Never was good discipline displayed in a more conspicuous manner. No argument or entreaty could prevail on Captain Baker to change his resolution. He again directed the men to quit the vessel, calmly observing that his life was the least, and last consideration. The men, upon hearing this reiterated command, stepped severally from the poop to the rock with as much order as if they had been leaving a ship under ordinary circumstances. Unhappily, a few of them perished in the attempt; amongst these was Lieutenant Stanley, who, being benumbed with cold, was unable to get a firm footing, and was swept away by the current, his companions, with every inclination, had not the power to save him; he struggled for a few moments—was dashed with irresistible force against the rocks, and the receding wave engulfed its victim.

When he had seen every man clear of the wreck, and not till then, did Captain Baker join his crew.

As soon as they had time to look about them, the ship's company perceived that they were on an isolated rock, separated from the mainland by a few fathoms. The rock rose some feet above the sea, but to their horror they perceived that it would be covered at high-water. It seemed as if they were rescued from one fearful catastrophe, only to perish by a more cruel and protracted fate. They watched the waters rise inch by inch around them, appalled by the feeling that those waters must sooner or later close over them for ever, and that nothing could save them except the outstretched arm of Him who could bid the waves be stayed, and say to the stormy winds, be still. Every man is more or less courageous under circumstances of danger, when it is attended by excitement,—such as that of the battlefield. There is a courage which springs from companionship in danger, and a courage derived from the fear of shame; but the test of true valour is a scene like that we have described. There was no room for a display of the adventitious bravery which often becomes in reality the thing it strives to appear. No man there could reproach his neighbour if his cheek should blanch and his lip quiver; all are alike appalled, but the well-regulated mind rises superior to the rest. Such was the case with Captain Baker. Although he could not conceal from himself that their condition was almost hopeless, he continued with his voice to encourage the timid, and by his arm to support the weak.

By degrees the fog had partially dispersed, and as the dawn began to break, a dreary prospect was displayed. The haggard countenances and lacerated limbs of the men told the sufferings they had endured, whilst the breakers, which they had only heard before, became distinctly visible. Still the devoted crew, following the example of their commander, uttered no complaint. They were ready to meet death, yet they felt it hard to die without a struggle. The tide was rising rapidly, and if anything was to be done, it must be done instantly. The boatswain, who had never lost hold of the rope, determined at all hazards to make another effort to save his comrades, or to perish in the attempt.

Having caused one end of the rope to be made fast round his body, and committing himself to the protection of the Almighty, he plunged into the sea, and struck out in the direction of the opposite shore.

It was an awful moment to those who were left behind; and in breathless suspense they waited the result of the daring attempt. All depended upon the strength of his arm. At one moment he was seen rising on the crest of the wave, at the next he disappeared in the trough of the sea; but in spite of the raging surf, and of every other obstacle, he reached the shore, and an inspiring cheer announced his safety to his comrades.

As soon as he had recovered his breath and strength, he went to the nearest point opposite the rock, and, watching his opportunity, he cast one end of the line across to his companions. Fortunately it reached the rock, and was gladly seized, but it proved to be only long enough to allow of one man holding it on the shore, and another on the rock, at arm's length. It may be imagined with what joy this slender means of deliverance was welcomed by all. The tide had made rapid advances; the waves, as if impatient for their prey, threw the white surf aloft, and dashed over the rock.

Would that we could do justice to the noble courage and conduct displayed by the crew of the Drake. Instead of rushing to the rope, as many would have done under similar circumstances, not a man moved until he was commanded to do so by Captain Baker. Had the slightest hesitation appeared on the part of the commander, or any want of presence of mind in the men, a tumultuous rush would have ensued, the rope, held as it was with difficulty by the outstretched hand, would inevitably have been lost in the struggle, and then all would have perished.

But good order, good discipline, and good feeling triumphed over every selfish fear and natural instinct of self-preservation, and to the honour of British sailors be it recorded, that each individual man of the crew, before he availed himself of the means of rescue, urged his captain to provide for his own safety first, by leading the way. But Captain Baker turned a deaf ear to every persuasion, and gave but one answer to all—'I will never leave the rock until every soul is safe.'

In vain the men redoubled their entreaties that he would go; they were of no avail; the intrepid officer was steadfast in his purpose. There was no time for further discussion or delay. One by one the men slipped from the rock upon the rope, and by this assistance forty-four out of fifty succeeded in gaining the opposite shore. Unfortunately, amongst the six who remained, one was a woman. This poor creature, completely prostrate from the sufferings she had endured, lay stretched upon the cold rock almost lifeless. To desert her was impossible; to convey her to the shore seemed equally impossible. Each moment of delay was fraught with destruction. A brave fellow, in the generosity of despair, when his turn came to quit the rock, took the woman in his arms, grasped the rope, and began the perilous transit. Alas! he was not permitted to gain the desired shore. When he had made about half the distance, the rope parted—not being strong enough to sustain the additional weight and strain, it broke; the seaman and his burden were seen but for an instant, and then swallowed up in the foaming eddies. With them perished the last means of preservation that remained for Captain Baker and those who were with him on the rock. Their communication with the mainland was cut off; the water rose, and the surf increased every moment; all hope was gone, and for them a few minutes more must end 'life's long voyage.'

The men on shore tried every means in their power to save them. They tied every handkerchief and available material together to replace the lost rope, but their efforts were fruitless; they could not get length enough to reach the rock. A party was despatched in search of help. They found a farm-house; and while they were in search of a rope, those who stayed to watch the fate of their loved and respected commander and his three companions, saw wave after wave rise higher and higher. At one moment the sufferers disappeared in the foam and spray; the bravest shuddered, and closed his eyes on the scene. Again, as spell-bound, he looked; the wave had receded—they still lived, and rose above the waters. Again and again it was thus; but hope grew fainter and fainter. We can scarcely bring our narrative to an end; tears moisten our page; but the painful sequel must be told. The fatal billow came at last which bore them from time into eternity—all was over. When the party returned from their inland search, not a vestige of the rock, or of those devoted men, was to be seen.

And is he dead, whose glorious mind Lifts thine on high? To live in hearts we leave behind, Is not to die. CAMPBELL.

We feel how inadequate have been our efforts to depict the self-devotion of Captain Baker, and the courage and constancy of his crew. The following letter, addressed to Lieutenant Booth, formerly an officer of the Drake, will go farther than any panegyric we can offer, to display the right feeling of the ship's company, and their just appreciation of their brave and faithful commander.

'SIR,—Your being an old officer of ours in a former ship, and being our first lieutenant in H.M. ship Drake, leads us to beg that you will have the goodness to represent to our Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty the very high sense of gratitude we, the surviving petty officers and crew of his Majesty's late ship Drake, feel due to the memory of our late much lamented, and most worthy commander, who, at the moment he saw death staring him in the face on one side, and the certainty of escape was pointed out to him on the other, most stanchly and frequently refused to attempt procuring his own safety, until every man and boy had been rescued from the impending danger. Indeed, the manliness and fortitude displayed by the late Captain Baker on the melancholy occasion of our wreck was such as never before was heard of. It was not as that of a moment, but his courage was tried for many hours, and his last determination of not crossing from the rock, on which he was every moment in danger of being washed away, was made with more firmness, if possible, than the first. In fact, during the whole business he proved himself to be a man whose name and last conduct ought ever to be held in the highest estimation by a crew who feel it their duty to ask from the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty that, which they otherwise have not the means of obtaining, that is, a public and lasting record of the lion-hearted, generous, and very unexampled way in which our late noble commander sacrificed his life in the evening of the 23rd of June.'

The above letter was signed by the surviving crew of the Drake.

We need not add that their request was complied with; and a monument erected to the memory of Captain Baker, in the chapel of the Royal Dockyard at Portsmouth.

At the request of the author, a friend, to whom he related the pathetic story of the captain of the Drake, composed the following verses on his untimely and romantic fate:—

THE LOSS OF THE DRAKE.

1.

There's a garden full of roses, there's a cottage by the Dove; And the trout stream flows and frets beneath the hanging crags above; There's a seat beneath the tulip-tree, the sunbeams never scorch: There's jasmine on those cottage walls, there's woodbine round the porch. A gallant seaman planted them—he perished long ago; He perished on the ocean-wave, but not against the foe.

2.

