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

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About half-past nine P.M., Lieutenant Price and the rest of the ship's
company, excepting two or three who remained on board with the
captain, took their places upon the raft, which was veered by a hawser
to leeward of the brig, and directed to remain in that position until
the morning. At two o'clock in the morning Captain Bertram, convinced
that there was no hope of saving his ship, got into his gig with the
men who had stayed with him, and he had scarcely left the side of the
Persian ere she slipped off the rock, fell over on the larboard side,
and sunk into about seven fathoms water, the tops of the masts only
being visible above the waves.

At daylight, Captain Bertram, with the other boats, bore up for the
raft, which had broken from the hawser during the night and drifted to
some distance. They found her and her crew in a very deplorable
state,--the lashings had been cut through by the rocks, and many of
the timbers were broken, so that they scarcely held together, and the
men had had great difficulty in keeping her from being dashed to
pieces against the rocks, and in preserving themselves from being
carried away by the surf which washed over them continually.

Here was a great difficulty to be overcome; the raft was evidently so
insecure that it could not be depended upon for an hour, and the only
means of saving the men was by distributing them amongst the boats,
which were already so over-crowded, that it would be imminently
perilous to add to their freight. However, Captain Bertram did not
hesitate to brave the danger, but set the example by first taking four
men from the raft into his own gig, and directing the other boats to
receive the rest amongst them in their relative proportions. His
commands were instantly and cheerfully obeyed, but to carry them into
effect the boats' crews were obliged to throw overboard the few
articles of clothing they had saved, and the greater part of the
provisions, in order to enable the boats to bear the additional
weight.

It was now between five and six o'clock in the morning; the wind was
blowing fresh from the east; the nearest part of St. Domingo was, as
far as they could judge, about twenty-five leagues distant, to reach
which they supposed they must go through the Mona passage, the most
dangerous in the West Indies.

One of the cutters had forty-five men on board, the other forty-two,
the jolly-boat twenty-two, and the gig fourteen; in all, a hundred and
twenty-three persons. The wind increased as the day advanced, and
became so violent that it seemed almost by a miracle that the boats
were enabled to resist the fury of the storm. In the afternoon the
danger increased, and the men were obliged to heave overboard the
remainder of their bread and water, and never for an instant could
they relax in their efforts to keep the boats free from water. God in
His mercy preserved those who had shown such trust in Him; for we can
scarcely suppose that such noble acts of humanity, courage, and
self-sacrifice as were evinced by these men could arise from other
than the highest and holiest principles.

Before the evening closed in, they caught a glimpse of the land, but
too distant for them to make out what part of the coast it was. The
boats were hove to for the night, and a dreary night it was to these
poor men. They were without food, almost without clothing, weak from
want of nourishment, and exhausted by fatigue; and in this miserable
state they awaited the break of day, the rain falling in torrents, and
the sea breaking over the boats.

On the morning of the 28th, they again made sail, and landed the same
evening in a small cove of a bay between Vieux Cap Francois and Cap
Cabron. Here, to their bitter disappointment, they could get nothing
to eat--not even a spring of fresh water could be found,--and all the
nourishment they had that night was a few limpets, and the rain water
that had remained in the holes of the rocks,--sorry fare for men who
had been exposed to the inclemency of the weather for two days and two
nights, in open boats, without food.

