The Sea: Its Stirring Story of Adventure, Peril, & Heroism Volume II Part 19

In spite of the rough cold night, the interest in life-boat work is too great for all sympathisers to be driven away from the pier-head; and there is a crowd there ready to watch the boats return and to welcome the men with a cheer. The steamer approaches cautiously, and the brig seems well under command. A couple of minutes more and all will be safe, when suddenly the rush of tide catches the wreck on the bow; she overpowers the lugger, which is towing astern; round her head flies; she lurches heavily forward, and strikes the east pier-head. Crash goes her jib-boom first, and the steamer, towing with all its might, cannot prevent her again and again crushing against the pier. Her bowsprit and figure-head are broken and torn off, her stern smashed in. Ropes and buoys are thrown from the pier. "The poor Frenchmen are almost paralysed by the scene and by excitement-they cannot make it out; the harbour-master, Captain Braine, has enough to do: he sees the danger of the men on board the brig, but he sees more than this-he sees the danger of the crowd at the pier-head, for the brig's mainmast is swaying backwards and forwards, coming right over the pier as the vessel rolls, and threatens to break and come down upon the people as the brig strikes the pier; and if it does it will certainly kill some, perhaps many." Women shriek and men shout, and it looks as though the _Marguerite_ would be wrecked in sight of all. Meantime the crew of the hovelling lugger are in equal, if not greater, danger.

"As soon as the men on board the lugger saw the brig sweep and crash against the pier, they cast off their tow-rope, but before they could hoist any sail, the way they had on the boat and the rush of the tide carried the lugger almost between the vessel, as she swung round, and the pier. The men, however, escaped that danger, and indeed death, but the boat was swept to the back of the pier, and in the eddy of the tide was carried into the broken waters; then she rolls in the trough of the sea; wave after wave catches and sweeps her up towards the pier, as if to crush her against it, but each time the rebound of the water from the pier acts as a fender and saves her from destruction; but she is an open boat, and if one big wave leaps on board it will fill her, and she must sink at once; and the seas around her are very wild, the surf from their crests breaks into her continually. The people on the pier see her extreme peril; some run to the life-boat men, who are preparing to moor the boat, and shout to them to hasten out-that the brig is breaking up, and that the lugger will be swamped; before, however, the life-boat can get out the brig is towed clear of the pier, and, the lugger having drifted to the end of the pier, the men are able to get up a corner of the foresail; it cants the lugger's head round; the men get the foresail well up: it fills; she draws away from the pier and away from the broken water, and is clear."

But now the brig, the rudder of which had been wrenched out of her on the Sands, has no boat to help her steer, and lurches about in all directions.

A heavy sea strikes her bow; the steamer's hawser tightens, strains, and breaks! Excited people on the pier crowd round the harbour-master, and beg him to order the life-boat men to take the crew and the boatmen off the wreck at once. That official knows, however, the boatmen too well: _they_ will not leave her while a st.i.tch holds together.

The captain of the steamer knows their peril, and backs his vessel down to the wreck, now not over a hundred yards from the d.y.k.e Sand. She is rolling heavily, and the seas sweep over her; her crew can hardly keep the deck.

The steamer gets close to the brig, and soon another cable is out. Each time the brig sheers heavily to one side or the other she is brought up with a jerk that makes the steamer tremble from stem to stern, but that plucky little boat is not to be beaten. Five brave fellows come off from the pier in a small boat, bringing a line with them: with this they haul a second hawser to the wreck; a crowd of people on the pier pull their hardest, and succeed in moving the wreck. This cable breaks shortly afterwards, but the steamer has by this time again got hold of the vessel, and tows her safely into the harbour, a miserable wreck, with masts and rudder gone, her bow and stern crushed, but with everybody safe on board.

The _Marguerite_ was ultimately repaired and sent to sea again, though she could never be the vessel she once was. And the Margate and Ramsgate men got a few pounds each for work that required each one to be a hero, and a very practical and seamanlike hero too. The old wreckers made ten times the money, with an infinitesimal proportion of the trouble.

