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

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

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No one can read such records of British seamen, as appear in this
volume, without joining heart and soul in the sentiment expressed by
the poet:--

To them your dearest rights you owe;
In peace, then, would you starve them?
What say ye, Britain's sons? Oh, no!
Protect them and preserve them;
Shield them from poverty and pain;
'Tis policy to do it:
Or when grim war shall come again,
Oh, Britons! ye may rue it.

Lieutenant Robert Tucker, who was saved in the launch, accompanied
Rear-Admiral Totty to the Baltic and West Indies in the Zealous, 74.
He was subsequently promoted, and appointed to the Surinam in 1803.

Whilst the Surinam was on the West India station, Captain Tucker
rendered good service to the French garrison at Jacquemel; and on
returning from thence, his ship sprung her foremast, and was in other
respects so much damaged, that he was obliged to put in at Curacoa.
Whilst refitting, he received private information that Great Britain
and Holland would ere long be declared enemies. He therefore made
every effort to hasten his departure, and get his ship ready for sea;
and he had warped her to the head of the harbour, when a prize
schooner which he had despatched to Commodore Hood returned from that
officer, with orders for his future guidance. The officer on board the
schooner incautiously permitted his vessel to touch at the government
wharf, when some of the crew, having the opportunity imprudently
afforded them, jumped on shore, and reported that the British had
already commenced hostilities.

Upon this the Surinam was detained, and Captain Tucker was ordered on
shore, and informed that he must consider himself a prisoner of war.
At first he was not put under strict surveillance, and he therefore
employed the weary hours in taking plans of the forts and batteries of
the island. His occupation, however, was soon discovered, and highly
disapproved by the authorities, who immediately placed him in close
confinement in a room of the barracks.

On the first night of his captivity two musket-balls were fired into
his room, one of which struck a table at which he had been seated a
few moments before. These murderous attempts were frequently repeated
during his imprisonment, and he must inevitably have been shot in his
bed, had he not taken the precaution of constantly moving its
position, and thus baffled the treacherous designs of his cowardly
assailants.

A friendly warning was given to him, that where bullets failed,
_poison_ might succeed; and he was thenceforth obliged to watch most
narrowly, lest it should be administered in his food. In this wretched
state of suspense, he lingered for four months, when happily he and
his officers were released in exchange for nine Dutch clergymen.

We regret that our pen should have to record such treachery as that we
have described. We ask, and others have asked, were these soldiers and
gaolers free men and Christians, or were they slaves and heathens? It
must, however, be remembered that politics ran very high at that time;
and in this particular instance, at the outbreak of a war, men's minds
were half frantic, and we must not judge of the character of a nation
by the isolated acts of a petty colonial government.

THE GRAPPLER.

CHAUSSEY, or Choye, is a group of islets lying off the coast of
Normandy, about twenty miles from Jersey, and nine from Granville.
They stretch north, east, and west, and cover a space of nearly twelve
miles. The principal of them is called the Maitre Isle, and is the
resort of a few French fishermen during the summer, but being only a
rock, and totally devoid of vegetation, its inhabitants are entirely
dependent on the neighbouring shores for all the necessaries of life,
excepting what their nets may produce. At the time of which we are
writing, the winter of 1803, this group of islets was in the hands of
the English, and was the scene of the wreck of the Grappler in that
year.

On the 23rd December, 1803, Lieutenant Abel Thomas, commanding His
Majesty's brig Grappler, then stationed at Guernsey, was directed by
Admiral Sir James Saumarez to proceed, with some French prisoners on
board, to Granville, in Normandy, and there to set them at liberty;
after which he was to touch at the islands of Chaussey, on his return
to Guernsey, in order to supply twelve French prisoners who were on
the Maitre Isle with fifteen days' provisions.

