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Our Sailors; Gallant Deeds of the British Navy during Victoria's Reign, a non-fiction book by William H. G. Kingston |
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Chapter 22. Gallant Deeds |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. GALLANT DEEDS HUMANITY OF LIEUTENANT BREEN, RN--MEDITERRANEAN, 1850. That the seamen of the British navy are as humane as they are brave we have numberless examples to prove. The following is one of numerous instances in which they have risked and often sacrificed their lives for the good of others, and should on no account be passed over. As one of the boats of HMS _Ganges_, forming part of the British fleet in the Piraeus, with Lieutentant Breen, Mr Chatfield, midshipman, and 16 men, was returning from the shore, laden with water, she was swamped and turned over just half-way between the _Queen_ and the east point of the island of Lypso. Mr Breen, Mr Chatfield, and most of the men, immediately struck out for the island, and reached it. The gale increased, and the cold became so intense that their clothes were frozen stiff upon them. In the morning they could see the fleet, but were unable to draw attention to themselves by the signals they were making. One of the men suffered so much from the cold that Lieutenant Breen generously stripped off his coat and put it on him. As the day closed, most of the men retired into a cave; but Mr Breen separated himself from the others, and was no more seen. On board the _Ganges_ it was thought that they had not put off from shore; but next night it was known that they had set out, and a boat was sent to search. As she was passing by Lypso at dawn on the third day, the wrecked boat was accidentally descried on the beach. Mr Chatfield and half a dozen men were found in the cave in a torpid state; Mr Breen was found dead, crouched under a bush, and ten seamen were missing. There is little doubt that poor Mr Breen lost his life from his generous act in favour of the suffering seamen. The survivors found in the cave all recovered.
GALLANTRY EXHIBITED IN PRESERVING LIFE--CAPTAIN WASEY, RN--1860. On the 22nd of January 1860, the schooner _Ann Mitchell_ went ashore near Fleetwood. A new lifeboat, not long before placed there by the National Lifeboat Institution, was immediately launched, when Captain Wasey, Inspecting Commander of the Coast Guard, to encourage the men, went off in her. A strong tide was running in, and a hard gale blowing from the west-north-west. It was night. Stronger and stronger blew the gale, the sea breaking terrifically on the shore and over the hapless vessel. A small steamer was got ready, and took the lifeboat in tow. Even thus but slow way was made in the teeth of the gale, the tide, and the raging sea. Still the steamer persevered. Slowly she gained ground, and at length, having got to windward of the wreck, the tow-rope was cast off, and the boat proceeded alone on her work of mercy. She got within a few yards of the wreck, when a tremendous sea rushing in, struck her and filled her, breaking some of her oars. At that moment it seemed as if the lifeboat herself was doomed to destruction. She was but small, pulling only six oars, and scarcely fitted for the arduous work in which she was engaged. Captain Wasey now anchored, and attempted to veer her down to the wreck, but the strong tide running defeated his intention. The anchor being then weighed, another attempt was made to board the vessel to leeward; but a heavy sea striking her, she was thrown over altogether, her masts falling within a few feet of the lifeboat, whose brave crew thus narrowly escaped destruction. Again, therefore, Captain Wasey determined to anchor to windward, and once more to veer down. This time success attended the efforts of the lifeboat's crew, lines being thrown on board of the wreck and secured. One of the people from the schooner then threw himself into the sea, and was hauled into the boat; but unhappily the others appeared to be either fearful or unable to follow his example; and, from the pitchy darkness and the noise of the sea and wind, it was impossible to communicate intelligibly with them. Captain Wasey learned from the man saved, that three persons remained; one--the master--had his back hurt, and another--a boy--his leg broken. While endeavouring to carry out their humane purpose, a heavy sea broke over both vessel and boat, carrying away the lines, and sweeping the boat some 300 yards to leeward. Many seamen might have despaired of regaining the wreck, but the men of the lifeboat, encouraged by their gallant leader, pulled up once more, in the hopes of saving the poor fellows on the wreck. Great was their disappointment, however, on again getting alongside, to discover that the last heavy sea had washed them all off. Captain Wasey and his gallant followers having done all that men could do, had at length to return to the shore with one only out of the four people who had formed the crew of the _Ann Mitchell_. They had been thus occupied for nearly nine hours of a dark winter's night, with untiring exertion and exposure. The lifeboat had been launched at six p.m. on the 22nd, and did not return to the shore till forty minutes past two a.m. on the 23rd. Their labours in the cause of humanity were, however, not over for that day. Soon after daylight broke, it was reported to Captain Wasey that another vessel had apparently sunk on the shoals which surround and extend to a long distance from the port of Fleetwood. Rising without a moment's hesitation, he summoned John Fox, chief boatman of the Coast Guard, and coxswain of the lifeboat, with some other men, and two of his former crew, James Turner and John Aspingal, fishermen. The lifeboat was once more afloat, and, towed for two hours against a strong tide and heavy sea by the steam-tug, she at length reached the wreck, which proved to be the schooner _Jane Roper_, of Ulverstone. Her crew, consisting of six men, were in the rigging, crying out for aid. Captain Wasey and his men happily succeeded in getting them all on board, and in landing them safely at Fleetwood. On the 19th of February, while it was blowing a heavy gale from the north-north-west, with squalls, the schooner _Catherine_, of Newry, went on shore, when again Captain Wasey went off in the lifeboat, and succeeded in saving all the crew. On 20th October 1861, the same brave officer, taking command of the lifeboat, was instrumental in saving the lives of 16 persons from the barque _Vermont_, of Halifax, Nova Scotia, wrecked on Barnett's Bank, three miles from Fleetwood. For these and various other similar services he has received several medals and clasps from the Royal National Lifeboat Institution.