Yes, times _have_ changed for the better. Individuals may, of course, be found capable of any amount of brutality for the sake of gain, but the shipwrecked mariner of to-day is morally certain that his life and remaining property are safe when he reaches the sh.o.r.e of any part of the United Kingdom, and that for every ruffian there will be twenty kindly and hospitable people ready to pity and to aid him. The same could not be said of the early part of this very century. It seems almost incredible, too horrible, to be possible, that in 1811 the remnant of a poor crew of a frigate wrecked on the Scotch coast were, after buffeting the breakers and struggling ash.o.r.e for dear life, absolutely murdered on the beach for the sake of their wretched clothes, or, at all events, stripped and left to die. When morning dawned the beach was found strewn with naked corpses.

The inhabitants of many fishing villages and seaside hamlets were open to similar imputations late in the last, and indeed early in the present, century. Whole communities have in bygone times-let us trust gone for ever-turned out at the tidings of a vessel in danger; solely with a view to plunder. A tolerably well-known yarn, in which, probably, implicit confidence should not be placed, tells us of a wreck which occurred near the village of St. Anthony, Cornwall, one Sunday morning. This being the case, and the parishioners a.s.sembling at the church, the clerk announced that "Measter would gee them a holladay," for purposes on which that excellent clergyman well knew they were intent. This is only one part of the story, for it is stated that as the members of the congregation were hurrying pell-mell from the church, they were stopped by the stentorian voice of the parson, who cried out, "Here! here! let's all start fair!"

The fact is that the contents or material of a wreck scattered around a coast were, and, no doubt, are still in many places, looked upon as legitimate prey by fishermen and others who would scorn anything in the form of treachery, in luring the good ship ash.o.r.e, or in brutal treatment to the survivors of her crew. "Within the past five-and-twenty years,"

said a leader-writer a short time since, "it is said that a candidate for Parliamentary honours, while canva.s.sing in a district near the coast, found that his opinion on the subject of wrecking was made a crucial point. Wrecking, indeed-so far as the appropriation of shipwrecked property is implied in the word-seems to have held very much the same position in popular ethics as smuggling has done. 'Such was the feeling of the wreckers,' writes one who was at one time Commissioner of the Liverpool Police, 'that if a man saw a bale of goods or a barrel floating in the water, he would run almost any risk of his life to touch that article, as a sort of warrant for calling it his own. It is considered such fair game, that if he could touch it he called out to those about him, "That is mine!" and it would be marked as his, and the others would consider he had a claim to it, and would render him a.s.sistance.'" We are told that the natives of Sleswig-Holstein considered wrecking so legitimate that prayers were offered up in their churches at one time that "their coasts might be blessed." Pastor and flock looked upon wrecks as much of blessings as they did a good fishing season. The parson, however, it was explained, did not really pray for wrecks. Certainly not! What he meant was that if there _must_ be wrecks, those wrecks might happen on their coasts!

The question of "salvage" is of a nature too technical for these columns.

In some minor matters it would seem that the authorities do not offer proper encouragement to fishermen and others to be decently honest or humane. At the period of the wreck of the _Schiller_, on the Scilly Islands, a correspondent of our leading journal(77) tells us "that many floating bodies of drowned pa.s.sengers and seamen were picked up by the fishing boats which abound in that part of Cornwall. Upon some of them money or valuables were found, and these were given up to the Customs when the body was sent ash.o.r.e. In such cases the valuables were retained for the friends of the drowned persons, and a uniform reward of five shillings was paid to the finders. Now, for the sake of taking ash.o.r.e such a body as I have described, the fishermen-seven or eight in number-would have lost their night's fishing, for it would not have been safe, even if the crew were willing, to have done otherwise. The smallness of the reward given in return for the services rendered would therefore operate as a strong inducement to the more selfish among them to prefer their fishing to the dictates of humanity. My informants even told a story of a fishing boat which picked up a floating body, and, having collected all the papers and valuables from it, restored the body itself to the deep, and went on its way. The papers and valuables were given up in due course, and no charge of dishonesty was preferred against the crew; but the want of humanity caused (and not unnaturally) a strong feeling of indignation against the perpetrators of this act. The fishermen, however, argued that if they brought the bodies into port (as they were instructed to do), they would get, at most, a sum of sevenpence per man for their night's work; and if they brought merely the property to the proper authorities, they were abused for their inhumanity; and that, therefore, their only alternative was to pa.s.s the bodies by, and attend to their own work. Should the view that I have here stated be found to be a general one, I think that it will be allowed that it is an argument for either paying more highly for the finding of bodies at sea, or allowing the finders the same salvage upon the property found upon the bodies that they would have received had the property been picked up in a chest."

