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

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Lydiard was instantly promoted, and appointed to the command of the
ship he had so gallantly captured. In the year 1801, he was advanced
to the rank of post-captain, and though frequently soliciting
employment did not succeed in obtaining a command until 1805, when he
was appointed to the Anson.

These pages will not admit of our recounting the many instances in
which this officer's gallantry was conspicuous. Before concluding,
however, we cannot refrain from laying before our readers the
following account of the last enterprise in which Captain Lydiard was
engaged, and which is related by his biographer in _The Naval
Chronicle_.[11]

'No sooner had the Anson been refitted, than she was again selected,
with three other frigates, under the command of Captain Brisbane (as
Commodore), of the Arethusa, to reconnoitre, and, if possible, to
sound the minds of the inhabitants of Curacoa upon the suggestion of
an alliance with this country; but the gallant Brisbane, and his
equally gallant partner in this expedition, soon formed a plan for
curtailing this mode of proceeding, and determined, at all risks, by a
_coup de main_, either to capture the island, or to perish in the
attempt.

'With this resolution, having arranged their plan of attack, they
proceeded in their course for the island, and they reached the
entrance of the harbour just at the dawn of day, on the 1st of
January, 1807.

'In order to inform the reader, who may not be acquainted with the
amazing strength of Curacoa on the sea face, we will give some account
of the difficulties which they had to contend with; and, at the same
time, shall avail ourselves of such statements of the facts as the
different official and other communications upon the subject will
furnish us with.

'The harbour was defended by regular fortifications of two tier of
guns. Fort Amsterdam alone mounting sixty-six pieces of cannon; the
entrance only fifty yards wide, and so circumstanced, that it is
impossible for a ship to return by the same wind that takes it in.
Athwart the entrance of the harbour was the Dutch frigate Kenaw
Hatslam, of 36 guns, and the Surinam, of 22 guns, with two large
schooners of war; a chain of forts was on Mesleberg heights, and that
almost impregnable fortress, Fort Republique, within the distance of
grape-shot, enfilading the whole harbour. The cool determined bravery
of British seamen perceives obstacles only to surmount them; and with
this determination the squadron entered the harbour, the Arethusa,
Captain Brisbane, leading, followed in close line by the Latona,
Captain Wood; Anson, Captain Lydiard; and Fisguard, Captain Bolton.

'When the headmost ship got round the point of the harbour's mouth,
the wind became so unfavourable that she could not fetch in; but to
return was impossible--it was too late. What a trying moment! At that
instant, however, there came on a squall, in which the wind shifted
two points in their favour, and they proceeded close together.

'The enemy were panic-struck at such unexpected gallantry, and all was
confusion. A severe and destructive cannonade now commenced, and the
Dutch frigate was boarded by Captain Brisbane, when the Latona
instantly warped alongside and took possession, and Captain Brisbane
proceeded to the shore. The Surinam was boarded from the larboard bow
of the Anson, while her starboard guns were firing at the batteries;
and Captain Lydiard, upon securing the Surinam, went immediately on
shore, and landed at the same moment with Captain Brisbane.
Immediately debarking their respective officers and ship's companies,
they proceeded to storm the forts, citadel, and town, which were by
seven o'clock completely in their possession, and at ten o'clock the
British flag was hoisted on Fort Republique. Captains Brisbane and
Lydiard were the first upon the walls of Fort Amsterdam. Indeed, too
much cannot be said in praise of the almost unparalleled bravery
displayed by the officers and men of all the ships on this occasion.
It may be truly said to be 'perfectly in union with everything
glorious in the past, and an example of everything glorious to the
future.''

The same year that opened so brilliantly upon the career of Captain
Lydiard, witnessed, at its close, the total destruction of the Anson,
and the untimely fate of her brave commander.

FOOTNOTES:

[11] Vol. xix., p. 449.

THE BOREAS.

In the afternoon of the 21st of November, 1807, the Boreas, of 22
guns, Captain George Scott, proceeded in search of a pilot-boat, which
had been blown off the coast of Guernsey in a gale of wind.