He parted with his little ones beneath that tulip-tree; His boy was by his father's side, his darling on his knee. 'Heaven bless thee, little Emma; night and morning you must pray To Him on high, who'll shield thee, love, when I am far away. Nay, weep not!—if He wills it, I shall soon be back from sea; Then how we'll laugh, and romp, and dance around the tulip-tree!

3.

'Heaven bless thee, too, my gallant boy! The God who rules the main Can only tell if you and I shall ever meet again. If I perish on the ocean-wave, when I am dead and gone You'll be left with little Emma in a heartless world alone: Your home must be her home, my boy, whenever you're a man; You must love her, you must guard her, as a brother only can.

4.

'There's no such thing as fear, my boy, to those who trust on high; But to part with all we prize on earth brings moisture to the eye. There's a grave in Ilam Church-yard, there's a rose-tree marks that grave; 'Tis thy mother's: go and pray there when I'm sailing o'er the wave. Think, too, sometimes of thy father, when thou kneel'st upon that sod, How he lived but for his children, for his country, and his God.'

5.

Farewell, farewell, thou gallant ship! thy course will soon be o'er; There are mournful hearts on board thee, there are breaking hearts on shore. The mother mourned her sailor boy, the maiden mourned her love; And one, on deck, was musing on a cottage, near the Dove: But his features were unmoved, as if all feeling lay congealed; They little knew how soft a heart that manly form concealed.

6.

Beware, beware, thou gallant ship! there's many a rock ahead, And the mist is mantling round thee, like a shroud around the dead. The listless crew lay idly grouped, and idly flapped the sail, And the sea-bird pierced the vapour with a melancholy wail. So hushed the scene, they little deemed that danger was at hand, Till they heard the distant breakers as they rolled upon the strand.

7.

The winds were roused, the mist cleared off, the mighty tempest rose, And cheeks were blanched that never yet had paled before their foes: For the waves that heaved beneath them bore them headlong to the rock, And face to face with death they stood, in terror of the shock. A crash was heard—the ocean yawned—then foamed upon the deck, And the gallant Drake, dismasted, on the waters lay a wreck!

8.

On that rock they've found a refuge; but the waves that dash its side They know, must sweep them from it at the flowing of the tide. With the giant crags before them, and the boiling surge between, There was one alone stood dauntless midst the horrors of the scene. They watched the waters rising, each with aspect of dismay; They looked upon their fearless chief, and terror passed away.

9.

There's a gallant seaman battling with the perils of the main; They saw the waves o'erwhelm him thrice, but thrice he rose again. He bears a rope around him that may link them with the beach: One struggle more, thou valiant man! the shore's within thy reach. Now blest be He who rules on high; though some may die tonight, There are more will live to brave again the tempest and the fight.

10.

They gathered round their gallant chief, they urged him to descend, For they loved him as their father, and he loved them as a friend. 'Nay, go ye first, my faithful crew; to love is to obey,— 'Gainst the cutlass or the cannon would I gladly lead the way; But I stir not hence till all are safe, since danger's in the rear; While I live, I claim obedience; if I die, I ask a tear.'

11.

With a smile to cheer the timid, and a hand to help the weak, There was firmness in his accents, there was hope upon his cheek. A hundred men are safe on shore, but one is left behind; There's a shriek is mingling wildly with the wailing of the wind. The rope has snapped! Almighty God! the noble and the brave Is left alone to perish at the flowing of the wave.

12.

'Midst the foaming of the breakers and the howling of the storm, 'Midst the crashing of the timbers, stood a solitary form; He thought upon his distant home, then raised his look on high, And thought upon another home—a home beyond the sky. Sublimer than the elements, his spirit was at rest, And calm as if his little one was nestling on his breast.

13.

In agony they watched him, as each feature grew elate, As with folded arms and fearless mien lie waited for his fate; Now seen above the breakers, and now hidden by the spray, As stealthily, yet surely, heaved the ocean to its prey. A fiercer wave rolled onward with the wild gust in its wale, And lifeless on the billows lay the Captain of the Drake.

J. HENEAGE JESSE.

FOOTNOTES:

[16] Marshall's Naval Biography.



FURY.

In the year 1824, notwithstanding the repeated failures which had attended the expeditions to the Polar Seas, the British government determined to make another attempt to discover a passage between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans; for this purpose Captain, now Sir Edward Parry was appointed to the command of the Hecla, and a second vessel was commissioned by Captain Hoppner, who was directed to put himself under the orders of the beforenamed officer.

The vessels being fully equipped and furnished with provisions and stores for two years, sailed from England on the 16th of May. Their progress had been unexpectedly slow, from the quantity and magnitude of the ice, which had kept the people constantly employed in heaving, warping, or sawing through it, so that they did not arrive at the entrance of Lancaster Sound until nearly the middle of September.

There was no doubt that the more than ordinary difficulties which they encountered in crossing the barrier of ice in Baffin's Bay was owing to a season of very unusual severity; indeed, Captain Parry was of opinion, that but for Phillips's capstan, the Hecla and Fury would have been obliged to winter in the middle of Baffin's Bay.

The season was now too far advanced to give any hopes of the ships being able to penetrate to the westward, according to their instructions, during the present year; Captain Parry determined, therefore, to push on as far as the present season would permit, and devote the whole of the next summer to the fulfilment of the object of the expedition.

It is not our intention to enter into a detailed description of the many difficulties which they met in their passage; it is enough to say that their toils were incessant, and nothing but the most unwearied vigilance and perseverance could have prevented the ships being materially damaged by the enormous pressure of the ice.

Both officers and men were constantly employed, one time in getting out the boats to tow or cut through the ice, at another, at what is termed 'sallying,' or causing the ship to roll, by the men running in a body from side to side, so as to relieve her from the adhesion and friction of the young ice. It sometimes happened, also, that their labour was in vain; for during the night a westerly wind would spring up, and that, combined with a strong current, would drive the vessels several leagues to eastward, thus compelling them to recommence their work over again.

On the 27th of September they found themselves in a tolerably open sea, and assisted by a fine working breeze they reached Port Bowen, in Regent's Inlet. Here Captain Parry determined to make his winter harbour, being convinced that it would be safer to remain there, than run the risk of any further attempt at navigation during the present year.

'To those who read,' writes Sir Edward Parry, 'as well as those who describe, the account of a winter passed in these regions can no longer be expected to afford the interest of novelty it once possessed; more especially in a station already delineated with tolerable geographical precision on our maps, and thus, as it were, brought near to our firesides at home.'

Here it may be perhaps asked, why tell a thrice-told tale?—why go over ground that has been so often trod before? The answer is, we are not only writing for the information of the general reader, but also for the seaman, in the hope that these examples may afford encouragement to him, if ever thrown under similar circumstances to those which befel the crews of the Hecla and Fury.

In a short time, the ships became embedded in ice, and in this remote part of the globe were they destined to remain, in all probability, for nine months, during the greater part of which they would not see the light of the sun.

To the seaman, whose happiness is dependent upon a life of excitement and adventure, such a change must be almost insupportable. As far as the eye could reach, nothing was to be seen but trackless wilds of snow; an awful stillness reigned around; even the indigenous animals had for a time fled; and out of his ship, which is the world to him, not a living creature breathed in this dreary desert. In order to procure occupation and amusement for the men, it was necessary to hit upon some expedient to keep their spirits from flagging. This was found, by a proposal from Captain Hoppner, that they should attempt a masquerade, in which both officers and men should join. The happy thought was at once seized upon, the ship's tailor was placed in requisition, admirably dressed characters were enacted, and mirth and merriment rang through the decks of the Hecla. These reunions took place once a month, alternately on board each ship, and not one instance is related of anything occurring which could interfere with the regular discipline of the ship, or at all weaken the respect of the men towards their superiors. But an occupation which was of benefit as much to the mind as to the body, was found in the establishment of a school on board each of the ships. These were superintended by Mr. Hooper, in the Hecla, and Mr. Mogg, in the Fury. The men gladly seized this opportunity of instruction which was afforded them, and in many a long winter evening the lower deck was made a scene of rational employment, which was not only a lasting benefit to themselves, but assisted materially in passing away the time, which otherwise would have hung heavily on their hands.

We cannot refrain here from offering a few observations upon the good results of education to the seaman.

In the beginning of the present century, and even in a much later date, the majority of our seamen could neither read nor write; in the present day it is quite the reverse. We may affirm, without exaggeration, that two-thirds of them are more or less educated. Experience has taught those placed at the head of naval affairs the advantages arising from the improvement of the minds of the seamen of our navy; every ship has now a seaman schoolmaster, and a well selected library; and there is no doubt that the moral effect thus produced, adds in no small degree to the preservation of that discipline which is so necessary for the comfort and welfare of a ship's company.