Pleasant it is to turn from what we may well believe is only an occasional example of want of feeling to such a case as the following-one out of thousands that might be cited. It is slightly abridged from a little publication(78) which should be in the hands of all readers of "The Sea"

interested in benevolent efforts for the seaman's welfare.

[Ill.u.s.tration: RONAYNE'S BRAVERY.]

Some twelve miles westward from Tramore-a favourite watering-place and summer resort for the citizens of Waterford, and nearly half a mile from the coast-a farm is situated which has been long occupied by John Ronayne, a hardy and typical Irish farmer. The farm-house has few of the necessaries and none of the luxuries of civilised life, it is a true type of the poor cla.s.s of farm-houses in many parts of Ireland, consisting of but two rooms-one the sleeping apartment, where Ronayne's family of twelve children have been born, and the other the living-room, where it is to be suspected sundry four-footed friends occasionally find their way, and bask or grunt before the fire. Rather less than half a mile from the farm is the rugged sh.o.r.e, approached by a rough "boreen," or narrow lane, emerging on the cliff near the course of a stream, which is a roaring foaming torrent in winter and spring-time. On winter days and nights, brown and turbulent, this stream rushes foaming into the ocean over crags and rocks and pebbly sh.o.r.e; but before it joins its fresh water with the salt sea foam, it plunges into a crevice, narrow and deep and deadly. Every coastman along the rock-bound sh.o.r.e knows this deep, treacherous hole, and warns the traveller to beware of it-for, once in it, there is no return.

But this source of peril is little enough to that which is beyond.

A hundred yards or so from the cove into which this impetuous torrent pours frown two ma.s.sive ridges of rock, offering to any venturesome ships attempting to run between their threatening sides destruction on either hand, while only some dozen yards of foaming breakers separate the one from the other. Skilful must be the steersman, and bold the skipper, who would dare the narrow channel, even though the only one by which they might hope to beach their sinking ship. And yet, on one fearful night in January, 1875, a large vessel, the _Gwenissa_, bound from Falmouth to Glasgow, and new but a few weeks before, successfully accomplished the dangerous pa.s.sage. Not that any skill was shown, for none on the doomed ship knew of their proximity to rocks or sh.o.r.e, but, driving blindly on before the full fury of the gale, by chance were brought safely through.

But in another instant the ship struck the rocky sh.o.r.e, and in a moment was shattered to pieces, timbers and tackle, cargo and living freight, being thrown, scattered and helpless, into the angry surf. Escaping, as by a miracle, the rocky dangers of Charybdis, the good ship _Gwenissa_ had been hurled upon Scylla, and her doom sealed.

The family at Killeton Farm little suspected, as they went to their humble beds, the tragedy which was being enacted on the sh.o.r.e; and even when some of the boys thought they heard cries of distress, little wonder-when the wind was blowing in great fitful gusts, sweeping round the homely cottage, shaking windows and doors, and moaning down the chimneys-that, after listening a while and hearing nothing further, they thought no more of the cries, and went to bed. Ronayne had, however, not been long in bed when a loud knocking awoke him, and he jumped up, and on opening the door was accosted by three men in sailor's garb.

The first surprise over, the instincts of hospitality a.s.serted themselves, and he heaped up the turf fire, and, as they warmed themselves, learned that they alone of the crew of the _Gwenissa_, nine in number, were certainly saved. But there was a possibility that one or two might yet survive; and though the wintry blast roared loud without, Ronayne lingered not a moment. Hurrying on his clothes, and taking a large sod of flaming turf by way of lantern, he rushed down the "boreen," and soon reached the cove. Cautiously he made his way, and approached the edge of the stream, whence he now heard the shouts of several men. He followed up the cries of distress, and soon came upon a man in a most dangerous position.