However, it was a great thing to be on shore; for many of the people
had suffered severely from being so closely stowed in the bottom of
the boats, and their limbs had been terribly cramped. They now wisely
endeavoured to make themselves as comfortable as circumstances
allowed, by lighting a fire to keep off the insects, and to dry their
clothes, and then they composed themselves to sleep, which they much
needed. The next morning, being somewhat refreshed, they started
across the bay to a place called Margante, which they reached about
eight o'clock. Here they found the people well disposed towards them,
and they were able to purchase some beef and plantains, and plenty of
good water, of which they all gladly partook. The inhabitants informed
them that it was probable they might find a vessel at Port Plata that
could take them to St. Thomas's, that being the nearest port where
they were likely to fall in with any of His Majesty's ships. On the
30th of June, they departed from Margante, taking with them a pilot,
to guide them to Port Plata. In order to ease the boats, Captain
Bertram and part of the ship's company walked along the shore. Towards
evening, the people had gone upwards of twenty miles, and were so
exhausted, they were obliged to put into a small bay called Scott's
Bay (B. Ecossaise), where they came on shore and erected a tent, with
the sails of the boats and a few logs of mahogany. With the help of
some turtle, the whole of the ship's company were supplied with food;
and they remained on shore till the next morning, when the boats were
again launched, and all the party embarked in them, as there was no
way along the beech. They arrived safely at Port Plata at eleven
o'clock that night, and were received with great kindness and
humanity. Three houses were provided for the men and one for the
officers, and everything was done that could alleviate their
sufferings. Unfortunately there was no vessel at Port Plata large
enough to convey them to St. Thomas's. With some difficulty, a boat
was procured, in which Lieutenant Price was despatched to Turk's
Island, with a letter to the naval officer there, describing the
situation of the crew of the Persian, and requesting that assistance
might be afforded to Lieutenant Price to enable him to hire a vessel
to take the crew to St. Thomas's.

Lieutenant Price made a successful voyage, and returned to Port Plata
on the 10th of July, with the government schooner Swift, and a hired
sloop. Three days were spent in fitting out these vessels with the
necessary stores, and on the evening of the 13th, the ship's company,
to the number of 112, embarked in them, and arrived at St. Thomas's on
the 22nd. The crew was by this time in a very sickly state; the
crowded state of the ships had engendered a complaint of which the
surgeon died an hour after they cast anchor; and there is little doubt
that had they been forty-eight hours longer on their passage, many
others would have fallen victims to the same disease. At St. Thomas's,
the sufferers received the care and attention they required, and were
sent home to England.

We cannot conclude this account without quoting the following passage
from the narrative of Captain Bertram:--'I most justly attribute the
preservation of the ship's company to very great coolness and
persevering exertions of both officers and men, in keeping the boats
free from the water they shipped, and their great attention in
steering before the sea. I am happy to say that every man behaved with
a regularity that is seldom found on similar occasions: in fact, when
the little clothing the people had saved, and the remaining bread and
water, were from necessity ordered to be thrown overboard, there was
not a murmur,--they vied with each other who should obey the order
first.'

In the year 1808, Captain Bertram, then a lieutenant, was appointed to
the Emerald, a 36-gun frigate, commanded by Captain the Honourable
Frederick Maitland. On the 13th of March, they were off the harbour of
Vivero, when a large French schooner was discovered at anchor, under
the protection of the batteries. Captain Maitland determined to
attempt to capture or destroy her, and accordingly he stood in for the
harbour at about five o'clock in the evening. The first fort, which
mounted eight 24-pounders, opened on the ship, as did also another
fort about a mile higher up, as soon as the frigate came within range.
As it was impossible to place the ship in a position to act upon both
batteries, Captain Maitland ordered Lieutenant Bertram, with a party
of marines and seamen, to storm the outer fort, whilst he took the
ship as near the inner fort as the water would allow. Mr. Bertram
succeeded in driving the enemy from the battery, and spiking the guns;
he then made the best of his way by the shore to take possession of
the schooner, which had been run upon the rocks. He was joined by Mr.
Baird, a midshipman, who had been sent with a party for the same
purpose. On the road they were met by a part of the schooner's crew,
consisting of about sixty men. These were speedily assailed by the two
young officers and their men, and put to flight. Lieutenant Bertram
then advanced towards the schooner, which proved to be L'Apropos, of
twelve 8-pounder carronades, and he persevered for several hours in
his attempts to get her afloat, under a galling fire of musketry from
the shore. All his efforts, however, were of no avail, as she had gone
on shore at high water; it therefore became necessary to set her on
fire, which was done; and the lieutenant returned with his party to
the Emerald.

In this gallant exploit, nine men belonging to the Emerald were
killed, and Lieutenant Bertram and several others wounded.

Captain Bertram, has lately accepted the rank of Retired Rear-Admiral.

THE PENELOPE.

We have now to relate the painful statement of a wreck, which was not
only one of the most disastrous, but the most disgraceful in its
consequences, of any that we have had to describe.