GALLANTRY OF LIEUTENANT BOYLE, RN. Lieutenant the Hon. H.F. Boyle, RN, chief officer of the Coast Guard at Tenby, distinguished himself in the same humane manner. At daybreak on the 2nd of November, the smack _Bruce_, of Milford, anchored, being totally dismasted, about three miles east of Tenby. It was blowing a furious gale from the west-south-west, and the sea, running very high, threatened every instant to overwhelm the smack, or to drive her on the rocks. Lieutenant Boyle, immediately on seeing her condition, embarked in the Tenby lifeboat, and pulled off towards the unfortunate vessel. Her crew, three in number, were found in an almost exhausted state, and taken into the lifeboat, which then made for the small harbour of Saundershott, four miles distant. On the 9th of November, at nine p.m., the commencement of a dark cold night of that inclement season, a large brig was observed to go on shore in Tenby Bay. The lifeboat, manned by her usual varied crew of coastguardsmen and fishermen, under the charge of Robert Parrott, chief boatman of the Coast Guard, who acted as coxswain of the lifeboat, at once proceeded through a tremendous sea towards her, the wind blowing a gale from the south-west. The vessel was discovered to be on shore, in a peculiar position, on a rocky reef, so that she could only be approached from windward. The lifeboat's anchor was accordingly let go, with the intention of being veered down to the wreck, but a heavy roller striking the boat, carried away the cable and broke three of her oars. Finding it then impossible to close with the vessel, in consequence of her peculiar position and the heavy sea breaking over her, the lifeboat returned to Tenby, and Lieutenant Boyle and his crew proceeded to the spot with all haste by land with the rocket apparatus. Several efforts were made before the party succeeded in sending a line over the wreck. At length perseverance crowned their efforts, a line was thrown, and caught by the crew on the wreck; a stouter rope was next hauled on board, and by its means, in the course of three hours, the whole of the crew, who would otherwise have met with a watery grave, were safely landed. The silver medal of the Lifeboat Institution was awarded to Lieutenant Boyle, and the second-service clasp was added to the medal received on a former occasion by Robert Parrott.
LOWESTOFT LIFEBOAT. Few boats have been the means of saving more lives from destruction than that of the lifeboat belonging to Lowestoft, on the Suffolk coast. We will mention a few instances to show the way in which the seamen and boatmen of that place have risked their lives for the sake of those of their fellow-creatures. On the 26th of October 1859, the schooner _Lord Douglas_ parted from her anchors in a heavy gale from the south, and foundered off the village of Carton, on the Suffolk coast; the crew, as she went down, climbing into the rigging, where they lashed themselves. The Lowestoft lifeboat proceeded under sail to the spot, and, having anchored to windward of the wrecked vessel, succeeded in getting lines down to the crew, who were then drawn from the masts safely on board, and were landed at Carton. So heavy was the gale, that she split her foresail in the service. Scarcely had the lifeboat returned from saving the crew of the _Lord Douglas_, than another schooner, though lying with three anchors ahead, drove ashore at Carton. A foresail was borrowed, and the lifeboat again started on her mission of mercy. She reached the vessel under sail, and happily succeeded in rescuing all the crew; but having split her borrowed sail, she was compelled to run in for Yarmouth beach. Here the shipwrecked crew were hospitably received at the Sailors' Home. Again, on the 1st of November, the screw-steamer _Shamrock_, of Dublin, ran on shore on the Holme Sand during a heavy gale from the south-west. As soon as the position of the unfortunate vessel was discovered, the lifeboat was launched, and proceeded under sail to the spot. The sea was breaking fearfully over the mast-head of the steamer, repeatedly filling the lifeboat. To increase the danger, an expanse of shoal-water lay close to leeward of the wreck, so that had the lifeboat's cable parted, her destruction and that of her crew might have followed. Fully aware of the risk they ran, they persevered, as brave men will, in spite of danger to themselves; and, sending lines on board the wreck, the whole crew, not without considerable difficulty, were hauled on board.
