Part 21

It appears from the statement of three men who have been saved out of the crew--all the rest having perished, that the captain ordered the anchor to be let go, in hopes of swinging round with the tide.

In a few minutes after the vessel had gone aground, multitudes rushed to the beach, and a brave French sailor, named Pierre Henin, who has already received the thanks of the Humane Society of London, addressed himself to the captain of the port, and said that he was resolved to go alone, and to reach the vessel, in order to tell the captain that he had not a moment to lose, but must, as it was low water, send all his crew and passengers on shore.

You will recollect that up to the time of her running aground no measure was adopted, and the captain was not warned from shore of her danger.

As soon as she had struck, however, a pilot-boat, commanded by Francois Heuret, who has on many occasions shown much courage and talent, was dispatched, and by a little after five came under her bows. The captain of the vessel refused to avail himself of the assistance of Heuret and his brave companions, and when a portion of the crew proposed going on shore the captain prevented them. Two of the men saved, state that they knew the boat was under the bows, but that the rest were below making up their bundles. The crew could then have got on shore, and all the unfortunate women and children.

When the French boat had gone, the surgeon sent for Owen, one of the crew, and ordered him to get out the long boat. This was about half past five. The surgeon discussed the matter with his wife and with the captain. They were afraid of allowing the prisoners to go on shore. The wife of the surgeon is said to have proposed to leave the convicts there, and to go on shore without them.

In consequence of this discussion, no long boat was sent out. Three of the convict women told Owen, that they heard the surgeon persuaded the captain not to accept the assistance of the French boat, on account of the prisoners who were on board.

Let us now return to Pierre Henin. The French pilot-boat had been refused by the surgeon and captain--the long-boat had been put out, through a discussion as to saving the convicts--and it was now nearly six o'clock. At that time Henin went to the beach, stripped himself, took a line, swam naked for about three quarters of an hour or an hour, and arrived at the vessel at a little after seven. On reaching the right side of the vessel, he hailed the crew, and said, "Give me a line to conduct you on land, or you are lost, as the sea is coming in." He spoke English plain enough to be heard. He touched the vessel and told them to speak to the captain. They threw (that is, some of the crew, but not the surgeon or captain) two lines, one from the stern and one from the bow. The one from the stern he could not seize--the one from the bow he did. He then went towards the shore, but the rope was stopped. This was, it is believed, the act of the surgeon and captain. He (Henin) then swam back, and told them to give him more rope to get on shore. The captain and surgeon would not. They then tried to haul him in, but his strength failed and he got on shore.

You perceive, then, that up to this moment also the same obstacle existed in the minds of the captain and surgeon.--They did not dare, without authority, to land the convicts, and rather than leave them on board, or land them without such authority, they perished with them.

The female convicts, who were battened down under the hatches, on the vessel's running aground, broke away the half deck hatch, and frantic, rushed on deck. Of course they entreated the captain and surgeon to let them go on shore in the long-boat, but they were not listened to, as the captain and surgeon did not feel authorized to liberate prisoners committed to their care.

At seven o'clock the flood tide began. The crew seeing that there were no hopes, clung to the rigging. The poor 108 women and 12 children remained on deck, uttering the most piteous cries. The vessel was about three quarters of a mile English from the shore, and no more. Owen, one of the three men saved, thinks that the women remained on deck in this state about an hour and a half. Owen and four others were on the spars, and thinks they remained there three quarters of an hour, but, seeing no hope of being saved, he took to swimming, and was brought in a state of insensibility to the hotel. Towsey, another of the men saved, was on a plank with the captain. Towsey asked who he was? He said "I am the captain," but the next moment he was gone. Rice, the third man, floated ashore on a ladder. He was in the aft when the other men took to the raft. When the French pilot-boat rowed away, after being rejected by the captain, he (Rice) saw a man waving his hat on the beach, and remarked to the captain that a gentleman was waving to them to come on shore. The captain turned away and made no answer.--At that moment the women all disappeared, the ship broke in two.