Unfortunately, the loss of the ship is not the darkest side of the
picture; and the insubordination of the crew of the Penelope in the
hour of danger was as fatal to themselves as it was rare in its
occurrence.

The Penelope, troop-ship, Commander James Galloway, sailed from
Spithead for Canada on the 31st of March, 1815, and had a favourable
passage to the Banks of Newfoundland. Here she fell in with large
masses of ice, fogs, and strong south-east winds, so that the captain
considered it unsafe to run in for the land until the weather cleared
up. On the 24th of April, they made the Island of Mequilon, and at the
same time encountered a very heavy gale from the north-west. On the
following day they were surrounded with ice, and were frozen up for
nearly twelve hours. When the ice gave way, all sail was set, and the
ship entered the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and for the next few days she
continued her course in a north-easterly direction, and passed between
the Islands of Brion and Magdalen. The frost during this time was so
severe, that the furled sails were frozen into a solid body.

On the 29th, they met with large quantities of field ice, which gave
the sea the appearance of one entire sheet of ice, but it was not
strong enough to stop the ship's way. In the afternoon of that day,
the land about Cape Rozier, on the coast of Lower Canada, was visible.

On the 30th, the weather was more moderate, though cloudy; at noon
they steered an eastward course, until the ship broke off about three
points, when at sunset they tacked, and stood in for the land, which
was set by the first lieutenant and the master, at three or four
leagues distance.

At eight o'clock, they sounded in seventy-one fathoms; the vessel
broke off to the west by north, and the captain ordered the master to
go round the ship, and caution the men forward to keep a good look
out,--at the same time desiring him on no account to leave the deck.
The captain then sent for the first-lieutenant into his cabin, and was
in the act of pointing out to him the supposed situation of the vessel
on the chart; the line was at the same moment passing forward for
another cast of the lead, when the ship took the ground.

'I cannot describe my feelings,' writes Captain Galloway, 'at that
moment; for having, for a long time, been almost deprived of my
eyesight by night, and also afflicted with rheumatic pains and other
complaints, I was unable to judge correctly of the extent of our
danger.' The helm was immediately put down, and the sails thrown
aback. One boat was then hoisted out to sound, and found two and a
half fathoms forward, and about three and a half fathoms aft, having
six fathoms a little on the starboard quarter.

All the boats were immediately lowered, and the stream-anchor and
cable, with part of the messenger bent on to it, stowed in the
pinnace, which, from the strength of the current, was with great
difficulty towed to leeward by the other boats, and dropped into five
and a-half fathoms water.

On heaving round, the anchor came home, which it continued to do until
more than half of the cable was run in, when it held fast, but without
altering the position of the vessel. The captain then gave orders to
heave overboard the guns, and cut away the anchors from the bows; but
all these attempts to lighten the vessel were of no avail. The wind,
which had been moderate when she first struck, had increased to a
gale, and the ship beat with such violence upon the rocks, that it
appeared impossible that she could hold together many hours.

In this condition they were obliged to remain until daylight, exposed
to a cold north-east wind, and a pitiless storm of sleet and snow. The
officers did all in their power to sustain the courage of the men, but
unfortunately in many instances without success. Already symptoms of
insubordination had exhibited themselves, several had skulked below to
their hammocks, where they remained in defiance of every command and
entreaty of their officers.

The topmasts were got over side to shore the ship up, but the motion
was so violent that the lashings gave way. At daylight, as the weather
did not moderate, and there was no prospect of saving the ship, orders
were given to get up the provisions. This, however, had been delayed
until it was too late; the water had risen over the orlop deck, and in
a short time gained the lower deck. All that was saved was thirty bags
of biscuits, and these so damaged by the salt water, that they were
totally unfit for use.

The masts were about this time cut away, in order to ease the ship as
much as possible; they fell towards the shore about a cable's length
from the beach. The master was sent in the cutter to try to fasten a
rope to the shore, but the surf ran so high that the boat was stove,
and the crew with difficulty gained the beach.