Ronayne blew the turf until it glowed brightly, and, holding it down, saw a man waist-deep in the water, but so jammed between the crags that it was impossible for him to move, far less climb the overhanging rocks. He was bruised, stunned, and nearly insensible. Ronayne saw at a glance that the only way to help him was himself to go down, extricate his bruised legs from the rocks and wreck that held him like a vice, and then a.s.sist him to climb from his perilous position. This, by means of much pulling and hauling, he at length accomplished, and ultimately had the satisfaction of leading the poor fellow to a place of safety, where, for a time, he left him, sorely bruised, faint, and well-nigh frozen, for the others, who had never ceased calling for a.s.sistance from the moment of his arrival. They were four in number, and, as far as could be judged through the increasing darkness, lay in the very gorge down which rushed the swollen stream; and so it proved, for one was hanging to a spar which had become fixed in the rocks, while another was grasping a projecting crag, by which he contrived to keep afloat. The others, more fortunate, had been thrown on a ledge, which left them in comparative safety, though they were waist-deep in water. But though secure upon this ledge, they were quite as helpless as their companions, for the beetling face of the rocks defied their utmost efforts to scale them unaided. Here Ronayne's knowledge stood him in good stead, and after much active a.s.sistance in the shape of climbing, swimming, pulling, and scrambling, he succeeded in rescuing one after the other, each a.s.sisting afterwards to make the task easier. Five men stood beside him, cold and hurt, but saved by his perseverance and bravery from a watery grave.

"But," says the narrator-and here especially he should tell his own tale-"not without great labour had this been effected, for one of the men had his leg broken, and all were more or less bruised, and perishing of cold and exposure. Three men were at his house and five here; but where was the other? for nine men were on board the luckless vessel, and here were but eight. Leaving the rescued men in the lane, Ronayne ran again to the cove, and the dim spark expiring in the turf showed him where he had left it. He sc.r.a.ped off the ash, and, the wind fanning it, again it burned up brightly-too brightly, for now it burned down to his frozen fingers; but he only grasped it the tighter, for did it not light him on his errand of mercy? and if another life might be saved at the expense of a few burns, would it not be great gain? So on sped he along the sh.o.r.e, searching into every cranny and cleft and crevice lighted by the turf, and, burning and shouting between his labours, at length was rewarded by a faint cry as of a man in distress-more a moan than a cry, and at a distance. Rapidly but carefully he had scanned the beach, and partially searched every gully and cleft, and now and again receiving to his cries a faint response, but always from far away. No doubt the man was out on the rocks, to which he had been carried by a receding wave after the ship struck, and Ronayne knew that some further help must be procured before he could be reached. So he hastened back to the five men he had left in the lane. They then all proceeded to the farm-house-a melancholy _cortege_-carrying as best they could the helpless between them. He then started off, wet and weary as he was, to the coastguard station at Bonmahon, where he gave information of the wreck, and demanded a.s.sistance for the poor fellow out on the rocks." The coastguard men lost no time in turning out with the rocket apparatus; but just as they were fixing it in position, Ronayne, who had been hunting about, came upon the very last and ninth man of the crew, lying, half in the water and half out, upon the beach among a quant.i.ty of wreck. His supposition had been correct in regard to his position on the rocks, but while a.s.sistance was being procured he had been washed ash.o.r.e, with shattered limbs-bruised, helpless, unconscious, but _alive_! The poor fellow, who remained unconscious, was carried to the farm, where some old whisky-jars were filled with hot water and placed to his feet. The little whisky in the house was divided among the benumbed men, and more solid provision set before them.

And now Ronayne's house contained over twenty inmates, most of them standing round the turf fire wringing the water from their clothes and warming their frozen limbs; the few beds, too, had their occupants. For Ronayne the work had but barely commenced. Saddling his young mare, he started to lay information of the wreck before Lloyd's Deputy Receiver at Tramore, some _twelve miles_ distant, for eight shillings were to be earned, and for this trifling reward he was prepared to ride some twenty-four miles on a cold winter night.

On his road he pa.s.sed the doctor's house, and sent him to attend the injured men, arriving at Tramore a few minutes before the telegram from the coastguard station. Two of the sailors were afterwards removed to the hospital, and recovered, and they and the remainder cared for by the Shipwrecked Mariners' Society's agents. Ronayne was indemnified for any expense he had incurred by the same Society, and the Life-boat Inst.i.tution shortly after rewarded him.

CHAPTER XX.

SHIPS THAT "Pa.s.s BY ON THE OTHER SIDE."

Captains and Owners-Reasons for apparent Inhumanity-A Case in Point-The Wreck of the _Northfleet_-Run down by the _Murillo_-A n.o.ble Captain-The Vessel Lost, with a Hundred Ships near her-One within Three Hundred Yards-Official Inquiry-Loss of the _Schiller_-Two Hundred Drowned in one heavy Sea-Life-saving Apparatus of little use-Lessons of the Disaster-Wreck of the _Deutschland_-Harwich blamed unjustly-The good Tug-boat _Liverpool_ and her Work-Necessity of proper Communication with Light-houses and Light-ships-The new Signal Code and old Semaph.o.r.es.

