Grace Darling by Eva Hope (people reading books .txt) 📕

are in danger of losing the winning graces of true womanhood. It is at home that there is opportunity for the display of all that is sweet and good in the female life and character; and it is there that true goodness shines the most brightly. Let English girls remain attached to their own home-circles, and deserve such praise as the wise man gives to the excellent woman—"Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all."

CHAPTER X. THE PERILS OF THE OCEAN.

"Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell;
Then shrieked the timid, and stood still the brave;
Then some leaped overboard with dreadful yell,
As eager to anticipate their grave;
And the sea yawned around her like a hell,
And down she sucked with her the whirling wave,
Like one who grapples with his enemy,
And tries to strangle him before he die.

"And first one universal shriek there rushed,
Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash
Of echoing thunder; and then all was hushed,
Save the wild wind, and the remorseless dash
Of billows; but at intervals there gushed,
Accompanied by a convulsive splash,
A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry
Of some strong swimmer in his agony."—Byron.

It seems a sudden transition to turn from summer pic-nics to shipwrecks; but every reader knows how often, even in the midst of the world's pleasures and gaieties, mankind is startled by thrilling stories of the tragic experiences of some of the great human family.

It has already been said that Grace Darling, in her lonely life upon the Longstone rocks, surrounded only by the changeful elements, must often have found in them her unconscious tutors. Who has not felt his soul expand under the influence of a boundless ocean-prospect! But it is the sea in storms, when it tosses about the ships which have dared to invade it, as an angry child throws away its toys, that it is most grand and awful. And this object is the one that is often present to those who live by it. It may be that the best lessons which the sea taught the lighthouse girl were those connected with its angry hours; and that the repetition of startling casualties which she witnessed, or of which she heard, may have played an important part in schooling her to that degree of coolness and intrepidity which were necessary for the sublime act which made her famous.

It is only natural that, in our island, great interest should be manifested with regard to those who "go down to the sea in ships," and it may not therefore be deemed out of place to make in this book a reference to some of the most remarkable, and saddest, of the marine disasters which have occurred to make the people of our nation mourn. Every one who is at all acquainted with wreck returns will know how impossible it would be to notice, in the space available, more than a hundredth part of such occurrences. But two or three examples will suffice.

The name of the "Royal George" will at once suggest itself to the reader's memory. On August 29th, 1782, this ship, with many hundred souls aboard, sunk, at anchor, in the broad glare of day and in full sight of all on land, in the roadstead at Spithead. The British sailors were exceedingly proud of this vessel, and amongst her commanders had been such men as Admirals Anson, Boscawen, Rodney, and Howe, and although she was not considered equal in appearance to many others, she was believed to outrival them in her powers of sailing. The "Royal George" had seen very active service, and there had been some thought of putting her out of commission, and the officers of the Admiralty decided upon keeping her in dock for the winter, but during the August of 1782 she underwent repairs, with a view to sending her out once more. Accordingly, on Thursday morning, the 29th of the same month, the ship moored slowly out of harbour, bearing a freight of eight hundred men, with wives, mothers, sisters, and sweethearts, besides those who had been permitted to remain on board for a part of the day. It was a pleasant scene on deck, and the happiness and gaiety of the company seemed in harmony with the beauty of the morning. The mid-day meal was made ready and begun, when a quick movement was felt, and a flood of salt water came pouring through a port-hole that had been most carelessly left unclosed. A stiff breeze caught her broadside, and the "Royal George" turned slowly over and sank. As soon as the disaster was perceived, an officer ran to the ship's captain to inform him that it was capsizing. Kempenfelt, the admiral, was at his desk below deck; his coxswain, notwithstanding the danger, attempted to reach him, but unsuccessfully, for the waters had already engulphed him. His loss was deplored in all the land; he was generally esteemed, and his great abilities were acknowledged by the State. And now the dauntless sea-warrior, who had met and repulsed many a foe, and had looked upon death in a variety of forms, found his own end, not in the force of the enemy's bullet, nor in the violence of the storm, but in a calm sea, on a bright August morning. A reward of one hundred pounds was offered for the body, but it was never recovered. An old journal, which appeared a few days after, in this way concludes the announcement of it—"Thus perished one of the most brave and amiable characters that ever filled either a private or public situation."

A few minutes after the "Royal George" sank, only her topmasts were visible. The greater part of the (one thousand two hundred) people, and chiefly the women and children, were in the cabins, and therefore immediately perished; but of over two hundred on deck, the majority were rescued. The efforts put forth to save the drowning were marked by another calamity. A victualling sloop, which had gone with other vessels to the rescue, was drawn into the vortex of a whirlpool caused by the sudden submersion of the "Royal George."