In corroboration of the above, we cannot do better than quote the words of Sir Edward Parry:—'And I do not speak lightly when I express my thorough persuasion that to the moral effect thus produced upon the minds of the men were owing to a very high degree the constant yet sober cheerfulness, the uninterrupted good order, and even in some measure the extraordinary state of health which prevailed among us during winter.'

With the amusement before mentioned, varied now and then, as the days grew longer, by the excitement of killing a bear, entrapping foxes, or shooting grouse, the men continued to pass the winter months. To the officers, higher and more intellectual enjoyments were afforded by making observations, studying astronomy, and witnessing the brilliant appearance of the Aurora Borealis.

About the end of March, or beginning of April, 1825, thin flakes of snow, lying upon painted wood or metal, exposed to the sun's direct rays, began to melt. These signs of returning spring were hailed as indications of their approaching deliverance from their winter quarters. Towards the middle of June, information was brought that the sea was clear of ice about twenty miles from Port Bowen. On the 12th of July, the ice began to break away, leaving the ship about one mile and a quarter from the open sea. All hands were set to work to saw through this barrier, the men being employed from seven in the morning, till seven in the evening. On the 19th, after the most incessant labour, which was performed with the greatest cheerfulness and alacrity, Captain Parry had the satisfaction of seeing the two vessels once more floating in their proper element.

After a winter of unusual severity, but of unprecedented good health, they sailed out of Port Bowen on the 20th of July, the expedition being in every respect in the most perfect condition, and the season remarkably forward and fine. Pushing over to the west coast of Prince Regent's Inlet, which it was Captain Parry's intention to coast northward and then westward, till they could strike off to the continental shore, the prospect seemed as favourable as could possibly be expected. The season continued unusually warm, and channels of open water always occurred along the shore with particular winds. The ice was entirely detached from the shores, very much broken up, and lighter than they had yet navigated.

Proceeding as usual, taking advantage of every opening, and sheltering the ships on shore when the ice closed, the Fury, on the 1st of August, was unfortunately pressed by the ice in such a manner, while she also took the ground, that her main keel, stern-post, and cutwater were immediately broken, and four pumps were necessary to keep her free.

It was now evidently impossible to proceed without heaving the Fury down to repair, her officers and men being in a few days almost exhausted with excessive fatigue; the men's hands having become so sore from the constant friction of the ropes, that they could hardly handle them any longer without the use of mittens.

The shore being a straight and exposed one, the principal difficulty consisted in securing the ship from the inroads of the ice during the operation. There was little hopes of discovering a harbour for this purpose, and the only alternative was to endeavour to make one. This was done by passing lower cables round grounded masses of ice, and setting them up to anchors buried on the beach, so as to form a basin for the reception of the ships.

We have now arrived at the period when the labour of heaving down the Fury commenced; and, for the better information of the reader, we will at once lay before him the account of the future proceedings, as related by Sir Edward Parry.[17]

'The ice remaining quite close, on the 6th every individual in both ships, with the exception of those at the pumps, was employed in landing provisions from the Fury, together with the spars, boats, and everything from off her upper deck. The ice coming in in the afternoon with a degree of pressure which usually attended a northerly wind on this coast, twisted the Fury's rudder so forcibly against a mass of ice lying under her stern, that it was for some hours in great danger of being damaged, and was, indeed, only saved by the efforts of Captain Hoppner and his officers, who, without breaking off the men from their other occupations, themselves worked at the ice-saw.

'On the following day, the ice remaining as before, the work was continued without intermission, and a great quantity of things landed. The two carpenters, Messrs. Pulfer and Fiddis, took the Fury's boats in hand themselves, their men being required as part of our physical strength in clearing the ship. The armourer was also set to work on the beach in forging bolts for the martingales of the outriggers. In short, every living creature among us was somehow or other employed, not even excepting our dogs, which were set to drag up the stores on the beach, so that our little dockyard soon exhibited the most animated scene imaginable. The quickest method of landing casks, and other things not too weighty, was that adopted by Captain Hoppner, and consisted of a hawser secured to the ship's mainmast head, and set up as tight as possible to the anchor on the beach,—the casks being hooked to a block traversing on this as a jack stay, were made to run down with great velocity. By this means, more than two were got on shore for every one handed by the boats; the latter, however, being constantly employed in addition. The Fury was thus so much lightened in the course of the day, that two pumps were now nearly sufficient to keep her free, and this number continued requisite until she was hove down. Her spirit room was now entirely clear, and on examination the water was found to be rushing in through two or three holes that happened to be in the ceiling, and which were immediately plugged up. Indeed it was now very evident that nothing but the lightness of the Fury's diagonal ceiling had so long kept her afloat, and that any ship not thus fortified within could not possibly have been kept free by the pumps.

'At night, just as the people were going to rest, the ice began to move to the southward, and soon after came in towards the shore, again endangering the Fury's rudder, and pressing her over on her side to so alarming a degree, as to warn us that it would not be safe to lighten her much more in her present insecure situation.

'One of our bergs also shifted its position by this pressure, so as to weaken our confidence in the pier heads of our intended basin; and a long 'tongue' of one of them, forcing itself under the Hecla's fore-foot, while the drift-ice was also pressing her forcibly from astern, she once more sewed three or four feet forward at low water, and continued to do so, notwithstanding repeated endeavours to haul her off, for four successive tides, the ice remaining so close, and so much doubled under the ship, as to render it impossible to move her a single inch.

'Notwithstanding the state of the ice, however, we did not remain idle on the 8th, all hands being employed in unrigging the Fury, and landing all her spars, sails, booms, boats, and other top weight.

'The ice still continuing very close on the 9th, all hands were employed in attempting, by saws and axes, to clear the Hecla, which still grounded on the tongue of ice every tide. After four hours' labour, they succeeded in making four or five feet of room astern, when the ship suddenly slided down off the tongue with considerable force, and became once more afloat. We then got on shore the Hecla's cables and hawsers for the accommodation of the Fury's men in our tiers during the heaving down; struck our topmasts, which would be required as shores and outriggers; and, in short, continued to occupy every individual in some preparation or other.

'These being entirely completed at an early hour in the afternoon, we ventured to go on with the landing of the coals and provisions from the Fury, preferring to run the risk which would thus be incurred, to the loss of even a few hours in the accomplishment of our present object. As it very opportunely happened, however, the external ice slackened to the distance of about a hundred yards outside of us, on the morning of the 10th, enabling us by a most tedious and laborious operation, to clear the ice out of our basin piece by piece. The difficulty of this apparently simple process consisted in the heavy pressure having repeatedly doubled one mass under another, a position in which it requires great power to move them, and also by the corners locking in with the sides of the bergs.

'Our next business was to tighten the cables sufficiently by means of purchases, and to finish the floating of them in the manner and for the purpose before described. After this had been completed, the ships had only a few feet in length, and nothing in breadth to spare, but we had now great hopes of going on with our work with increased confidence and security. The Fury, which was placed inside, had something less than eighteen feet at low water; the Hecla lay in four fathoms, the bottom being strewed with large and small fragments of limestone.

'While thus employed in securing the ships, the smoothness of the water enabled us to see, in some degree, the nature of the Fury's damage; and it may be conceived how much pain it occasioned us, plainly to discover that both the stern-post and fore-foot were broken and turned up on one side with the pressure. We could also perceive, as far as we were able to see along the main-keel, that it was much torn, and we had therefore reason to conclude that the damage would altogether prove very serious. We also discovered that several feet of the Hecla's false keel were torn away abreast of the fore chains, in consequence of her grounding forward so frequently.

'The ships being now as well secured as our means permitted from the immediate danger of ice, the clearing of the Fury went on with increased confidence, though greater alacrity was impossible, for nothing could exceed the spirit and zealous activity of every individual, and as things had turned out, the ice had not obliged us to wait a moment except at the actual times of its pressure. Being favoured with fine weather, we continued our work very quickly, so that on the 12th every cask was landed, and also the powder; and the spare sails and clothing put on board the Hecla.

'On the 13th, we found that a mass of heavy ice which had been aground with the Fury, had now floated alongside of her at high water, still further contracting her already narrow basin, and leaving the ship no room for turning round. At the next high water, therefore, we got a purchase on it, and hove it out of the way, so that at night it drifted off altogether.

