Part 38

The brig, for such she now appeared, could not have been above half a mile distant, when she suddenly altered her course. In vain they both hailed at once, and waved their jackets as a signal, but no notice was taken; then, indeed, every hope was dispelled, and the bitterness of despair returned with redoubled force.

At this juncture, Meldrum resolved, at all hazards, to attempt to swim to the vessel. If he remained in the boat, certain death would be the fate of himself and his companion: on the other hand, he might perish in the sea, but if he reached the brig, both would be saved. Without a moment's hesitation, he communicated his design to Maclean, and then, committing himself to the pretection of the Almighty, sprang overboard.

The idea of solitude is so repugnant to human nature, that even death would be preferable. It can be therefore easily imagined that it was with feelings almost amounting to agony that Maclean saw himself separated from his last friend. His first impulse was to follow his companion, but better judgment prevailed, and he determined to await the result. Never for a single instant did his eyes turn from the bold swimmer: they followed his every stroke. At one time, he thought he had sunk; at another, the ripple of a wave appeared to his distorted imagination like the fin of a shark. Anxiety for the fate of his companion kept his mind on the stretch until distance rendered the object no longer visible. 'Then, indeed, did he feel that he was alone.'

Meldrum was naturally a good swimmer, and every nerve was strained in this last struggle for life; buoyed up by hope, he had accomplished about two-thirds of his weary task when his strength began to fail, his dying eyes turned towards the brig, and with one last effort he raised his voice. He was heard: a boat was lowered from the brig, and he was taken on board. The perilous situation of his comrade was made known; and thus by his gallant exertions were preserved the lives of the two survivors, of the ill-fated Magpie.

This tale might almost be discredited, but the facts from which it was taken bear the signature of the officers composing the court-martial who sat upon the two remaining men. Mr. Maclean is at the present moment alive, and is now serving as a lieutenant in the coast-guard. Meldrum was promoted for his gallantry to the rank of gunner, and died two years ago.

THE THETIS.

His Majesty's ship, Thetis, Captain Samuel Burgess, sailed from Rio Janeiro on the evening of the 4th of December, 1830, having a large amount of treasure on board. The weather was so thick, that as they worked out of the harbour, the islands at its entrance were not visible; but as the evening was tolerably fine, with the exception of the fog, Captain Burgess determined to persevere in his course. The following morning the fog dispersed, but it was soon succeeded by such heavy rain, that the obscurity was nearly as great as before. The ship continued her course with the wind upon the starboard tack, until half-past one in the afternoon, when, from the reckoning, they supposed Cape Frio to be about thirty-eight miles distant, lying north 36° east. From the hour of their departure from Rio Janeiro, till the time of which we speak, neither sun, moon, nor stars had been visible. On account of the cross sea, which appeared to impede the progress of the vessel, and the lightness of the wind, her course was kept east by north until two o'clock, when it was changed to E.N.E. At four o'clock P.M. it was calculated that they had run about nineteen miles, and that they must be nearly abreast of Cape Frio, and about twenty-four miles distant from it. The weather clearing up at that time, they discovered a large ship, with all sail set, standing in shore, and no land being visible, they concluded that they were still further from land than they had reckoned, and therefore they changed their course again to N.E. by E. At five o'clock the people were mustered at quarters, and then a looming of land was seen to the N.N.W., which, according to their calculation, was the direction Cape Frio would bear; and there being no land near it that could have the same appearance, the reckoning was considered correct, and a prudent proportion of sail was made, regard being had to the state of the weather, and the course they were steering. Between six and seven o'clock P.M. the rain again began to fall; the fog returned, and became gradually so thick, that it was impossible to see the length of the ship.

At eight P.M. the watch was mustered, and the men placed at their stations to keep a vigilant look-out, while the officer of the watch went forward himself to see that the sails were well trimmed, and that every one was on the alert. At half-past eight, when the captain had retired to his cabin, and was waiting for the usual evening report from the master, a midshipman entered with the startling intelligence that land had been seen close ahead, the ship at the time going at the rate of eight or nine miles an hour.

