The Sea: Its Stirring Story of Adventure, Peril, & Heroism (Vol. 1-4). Frederick Whymper
is to be found in the case of the Birkenhead, where there were desperate odds against any one surviving. The ship was a war-steamer, conveying troops from St. Simon’s Bay to Algoa Bay, Cape Colony, and had, with crew, a total complement of 638 souls on board. She struck on a reef, when steaming at the rate of eight and a half knots, and almost immediately became a total wreck. The rock penetrated her bottom, just aft of the fore-mast, and the rush of water was so great that most of the men on the lower troop-deck were drowned in their hammocks. The commanding officer, Major Seton, called his subordinate officers about him, and impressed upon them the necessity of preserving order and perfect discipline among the men, and of assisting the commander of the ship in everything possible. Sixty soldiers were immediately detailed for the pumps, in three reliefs; sixty more to hold on the tackles of the paddle-box boats, and the remainder were brought on the poop, so as to ease the fore-part of the ship, which was rolling heavily. The commander of the ship ordered the horses to be pitched out of the first-gangway, and the cutter to be got ready for the women and children, who were safely put on board. Just after they were out of the ship, the entire bow broke off at the fore-mast, and the funnel went over the side, carrying away the starboard paddle-box and boat. The other paddle-box boat capsized when being lowered, and their largest boat, in the centre of the ship, could not be got at, so encumbered was it. Five minutes later, the vessel actually “broke in two,” literally realising Falconer’s lines:—
“Ah, Heaven! Behold, her crashing ribs divide!
She loosens, parts, and spreads in ruin o’er the tide.”
“She parted just abaft the engine-room, and the stern part immediately filled and went down. A few men jumped off just before she did so; but the greater number remained to the last, and so did every officer belonging to the troops.” A number of the soldiers were crushed to death when the funnel fell, and few of those at the pumps could reach the deck before the vessel broke up. The survivors clung, some to the rigging of the main-mast, part of which was out of water, and others to floating pieces of wood. When the Birkenhead divided into two pieces, the commander of the ship called out, “All those who can swim, jump overboard and make for the boats!” Two of the military officers earnestly besought their men not to do so, as, in that case, the boats with the women must be swamped; and, to the honour of the soldiers, only three made the attempt.
The struggles of a part of them to reach the shore, the weary tramp through a country covered with thick thorny bushes, before they could reach any farm or settlement; the sufferings of thirty or more poor fellows who were clinging, in a state of utter exhaustion, cold, and wretchedness, to the main-topmast and topsail-yard of the submerged vessel, before they were rescued by a passing schooner, have often been told. The conduct of the troops was perfect; and it is questionable whether there is any other instance of such thorough discipline at a time of almost utter hopelessness. The loss of life was enormous, only 192 out of 638 being saved. Had there been any panic, or mutiny, not even that small remnant would have escaped.
Turn we now to another and a sadder case, where the opposite qualities were most unhappily displayed, and the consequences of which were proportionately terrible.
On the 17th of June, 1816, the Medusa, a fine French frigate, sailed from Aix, with troops and colonists on board, destined for the west coast of Africa. Several settlements which had previously belonged to France, but which fell into the hands of the English during the war, were, on the peace of 1815, restored to their original owners; and it was to take re-possession that the French Government dispatched the expedition, which consisted of two vessels, one of which was the Medusa. Besides infantry and artillery, officers and men, there was a governor, with priests, schoolmasters, notaries, surgeons, apothecaries, mining and other engineers, naturalists, practical agriculturists, bakers, workmen, and thirty-eight women, the whole expedition numbering 365 persons, exclusive of the ship’s officers and company. Of these the Medusa took 240, making, with her crew and passengers, a total of 400 on board.
THE RAFT OF THE “MEDUSA.”
After making Cape Blanco, the expedition had been ordered to steer due westward to sea for some sixty miles, in order to clear a well-known sand-bank, that of Arguin. The captain, however, seems to have been an ill-advised, foolhardy man, and he took a southward course. The vessel shortened sail every two hours to sound, and every half-hour the lead was cast, without slackening sail. For some little time the soundings indicated deep water, but shortly after the course had been altered to S.S.E., the colour of the water changed, seaweeds floated round the ship, and fish were caught from its sides; all indications of shallowing. But the captain heeded not these obvious signs, and the vessel suddenly grounded on a bank. The weather being moderate, there was no reason for alarm, and she would have been got off safely had the captain been even an average sailor. For the time, the Medusa stuck fast on the sand-bank, and as a large part of those on board were landsmen, consternation and disorder reigned supreme, and reproaches and curses were liberally bestowed on the captain. The crew was set to work with anchors and cables to endeavour to work the vessel off. During the day, the topmasts, yards, and booms were unshipped and thrown overboard, which lightened her, but were not sufficient to make her float. Meantime, a council was called, and the governor of the colonies exhibited the plan of a raft, which was considered large enough to carry two hundred persons, with all the necessary stores and provisions. It was to be towed by the boats, while their crews were to come to it at regular meal-times for their rations. The whole party was to land in a body on the sandy shore of the coast—known to be at no great distance—and proceed to the nearest settlements. All this was, theoretically speaking, most admirable, and had there been any leading spirit in command, the plan would have been, as was afterwards proved, quite practicable. The raft was immediately constructed, principally from the spars removed from the vessel as before mentioned.
Various efforts were made to get the Medusa off the sandbank, and at one time she swung entirely, and turned her head to sea. She was, in fact, almost afloat, and a tow-line applied in the usual way would have taken her into deep water; but this familiar expedient was never even proposed. Or, even had she been lightened by throwing overboard a part of her stores temporarily—which could have been done without serious harm to many articles—she might have been saved. Half-measures were tried, and even these were not acted on with perseverance. During the next night there was a strong gale and heavy swell, and the Medusa heeled over with much violence; the keel broke in two, the rudder was unshipped, and, still holding to the stern-post by the chains, dashed against the vessel and beat a hole into the captain’s cabin, through which the waves entered. It was at this time that the first indications of that unruly spirit which afterwards produced so many horrors appeared among the soldiers, who assembled tumultuously on deck, and could hardly be quieted. Next morning there were seven feet of water in the hold, and the pumps could not be worked, so that it was resolved to quit the vessel without delay. Some bags of biscuit were taken from the bread-room, and some casks of wine got ready to put on the boats and raft. But there was an utter want of management, and several of the boats only received twenty-five pounds of biscuit and no wine, while the raft had a quantity of wine and no biscuit. To avoid confusion, a list had been made the evening before, assigning to each his place. No one paid the slightest attention to it, and no one of those in authority tried to enforce obedience to it. It was a case of “Sauve qui peut!” with a vengeance: a disorderly and disgraceful scramble for the best places and an utter and total disregard for the wants of others.
It is, and always has been, a point of honour for the officers to be among the very last to leave (except, of course, where their presence might be needed in the boats), and the captain to be the very last. Here, the captain was among the first to scramble over the side; and his twelve-oared barge only took off twenty-eight persons, when it would have easily carried many more. A large barge took the colonial governor and his family, and the governor’s trunks. His boat wanted for nothing, and would have accommodated ten or more persons than it took. When several of the unfortunate crew swam off and begged to be taken in, they were kept off with drawn swords. The raft60 took the larger part of the soldiers, and had in all on board one hundred and fifty persons. The captain coolly proposed to desert some sixty of the people still on board, and leave them to shift for themselves; but an officer who