'The coals and preserved meats were the principal things now remaining on board the Fury, and these we continued landing by every method we could devise as the most expeditious. The tide rose so considerably at night, new moon occurring within an hour of high water, that we were much afraid of our bergs floating; they remained firm, however, even though the ice came in with so much force as to break one of our hand-masts, a fir spar of twelve inches in diameter. As the high tides, and the lightening of the Fury, now gave us sufficient depth of water for unshipping the rudders, we did so, and laid them upon the small berg astern of us, for fear of their being damaged by any pressure of the ice.

'Early on the morning of the 14th, the ice slackening a little in our neighbourhood, we took advantage of it, though the people were much fagged, to tighten the cables, which had stretched and yielded considerably by the late pressure. It was well that we did so, for in the course of this day we were several times interrupted in our work by the ice coming with a tremendous strain on the north cables, the wind blowing strong from the N.N.W., and the whole 'pack' outside of us setting rapidly to the southward. Indeed, notwithstanding the recent tightening and re-adjustment of the cables, the bight was pressed in so much, as to force the Fury against the berg astern of her, twice in the course of the day. Mr. Waller, who was in the hold the second time that this occurred, reported that the coals about the keelson were moved by it, imparting the sensation of part of the ship's bottom falling down; and one of the men at work there was so strongly impressed with that belief, that he thought it high time to make a spring for the hatchway. From this circumstance, it seemed more probable that the main keel had received some serious damage near the middle of the ship.

'From this trial of the efficacy of our means of security, it was plain that the Fury could not possibly be hove down under circumstances of such frequent and imminent risk. I therefore directed a fourth anchor, with two additional cables, to be disposed, with the hope of breaking some of the force of the ice, by its offering a more oblique resistance than the other, and thus by degrees turning the direction of the pressure from the ships. We had scarcely completed this new defence, when the largest floe we had seen since leaving Port Bowen came sweeping along the shore, having a motion to the southward of not less than a mile and a half an hour, threatened to overturn it, and would certainly have dislodged it from its situation but from the cable recently attached to it.

'A second similar occurrence took place with a smaller mass of ice about midnight, and near the top of an unusually high spring tide, which seemed ready to float away every security from us. For three hours about the time of this high water, our situation was a most critical one, for had the bergs, or, indeed, any one of them, been carried away or broken, both ships must inevitably have been driven on shore by the very next mass of ice that should come in. Happily, however, they did not suffer any further material disturbance, and the main body keeping at a short distance from the land until the tide had fallen, the bergs seemed to be once more firmly resting on the ground. The only mischief, therefore, occasioned by this disturbance was the slackening of our cables by the alteration in the position of the several grounded masses, and the consequent necessity of employing more time, which nothing but absolute necessity could induce us to bestow, in adjusting and tightening the whole of them afresh.

'The wind veering to the W.N.W. on the morning of the 15th, and still continuing to blow strong, the ice was forced three or four miles off the land in the course of a few hours, leaving us a quiet day for continuing our work, but exciting no very pleasant sensations, when we considered what progress we might have been making had we been at liberty to pursue our object.

'The land was indeed so clear of ice to the southward, that Dr. Neill, who walked a considerable distance in that direction, could see nothing but an open channel in shore to the utmost extent of his view. We took advantage of this open water to send the launch for the Fury's ironwork, left at the former station; for though the few men thus employed could very ill be spared, we were obliged to arrange everything with reference to the ultimate saving of time; and it would have occupied both ships' companies more than a whole day to carry the things round by land.

'The Fury being completely cleared at an early hour on the 16th, we were all busily employed in 'winding' the ship, and in preparing the outriggers, shores, purchases, and additional rigging. Though we purposely selected the time of high water for turning the ship round, we had scarcely a foot of space for doing it, and indeed, as it was, her fore-foot touched the ground; and loosened the broken part of the wood so much as to enable us to pull it up with ropes, when we found the fragments to consist of the whole of the gripe, and most of the 'cutwater.' The strong breeze continuing, and the sea rising as the open water increased in extent, our bergs were sadly washed and wasted; every hour producing a sensible and serious diminution in their bulk. As, however, the main body of ice still kept off, we were in hopes, now that our preparations were so near completed, we should have been enabled in a few hours to see the extent of the damage, and repair it sufficiently to allow us to proceed.

'In the evening we received the Fury's crew on board the Hecla, every arrangement and regulation having been previously made for their personal comfort, and for the preservation of cleanliness, ventilation, and dry warmth throughout the ship. The officers of the Fury, by their own choice, pitched a tent on shore for messing and sleeping in, as our accommodation for two sets of officers was necessarily confined. On the 17th, when every preparation was completed, the cables were found again so slack, by the wasting of the bergs, in consequence of the continued sea, and possibly also in part by the masses being moved somewhat in shore, that we were obliged to occupy several hours in putting them to rights, as we should soon require all our strength at the purchases. One berg also had, at the last low water, fallen over on its side, in consequence of its substance being undermined by the sea, and the cable surrounding it was thus forced so low under water as no longer to afford protection from the ice should it again come in. In tightening the cables, we found it to have the effect of bringing the bergs in towards the shore, still further contracting our narrow basin; but anything was better than suffering them to go adrift.

'This work being finished at ten P.M., the people were allowed three hours' rest only, it being necessary to heave the ship down at, or near, high water, as there was not sufficient depth to allow her to take her distance at any other time of tide. Every preparation being made, at three A.M., on the 18th, we began to heave her down on the larboard side; but when the purchases were nearly a-block, we found that the strops under the Hecla's bottom, as well as some of the Fury's shore-fasts, had stretched or yielded so much, that they could bring the keel out of water within three or four feet. We immediately eased her up again, and re-adjusted everything as requisite, hauling her further in shore than before by keeping a considerable keel upon her, so as to make less depth of water necessary; and we were then in the act of once more heaving her down, when a snow storm came on, and blew with such violence off the land, as to raise a considerable sea. The ships had now so much motion as to strain the gear very much, and even to make the lower mast of the Fury bend in spite of the shores. We were, therefore, most unwillingly compelled to desist until the sea should go down, keeping everything ready to recommence the instant we could possibly do so with safety. The officers and men were now literally so harassed and fatigued as to be scarcely capable of further exertion without some rest; and on this and one or two other occasions, I noticed more than a single instance of stupor amounting to a certain degree of failure in intellect, rendering the individual so affected quite unable at first to comprehend the meaning of an order, though still as willing as ever to obey it. It was, therefore, perhaps, a fortunate necessity which produced the intermission of labour which the strength of every individual seemed to require.

'The gale rather increasing than otherwise, during the whole day and night of the 18th, had, on the following morning, when the wind and sea still continued unabated, so destroyed the bergs on which our sole dependence was placed, that they no longer remained aground at low water; the cables had again become slack about them, and the basin we had taken so much pains in forming had now lost all its defences, at least during a portion of every tide. It will be plain, too, if I have succeeded in giving a distinct description of our situation, that independently of the security of the ships, there was now nothing left to seaward by which the Hecla could be held out in that direction while heaving the Fury down, so that our preparations in this way were no longer available.

'After a night of most anxious consideration and consultation with Captain Hoppner, who was now my mess-mate in the Hecla, it appeared but too plain that, should the ice again come in, neither ship could any longer be secured from driving on shore. It was therefore determined instantly to prepare the Hecla for sea, making her thoroughly effective in every respect; so that we might at least push her out into comparative safety among the ice, when it closed again, taking every person on board her; securing the Fury in the best manner we could, and returning to her the instant we were able to do so, to endeavour to get her out, and to carry her to some place of security for heaving down. If, after the Hecla was ready, time should still be allowed us, it was proposed immediately to put into the Fury all that was requisite, or at least as much as she could safely carry, and towing her out into the ice, to try the effect of 'foldering' the leaks, by sails under those parts of her keel which we knew to be damaged, until some more effectual means could be resorted to.

'Having communicated to the assembled officers and ships' companies my views and intentions, and moreover given them to understand that I hoped to see the Hecla's top-gallant yards across before we slept, we commenced our work, and such was the hearty good-will and indefatigable energy with which it was carried on, that by midnight the whole was accomplished, and a bower-anchor and cable carried out in the offing, for the double purpose of hauling out the Hecla when requisite, and as some security to the Fury if we were obliged to leave her. The people were once more quite exhausted by these exertions, especially those belonging to the Fury, who had never thoroughly recovered their first fatigues. The ice being barely in sight, we were enabled to enjoy seven hours of undisturbed rest; but the wind becoming light, and afterwards shifting to the N.N.E., we had reason to expect the ice would soon close the shore, and were, therefore, most anxious to continue our work.