Captain Burgess was on deck in a moment; he ordered the helm to be put 'hard a-port,' and was told it had been done. The next instant the jib-booms and bowsprit were heard to crash; the captain hastened to the gangway, and was just in time to see the foremast go. Scarcely had he called to the men to stand clear, when all the three masts fell aft, one after the other, covering the deck with masts, yards, sails, and rigging, and in their fall killing some and dreadfully mangling others. Within a few feet of the ship rose a stupendous black rock, against which the surf was raging violently. The rock was so perpendicular, that both the fore and main yardarms were (before they fell) scraping against the granite cliff. The hull, however, did not appear to come in contact with the rock; but, as if answering the helm, her head turned off shore, and as she swung round, the larboard quarter boat was completely smashed between the ship's side and the rock. Nothing could exceed the alarm that prevailed on board for a few minutes after the sudden crash. The decks were covered with spars and rigging, lying pell-mell upon the bodies of those who had been injured by their fall. The man at the helm had been killed at his post, and the wheel itself was shivered to atoms; whilst the darkness of the night, and the roar of the breakers against the cliff, added to the horrors of a catastrophe of which the suddenness alone was sufficient to paralyse the energies of the men.

Captain Burgess saw that everything depended upon promptitude and decision: he quickly rallied his people, and order was soon restored: he then gave directions that the well should be sounded, and that the men should stand by the small bower anchor.

A sentinel was placed to guard the spirit-room, and two small sails were run up the fore and main-masts, the stumps of which were from twelve to fifteen feet above the deck, and the helm was put to starboard. The winches were next manned, and guns, rockets, and blue lights let off in rapid succession.

The well was reported dry; orders were given for the small bower anchor to be let go, but it was found covered with the wreck of the bowsprit, and it was necessary to cut away the best bower in order to keep the ship off shore; and for the same purpose every spar that could be obtained was made use of to bear her off the rocky cliffs, but in vain, for from the depth of the water, the anchor did not reach the bottom, and the stern tailed upon a shelving rock in spite of all their efforts. The men were next ordered to clear away the boats and get them ready--but they were found totally destroyed. Those on the quarters had been smashed by the rocks, and those on the booms and stern by the falling of the masts. During the whole of this anxious period, the conduct of the men was most exemplary. Aware that all depended upon individual exertion, each one appeared to emulate the example set by his officers, and worked with hearty good will; not a single instance of anything like bad conduct occurred.

Their condition was most disheartening; the boats were no longer available; the water was gaining on the vessel; and the rockets and blue lights, as they darted into the air, served but to show them the rugged face of the high rocks, which appeared to afford no footing by which the summit could be gained, even if they should be so fortunate as to reach them at all.

Whilst all on board were weighing these chances of destruction or of safety, the vessel's head had gone round off, and a few succeeding heavy surfs threw her again with her starboard quarter upon the rock, and whilst she was in this position, there appeared a possibility of getting some of the people on shore. Captain Burgess, therefore, ordered Lieutenant Hamilton to do everything in his power to facilitate such a proceeding, and shortly afterwards that officer, Mr. Mends, midshipman, and about seventy others, effected a landing by jumping either from the broken end of the mainyard, which was lying across the ship, or from the hammock netting abaft the mizenmast; several others who attempted to land in the same way were less fortunate; some were crushed to death, and some drawn back by the recoil of the surf and drowned.

From the time the ship first struck, the current had been carrying her along the cliffs at the rate of at least a quarter of a mile an hour; it now carried her off the rock, and she drifted along shore, a helpless wreck, at the mercy of the winds and waves. The captain saw that nothing more could be done for the vessel, and therefore he directed all his energies to the preservation of the crew. The marine who had been appointed to guard the spirit-room still remained at his post, and never left it till commanded to do so by his superior officer, even after the water had burst open the hatch. We mention this as an instance of the effect of good discipline in times of the greatest peril.

The vessel, or rather the wreck, was now carried towards a small cove, into which she happily drifted; she struck heavily against the rocks, then gave some tremendous yauls, and gradually sunk until nothing was left above water but the bows, the broken bowsprit, and the wreck of the masts as they laid on the booms.

All on board deemed that the crisis of their fate had arrived,--and they prepared for the final struggle between life and death. There were some moments of awful suspense, for every lurch the ill-fated vessel gave, was expected to be the last; but when she seemed to sink no deeper, there came the hope that her keel had touched the bottom, and that they should not all he engulfed in a watery grave.

Before she sunk, the frigate's bows had gone so close into the rocks as to enable some sixty or seventy people to jump on shore; and a hawser was got out and fixed to a rock, by which several others were saved; but by a tremendous surge, the piece of rock to which the hawser was fastened was broken away, and for a time all communication with the land was suspended. They tried every means that could be devised to convey a rope from the ship to the land, but for a long time without success, until Mr. Geach, the boatswain, swung himself on the stump of the bowsprit, and by making fast two belaying pins to the end of a line, he succeeded in throwing it on shore. To this a stronger cable was bent, and it was dragged through the surf by the people on the rocks, who then kept it taut.

