another instance of heroic self-devotion was exhibited by a Methodist
preacher, a little later in the day, when, as no one appeared on the
ship's side, it was supposed that every one had either come on shore,
or had been drowned; but this brave and good mail thought that there
might be some still left on board who were unable to make an effort to
save themselves, and, under this impression, he ventured his life
through the surf, followed by a few other daring spirits like himself.
With great difficulty they gained the wreck, where, as they had
anticipated, they found several persons lying below, all too much
exhausted to get upon deck. Some, in terror and despair, called upon
God for mercy; others, in hopeful trust, seemed resigned to their
fate; and others were so weak as to be indifferent to the horrors
around them. Two women and two children were of the number. The
preacher and his gallant comrades had the happiness of saving the
women and some of the men, but the children were lost.

Sixty men, amongst whom were Captain Lydiard and his first-lieutenant,
perished in the wreck of the Anson. The survivors of the crew were
conveyed to Helstone, where they received every attention and kindness
which their unfortunate condition required. The body of Captain
Lydiard, which was washed on shore, was interred at Falmouth with
military honours.

We feel assured that the following particulars of the life of Captain
Lydiard will not be unacceptable to the reader.

He entered the navy in the year 1780, in the flag-ship of Admiral
Darby, who then commanded the channel fleet, and from that time served
as a midshipman under several commanders on various stations, both at
home and abroad, during thirteen years. In 1794, he was appointed a
lieutenant of the Captain, of 74 guns, in which ship he served in two
general engagements in the Mediterranean. In July of the following
year he removed to the Southampton frigate, commanded by Captain
Shields, and afterwards by Captain Macnamara.

On the evening of the 9th of June, 1796, the Southampton was stationed
with the fleet under Sir John Jervis, off Toulon, when a French cruizer
was discovered working up to Hieres Bay. The commander-in-chief called
the captain of the Southampton on board the Victory, and pointing out
the ship, directed him to make a dash at her through the Grand Pas.
Accordingly, the Southampton weighed, and, in order to delude the
French into the supposition that the ship was either a neutral or a
French frigate, hauled up under easy sail close to the batteries at the
north-east of Porquerol. The stratagem succeeded; for before the enemy
were aware of the approach of the Southampton, the ship was alongside
of the French cruizer. Captain Macnamara cautioned her commander not to
make a fruitless resistance; but he replied by snapping his pistol, and
pouring in a broadside. In a moment, the English boarded, led on by
Lieutenant Lydiard, with an impetuosity that nothing could withstand.
After ten minutes' spirited resistance on the part of the French
captain and a hundred of his men under arms, the 'Utile' surrendered,
but not before the death of her gallant commander, who fell at the
beginning of the onset.

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