'On the 20th, therefore, the re-loading of the Fury commenced with recruited strength and spirits, such articles being in the first place selected for putting on board as were essentially requisite for her re-equipment; for it was my full determination, could we succeed in completing this, not to wait even for rigging a topmast, or getting a lower yard up, in the event of the ice coming in, but to tow her out among the ice, and there put everything sufficiently to rights for carrying her to someplace of security. At the same time, the end of the sea-cable was taken on board the Fury, by way of offering some resistance to the ice, which was now more plainly seen, though still about five miles distant. A few hands were also spared, consisting chiefly of two or three convalescents and some of the officers, to thrum a sail for putting under the Fury's keel; for we were very anxious to relieve the men at the pumps, which constantly required the labour of eight to twelve hands to keep her free. In the course of the day several heavy masses of ice came drifting by with a breeze from the north-east, which is here about two points upon the land, and made a considerable swell. One mass came in contact with our bergs, which, though only held by the cables, brought it up in time to prevent mischief. By a long and hard day's labour, the people not going to rest till two o'clock on the morning of the 21st, we got about fifty tons weight of coals and provisions on board the Fury, which, in case of necessity, we considered sufficient to give her stability.

'While we were thus employed, the ice, though evidently inclined to come in, did not approach us much; and it may be conceived with what anxiety we longed to be allowed one more day's labour, on which the ultimate saving of the ship might almost be considered as depending. Having hauled the ships out a little from the shore, and prepared the Hecla for casting by a spring at a moment's notice, all the people except those at the pumps were sent to rest, which, however, they had not enjoyed for two hours, when, at four A.M. on the 21st, another heavy mass coming violently in contact with the bergs and cables, threatened to sweep away every remaining security. Our situation, with this additional strain,—the mass which had disturbed us fixing itself upon the weather-cable, and an increasing wind and swell setting considerably on the shore,—became more and more precarious; and indeed, under circumstances as critical as can well be imagined, nothing but the urgency and importance of the object we had in view—that of saving the Fury, if she was to be saved—could have prevented my making sail, and keeping the Hecla under way till matters mended. More hawsers were run out, however, and enabled us still to hold out: and after six hours of disturbed rest, all hands were again set to work to get the Fury's anchors, cables, rudder, and spars on board, these things being absolutely necessary for her equipment, should we be able to get her out. At two P.M. the crews were called on board to dinner, which they had not finished, when several not very large masses of ice drove along the shore near us at a quick rate, and two or three successively coming in violent contact either with the Hecla or the bergs to which she was attached, convinced me that very little additional pressure would tear everything away, and drive both ships on shore. I saw that the moment had arrived when the Hecla could no longer be kept in her present situation with the smallest chance of safety, and therefore immediately got under sail, despatching Captain Hoppner, with every individual, except a few for working the ship, to continue getting the things on board the Fury, while the Hecla stood off and on. It was a quarter-past three P.M. when we cast off, the wind then blowing fresh from the north-east, or about two points on the land, which caused some surf on the beach. Captain Hoppner had scarcely been an hour on board the Fury, and was busily engaged in getting the anchors and cables on board, when we observed some large pieces of not very heavy ice closing in with the land near her; and at twenty minutes after the Hecla had cast off, I was informed, by signal, that the Fury was on shore. Making a tack in shore, but not being able, even under a press of canvass, to get very near her, owing to a strong southerly current which prevailed within a mile or two of the land, I perceived that she had been apparently driven up the beach by two or three of the grounded masses forcing her onwards before them, and these, as well as the ship, seemed now so firmly aground, as entirely to block her in on the seaward side. We also observed that the bergs outside of her had been torn away, and set adrift by the ice. As the navigating of the Hecla with only ten men on board required constant attention and care, I could not at this time with propriety leave the ship to go on board the Fury. This, however, I the less regretted, as Captain Hoppner was thoroughly acquainted with all my views and intentions, and I felt confident that, under his direction, nothing would be left undone to endeavour to save the ship. I, therefore, directed him by telegraph, 'if he thought nothing could be done at present, to return on board with all hands until the wind changed;' for this alone, as far as I could see the state of the Fury, seemed to offer the smallest chance of clearing the shore, so as to enable us to proceed with our work, or to attempt hauling the ship off the ground.

'About seven P.M., Captain Hoppner returned to the Hecla, accompanied by all hands, except an officer with a party at the pumps, reporting to me that the Fury had been forced aground by the ice pressing on the masses lying near her, and bringing home, if not breaking, the seaward anchor, so that the ship was soon found to have swerved from two to three feet fore and aft. The several masses of ice had, moreover, so disposed themselves, as almost to surround her on every side where there was sufficient depth of water for hauling her off. With the ship thus situated, and masses of heavy ice constantly coming in, it was Captain Hoppner's decided opinion, as well as that of Lieutenants Austin and Ross, that to have laid out another anchor to seaward would have only been to expose it to the same danger as there was reason to suppose had been incurred with the other, without the most distant hope of doing any service, especially as the ship had been driven on shore by a most unfortunate coincidence, just as the tide was beginning to fall. Indeed, in the present state of the Fury, nothing short of chopping and sawing up a part of the ice under her stern could by any possibility have effected her release, even if she had been already afloat. Under such circumstances, hopeless as, for the time, every seaman will allow them to have been, Captain Hoppner judiciously determined to return for the present, as directed by my telegraphic communication; but being anxious to keep the ship free from water as long as possible, he left an officer and a small party of men to continue working at the pumps, so long as a communication could be kept up between the Hecla and the shore. Every moment, however, decreased the practicability of doing this; and finding, soon after Captain Hoppner's return, that the current swept the Hecla a long way to the southward while hoisting up the boats, and that more ice was drifting in towards the shore, I was under the painful necessity of recalling the party at the pumps, rather than incur the risk, now an inevitable one, of parting company with them altogether. Accordingly Mr. Bird, with the last of the people, came on board at eight o'clock in the evening, having left eighteen inches water in the well, and four pumps being requisite to keep her free. In three hours after Mr. Bird's return, more than half a mile of closely packed ice intervened between the Fury and the open water in which we were beating, and before the morning this barrier had increased to four or five miles in breadth.

'We carried a press of canvas all night, with a fresh breeze from the north, to enable us to keep abreast of the Fury, which, on account of the strong southerly current, we could only do by beating at some distance from the land. The breadth of the ice inshore continued increasing during the day, but we could see no end to the water in which we were beating, either to the southward or eastward. Advantage was taken of the little leisure now allowed us to let the people mend and wash their clothes, which they had scarcely had a moment to do for the last three weeks. We also completed the thrumming of a second sail for putting under the Fury's keel, whenever we should be enabled to haul her off the shore. It fell quite calm in the evening, when the breadth of the ice inshore had increased to six or seven miles. We did not, during the day, perceive any current setting to the southward, but in the course of the night we were drifted four or five leagues to the south-westward, in which situation we had a distinct view of a large extent of land, which had before been seen for the first time by some of our gentlemen, who walked from where the Fury lay. This land trends very much to the westward, a little beyond the Fury Point, the name by which I have distinguished that headland, near which we had attempted to heave the Fury down, and which is very near the southern part of the coast seen in the year 1819. It then sweeps round into a large bay, formed by a long, low beach, several miles in extent, afterwards joining higher land, and running in a south-easterly direction to a point which terminated our view of it in that quarter, and which bore from us S. 58 deg. W., distant six or seven leagues. This headland I named Cape Garry, after my worthy friend, Nicholas Garry, Esq., one of the most active members of the Hudson's Bay Company, and a gentleman most warmly interested in everything connected with northern discovery. The whole of the bays which I named after my much esteemed friend, Francis Cresswell, Esq., as well as the land to the southward, was free from ice for several miles; and to the southward and eastward scarcely any was to be seen, while a dark water-sky indicated a perfectly navigable sea in that direction; but between us and the Fury there was a compact body of ice eight or nine miles in breadth. Had we now been at liberty to take advantage of the favourable prospect before us, I have little doubt we could, without much difficulty, have made considerable progress.