On the evening of the 23rd,--the same day that they sailed from
Guernsey,--the Grappler anchored off the north side of Chaussey, but a
heavy gale of wind which came on during the night rendered her
position so dangerous, that Lieutenant Thomas thought it advisable
either to return to Guernsey, or to run into one of the small harbours
formed among the rocks, which afford a safe shelter during the
severest gales, but are by no means easy of access, and are available
only to small vessels, and with the aid of an experienced pilot. Into
one of these natural harbours, Lieutenant Thomas, by the advice of his
pilot, determined to run the Grappler, and succeeded in anchoring her
in safety under the Maitre Isle. There they remained four or five
days, keeping a sharp look-out by day from the top of one of the
adjacent rocks, to guard against a surprise from the enemy's cruizers;
while for their better security at night, a guard-boat was stationed
at the entrance of the harbour. As the weather still continued too
boisterous to trust the brig with safety on a lee shore, her commander
determined to return to Guernsey, and offered his prisoners the
alternative of returning with him, or remaining with their countrymen
at Chaussey. As they all chose to remain, they were promptly landed,
and furnished with a boat and a week's supply of provisions, in
addition to what had already been left for the use of the inhabitants.
To enable his prisoners to land with greater security at Granville,
Lieutenant Thomas read aloud and sealed in their presence a letter,
addressed by Sir James Saumarez to the Commissary of Marine at that
port, containing an explanation of his reasons for liberating these
Frenchmen,--with his hopes that the French authorities would act in
the same manner towards any English who might fall into their
hands,--and entrusted it to one of them, with another letter from
himself, in which he stated how he had been prevented from conveying
them to Granville in his own vessel, and begged that any English
prisoners who chanced to be at that place might be sent to one of the
Channel Islands. The sequel will show in what manner this courtesy and
generosity were repaid by the French government.

At six, A.M., December 30th, all was in readiness for the Grappler to
leave the harbour. The anchor was up, and the vessel was riding
between wind and tide, with a hawser made fast to the rocks.
Unfortunately, the hawser either broke or slipped while they were in
the act of close reefing the topsails, and the brig cast to port. She
drifted about three or four hundred yards, and struck at last on a
half-tide rock, from which all their efforts were unavailing to haul
her off again, and at low water she bilged, and parted in two abreast
the chess tree.

Lieutenant Thomas, foreseeing the inevitable loss of the brig, had
ordered the master to proceed with the cutter and eight men to Jersey
for assistance; and he was directing the crew in their endeavours to
mount some guns upon a small rocky islet, to which they had already
carried the greater part of the provisions, small arms, and
ammunition, when the look-out man, who had been stationed on the
summit of the rock, reported that several small craft were steering
towards them. Upon receiving this intelligence, the commander and
pilot repaired to the high ground, and after carefully examining the
appearance of the vessels, agreed that they were merely fishing boats,
and considered that it would be imprudent to let them depart before
assistance had been procured from Jersey, as, in case there were no
ships of war at that place, these boats might possibly be hired to
carry the men and stores to Jersey. With this object in view,
Lieutenant Thomas pushed off in the jolly boat, accompanied by the
French fishermen's small boat which had come to the assistance of the
Grappler's crew.

In order to approach the supposed fishing boats, it was necessary to
double a point of the Maitre Isle; and this they had no sooner
accomplished, than they came in sight of three chasse marees, which
had been concealed behind the point. On the sudden appearance of the
English boat, the men on board the chasse marees were thrown into some
confusion, and Lieutenant Thomas determined to attack them before
they had time to recover themselves. On communicating his intention to
his boat's crew, they dashed forwards at once with a loud cheer, but
had scarcely pulled a dozen strokes when a body of soldiers, who had
been concealed behind some rocks on the Maitre Isle, poured in so
severe a fire that Lieutenant Thomas, seeing the superiority of the
French in point of numbers, thought it prudent to retreat. No sooner
had he given orders to do so, than a shot struck him on the lower jaw
and passed through his tongue, rendering him incapable of further
exertion. A second volley of musketry riddled the boat, so that she
began to fill with water, and finding that they had no alternative but
to surrender, the English made a signal to that effect, which was
either unobserved, or purposely disregarded, as the firing did not
cease till the arrival of the officer in command of the French, when
the little party were all made prisoners. Upon Lieutenant Thomas being
carried on shore, he found that he had fallen into the hands of a
Capitaine de Frigate, who commanded a detachment of fourteen boats and
a hundred and sixty men. As soon as the captives were landed, a party
of the French troops proceeded to the wreck of the Grappler, and made
prisoners of the men who were on the adjacent rock, and after seizing
all the stores and provisions, they blew up the remains of the brig.