In this condition, with very little prospect of saving the lives of
the crew, the captain, anxious for the preservation of the public
dispatches, entrusted them to the purser, who, with Captain Moray
(aide-de-camp to Lieut. General Sir George Murray), in charge of the
military dispatches, embarked in the life-boat, to which a small line
was attached. They had, however, no better success than the other
boat, for as soon as they reached the surf, the boat capsized, and the
two officers swam to the shore with the dispatches tied round their
necks.

Another cutter was then sent off in hopes that she would be more
successful, but she filled almost immediately; and the rope which was
fastened to her was obliged to be abandoned.

By this time it was impossible to stand upon the deck, the sea made a
fair breach over the ship, and the water having rushed into the cabin,
the few bags of bread that had been stowed there for protection were
destroyed.

The captain being unable from ill health to make any great exertion to
save his life, was lowered into the pinnace, into which were already
crowded as many men as she could hold, and they took another rope on
board, to make a last attempt to form a communication with the shore.
The boat had scarcely left the side of the ship before a sea struck
and upset her. The captain, supported by two men, made his way through
the surf with great difficulty and got on shore, followed by the rest
of the boat's crew, who, some by swimming and others by help of oars
and spars, saved themselves from destruction. The gig was now the only
boat left on board; she was lowered from the stern, and the first and
second lieutenants, with eighteen men, jumped into her. They were all
fortunate enough to reach the shore, and some of the men gallantly
returned to the vessel, and succeeded in landing about twenty others.
Again, the gig repaired to the wreck, and took off some more of the
crew, but this time she was unfortunately upset in the surf, though no
lives were lost.

When the men left on the wreck saw themselves thus deprived of the
last chance of escape, they raised the most piteous cries for
assistance, although they knew that their comrades had no means of
affording it. It has been said that 'man is a bundle of
inconsistencies,' and here was a proof of the assertion. These were in
all probability the very men who had betaken themselves to their
hammocks a short time before, and had refused to assist in providing
for their own safety; they had disobeyed orders, and despised
discipline, and now we find them imploring others for that deliverance
which they had neglected to provide for themselves. Most of them had
been drinking the spirits, and were so stupified that they were
incapable of taking advantage of the floating spars and planks to
which they might have clung, and so gained the land.

By drunkenness the bed of the ocean has been rendered a foul and
gloomy charnel house, where the bones of thousands of our fellow-men
await the summons of the Archangel's trumpets, when 'the sea shall
give up her dead.' The reckless seamen, though unprepared for another
world, hurry themselves into the presence of their Judge, to meet the
drunkard's doom.

It has been related that upon one occasion, when the shipwreck of a
large packet seemed inevitable, the sailors grew tired of working at
the pumps, and shouted 'to the spirit-room!' They saw death staring
them in the face, and to drown their terror for the moment, they
desired to die drunk. A post-captain in the navy, who was on board the
packet, knowing what would be the result if they got at the spirits,
took his stand at the door of the spirit-room, with a pistol in each
hand, and declared in the most solemn manner, that he would shoot the
first man who attempted to enter. The men seeing themselves defeated,
returned to the pumps, and by the blessing of God, the vessel was
brought in safe with all her crew.[15]

Unfortunate as was the situation of the helpless creatures on the
wreck of the Penelope, it was only a few degrees more wretched than
that of the officers and men on the shore. They had been cast at the
base of a steep mountain, bruised and benumbed by the cold; their
clothes were actually freezing on their backs, and they were without
provisions of any kind. Their first care was to search for wood and
kindle fires, which they at last succeeded in doing, and then they
dried their clothes--but before they could derive any benefit from the
fire, the intensity of cold had caused many of them extreme suffering;
they were frost-bitten in the hands and feet, and several lost their
toes. Some of the people were employed in constructing a tent with
branches of trees and blankets, others were searching for provisions
and securing such articles as were washed on shore from the ship. In
the evening, they found about sixty pieces of pork,--and with this and
some melted snow they satisfied the cravings of hunger and thirst.
Later in the evening several casks of wine, which had been stowed in
the ward-room, were washed on shore; but this, which might have proved
a blessing to all, was seized by a party of the men,--who broke open
the casks and drank to such an excess that they fell asleep, and were
found almost frozen to death. During the whole of the day the unhappy
men upon the wreck had never ceased supplicating their more fortunate
comrades to go to their assistance, but this was impossible; no human
effort could save them. As night drew on, their cries were redoubled,
and were still heard far above the howling and roaring of the
tempest, when darkness had hidden the ill-fated vessel from view.
About twelve o'clock three fearful crashes were followed by a still
more fearful sound--the last agonized shriek of many perishing
creatures.