'A southerly breeze enabling us to regain our northing, we ran along the margin of the ice, but were led so much to the eastward by it, that we could approach the ship no nearer than before during the whole day. She appeared to us, at this distance, to have a much greater heel than when the people left her, which made us still more anxious to get near her. A south-west wind gave us hopes of the ice setting off from the land, but it produced no good effect during the whole of the 24th. We therefore beat again to the southward, to see if we could manage to get in with the land anywhere about the shores of the bay; but this was now impracticable, the ice being once more closely packed there. We could only wait, therefore, in patience for some alteration in our favour. The latitude at noon was 72 deg. 34' 57", making our distance from the Fury twelve miles, which by the following morning had increased to at least five leagues, the ice continuing to pack between us and the shore. The wind, however, now gradually drew round to the westward, giving us hopes of a change, and we continued to ply about the margin of the ice in constant readiness for taking advantage of any opening that might occur. It favoured us so much by streaming off in the course of the day, that by seven P.M. we had nearly reached a channel of clear water which kept open for seven or eight miles from the land. Being impatient to obtain a sight of the Fury, and the wind becoming light, Captain Hoppner and myself left the Hecla in two boats, and reached the ship at half-past nine, or about three-quarters of an hour before high water, being the most favourable time of tide for arriving to examine her condition.

'We found her heeling so much outward, that her main-channels were within a foot of the water; and the large floe-piece which was still alongside of her, seemed alone to support her below water, and to prevent her falling over still more considerably. The ship had been forced much farther up the beach than before, and she had now in her bilge above nine feet of water, which reached higher than the lower-deck beams. On looking down the stern-post, which, seen against the light-coloured ground, and in shoal water, was now very distinctly visible, we found that she had pushed the stones at the bottom up before her, and that the broken keel, stern-post, and dead wood had, by the recent pressure, been more damaged and turned up than before. She appeared principally to hang upon the ground abreast the gangway, where, at high water, the depth was eleven feet alongside her keel; forward and aft, from thirteen to sixteen feet; so that at low tide, allowing the usual fall of five or six feet, she would be lying in a depth of from five to ten feet only. The first hour's inspection of the Fury's condition too plainly assured me, that, exposed as she was, and forcibly pressed up upon an open and stony beach; her holds full of water, and the damage of her hull, to all appearance and in all probability, more considerable than before, without any adequate means of hauling her off to the seaward, or securing her from the incursions of the ice, every endeavour of ours to get her off, or if got off, to float her to any known place of safety, would at once be utterly hopeless in itself, and productive of extreme risk of our remaining ship.

'Being anxious, however, in a case of so much importance, to avail myself of the judgment and experience of others, I directed Captain Hoppner, in conjunction with Lieutenants Austin and Sherer, and Mr. Pulfer, carpenter, being the officers who accompanied me to the Fury, to hold a survey upon her, and to report their opinions to me. And to prevent the possibility of the officers receiving any bias from my own opinion, the order was given to them the moment we arrived on board the Fury.

'Captain Hoppner and the other officers, after spending several hours in attentively examining every part of the ship, both within and without, and maturely weighing all the circumstances of her situation, gave it as their opinion that it would be quite impracticable to make her sea-worthy, even if she could be hauled off, which would first require the water to be got out of the ship, and the holds to be once more entirely cleared. Mr. Pulfer, the carpenter of the Fury, considered that it would occupy five days to clear the ship of water; that if she were got off, all the pumps would not be sufficient to keep her free, in consequence of the additional damage she seemed to have sustained: and that, if even hove down, twenty days' work, with the means we possessed, would be required for making her sea-worthy. Captain Hoppner and the other officers were therefore of opinion, that an absolute necessity existed for abandoning the Fury. My own opinion being thus confirmed as to the utter hopelessness of saving her, and feeling more strongly than ever the responsibility which attached to me of preserving the Hecla unhurt, it was with extreme pain and regret that I made the signal for the Fury's officers and men to be sent for their clothes, most of which had been put on shore with the stores.

'The Hecla's bower-anchor, which had been placed on the beach, was sent on board as soon as the people came on shore; but her remaining cable was too much entangled with the grounded ice to be disengaged without great loss of time. Having allowed the officers and men an hour for packing up their clothes, and what else belonging to them the water in the ship had not covered, the Fury's boats were hauled up on the beach, and at two A.M. I left her, and was followed by Captain Hoppner, Lieutenant Austin, and the last of the people in half an hour after.

'The whole of the Fury's stores were, of necessity, left either on board her or on shore; every spare corner that we could find in the Hecla being now absolutely required for the accommodation of our double complement of officers and men, whose cleanliness and health could only be maintained by keeping the decks as clear and well ventilated as our limited space would permit. The spot where the Fury was left is in latitude 72 deg. 42' 30"; the longitude by chronometers is 91 deg. 50' 05"; the dip of the magnetic needle, 88 deg. 19' 22"; and the variation 129 deg. 25' westerly.'

There now remains little more to be told—the accident that befel the Fury, the lateness of the season, and the crowded state of the Hecla, deprived Sir Edward Parry of all hopes of being able that season of accomplishing the object for which the expedition had been despatched.

Under all these untoward circumstances, he determined to return to England, and on the 2nd of September the crew of the Fury were taken on board the Hecla, the boats hoisted up, the anchor stowed, and the ship's head put to the north-eastward.

After a prosperous voyage, the whole of the Hecla and Fury's crews, with but two exceptions, returned in safety to their native country, arriving at Sheerness on the 20th of October, in as good health as when they quitted England eighteen months before.

Lieutenant, now Captain Austin has, since these pages were written, been appointed to the command of an expedition in search of Sir John Franklin and his brave companions.

Captain Sir Edward Parry at present holds the appointment of Superintendent of the Royal Clarence Victualling Yard, and Haslar Hospital, Portsmouth.

FOOTNOTES:

[17] The loss of the Fury is taken from Sir Edward Parry's Voyage to the North Pole, published by Mr. Murray, who has kindly allowed it to be inserted in this work.



THE MAGPIE.

It is a common and no less apposite remark that truth is stranger than fiction, and the longer we live, the more are we convinced of the force of the above axiom.

The story which we are about to relate is one of the most remarkable incidents in a sailor's life, and, as a tale of horror, cannot be exceeded even in the pages of romance.

In the year 1826, the Magpie, a small schooner under the command of Lieutenant Edward Smith, had been despatched in search of a piratical vessel, which had committed serious depredations on the western shores of the Island of Cuba.

In the prosecution of this object, she was cruizing on the 27th of August, off the Colorados Roads, at the western extremity of the Island. The day had been extremely sultry, and towards the evening the schooner lay becalmed, awaiting the springing up of the land breeze, a blessing which only those can appreciate who have enjoyed its refreshing coolness after passing many hours beneath the burning rays of a tropical sun.

About eight o'clock a slight breeze sprung up from the westward, and the vessel was standing under reefed mainsail, whole foresail, and topsail, and jib. Towards nine, the wind shifted to the southward, and a small dark cloud was observed hovering over the land. This ominous appearance, as is well known, is often the precursor of a coming squall, and seems as if sent as a warning by Providence.

The lurid vapour did not escape the practised eye of the mate of the watch, who immediately reported the circumstance to Mr. Smith. All hands were turned up, and in a few minutes the schooner was placed in readiness to encounter the threatened danger.

In the meantime, the cloud had gradually increased in size and density. The slight breeze had died away, and a boding stillness reigned around. Suddenly a rushing, roaring sound was heard, the surface of the water, which a moment before was almost without a ripple, was now covered with one white sheet of foam, the schooner was taken aback; in vain her commander gave the order to cut away the masts—it was too late, and in less than three minutes from the first burst of the squall, the devoted vessel sunk to rise no more.

At this fearful juncture, a vivid flash of lightning darted from the heavens, displaying for a moment, the pale faces of the crew struggling in the water; the wind ceased as suddenly as it had begun, and the ocean, as if unconscious of the fearful tragedy that had so lately been enacted upon its surface, subsided into its former repose.

At the moment of the vessel going down, a gunner's mate, of the name of Meldrum, struck out and succeeded in reaching a pair of oars that were floating in the water,—to these he clung, and having divested himself of a part of his clothing, he awaited in dreadful anxiety the fate of his companions.