From time to time there appear in the public journals accounts given by sailors who have been saved from imminent peril from drowning by pa.s.sing ships. Many and many an honourable case could be cited; but there are, alas! ships that "pa.s.s by on the other side." An article in the journal(79) issued quarterly by that grand society the National Life-boat Inst.i.tution explains some of the reasons for this sad state of affairs.

The writer generally denies that the majority of the masters of ships who would pa.s.s another vessel in distress are brutal or callous, and thinks that were many of them brought face to face with an isolated case of probable drowning, they would not hesitate to expose their own lives to preserve the one endangered. There must be some strong causes operating on the minds of the men who act in the inhuman manner indicated. Among them are the following:-

"1st. That the loss of time which the most trifling service of this kind causes would possibly represent a very considerable money loss to the owners, by the delay in the arrival in port of the ship and cargo.

"2nd. That the cost of maintenance of the persons saved is insufficiently repaid by the Government.

"3rd. That in all but the largest kind of ships the amount of food and water habitually kept on board is rarely sufficient to meet the strain of, say double, or, it may be quadruple, the number of men they were intended for; and if a ship of the smaller cla.s.s, towards the end of her voyage, has to take on board the crew of a vessel greater in number than her own, she is, from shortness of provisions and water, in nine cases out of ten, compelled to make for the nearest port, which may be a cause of incalculable loss, unless it chances to be the one she is bound for.

"4th. Every captain knows that all owners are more or less inimical to their ships rendering either salvage service or life-saving service. Not, as we suppose, that any owner deliberately sets to himself the axiom that no ship of his shall save life, but that they, not unnaturally, view with suspicion salvage service, because they can receive nothing from it but loss in time and money; and cases are not infrequent in which pretence of saving life is made a source of real loss to the owners."

One case among the many which could be presented is here given. It appeared before the magistrates of Falmouth in 1873, in consequence of the refusal of a crew to proceed to sea. The ship had come from a Chinese port to _a port in Europe_: it being uncertain, from the fluctuating state of the market, which it would be. The vessel fell in with a distressed ship, from which she took seventeen persons. When in the entrance to the English Channel, the captain found himself short of provisions and water, and put into Falmouth, to land the shipwrecked crew and replenish his provisions.

His own crew thereupon claimed their discharge, as having arrived "_at a port in Europe_." The Bench ruled the men's claim to be just, and it took the captain a fortnight to obtain a fresh crew, to whom higher wages had to be paid. "The actual and immediate loss to the owners, by this act of humanity of their captain, was stated at 270. The only reimburs.e.m.e.nt was the usual State grant for feeding so many men so many days, amounting altogether to 16 and a few shillings." The delay in delivering cargo entailed a heavy loss, and having put into a port not named, she had, it was said, vitiated her policy. How might the owners feel towards that captain in future? And again, how might he feel next time, when duty called him one way and interest the other? In an indirect way, this and foreign Governments recognise humane services of the kind indicated by presents of telescopes or binocular gla.s.ses. Such recognition is undoubtedly valued by the sort of men who would do their duty under any adverse circ.u.mstances, and whether they were to be thanked or no; but it is to be feared that captains who were as unfortunate as the one at Falmouth might think twice before they performed that which their consciences could only approve as right.

The owner of the relieving vessel should have the right of being recouped to the full extent of the loss incurred by delay and service-though many would never accept it; and a ship's insurance should never be vitiated by its calling at a port on a matter of any such necessity as landing a shipwrecked crew or obtaining provisions. It is certain that we should do all that is possible to reduce that annual list of ships whose only record is "Not since heard of."

A successful mail-steamer pa.s.sage or quick run, the first clipper from China with the season's tea, make not only a certain stir in a pretty wide circle, but represent a considerable increase of actual wealth. The despairing cry of those few poor seamen-who, in their sinking craft, or who, perishing from hunger or thirst, see fading away on the distant horizon the white royals of some lofty ship which they had watched with such agonising alternation of hope and despair-is heard by G.o.d alone.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE "NORTHFLEET."]