These are the facts of this awful case. The French Marine Humane Society immediately placed hundreds of men on the beach; and the office, or lodging, being close to the shore, as soon as the corpses were picked up they were brought to the rooms, where I assisted many of my countrymen in endeavoring to restore them to life. Our efforts were fruitless except in the cases of the three men, Owen, Rice and Towsey. I never saw so many fine and beautiful bodies in my life. Some of the women were the most perfectly made; and French and English wept together at such a horrible loss of life in sight of--ay, and even close to, the port and town.--Body after body has been brought in. More than 60 have been found; they will be buried to-morrow. But alas! after all our efforts, only three lives have been saved out of 136.

THE MUTINEERS, A TALE OF THE SEA.

There is scarce any one, we apprehend, who is in any considerable degree conversant with the shifting scenes of human existence, who does not know that many of the plain narratives of common life possess an indescribable charm. These unvarnished details of human weal and human wo, coming right from the mint of nature, decline the superfluous embellishments of art, and, in the absence of all borrowed lustre, clearly demonstrate that they are "adorned the most when unadorned." They bear a most diametrical contrast to those figments of diseased fancy, that nauseating romance about virgins betrothed and lady love, which in so many instances elbow decency and common sense from the pages of our periodical literature as "unwelcome guests."

It has frequently been said that sailors, above every other class of men, have irrepressible hankerings after the wild and wonderful. Certain it is, that he who will sit on a ship's forecastle of a bright moonlight evening, will hear of "hair-breadth escapes," and perilous adventures no less chivalrous and incredible than those which Cervantes and the biographer of Baron Munchausen have attributed to their respective heroes. Although the following incidents may excite no very thrilling interest, they have at least the merit of truth. The actors in this short drama are still on the stage, ready to testify to this narrative of facts.

On the morning of the 14th of April, 1828, the ship Gold Hunter glided majestically out of the Liverpool docks, with fair wind and tide. The Mersey, from Liverpool to Black Rock, a distance of about three miles, was literally covered with vessels of every character and nation, which had taken advantage of the fair wind to clear the harbor. Here might be seen the little French lugger, carrying back to Bordeaux what its fruit and brandy had bought, as frisky in its motions as the nervous monsieur who commanded it. At a little distance, the square-shouldered Antwerper, sitting on the elevated poop of his galliot, was enjoying, with his crew, a glorious smoke. You could almost see them (and that, too, without very keen optics) put care into their tobacco-pipes, anxiety curled in fume over their heads. A not unfrequent sight was the star-spangled banner floating in beauty over the bosom of the wave. The serenity of the atmosphere, the ever-changing brilliancy of the scene, the tout ensemble, were well calculated to excite the most pleasurable emotions. Every thing seemed to give the most flattering assurances of a voyage of unruffled peacefulness.

This large squadron continued comparatively unbroken until it reached Holyhead, where such vessels as were bound for Scotland, or the north of Ireland, bore away from those which were bound down the channel. The Gold Hunter, whose destination was a port in the United States, was, of course, in company with the latter class. Those on board of her very naturally felt great gratification in perceiving that she was not only the most splendid and graceful ship, but the swiftest sailor in sight.

Before we proceed farther, however, we must in some measure acquaint the reader with the inmates of the Gold Hunter. Notwithstanding she was one of those floating palaces yclept "Liverpool packets," and the captain a finished gentleman and skilful navigator, there were, on this trip, but two cabin passengers,--an Irish gentleman (who had a short time before sold his lieutenancy in the British army) and his sister. The former had been engaged in some of England's fiercest battles, and won some of her brightest laurels. The reason which induced him to dispose of his commission, and forsake the hardships and honors of military life, was a desire to visit some near relations, who, at an early period, had emigrated to this country, and who were now enjoying respectability and a competence. It was for this object that Mr. Kelly and his sister had taken passage in the Gold Hunter, at the time of which we are now speaking. It need hardly be said, that they felt towards each other all that deep-toned and romantic affection which in so characteristic a manner pervades Irish relationships.