Not a sound met his ear, in vain his anxious gaze endeavoured to pierce the gloom, but the darkness was too intense. Minutes appeared like hours, and still the awful silence remained unbroken; he felt, and the thought was agony, that out of the twenty-four human beings who had so lately trod the deck of the schooner, he alone was left. This terrible suspense became almost beyond the power of endurance, and he already began to envy the fate of his companions, when he heard a voice at no great distance inquiring if there was any one near. He answered in the affirmative, and pushing out in the direction from whence the sound proceeded, he reached a boat, to which seven persons were clinging; amongst whom was Lieutenant Smith, the commander of the sloop.

So far this was a subject of congratulation; he was no longer alone; but yet the chances of his ultimate preservation were as distant as ever.

The boat, which had been placed on the booms of the schooner, had fortunately escaped clear of the sinking vessel, and if the men had waited patiently, was large enough to have saved them all; but the suddenness of the calamity had deprived them of both thought and prudence. Several men had attempted to climb in on one side,—the consequence was, the boat heeled over, became half filled with water, and then turned keel uppermost; and when Meldrum reached her, he found some stretched across the keel and others hanging on by the sides.

Matters could not last long in this way, and Mr. Smith, seeing the impossibility of any of the party being saved, if they continued in their present position, endeavoured to bring them to reason, by pointing out the absurdity of their conduct. To the honour of the men, they listened with the same respect to their commander, as if they had been on board the schooner; those on the keel immediately relinquished their hold, and succeeded, with the assistance of their comrades, in righting the boat. Two of their number got into her and commenced baling with their hats, whilst the others remained in the water, supporting themselves by the gunwales.

Order being restored, their spirits began to revive, and they entertained hopes of escaping from their present peril; but this was of short duration, and the sufferings which they had as yet endured, were nothing in comparison with what they had now to undergo.

The two men had scarcely commenced baling, when the cry was heard of—'A shark! a shark!' No words can describe the consternation which ensued: it is well known the horror sailors have of these voracious animals, who seem apprised by instinct when their prey is at hand. All order was at an end, the boat again capsized, and the men were left struggling in the waters. The general safety was neglected, and it was every man for himself; no sooner had one got hold of the boat, than he was pushed away by another, and in this fruitless contest more than one life was nearly sacrificed.

Even in this terrible hour, their commander remained cool and collected; his voice was still raised in words of encouragement, and as the dreaded enemy did not make its appearance, he again succeeded in persuading them to renew their efforts to clear the boat. The night had passed away—it was about ten o'clock on the morning of the 28th; the baling had progressed without interruption; a little more exertion, and the boat would have been cleared, when again was heard the cry of—'The sharks! the sharks!' But this was no false alarm; the boat a second time capsized, and the unhappy men were literally cast amongst a shoal of these terrible monsters.

The men, for a few minutes, remained uninjured, but not untouched; for the sharks actually rubbed against their victims, and, to use the exact words of one of the survivors, 'frequently passed over the boat and between us, whilst resting on the gunwale,' This, however, did not last long; a shriek soon told the fate of one of the men; a shark had seized him by the leg, dying the water with his blood; another shriek followed, and another man disappeared.

But these facts are almost too horrible to dwell upon; human nature revolts from so terrible a picture; we will therefore hurry over this part of our tale.

Smith had witnessed the sufferings of his followers with the deepest distress; and although aware that in all probability he must soon share the same fate, he never for a moment appeared to think of himself. There were but six men left, and these he endeavoured to sustain by his example, cheering them on to further exertions. They had once more recommenced their labours to clear out the boat, when one of his legs was seized by a shark. Even whilst suffering the most horrible torture, he restrained the expression of his feelings, for fear of increasing the alarm of the men. But the powers of his endurance were doomed to be tried to the utmost; another limb was scrunched from his body, and uttering a deep groan, he was about to let go his hold, when he was seized by two of his men, and placed in the stern sheets.

Yet when his whole frame was convulsed with agony, the energies of his mind remained as strong as ever, his own pain was disregarded, he thought only of the preservation of his crew. Calling to his side a lad of the name of Wilson, who appeared to be the strongest of the remaining few, he exhorted him, in the event of his surviving, to inform the admiral that he was going to Cape Ontario in search of the pirate when the unfortunate accident occurred; 'Tell him,' he continued, 'that my men have done their duty, and that no blame is attached to them. I have but one favour to ask, and that is, that he will promote Meldrum to be a gunner.'

He then shook each man by the hand, and bade them farewell. By degrees his strength began to fail, and at last became so exhausted, that he was unable to speak. He remained in this state until the sunset, when another panic seized the men, from a reappearance of the sharks. The boat gave a lurch, and the gallant commander found an end to his sufferings in a watery grave.

Thus perished an officer, who, if it had pleased Providence to preserve, would, in all probability, have been one of the brightest ornaments of the service. His character combined the three great qualities which are essential for an officer and a seaman—courage, coolness, and decision: opportunity only was wanting to display these parts. If he had succeeded in capturing the pirate, promotion would without doubt have followed, and a bright and honourable career have been open to him. But the ways of Providence are inscrutable; it was ordained that he should undergo sufferings from which the bravest would have shrunk with horror. Had he fallen in battle, his name would have been recorded in history. We hope that our feeble efforts to rescue the memory of this brave seaman from sinking into oblivion will not have been in vain, and that his name may find an honourable place with others who have died in the performance of their duty.

The death of their commander was sensibly felt by all, for they had long known his kindness and courage, and when his body sank below the waves, their hopes sank also. Mr. Maclean, a mate, and now the commanding officer, took upon himself to direct the efforts of his comrades, and did all that lay in his power to revive their spirits; he assured them that if they once succeeded in righting the boat, that there was every chance of falling in with some vessel. But twenty hours of constant fatigue, hunger, and thirst had made fearful ravages upon the strength of the men. Night was again approaching, and Maclean could not conceal from himself, that when darkness came on, the chances of their being seen by any vessel passing near were further removed than ever. The sharks had for a time taken their departure, but they might return at any moment; for having once tasted blood, they were not likely to be debarred from making another attack. Two more of the men, either worn out from fatigue, or anxious to escape from further suffering, threw themselves from their support, and were drowned.

The burning sun again set beneath the horizon, but as yet no sail had been seen upon the waters. Again the land-breeze passed over the ocean, but it brought no refreshing coolness; it only reminded them of the weary hours that had elapsed since it was so anxiously expected, though its results were then far different from what they had hoped.

There were but four men left—Maclean, Meldrum, (the gunner's mate,) Wilson, and another man. These had, by their united efforts, almost managed to clear the boat of water, when, about three o'clock in the morning, the two latter became delirious, sprung overboard, and were either seized by the sharks or drowned. It will be remembered, that it was Wilson who was selected by poor Smith to convey his last message to the admiral.

The two survivors for a time forgot their own sufferings in the horrible scene which they had just witnessed; but this did not last long; their thoughts soon returned to the necessity of preserving their own lives. They once more resumed their labours, and, though nearly exhausted, did not desist until the boat was almost dry. They then lay down to rest, in comparative security, and, let us hope, with their hearts filled with gratitude for the mercies which had already been vouchsafed to them, and remembering those words of our beautiful Liturgy: 'That it may please Thee to succour, help, and comfort all that are in danger, necessity, or tribulation.'

It is said that sometimes the criminal, the night before his execution, forgets the fate that awaits him in a deep and refreshing slumber. These two men, in spite of the horrors they had undergone, fell into a sound sleep, from which they did not awake until the sun was high in the heavens; when the horrors of their situation broke upon them, rendered doubly painful by the temporary oblivion of the last few hours.

The sun darted its scorching rays upon the two solitary beings, who had planted themselves, one in the bows, and the other in the stern of the boat, with neither oars, mast, sail, nor provisions of any kind. In vain they strained their gaze in every direction; nothing was to be seen but a boundless expanse of waters. Their eyes met, but it needed no words to tell the hopeless despair which was gnawing at their hearts. No longer was the loss of their companions regarded with horror; they envied the fate which had spared them the torture which they themselves were doomed to suffer:—

Famine, despair, cold, thirst, and heat had done Their work on them by turns. BYRON.

Death at that moment would have been welcome.

Hour after hour passed away, but still the boat remained motionless on the waters. Neither spoke; their hearts were too full for utterance: in rapid succession, every thought and action of their lives passed across their minds; home, kindred, friends, all would be remembered, only again to be banished by the pangs of hunger and thirst.

Towards eight o'clock in the morning, the energies of Maclean and his companion had almost sunk under the accumulated load of suffering; it was more in despair than with any expectation of success, that they once again cast their eyes around. But this time it was not in vain; a white speck was seen in the distance: both exclaimed, 'A sail! a sail!' and the extravagance of joy was now equal to their former despair. Still the vessel was several miles distant, and unless those on board kept a vigilant look-out, it was more than probable that they would escape observation.