Many heart-rending accounts have been given on the Hard at Portsmouth, and by boatmen at Southsea, of the saddening spectacle around the ship as she sank. Human forms were discovered in every direction, and seen to sink, to rise no more. Many managed to keep afloat for a time, but having their strength buffetted out by the waves, threw up their hands in terror, and disappeared. Screams for aid mingled with wild prayers for mercy. Seventy are believed to have been picked up and saved by the boats. For days after corpses were seen, carried along by the tide, and secured, to be decently buried.

The news did not arrive in London until the day after, as in those times, there were no other means of transporting messages than the ordinary mail. Intelligence was received at the Admiralty with the deepest regret, and throughout the country a thrill was felt at the announcement. Subscription lists were immediately opened for the benefit of those who survived. We give a copy of one of the numerous appeals framed for assistance:—

"ROYAL GEORGE."

"Whereas, by the truly deplorable and hapless loss of His Majesty's ship, the 'Royal George,' wherein about seven hundred officers and sailors of heroic soul, Britain's pride, have shared an equal fate, it cannot but be that many widows and children are reduced to the most poignant distress. In order, therefore, to relieve in part their pangs of misery and despair, and actuated by that humanity which has ever characterised this nation, the gentlemen that frequent the 'Barley Mow' in Salisbury Court, Fleet Street, have entered into a voluntary subscription, in the hope that so laudable an example will soon be extended into every part of His Majesty's dominions.

"A subscription book will be kept open for two months at the bar of the 'Barley Mow,' in Salisbury Court, Fleet Street, and at Mr. Mazzingby's, No 17, Chancery Lane; at the expiration thereof the money so subscribed shall be paid to the committee now appointed at 'New Lloyd's' Coffeehouse, and by them appropriated to so charitable a plan."

Before long, rumours were heard, declaring the vessel to have been mismanaged, and Captain Waghorne was ordered to attend a court-martial on the 9th of the succeeding September, to be held on board the "Warspite." One of the ship's carpenters explained that he had just time enough to warn his brother before he made his own escape through a port-hole, and affirmed that the vessel was really unfit for service; but as its condition was not the immediate cause of the catastrophe, the charge against the captain was dismissed.

Hopes were still entertained that the ship might yet be restored, and made fit for service again. One man guaranteed to raise her for 20,000 pounds. But for years she remained in her watery bed, until, by reason of the obstruction caused to the passage of other vessels, the matter again called for attention, and, in 1817, the divers concluded a protracted inspection. The decks were completely dislodged; and, in fact, all that remained of the once magnificent man-of-war, was a pile of disjointed and sodden timbers. All hopes of her restoration were abandoned after the accounts given by the divers of their survey; and the ruins were eventually dispersed by the force of powder.

Another memorable wreck was that of the "Halsewell," off Dorsetshire, January 6, 1786, by which one hundred and sixty-six lives were sacrificed. Belonging to the East India Company, she was one of the finest and best of merchant men, made to carry seven hundred and fifty-eight tons, and under command of Mr. Richard Pierce. At the time of the disaster, she was making her third voyage out. A valuable cargo was taken in, as usual, at Gravesend, and she cleared the Downs on the first day of the New Year, bearing with her about four hundred and forty passengers, amongst whom were a few ladies. With the captain were his two daughters, and two other young ladies connected with the family. Other ladies, who had been sent to England on account of their health, being restored, were about to return to their friends in India. Some had just left school, some were going to seek a home abroad, and others a wider field of labour. A Mr. Schutz was intent upon gathering an accumulation of wealth, which he had acquired there previously, intending, on his return, to spend the rest of his days in quietness and comfort. As is generally the case with these vessels, the scarlet uniform of the military shone conspicuously, and the soldiers' wives and families contributed a large part of the total number of passengers.

The day after starting a breeze sprang up, and an endeavour was made, by drawing in towards shore, to gain the beach for the pilot boat. The air became misty, and the winds blew contrary. As night drew on, with no fairer prospect, anchor was dropped, and every sign of a storm was visible—snow descended over the almost stationary vessel, and the sails could scarcely be furled by reason of the frost. At four o'clock in the morning, a hurricane blew. The vessel drove, and the command was given to weigh anchor, and steer for the open sea. The pilot, unable to be landed the preceding day, was now passed over to a homeward bound brig, and the "Halsewell" proceeded on her perilous voyage, when she was met by a new gale from the south, and a deal of water was shipped, and, worse than all, a leak was found to have been made, which soon filled the vessel to the depth of five feet. Every pump was set to work, but mishaps followed one another, and the stream increased to such an extent that another two feet of water was rapidly made. It was a fearful condition to be in—in a treacherous channel, with