This boat was picked up and taken in tow, when about six o'clock P.M.
it was discovered that the ship was near the Hannois rocks, about two
miles to the south-west of Guernsey. Orders were immediately given by
the pilot to put the helm down, but whilst in stays, the ship struck
on the larboard bow; and although every exertion was made to get her
off, it was found impossible to do so. The point of a rock was
reported to be through the well, rendering the pumps useless. The ship
then heeled on her larboard broadside, and the captain gave orders to
cut away the masts.

The moment the ship struck, the pilots basely deserted her, and made
off in their own boat, without even offering assistance to those who
had encountered this danger and disaster in their service. Had the
pilots returned to Rocquaine, only two miles distant, they might have
procured aid for the Boreas, and preserved the lives of her crew.
When Captain Scott was convinced that there was no chance of saving
his ship, he ordered an allowance of spirits to be served round, and
the gig, the launch, and cutter to be prepared for lowering.

The gig, with Lieutenant Bewick, a lieutenant of marines, and six men,
was sent to give information, and obtain assistance. The launch, with
the gunner, and some others, was ordered to take on board the sick,
and land them at Hannois Point, and then to return to the ship; and
the cutter, with the boatswain, and a few men, was despatched on the
same service. Captain Scott, with noble intrepidity, remained to share
the fate of his vessel.

The launch, under the orders of the gunner, succeeded in reaching the
Hannois Rocks, as did also the cutter; but the greater part of the
crew of the launch abandoned her as soon as they touched the land. In
vain did the gunner use every persuasion to induce the men to return
with him to the assistance of their comrades who were left on board
the Boreas; they were deaf to his entreaties, and he was obliged to
put off again with only four men. The wind and tide were so strong,
and so much against them, that the utmost exertion was necessary to
enable them to make their way towards the ship, and when they got
within two hundred yards of the back of the rocks, the launch was half
filled with water. They then tried to make the land again; but before
they could reach it the boat was swamped, and the men were saved with
difficulty by Mr. Simpson, the boatswain, in the cutter. There is
little doubt that if the launch had not been deserted by the greater
part of her crew, she might have reached the Boreas, and have saved
many valuable lives. And here, in justice to the majority of the
ship's company, we must observe, that those who manned the launch were
chiefly smugglers and privateer's men lately impressed, and were not
to be considered as part of the regular crew of the ship.

In addition to the boats we have already mentioned as having left the
ship, was a small cutter, (containing two midshipmen, of the names of
Luttrell and Hemmings, and two men,) which was lowered into the sea by
order of the first lieutenant, whose humanity induced him to take this
expedient for saving the lives of the two boys. The current was so
strong that in a few moments the cutter drifted away from the ship,
but the generous feelings of the boys forbade them to desert their
comrades in distress, and with great exertion they pulled back to the
vessel; they called for a rope, but were ordered to keep off, and
again their little boat was carried away by the current. Once more
they attempted to get back, but their strength was unequal to the
task, and they were carried out into the open sea. Their situation was
in many respects little better than that of the friends whom they had
left upon the wreck,--the night was pitch dark, the boat had neither
mast nor sail, and the sea ran so high that they could do nothing with
the oars. Every now and then the flash of a gun, seen across the black
distance, told them that the Boreas still held together, and that she
was making signals of distress; but no sound reached their ears save
the roar of the winds and the waves. Even the booming of the guns was
lost in that dismal roar.

The little party scarcely expected to survive the night; they were
drenched to the skin, and suffering intensely from the cold; the waves
broke over the bows of their frail boat, and threatened each minute to
overwhelm it; but their brave hearts did not sink in utter despair;
they did their utmost to keep themselves afloat, by incessantly baling
out the water with their hats and hands. They thought the night would
never end, and that they should never see the morrow; but day dawned
upon them at last, and then with what anxious eyes did they sweep the
horizon. But in vain they looked; not a sail was to be seen. An hour
passed away; they shipped such a quantity of water that their
imperfect attempts to bale it out were almost useless. The boat sank
deeper and deeper, and their hearts sank too. Suddenly a ship hove in
sight, and she seemed to be bearing towards them. Hope and fear
struggled for the mastery in their breasts; hope urged them to renewed
efforts to keep themselves from sinking, whilst, in breathless
anxiety, they watched the vessel. She came nearer and nearer; the
watchers felt sure they were perceived; then a boat was lowered, and
they thanked God for their deliverance. In a few minutes they were
received on board H.M. ship Thalia, more dead than alive, after so
many hours' endurance of cold, hunger, and dismay.