And then all was hushed,
Save the wild and remorseless dash
Of billows. BYRON.

At daylight, the remains of the Penelope were again visible, but in
three separate pieces; all that were left on board had perished, save
one man, who was washed on shore nearly lifeless.

The sufferings of these poor wretches must have been awful in the
extreme, for their agonies of mind appear to have surpassed those of
the body, and to have prolonged their lives by preventing them falling
into the torpor which precedes death from cold. So severe was the
frost, that the wreck had the appearance of huge masses of ice; and on
shore nothing but the very large fires that were kept burning could
have preserved the existence of the rest of the crew.

Upon the ship breaking up, the spirits floated on shore, when there
ensued such a scene of tumult and insubordination as, happily for the
honour of the service, seldom occurs in the British navy. The men
broke open the casks, and before the officers were aware of it,
scarcely a man was to be seen sober. This brought with it its own
punishment; many had drank to such a degree that they fell lifeless in
the snow. The officers then caused the remainder of the rum to be
stove, excepting a certain quantity placed under their own care; but
when discipline is once broken, it is not easily restored. The next
day, forty-eight men deserted, after plundering several of their
shipmates, and breaking open every trunk that was washed up. These
paid the penalty of their crimes, for many of them were found dead in
the woods by the Canadians.

We cannot do better than take up the account which is thus given by
one of the surviving officers:--

'With the remaining part of the crew the boats were hauled up, which
we began to repair the best way we could. Sails were made from a lower
and topmast studding-sail, which were fortunately washed ashore; a
cask of flour was also found, a part of which was made into dough, and
preparations were made to proceed to Quebec.

'On the third day, a Canadian boat was passing, when the captain
ordered her to be detained to proceed to that port. With the
assistance of the cooking utensils found in the Canadian boat, all the
pork that could be found was cooked and served out to the different
boats, which was a very short allowance for two days.

'On the sixth day of our misery, the weather moderated, the boats were
launched, and all hands embarked; sixty-eight persons in all,
including two women. The wind was favourable, but light; with rowing
and sailing, we got to Great Fox River that night, at which place we
were hospitably entertained with potatoes and salt at a Canadian hut.
Next morning we sailed for Gasper Bay, and reached Douglas Town in the
evening.

'The captain and officers were accommodated at Mr. Johnston's, and the
crew lodged at the different huts around the place. After three days'
rest, we walked nine miles over the ice to where the transports lay;
leaving the sick at Douglas Town. The captain hoisted his pendant on
board the Ann, transport, and put a lieutenant in each of the others,
and an equal number of men. When the ice broke up, which was seven
days after we got on board, we dropped down to Douglas Town, and
embarked the sick, one of whom died, and two deserted. The next
morning we sailed for Quebec, where we arrived on the 28th, many of us
not having a change of clothes of any description.'

In concluding the above narrative of the loss of this vessel, we will
quote the language of Captain Galloway, who thus deprecates, in strong
terms, the disgraceful conduct of the majority of the crew of the
Penelope:--'I feel it my duty,' he says, 'to state to you the infamous
conduct of the whole of the crew, with a very few exceptions. From the
time that the ship struck, their behaviour was not in the character of
British seamen in general; they had neither principle nor humanity;
some, in consequence, have suffered severely, and several died from
drunkenness.'

Captain Galloway died in 1846.

FOOTNOTES:

[15] _Parliamentary Report_, 255.

THE ALCESTE.

At the close of 1815, the Court of Directors of the East India Company
having represented to the British Government the impediments thrown in
the way of our trade with China, by the impositions practised by the
local authorities at Canton, it was determined to send an embassy to
the court of Pekin.

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