The captain, who was a man of fine feeling and cultivated intellect, spent most of his leisure moments in their company; and many an evening, when the moon-beams played forth brightly on the rippling water, and the bellying of the canvass seemed to assure them they were hastening to the tender embraces of those they loved, would they sit together on the quarter-deck, while Miss Kelly enhanced the brilliancy of the scene by singing some of those wild, touching melodies which she had learned to warble on her own native hills. Thus, "time trod on flowers," and the incidental privations and inconveniences of a sea voyage were greatly mitigated.

Nothing worthy of special notice occurred until about the 25th of April, when Mr. Kelly, who was walking on the weather side of the main deck, accidentally overheard the following conversation, between three or four of the crew, engaged in caulking the seams just under the lee of the long-boat.

"I tell you, once for all, a cargo of silks and broadcloths aint a-going to do us any good without the ready cash."

"Ready cash! why, man, how many times must I tell you that there is specie on board? the old man has two or three thousand dollars, and Kelly has a bag of sovereigns, or my eyes never saw salt water."--"And the girl," said a third voice, which Mr. Kelly knew to be the steward's--"and the girl did not jingle her bag for nothing the other day, when she walked by me: something there, or my head 's a ball of spun-yarn."

Kelly was transfixed with utter horror and amazement; but fearful lest some one might perceive him, he crouched under the long-boat, which afforded him a partial concealment. In this situation, he listened with breathless anxiety, to the development of their plans, so murderous that his very blood ran cold in his veins.

When the villains came to the blackest, most awful, portions of their scheme, their voices were instinctively hushed into almost a whisper; so that it was only the general outline that Kelly could gather. He found that it was their intention to wait until some dark, dismal night, when they would rush on the captain, himself and sister, and murder them in their beds, rifle them of their money, and take possession of the ship. It was their design to spare the life of the mate, whose services they needed as a navigator. After having done all this, they were to steer directly for the coast of Africa, where they hoped to dispose of the cargo to the negroes. If successful, they expected to carry thence to the West Indies a load of slaves--if not, to abandon the ship entirely, taking with them the specie, and whatever light articles of value they conveniently could. They anticipated no difficulty in introducing themselves into some of the settlements on the coast as shipwrecked mariners; and, as vessels frequently left the settlements for the United States, they supposed they might procure a passage without exciting any suspicion.

Kelly was a man of such imperturbable self-command, that he found no difficulty in repressing every symptom which could indicate his knowledge of the diabolical conspiracy. It was no part of his intention, however, to conceal any thing from Capt. Newton; to the captain, therefore, he made an unreserved disclosure of all that had come to his knowledge. At first they were at a loss what measures to take: one thing they thought of the greatest importance, which was to keep Miss Kelly in entire ignorance of what was transpiring on board. Some uncurbed outbreaking of alarm would be almost certain, such was the excitability of her temperament. This, in their present situation, might be attended with the most disastrous consequences.

The captain determined to eye with particular vigilance the motions of Harmon, who, from the part he took in the conversation alluded to above, appeared to be the ring-leader. Here, in order that the reader may fully understand the narrative, it becomes necessary for us to make a very short digression.

The government of a ship is, in the strictest sense of the term, monarchical, the captain holding undivided and absolute authority. The relation he sustains to the sailor resembles very much that of the master to the slave. Consequently, in order that this relation be not severed by the sailor, even the faintest color of insubordination must be promptly quelled. If any master of a ship suffer a sailor to make an impertinent reply with impunity, he immediately finds his authority prostrate and trampled upon, and his most positive commands pertinaciously disregarded.

The day after that on which Mr. Kelly had communicated the startling intelligence to the captain, was somewhat squally. The latter was standing on the weather side of the quarter-deck, giving directions to the man at the helm (who happened to be Harmon) respecting the steering of the ship:

"Luff! luff! keep her full and by! Mind your weather helm, or she'll be all in the wind. Down with it, or she'll be off! I tell you, if you don't steer the ship better, I'll send you from the helm. You don't keep her within three points of her course either way!"