We must now return to Captain Scott and his companions on the wreck.
The men were mustered by the officers on the quarter-deck; they
numbered ninety-five or ninety-seven, and they had been all actively
employed in making rafts, and lashing together spars and other
materials, by which they hoped to save themselves, in the event of the
ship going to pieces before assistance should arrive. Hour after hour
passed away, and no help came; by the noise of the vessel grinding
against the rocks they knew that she could not hold together much
longer. Captain Scott continued to issue his commands with coolness
and decision, and they were promptly obeyed by both officers and men.
About four o'clock in the morning, the quarter-deck being no longer
tenable, all the crew were obliged to betake themselves to the main
and mizen chains. They had already suffered severely from the cold,
but they had now to endure it in greater intensity. In their exposed
situation the waves frequently washed entirely over them, and their
limbs were so benumbed with cold that it was with the utmost
difficulty they could hold on to the wreck, so as to save themselves
from being swept into the abyss of waters that seemed yawning to
receive them. By degrees, even the cries and the complaints of the
sufferers became hushed: not a word was spoken; in awful silence they
listened to the groaning of the timbers, and the sullen roar of the
waves dashing against the rocks.

In this state they had remained another hour, when a hollow sound was
heard below them; still they spoke not a word, for from the captain to
the youngest boy, every one knew what that sound foretold, and that
the last struggle was at hand,--for many, the last hour of existence.
Then a universal tremor was felt through the wreck, and the boldest
heart responded to that shudder. The very timbers seemed to dread
their impending doom: with a mighty crash they yielded to the force of
the waves; for a moment the ship righted, and then sank beneath the
foaming waters.

The pen is powerless when we attempt to describe an event like this,
for we cannot penetrate into the secret recesses of the heart, nor can
we delineate the agonies of conscience which too often increase the
anguish of such scenes, when the near approach of death unveils to
men, truths they have been unwilling to learn or to believe. Many a
cry for pardon and mercy is raised in the hour of shipwreck, from lips
that never prayed before. The best and bravest then bow their heads in
awe, however well they may be prepared for the dangers that are
incident to their profession; and though from childhood 'these men see
the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep,' yet it must be
an appalling moment when the plank they have been wont to tread in
calm security, is torn from beneath their feet, and they are left as
helpless as infants, to be the sport of the wild billows!

The moment the vessel sunk, many of the men struck out for the plank
nearest to them; a few of the strongest and best swimmers gained the
raft, but others who were benumbed with cold, or otherwise unable to
swim, perished immediately. The quarter-master was one of those who
reached the raft, and he found the captain, the doctor, and some
others, already upon it. Captain Scott was so much exhausted by the
mental and bodily sufferings he had endured, that the doctor and the
quarter-master were obliged to support him on the raft. He became
gradually weaker, and lingered but a short time ere he expired in
their arms; and a few minutes afterwards a huge wave swept over the
raft, and bore with it the body of the lamented commander of the
Boreas. About eight o'clock in the morning, a number of boats put out
from Guernsey to the relief of the survivors, and carried them safely
on shore.

We have already mentioned the cowardly and inhuman conduct of the
pilots in deserting the Boreas, and it is also a matter of surprise,
that although twenty guns were fired as signals, and several rockets
and blue lights burned, no help of any kind was sent from the shore
till the next morning. One of the witnesses on the court-martial
affirmed, that a pilot on shore had heard the guns firing, and had
inquired of a soldier on guard whether it was an English or French
man-of-war! On the soldier replying that he thought it was an English
vessel, the man refused to put to sea, saying, by way of excuse, that
'it blew too hard.'

Through the exertions of Lieut. Colonel Sir Thomas Saumarez, about
thirty seamen and marines were taken off the rocks of the Hannois at
daylight, making the entire number saved about sixty-eight; whilst the
loss amounted to one hundred and twenty-seven.

The following is an extract from the dispatch of Vice-Admiral Sir
James Saumarez:--'The greatest praise appears due to Captain Scott and
his officers and men, under such perilous circumstances--in a dark and
tempestuous night, in the midst of the most dangerous rocks that can
be conceived, and I have most sincerely to lament the loss of so many
brave officers and men, who have perished on this melancholy occasion.