When Lieutenant Thomas had partially recovered from the faintness and
insensibility caused by his wound, he handed his pocket-book to the
French officer. After reading the orders of Sir James Saumarez, which
it contained, this officer expressed much regret that Lieutenant
Thomas had been so seriously wounded, and alleged that the troops had
fired without his orders. Such was the apology of the French
commander, but it certainly does not tell well for the discipline of
his troops, nor is it easy to understand how so large a body of men
could be left without a commissioned officer even for a moment, much
less how they could have kept up a continued fire, which this seems to
have been. Perhaps, however, it is not fair to comment too severely
upon the conduct of the French on this occasion; the signal of
surrender might not have been observed, and as the English had
commenced the attack, the enemy may naturally have supposed that a
larger force was shortly advancing to the support of their comrades.
We should also bear in mind that the war had just broke out anew,
after a short cessation of hostilities, and that national animosity
was at its height.

Thus far we may attempt to palliate the conduct of the French, but it
might naturally be supposed that upon learning from his papers the
errand of mercy upon which Lieutenant Thomas had been engaged, the
French officer would have done all in his power to alleviate the
sufferings of his prisoner, and have shown him every mark of courtesy
and attention. However this may be, no sooner were all arrangements
completed, than the prisoners were marched to the boats, and
Lieutenant Thomas was handed over to the care of two grenadiers, with
directions that every attention should be paid to him; but the
officer's back was scarcely turned, when these grenadiers, assisted by
some of their comrades, stripped poor Thomas of all his clothes, broke
open his trunk, which had been restored to him, and appropriated to
themselves every article of value that he possessed. Having secured
their plunder, they dragged their unfortunate victim to the beach,
regardless of his wound and sufferings, and after gagging him with a
pocket-handkerchief, threw him on the deck of one of their boats.

The wind blowing fresh on their passage to Granville, which was three
leagues from Chaussey, the greater part of the soldiers were
prostrated by sea-sickness, whilst the seamen were in such a state of
intoxication, that had Lieutenant Thomas been able to rise, or to
communicate with his fellow-prisoners, he might easily have
overpowered the French, and gained possession of the vessel. If such
an idea flashed across his mind, it was but for a moment: he could
neither speak nor move, and lay for many hours exposed to the
insulting jeers of the French, and the inclemency of the weather. It
was late at night when they landed at Granville, but the naval and
military staff waited upon Mr. Thomas the next morning, and told him
that it was the intention of the authorities to send him back to
England, in consideration of his kindness to the French prisoners. The
expectation raised in the English officer's breast by these promises
were, to the disgrace of the French government of that day, never
realized. He was thrown into prison, and treated with the utmost
severity; in vain did he protest against this injustice--in vain did
he represent that he was engaged on no hostile expedition at the time
of his capture, which, moreover, was not through the fortune of war,
but through the violence of the elements. He was kept in close
confinement at Verdun for ten years, and when he was at last released,
liberty was scarcely a boon to him. The damp of his prison, and the
sufferings attendant on his wound, had impaired his eyesight, and
otherwise so injured his constitution, that he was no longer fit for
active service. He was, however, promoted to the rank of commander
immediately on his return to England: this rank he still holds, but
the best years of his life had been spent in captivity, and his hopes
of promotion were not realized till too late for the enjoyment of its
honours, or for the service of his country.

THE APOLLO.

The following account of the loss of the Apollo is taken almost
verbatim from the narrative of Mr. Lewis, clerk of the ship, an
eye-witness of the occurrence. His narrative is too graphic to be
suppressed:--'On Monday, the 26th of March, 1804, His Majesty's ship
Apollo sailed from the Cove of Cork in company with the Carysfort, and
sixty-nine sail of merchantmen under convoy, for the West Indies. On
the 27th, we were out of sight of land, with a fair wind blowing fresh
from the west-south-west. At eight o'clock on the evening of Sunday,
the 1st of April, the wind shifted from south-west to south-east. At
ten o'clock, we up mainsail and set mainstay-sail. At a quarter past
ten, the mainstay-sail split by the sheet giving way. All hands were
called upon deck. It blew strong and squally; we took in the
foretop-sail and set the foresail. At half-past eleven the
maintop-sail split; furled it and the mainsail. The ship was now under
her foresails, the wind blowing hard, with a heavy sea.