The wreck of the _Northfleet_, and loss of life to over 300 souls, on January 22nd, 1873, will ill.u.s.trate some of the above remarks.(80) The _Northfleet_ was a fine old ship of 940 tons, built at Northfleet, near Gravesend, and so named. After various vicissitudes in the service of Dent's China and other lines, she had become the property of Messrs. John Patton and Co., of Liverpool and London, and was at the time of which we are about to speak chartered by the contractors of the Tasmanian Line Railway to convey 350 labourers and a few women and children to Hobart Town. The vessel left the East India Docks on Friday, the 17th December, 1872, with a living freight of about 400 persons. The cargo consisted princ.i.p.ally of railway material. At the very last moment of leaving the docks, her commander for the previous five years, Captain Oates, was subpoenaed by a Treasury warrant to attend the Tichborne trial, and the command was given to his chief officer, Mr. Knowles. He was allowed to take on board the lady to whom he had been married about a month.

After leaving Gravesend the _Northfleet_ encountered very stormy weather, and Captain Knowles felt it prudent to anchor under the North Foreland, where the vessel remained until the following Tuesday, when, the weather having moderated, she sailed down Channel, and was reported at Lloyd's as having pa.s.sed Deal, "All well" being the signal. On the Wednesday, at sunset, she came to an anchor off Dungeness, about two miles from sh.o.r.e, in eleven fathoms of water. She was then almost opposite the coastguard station. About ten o'clock the ship was taut and comfortable for the night; almost all the pa.s.sengers had turned in, and none but the usual officers and men of the watch were on deck. Just as the bells were striking the half-hour past ten the watch observed a large steamer, outward-bound, coming directly towards them. She appeared to be going at full speed, and the shouts of the men on watch who called upon her to alter her course roused Captain Knowles, who was on the after deck. But in another moment the steamer came on to the _Northfleet_, striking her broadside almost amidships, making a breach in her timbers beneath the water-line, and crushing the ma.s.sive timbers traversing the main deck.

"'Midst the thick darkness, Death, The dread, inexorable monarch, stalked; And, lo! his icy breath Encircled the devoted barque, where talked, Or laughed, or watched, or slept, The doomed three hundred of her living freight, Unconscious that there crept Through the still air the stealthy steps of Fate.

"Oh G.o.d, that fearful crash!

The stout ship reels, her planks disrupted wide; Fast through the yawning gash The green sea pours its dark, resistless tide.

What followed then, O heart, Thou scarce may'st realise! 'Tis well for thee: Ne'er would that sight depart From gentle mind that had been there to see.

"For maddening terror reigned; Honour, and manhood, and calm reason fled, And brutal instincts gained The mastery; and even shame was dead.

Each one, to save his life Would give to death the lives of all beside; Nor cared in that fell strife What awful end his fellows might betide.(81)

"Yet 'mid that wild despair n.o.bility of soul found room to stand, And l.u.s.tre bright and rare Enfolds the memory of Knowles and Brand; Who, face to face with death, Save of dishonour, showed no coward dread, Brave hearts to the last breath, They joined the galaxy of Britain's dead."

The shock was described by the survivors as like the concussion of a very powerful cannon. The reader will here make his own reflections.

Immediately after the collision the steamer cleared the ship, and before many of the terrified people below could reach the deck she was out of sight. Most of the pa.s.sengers were awakened by the shock, and a fearful panic ensued. Captain Knowles acted with singular calmness, prompt.i.tude, and decision. He caused rockets to be sent up, bells to be rung, and other signals of distress; but the gun to be fired would not go off, the touch-hole being clogged. Meantime he directed the boats to be launched, giving orders that the safety of the women and children should be first secured. There was a disposition to set these orders at defiance, and, on some of the crew crowding to the davits, with a view of effecting their own safety, Captain Knowles drew a revolver, and declared he would shoot the first man who attempted to save himself in the boats before the women were cared for. Most of the crew seemed to understand that the captain was not to be trifled with; but one man, Thomas Biddle, refused to obey the order, and the captain fired at him in a boat alongside the ship. The bullet entered the man's leg just above the knee.

Meantime the pumps were set to work, but with little or no effect, the water pouring in through the opening in the ship's side. The scene on deck was frightful. Many of the pa.s.sengers were in their night-dresses; others had only such scanty clothing as they could secure on quitting their berths. Children were screaming for their parents, and parents searching in vain for their children; husbands and wives were hopelessly separated.

The horror was increased by the darkness of night. The captain's wife was placed with other women in the long-boat, under the charge of the boatswain; but the tackle being too suddenly set adrift, the boat was stove in.

[Ill.u.s.tration: WRECK OF THE "NORTHFLEET."]