'Captain Scott has been long upon this station, and has always shown
the greatest zeal and attachment to his Majesty's service, and in him
particularly his country meets a great loss, being a most valuable and
deserving officer.'

THE HIRONDELLE.

The Hirondelle, a 14-gun brig, had been originally a French privateer.
She was taken by the boats of the Tartar in the year 1804, when
attempting to escape from that vessel through a narrow and intricate
channel between the islands of Saona and St. Domingo. The Tartar
finding from the depth of the water that she could not come up with
the schooner, despatched three of her boats under the command of
Lieutenant Henry Muller, assisted by Lieutenant Nicholas Lockyer and
several midshipmen, all volunteers, to endeavour to bring her out. The
instant the boats put off, the Hirondelle hoisted her colours, fired a
gun, and warped her broadside towards them. As they advanced, the
privateer opened a fire from her great guns, and as they drew nearer,
from her small arms also. In spite of this, and of a strong breeze
directly on the bows of the boats, Lieutenant Muller intrepidly pulled
up to the privateer, and after a short but obstinate resistance, he
boarded and carried her, with the loss only of one seaman, and one
marine wounded.'[12]

Such was the first introduction of the Hirondelle into the British
navy. Her career in it was of short duration, and its conclusion
fearfully sudden and disastrous, as the following account, given by
the survivors, will show.

On the 22nd of February, 1808, the Hirondelle, commanded by Lieutenant
Joseph Kidd, sailed from Malta, bound to Tunis, with dispatches on
board. On Wednesday evening they steered a course towards Cape Bon,
but unfortunately they got within the action of the strong current
that sets eastward along the Barbary Coast, so that, instead of making
the Cape as she intended, the brig fell some few leagues short of it
to the eastward, and run aground. As soon as the alarm was given, all
hands were turned up; the night was so dark it was impossible to
ascertain the exact position of the ship, but they distinctly heard
the breakers on the shore. Every effort was made to bring the vessel
up, by endeavouring to anchor, but without effect; while this was
going on, the cutter had been manned with ten or twelve men, and she
might have been the means of saving many lives, but she was no sooner
lowered, than the people rushed into her in such numbers that she was
almost immediately swamped, and all who were on board her perished,
except one man, who regained the deck of the Hirondelle. The commander
now saw that the loss of his ship was inevitable, and he therefore
desired his crew to provide for their own safety. The order was
scarcely uttered, no one had had time to act upon it, when suddenly
the brig gave a lurch and went down; the sea washed over her, and of
all her men, four only were left to tell the sad tale. Happily for
them they were clinging to the wreck, and so escaped the fate of their
companions who were swept overboard; and by aid of some of the spars
they succeeded in gaining the shore.

This account is necessarily brief: so short a time elapsed between the
unexpected striking of the ship and her going to pieces, that there is
no incident to relate. The commander and officers of the Hirondelle
seem to have done all in their power to extricate her from her
unfortunate position; indeed, it would appear that had they attended
less anxiously to the preservation of the ship, many lives might have
been saved.

FOOTNOTES:

[12] James's _Naval History_.

BANTERER.

His Majesty's ship Banterer, of 22 guns, under the command of Captain
Alexander Shephard, was lost on the 29th October, 1808, between Port
Neuf and Point Mille Vache, in the River St. Lawrence, whilst in the
execution of orders, which Captain Shephard had received from Sir John
Borlase Warren, directing him to proceed to Quebec, with all possible
despatch, to take a convoy to England.

The following is the account of this disastrous affair, as given by
Captain Shephard:--