'At about half-past three on Monday morning, April 2nd, the ship
struck the ground, to the astonishment of every one on board, and by
the last reckoning, we conjectured we were upon an unknown shoal.

'The vessel struck very heavily several times, by which her bottom was
materially injured, and she made a great deal of water. The chain
pumps were rigged with the utmost despatch, and the men began to pump,
but in about ten minutes she beat and drove over the shoal, and on
endeavouring to steer her, they found her rudder was carried away. The
ship was then got before the wind, the pumps were kept going, but
from the quantity of water shipped, there was every probability of her
soon foundering, as she was filling and sinking very fast.

'After running about five minutes, the ship struck the ground again
with such violent shocks, that we feared she would go to pieces
instantly; however, she kept striking and driving further on the
sands, the sea washing completely over her. Orders were given to cut
away the lanyards of the main and mizen rigging, when the masts fell
with a tremendous crash over the larboard-side: the foremast followed
immediately after. The ship then fell on her starboard-side, with the
gunwale under water. The violence with which she struck the ground and
the weight of the guns (those on the quarter-deck tearing away the
bulwarks) soon made the ship a perfect wreck abaft, and only four or
five guns could possibly be fired to alarm the convoy and give notice
of danger.

'On her drifting a second time, most pitiful cries were heard
everywhere between decks; many of the men giving themselves up to
inevitable death. I was told that I might as well stay below, as there
was an equal likelihood of perishing if I got upon deck. I was,
however, determined to go--and attempted, in the first place, to enter
my cabin, but I was in danger of having my legs broken by the chests
floating about, and the bulkheads giving way.

'I therefore desisted and endeavoured to get upon deck, which I
effected after being several times washed down the hatchway by the
immense body of water incessantly pouring down. As the ship still beat
the ground very heavily, it was necessary to cling fast to some part
of the wreck to save oneself from being washed away by the surges, or
hurled overboard by the concussions. The people held on by the
larboard bulwark of the quarter-deck and in the main chains. The good
captain stood naked upon the cabin skylight grating, making use of
every soothing expression that suggested itself--to encourage men in
such a perilous situation. Most of the officers and men were entirety
naked, not having had time to slip on even a pair of trousers.

'Our horrible situation became every moment more dreadful, until at
daybreak, about half-past four o'clock, we discerned land at two
cables' distance, a long sandy beach reaching to Cape Mondego, three
leagues to the southward of us. On daylight clearing up, we could
perceive between twenty and thirty sail of the convoy ashore, both to
northward and southward, and several of them perfect wrecks. We were
now certain of being on the coast of Portugal, from seeing the cape
mentioned above,--though I am sorry to say no person in the ship had
the least idea of being so near the coast. It was blowing very hard,
and the sea was running mountains high, so that there was little hope
of being saved. About eight o'clock, the ship seemed likely to go to
pieces, and the after part lying lowest, Captain Dixon ordered every
one forward,--a command it was difficult to comply with, from the
motion of the mainmast working on the larboard gunwale, there being no
other way to get forward. Mr. Cook, the boatswain, had his thigh
broken in endeavouring to get a boat over the side. Of six boats not
one was saved, all being stoved, and washed overboard with the booms, &c.

'Soon after the people got forward, the ship parted at the gangways.
The crew were now obliged to stow themselves in the fore-channels, and
from thence to the bowsprit end, to the number of 220,--for, out of
the 240 persons on board when the ship first struck, I suppose twenty
to have previously perished between decks and otherwise. Mr. Lawton,
the gunner, the first who attempted to swim ashore, was drowned;
afterwards, Lieutenant Witson, Mr. Runice, surgeon, Mr. McCabe,
surgeon's mate, Mr. Staudley, master's mate, and several men, were
also drowned (though they were excellent swimmers), by the sea
breaking over them in enormous surges. About thirty persons had the
good fortune to reach the shore upon planks and spars, amongst whom
were Lieutenant Harvey and Mr. Callam, master's mate. On Monday night,
our situation was truly horrible; the old men and boys were dying from
hunger and fatigue; Messrs. Proby and Hayes, midshipmen, died also.
Captain Dixon remained all night upon the bowsprit.