BRAVERY OF JOSEPH ROGERS, A MALTESE SEAMAN--25TH OCTOBER 1859. No one will forget the dreadful loss of the _Royal Charter_ on the Welsh coast, when, out of 490 souls on board, not more than 25 persons came on shore alive; but many may not recollect that it was owing, under Providence, to the bravery, presence of mind, and strength of one man that even these few were saved. When the ship struck on the rocks, the sea instantly broke over her with fearful violence, filling the intermediate space between her and the shore with broken spars and fragments of the wreck; while the waves burst with fury on the hard rocks, and then rushed back again, to hurl with redoubled force on the iron shore the objects which they had gathered up in their forward course. Pitchy darkness added to the horror of the scene and the danger to be encountered by the hapless passengers and crew of the ill-fated ship. Among the ship's company was a Maltese, Joseph Rogers--a first-rate swimmer, as are many of the inhabitants of the island in which he was born. To attempt to swim on shore in that boiling caldron was full of danger, though he might have felt that he could accomplish it; but the difficulty and danger would be far greater should the swimmer's progress be impeded by a rope. In spite of that, thinking only how he might save the lives of those on board the ship to which he belonged, taking a line in hand, he plunged boldly into the foaming sea. On he swam; the darkness prevented him from being seen, but those on board felt the rope gradually hauled out. Anxiously all watched the progress of that line, for on the success of that bold swimmer the lives of all might depend. If he failed, who could hope to succeed? At length they felt it tightened, and they knew that it was being hauled up by many strong hands on shore. Now a stout rope was fastened to the line, and that being hauled on shore was secured, and a cradle was placed on it. No time was to be lost. The large ship was striking with terrible violence on the rocks, it appearing that every instant would be her last. One after the other, the people on board hastened into the cradle--as many as dared to make the hazardous passage. Ten, fifteen, twenty landed--the twenty-fifth person had just reached the shore, when, with a horrible crash, the ship parted, breaking into fragments, and 454 persons were hurried in a moment into eternity. Even Rogers, brave swimmer as he was, could not have survived had he attempted to swim among those wreck-covered waves. For his heroic courage the National Lifeboat Institution awarded the gold medal to Rogers and a gratuity of 5 pounds.
REMARKABLE INSTANCE OF ENDURANCE OF A CREW OF BRITISH SEAMEN. A small fishing smack, with a crew of five people, was wrecked off Bacton, near Great Yarmouth, on the 27th of November 1859. The poor men were in the rigging, without food or drink, for 60 hours before they were rescued from the mast of their sunken vessel, to which they had been clinging for more than 60 hours. For three nights and two days they held on to this uncertain support, about 8 feet above the raging sea, without food, and almost without clothing. One of the men took off his shirt and held it out as a signal of distress, till it was blown from his feeble grasp. The vessel struck upon the Harborough Sand on Friday evening at nine o'clock, and they were not rescued till ten o'clock on Monday morning--a case of most remarkable endurance. The vessel was but a small one, a smack with four hands. The fourth hand, a boy, climbed the mast with the others, and held on till the Saturday, when he became exhausted, and, relaxing his hold, slipped down into the sea. One of the men went down after him, seized him, and dragged him up the mast again; but there was nothing to which to lash him, and no crosstrees or spars on which to rest; so that during the night, when almost senseless with cold and fatigue, the poor boy slipped down again, and was lost in the darkness. On Sunday they were tantalised with the hope of immediate succour. A vessel saw their signals and heard their cries, and sent a boat to their relief; but after buffeting with the wind and tide, they had the mortification to see her give up the attempt, and return to the vessel. Then it was that black despair took possession of them, and they gave themselves up for lost; but clinging to their frail support for an hour or two longer, they heard a gun fire. This gave them fresh courage, for they took it to be a signal, as in fact it was, that their case was known, and an attempt would be made to save them. The vessel stood in and communicated with the shore, and a boat put off to search for them; but they were such a speck on the ocean, that, night coming on, they could not be seen, and the boat returned to shore. For the third night, therefore, they had still to cling on, expecting every moment that the mast would go over and bury them in the deep. On the Monday morning the Bacton boat made another attempt, fell in with them at ten o'clock, and landed them at Palling, more dead than alive, whence, as soon as they could be moved, they were brought to the Yarmouth Sailors' Home, their swollen limbs, benumbed frames, and ghastly countenances testifying to the sufferings they had undergone. At this Home the poor men remained several weeks, receiving every attention from the officers of the establishment. To conclude our short account of the services of lifeboats, we may state that in the year 1860 the lives of no less than 326 persons were saved by those stationed on the British coast, every one of which would have been lost. We will give another example, to exhibit more clearly the nature of the work the brave crews undertake. In the early part of that year, as the day closed, it was blowing a heavy gale off Lyme-Regis. About eight o'clock at night the alarm was given that a vessel was in distress in the offing. It was pitchy dark; indeed, the intense darkness, the strong gale, and the heavy surf on shore were enough to appal any man entering the lifeboat. After some short delay, however, the boat was manned by a gallant crew--her coxswain, Thomas Bradley, being early at his post. Tar barrels were lighted up on shore, and the boat proceeded on her mission of mercy. So truly awful was the night, that nearly everyone on shore believed she would never return again. However, after battling with the fury of the storm, and after an absence of about an hour and a half, the lifeboat did return, laden with the shipwrecked crew of three men of the smack _Elizabeth Ann_, of Lyme-Regis. _ |
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