Although a few words only are required to describe the mode by which a communication was established between the ship and the shore, yet it had been a work of toil, time, and danger. The boatswain had more than once nearly lost his life by being washed away by the waves as they swept over the wreck; the captain, who directed his proceedings, was standing up to his middle in water, upon one foot only, frequently losing his hold, and with great difficulty regaining his position.

The boatswain, when the preparations were completed, suggested that, in order to test the strength of the cable, a boy should be the first to make a trial of it; accordingly, a young lad was firmly secured to a sort of cradle or bowling knot, and drawn on shore in safety. The success of the attempt was announced by a loud cheer from the strand, and the captain then took upon himself to direct the landing of the rest of the crew by the same means. He stationed himself on the knight head, so as to prevent a general rush being made; he then called each man separately, and one by one they slung themselves upon the rope and were swung on shore. Nothing could exceed the good conduct displayed by the whole of the ship's company, every order was promptly obeyed, and the utmost patience and firmness exhibited by every individual.

When the greater part of the people had quitted the wreck, there still remained several who could not be induced even by the earnest and repeated entreaties of their commander to leave their dry position on the yards. The strength of the captain and boatswain was almost exhausted, and as they could not persuade any more of the men to avail themselves of the proffered means of safety, they were obliged, though very reluctantly, to leave them on the wreck, and they themselves joined the crew on the rocks.

In the course of an hour or two, however, the party who had stayed by the wreck, took courage and ventured upon the rope; but as the stump of the bowsprit, which was over the larboard cathead, rendered it extremely hazardous to come forward, they did not all get on shore till daylight. In the morning, Captain Burgess's first care was to muster his men, and a melancholy spectacle presented itself. Sixteen were missing, and of those who were gathered around him, many had been dreadfully bruised and lacerated in their efforts to reach the shore. Amongst those who perished was a fine spirited lad, the son of Captain Bingham, late commander of the Thetis. But a few months before, Captain Bingham himself had been drowned in the Guayaquil: thus father and son lay far from their native land, beneath the western flood.

The warlike of the isles, The men of field and wave, Are not the rocks their funeral piles, The seas and shores their grave? Go, stranger! track the deep-- Free, free, the white sail spread; Wind may not rove, nor billows sweep, Where rest not England's dead.

The crew of the Thetis had now time to look around them, and to consider what was next to be done. The prospect was a sad one. Before them, and almost hidden by the white foam, lay the once noble frigate, now a complete wreck; the cove into which she had drifted was bound by lofty and precipitous crags, arising abruptly from the sea, and varying in height from 80 to 194 feet. The men and officers were perched in groups on points of the rocks; few of them had clothing enough to cover them, and scarcely any had shoes. There seemed to be no means of ascending the precipice; but to do so must be their first object; and anxiously they sought for some part which might offer a surer footing, and a less perilous and perpendicular ascent. At last they succeeded in casting a rope round one of the projecting crags, and by help of this some of the strongest of the party climbed the giddy height, and then assisted in hauling up their weaker comrades.

To give some idea of the difficulties which they had to surmount, and their almost miraculous escape, we subjoin the following description of the place from the pen of Captain Dickenson:--

'The coast is formed of rugged and almost perpendicular rocks, varying from 80 to 194 feet in height, a peak rising at each point, and another in nearly the centre of the north-eastern side.

'On viewing this terrific place, with the knowledge that at the time of the shipwreck the wind was from the southward, I was struck with astonishment, and it appeared quite a mystery that so great a number of lives could have been saved; and indeed it will never cease to be so, for that part on which the crew landed is so difficult of access, that (even in fine weather) after being placed by a boat on a rock at the base, it required considerable strength and agility, with the assistance of a man-rope, to climb the precipitous face of the cliff, and I am certain that in the hour of extreme peril, when excess of exertion was called forth, there must have been a most extraordinary display of it by a few for the benefit of the whole.'

When the party were all safely landed on the top of the rocks, they perceived that they were on an island without inhabitants, and affording no shelter, except a few huts, that had been erected for the convenience of the natives curing fish. Fortunately these huts contained a considerable quantity of salt fish and farina. This was placed in charge of the purser, and immediately distributed amongst the ship's company, who stood in great need of refreshment. As soon as the men were sufficiently recovered from their fatigues, they were despatched in parties in all directions, to discover means of communicating with the mainland, from which the island was a few miles distant. Most of them soon returned with the tidings that no means of transport could be procured. This was a very disheartening announcement; but its effects were quickly dispelled by the appearance of a canoe coming into the little cove where the huts were situated.