'Being as far as the Island of Bie in pursuance of orders, through
rather an intricate navigation, with foul winds the greater part of
the time, where the charge of the ship devolved upon myself, and the
only chart I could procure of the navigation in question being on a
very small scale, I felt myself relieved from much anxiety by
receiving a branch pilot on board on the 28th October last, on which
night at eight P.M. we passed between that island and the south shore,
with the wind north by west, and very fine weather; at nine, the wind
coming more round to the westward, we tacked for the north shore, in
order, as the pilot said, not only to be ready to avail himself of the
prevailing northerly winds in the morning, but because the current was
there more in our favour. At midnight we tacked to the southward, and
at two A.M. again laid her head to the northward; and at four A.M. the
pilot having expressed a wish to go about, the helm was accordingly
put down, and on rising tacks and sheet, it was discovered that the
ship was aground. As we had then a light breeze at west, the sails
were all laid aback, the land being in sight from the starboard-beam,
apparently at some distance, I immediately ordered the master to sound
round the ship, and finding that the shoal lay on the starboard
quarter and astern, ordered the sails to be furled, the boats hoisted
out, the stream anchor and cable to be got into the launch, and the
boats to tow her out two cables' length, south-west from the ship,
where we found the deepest water; but by this time the wind had
suddenly increased to such a degree that the boats could not row
ahead, and latterly having lost our ground, we were obliged to let
the anchor go in fifteen fathoms, about a cable's length W.S.W. from
the ship, on which, having got the end of the cable on board, we hove
occasionally as the flood made, and in the meantime got our spare
topmasts over the side, with the intention of making a raft to carry
out a bower anchor should it moderate; but the intense cold, and the
still increasing gale rendered it impossible.

'About half-past eleven A.M. the stream cable being then taut ahead,
the wind W.S.W., with a very heavy sea, the ship canted suddenly with
her head to the southward, where we had deep water; we immediately set
our courses, jib and driver, and for some time had the must sanguine
hopes of getting her off, but were unfortunately disappointed, and as
the ebb made we were obliged again to furl sails.

'As the ship was then striking very hard, with a heavy sea breaking
over her in a body, we cut away the topmasts, not only to ease her,
but to prevent their falling upon deck; we also endeavoured to shore
up the ship, but the motion was so violent that four and six parts of
a five-inch hawser were repeatedly snapped, with which we were lashing
the topmasts as shores, through the main-deck ports. At about eight
P.M., fearing the inevitable loss of the ship, as the water was then
gaining on the pumps, I availed myself of the first favourable moment
to land the sick, and a party of marines and boys with some
provisions,--this could only be effected at a certain time of tide,
even with the wind off shore,--and employed those on board in getting
upon deck what bread and other provisions could be come at.

'Though the water was still gaining on the pumps as the flood made,
the wind coming more round to the northward, we again set our
foresail, but without the desired effect. As the stream anchor had,
however, come home, the wind was too doubtful to attempt to lighten
the ship.

'On the morning of the 30th, it being moderate, with the wind off
shore, we hove our guns, shot, and everything that could lighten the
ship, overboard, reserving two on the forecastle for signals. As the
flood made, we again set what sail we could, and hove on the stream
cable,--though, with all hands at the pumps, we found the water
increase in the hold as it flowed alongside; and it was the prevailing
opinion that the ship would have foundered if got off. Being now
convinced, from concurring circumstances, as well as the repeated
representations of the carpenter, that the ship could not swim, the
water having flowed above the orlop deck, and much sand coming up with
the pumps, we desisted from further attempts to get her off the shoal,
and continued getting such stores and provisions as we could upon
deck.

'Towards the afternoon, the wind again increasing from the W.S.W., and
the water being on the lower deck, I judged it proper to send some
provisions, with such men as could be best spared, on shore, that, in
the event of the ship going to pieces, which was expected, the boats
might be the better able to save those remaining on board; and on the
morning of the 31st, conceiving every further effort for the
preservation of the ship unavailing, it then blowing strong, with
every appearance of increasing, I felt myself called on, by humanity
as well as duty to my country, to use every effort in saving the lives
of the people intrusted to my care, and accordingly directed the boats
to land as many of them as possible, keeping the senior lieutenant and
a few others on board with me.

'The whole of this day there was little prospect of saving those who
remained with the wreck, as the surf was so great that the boats could
not return to us; several guns were fired, to point to those on shore
our hopeless situation, and stimulate them to use every possible
effort to come to our relief; but they could not effect it,
notwithstanding every exertion on their part, which we were most
anxiously observing. As the only means which then occurred to me of
saving the people on board, I directed a raft to be made with the
spars left on the booms, which was accomplished, with much difficulty,
in about six hours; the sea then breaking over the ship with great
violence, and freezing as it fell with such severity, that even the
alternative adopted presented little prospect of saving any one left
on the wreck. During this state of awful suspense, we had every reason
to think that the ship was completely bilged, and were apprehensive,
from the steepness of the bank, that she would fall with her decks to
the lee, as the ebb made, in which case all on board must have
inevitably perished.

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