'Tuesday morning presented no better prospect of relief from the jaws
of death. The wind blew stronger, and the sea was much more turbulent.
About noon, our drooping spirits were somewhat revived by seeing
Lieutenant Harvey and Mr. Callam hoisting out a boat from one of the
merchant ships to come to our assistance. They attempted several times
to launch her through the surf; but she was a very heavy boat, and the
sea on the beach acted so powerfully against them, they could not
effect their purpose, though they were assisted by nearly one hundred
of the merchant sailors and Portuguese peasants. This day, several men
went upon rafts made from pieces of the wreck; but not one reached the
shore: the wind having shifted, and the current setting _out_, they
were all driven to sea, and amongst them our captain and three
sailors. Anxious to save the remainder of the ship's company, and too
sanguine of getting safe on shore, he had ventured upon the spar,
saying, as he jumped into the sea, 'My lads, I'll save you all.' In a
few seconds, he lost his hold of the spar, which he could not regain:
he drifted to sea, and perished: and such was also the fate of the
three brave volunteers who shared his fortune.

'The loss of our captain, who had hitherto animated the almost
lifeless crew, and the failure of Lieutenant Harvey and Mr. Callam, in
their noble exertions to launch the boat, extinguished every gleam of
hope, and we looked forward to certain death on the ensuing night, not
only from cold, hunger, and fatigue, but from the expectation that the
remaining part of the wreck might go to pieces at any moment. Had not
the Apollo been a new and well-built ship, that small portion of her
could not have resisted the waves, and held so well together, when all
the after-part from the chess-tree was gone, the starboard bow under
water, and the forecastle deck nearly perpendicular. The weight of the
guns hanging to the larboard bulwark on the inside, and on the outside
the bower and spare anchors, which it was not prudent to cut away, as
they afforded a resting-place to a considerable number of men, added
to the danger. It had become impossible to remain any longer in the
head, or upon the bowsprit, the breakers washing continually over
those places, so that one hundred and fifty men were stowed in the
fore-channels and cat's-head, where alone it was possible to live.

'The night drawing on, the wind increasing, with frequent showers of
rain, the sea washing over us, and the expectation becoming every
instant more certain, that the forecastle would give way and that we
must all perish together, afforded a spectacle truly deplorable, and
the bare recollection of which makes me shudder. The piercing cries of
the people, this dismal night, as the sea washed over them every two
minutes, were pitiful in the extreme. The water running from the head
down over the body kept us continually wet. On that fearful night
every man's strength was exerted for his own individual safety. From
crowding so close together in so narrow a compass, and having nothing
to moisten their mouths, several poor wretches were suffocated, like
those in the black hole,--with this only difference, that we were
confined by water instead of strong walls; and the least movement or
relaxation of our hold would have plunged us into eternity.

'Some unfortunate men drank salt water, several endeavoured to quench
their raging thirst by a still more unnatural means; some chewed
leather, myself and many others thought we experienced great relief by
chewing lead, as it produced saliva.

'In less than an hour after the ship had struck the ground, all the
provisions were under water, and the ship a wreck, so that we were
entirely without food. After a night of most intense suffering,
daylight enabled us to see Lieutenant Harvey and Mr. Callam again
endeavouring to launch the boat. Several attempts were made without
success, and a number of men belonging to the merchant ships were much
bruised and injured in their efforts to assist. Alternate hopes and
fears possessed our wretched minds.

'Fifteen men got safe on shore, this morning, on pieces of the wreck.
About three, P.M., of Wednesday, the 4th, we had the inexpressible
happiness of seeing the boat launched through the surf, by the
indefatigable exertions of the two officers, assisted by the masters
of the merchant ships, and a number of Portuguese peasants, who were
encouraged by Mr. Whitney, the British Consul from Figuera.

'All the crew then remaining on the wreck were brought safe on shore,
praising God for this happy deliverance, from a shipwreck which never
yet had its parallel.

'As soon as I slipt out of the boat, I found several persons whose
humanity prompted them to offer me refreshment, though imprudently, in
the form of spirits, which I avoided as much as possible.

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