The Sea: Its Stirring Story of Adventure, Peril, & Heroism (Vol. 1-4). Frederick Whymper
the Iron Duke struck the Vanguard below the armour-plates, on the port side, abreast of the engine-room. The rent made was very large—amounting, as the divers afterwards found, to four feet in width—and the water poured into the hold in torrents. It might be only a matter of minutes before she should go down.53
THE LOSS OF THE “VANGUARD.”
The vessel was doomed; a very brief examination proved that: nothing remained but to save the lives of those on board. Captain Dawkins gave the necessary orders with a coolness which did not represent, doubtless, the conflicting feelings within his breast. The officers ably seconded him, and the crew behaved magnificently. One of the mechanics went below in the engine-room to let off the steam, and so prevent an explosion, at the imminent risk of his life. The water rose quickly in the after-part, and rushed into the engine and boiler rooms, eventually finding its way into the provision-room flat, through imperfectly fastened (so-called) “water-tight” doors, and gradually over the whole ship. There was no time to be lost. Captain Dawkins called out to his men that if they preserved order all would be saved. The men stood as at an inspection—not one moved until ordered to do so. The boats of both ships were lowered. While the launching was going on, the swell of the tide caused a lifeboat to surge against the hull, and one of the crew had his finger crushed. This was absolutely the only casualty. In twenty minutes the whole of the men were transferred to the Iron Duke, no single breach of discipline occurring beyond the understandable request of a sailor once in awhile to be allowed to make one effort to secure some keepsake or article of special value to himself. But the order was stern: “Boys, come instantly.” As “four bells” (2 p.m.) was striking, the last man having been received on the Iron Duke, the doomed vessel whirled round two or three times, and then sank in deep water.54
It is obvious, then, that the discipline and courage of the service had not deteriorated from that always expected in the good old days. Captain Dawkins was the last man to leave his sinking ship, and his officers one and all behaved in the same spirit. They endeavoured to quiet and reassure the men—pointing out to them the fatal consequences of confusion. Captain Dawkins may or may not have been rightly censured for his seamanship; there can be no doubt that he performed his duty nobly in these systematic efforts to save his crew. However much was lost to the nation, no mother had to mourn the loss of her sailor-boy; no wife had been made a widow, no child an orphan; five hundred men had been saved to their country.
One of the officers of the Vanguard, in a letter to a friend, graphically described the scene at and after the collision. After having lunched, he entered the ward-room, where he encountered the surgeon, Dr. Fisher, who was reading a newspaper. “After remarking on the thickness of the fog, Fisher went to look out of one of the ports, and immediately cried out, ‘God help us! here is a ship right into us!’ We rushed on deck, and at that moment the Iron Duke struck us with fearful force, spars and blocks falling about, and causing great danger to us on deck. The Iron Duke then dropped astern, and was lost sight of in the fog. The water came into the engine-room in tons, stopping the engines, putting the fires out, and nearly drowning the engineers and stokers. … The ship was now reported sinking fast, although all the water-tight compartments had been closed. But in consequence of the shock, some of the water-tight doors leaked fearfully, letting water into the other parts of the ship. Minute-guns were being fired, and the boats were got out. … At this moment the Iron Duke appeared, lowering her boats and sending them as fast as possible. The sight of her cheered us up, as we had been frightened that she would not find us in the fog, in spite of the guns. The scene on deck can only be realised by those who have witnessed a similar calamity. The booming of the minute-guns, the noise of the immense volume of steam rushing out of the escape-funnel, and the orders of the captain, were strangely mingled, while a voice from a boat reported how fast she was sinking.”
When the vessel went down, the deck of the Iron Duke was crowded with men watching the finale of the catastrophe. When she was about to sink, she heeled gradually over until the whole of her enormous size to the keel was above water. Then she gradually sank, righting herself as she went down, stern first, the water being blown from hawse-holes in huge spouts by the force of the air rushing out of the ship. She then disappeared from view. The men were much saddened to see their home go down, carrying everything they possessed. They had been paid that morning, and a large number of them lost their little accumulated earnings. These were, of course, afterwards allowed them by the Admiralty.
THE “VANGUARD” AS SHE APPEARED AT LOW WATER.
The Vanguard and the Iron Duke were two of a class of broadside ironclads, built with a view to general and not special utility in warfare. Their thickest armour was eight inches, a mere strip, 100 feet long by three high, and much of the visible part of them was unarmoured altogether, while below it varied from six inches to as low as three-eighths of an inch. It was only the latter thickness where the point of the Iron Duke’s ram entered. Their advocates boasted that they could pass through the Suez Canal, and go anywhere.
Every reader will remember the stormy discussion which ensued, in which not merely the ironclad question, but the court-martial which followed—and the Admiralty decision which followed that—were severely handled. Nor could there be much wonder at all this, for a vessel which had cost the nation over a quarter of a million of pounds sterling, with equipment and property on board which had cost as much more,55 was lost for ever. It was in vain that the then First Lord of the Admiralty56 told us, in somewhat flippant tones, that we ought to be rather satisfied than otherwise with the occurrence. It was not altogether satisfactory to learn from Mr. Reed, the principal designer of both ships, that ironclads were in more danger in times of peace than in times of war.57 In the former they were residences for several hundred sailors, and many of the water-tight doors could not be kept closed without inconvenience; in the latter they were fortresses, when the doors would be closed for safety. The court-martial, constituted of leading naval authorities and officers, imputed blame for the high rate of speed sustained in a fog; the public naturally inquired why a high rate of speed was necessary at all at the time, but their lordships declined to consider this as in any way contributing to the disaster. The Court expressed its opinion pretty strongly upon the conduct of the officers of the Iron Duke, which did the mischief, and also indirectly blamed the admiral in command of the squadron, but the Admiralty could find nothing wrong in either case, simply visiting their wrath on the unfortunate lieutenant on deck at the time. So, to make a long and very unpleasant story short, the loss of the Vanguard brought about a considerable loss of faith in some of our legally constituted naval authorities.58
THE LOSS OF THE “KENT.”
CHAPTER V.
Perils of the Sailor’s Life (continued).
The Value of Discipline—The Loss of the Kent—Fire on Board—The Ship Waterlogged—Death in Two Forms—A Sail in Sight—Transference of Six Hundred Passengers to a small Brig—Splendid Discipline of the Soldiers—Imperturbable Coolness of the Captain—Loss of the Birkenhead—Literally Broken in Two—Noble Conduct of the Military—A contrary Example—Wreck of the Medusa—Run on a Sand-bank—Panic on Board—Raft constructed—Insubordination and Selfishness—One Hundred and Fifty Souls Abandoned—Drunkenness and Mutiny on the Raft—Riots and Murders—Reduced to Thirty Persons—The stronger part Massacre the others—Fifteen Left—Rescued at Last—Another Contrast—Wreck of the Alceste—Admirable Conduct of the Crew—The Ironclad Movement—The Battle of the Guns.
It is impossible to read the account of any great disaster at sea, without being strongly impressed with the enormous value of maintaining in the hour of peril the same strict discipline which, under ordinary