Of all the ills to which the human frame is liable, the agony of suspense is the most intolerable. Hope and fear rose alternately in their breasts; at one moment, the ship appeared to be nearing, at another, she seemed further off than ever. The vessel sped slowly on its course, but to their excited minds the time seemed interminable. First the white canvas was seen, then the dark hull became visible; but as yet no signs gave token that those on board were aware of their proximity.

The brig, for such she now appeared, could not have been above half a mile distant, when she suddenly altered her course. In vain they both hailed at once, and waved their jackets as a signal, but no notice was taken; then, indeed, every hope was dispelled, and the bitterness of despair returned with redoubled force.

At this juncture, Meldrum resolved, at all hazards, to attempt to swim to the vessel. If he remained in the boat, certain death would be the fate of himself and his companion: on the other hand, he might perish in the sea, but if he reached the brig, both would be saved. Without a moment's hesitation, he communicated his design to Maclean, and then, committing himself to the pretection of the Almighty, sprang overboard.

The idea of solitude is so repugnant to human nature, that even death would be preferable. It can be therefore easily imagined that it was with feelings almost amounting to agony that Maclean saw himself separated from his last friend. His first impulse was to follow his companion, but better judgment prevailed, and he determined to await the result. Never for a single instant did his eyes turn from the bold swimmer: they followed his every stroke. At one time, he thought he had sunk; at another, the ripple of a wave appeared to his distorted imagination like the fin of a shark. Anxiety for the fate of his companion kept his mind on the stretch until distance rendered the object no longer visible. 'Then, indeed, did he feel that he was alone.'

Meldrum was naturally a good swimmer, and every nerve was strained in this last struggle for life; buoyed up by hope, he had accomplished about two-thirds of his weary task when his strength began to fail, his dying eyes turned towards the brig, and with one last effort he raised his voice. He was heard: a boat was lowered from the brig, and he was taken on board. The perilous situation of his comrade was made known; and thus by his gallant exertions were preserved the lives of the two survivors, of the ill-fated Magpie.

This tale might almost be discredited, but the facts from which it was taken bear the signature of the officers composing the court-martial who sat upon the two remaining men. Mr. Maclean is at the present moment alive, and is now serving as a lieutenant in the coast-guard. Meldrum was promoted for his gallantry to the rank of gunner, and died two years ago.



THE THETIS.

His Majesty's ship, Thetis, Captain Samuel Burgess, sailed from Rio Janeiro on the evening of the 4th of December, 1830, having a large amount of treasure on board. The weather was so thick, that as they worked out of the harbour, the islands at its entrance were not visible; but as the evening was tolerably fine, with the exception of the fog, Captain Burgess determined to persevere in his course. The following morning the fog dispersed, but it was soon succeeded by such heavy rain, that the obscurity was nearly as great as before. The ship continued her course with the wind upon the starboard tack, until half-past one in the afternoon, when, from the reckoning, they supposed Cape Frio to be about thirty-eight miles distant, lying north 36 deg. east. From the hour of their departure from Rio Janeiro, till the time of which we speak, neither sun, moon, nor stars had been visible. On account of the cross sea, which appeared to impede the progress of the vessel, and the lightness of the wind, her course was kept east by north until two o'clock, when it was changed to E.N.E. At four o'clock P.M. it was calculated that they had run about nineteen miles, and that they must be nearly abreast of Cape Frio, and about twenty-four miles distant from it. The weather clearing up at that time, they discovered a large ship, with all sail set, standing in shore, and no land being visible, they concluded that they were still further from land than they had reckoned, and therefore they changed their course again to N.E. by E. At five o'clock the people were mustered at quarters, and then a looming of land was seen to the N.N.W., which, according to their calculation, was the direction Cape Frio would bear; and there being no land near it that could have the same appearance, the reckoning was considered correct, and a prudent proportion of sail was made, regard being had to the state of the weather, and the course they were steering. Between six and seven o'clock P.M. the rain again began to fall; the fog returned, and became gradually so thick, that it was impossible to see the length of the ship.

At eight P.M. the watch was mustered, and the men placed at their stations to keep a vigilant look-out, while the officer of the watch went forward himself to see that the sails were well trimmed, and that every one was on the alert. At half-past eight, when the captain had retired to his cabin, and was waiting for the usual evening report from the master, a midshipman entered with the startling intelligence that land had been seen close ahead, the ship at the time going at the rate of eight or nine miles an hour.

Captain Burgess was on deck in a moment; he ordered the helm to be put 'hard a-port,' and was told it had been done. The next instant the jib-booms and bowsprit were heard to crash; the captain hastened to the gangway, and was just in time to see the foremast go. Scarcely had he called to the men to stand clear, when all the three masts fell aft, one after the other, covering the deck with masts, yards, sails, and rigging, and in their fall killing some and dreadfully mangling others. Within a few feet of the ship rose a stupendous black rock, against which the surf was raging violently. The rock was so perpendicular, that both the fore and main yardarms were (before they fell) scraping against the granite cliff. The hull, however, did not appear to come in contact with the rock; but, as if answering the helm, her head turned off shore, and as she swung round, the larboard quarter boat was completely smashed between the ship's side and the rock. Nothing could exceed the alarm that prevailed on board for a few minutes after the sudden crash. The decks were covered with spars and rigging, lying pell-mell upon the bodies of those who had been injured by their fall. The man at the helm had been killed at his post, and the wheel itself was shivered to atoms; whilst the darkness of the night, and the roar of the breakers against the cliff, added to the horrors of a catastrophe of which the suddenness alone was sufficient to paralyse the energies of the men.

Captain Burgess saw that everything depended upon promptitude and decision: he quickly rallied his people, and order was soon restored: he then gave directions that the well should be sounded, and that the men should stand by the small bower anchor.

A sentinel was placed to guard the spirit-room, and two small sails were run up the fore and main-masts, the stumps of which were from twelve to fifteen feet above the deck, and the helm was put to starboard. The winches were next manned, and guns, rockets, and blue lights let off in rapid succession.

The well was reported dry; orders were given for the small bower anchor to be let go, but it was found covered with the wreck of the bowsprit, and it was necessary to cut away the best bower in order to keep the ship off shore; and for the same purpose every spar that could be obtained was made use of to bear her off the rocky cliffs, but in vain, for from the depth of the water, the anchor did not reach the bottom, and the stern tailed upon a shelving rock in spite of all their efforts. The men were next ordered to clear away the boats and get them ready—but they were found totally destroyed. Those on the quarters had been smashed by the rocks, and those on the booms and stern by the falling of the masts. During the whole of this anxious period, the conduct of the men was most exemplary. Aware that all depended upon individual exertion, each one appeared to emulate the example set by his officers, and worked with hearty good will; not a single instance of anything like bad conduct occurred.

Their condition was most disheartening; the boats were no longer available; the water was gaining on the vessel; and the rockets and blue lights, as they darted into the air, served but to show them the rugged face of the high rocks, which appeared to afford no footing by which the summit could be gained, even if they should be so fortunate as to reach them at all.

Whilst all on board were weighing these chances of destruction or of safety, the vessel's head had gone round off, and a few succeeding heavy surfs threw her again with her starboard quarter upon the rock, and whilst she was in this position, there appeared a possibility of getting some of the people on shore. Captain Burgess, therefore, ordered Lieutenant Hamilton to do everything in his power to facilitate such a proceeding, and shortly afterwards that officer, Mr. Mends, midshipman, and about seventy others, effected a landing by jumping either from the broken end of the mainyard, which was lying across the ship, or from the hammock netting abaft the mizenmast; several others who attempted to land in the same way were less fortunate; some were crushed to death, and some drawn back by the recoil of the surf and drowned.

From the time the ship first struck, the current had been carrying her along the cliffs at the rate of at least a quarter of a mile an hour; it now carried her off the rock, and she drifted along shore, a helpless wreck, at the mercy of the winds and waves. The captain saw that nothing more could be done for the vessel, and therefore he directed all his energies to the preservation of the crew. The marine who had been appointed to guard the spirit-room still remained at his post, and never left it till commanded to do so by his superior officer, even after the water had burst open the hatch. We mention this as an instance of the effect of good discipline in times of the greatest peril.

The vessel, or rather the wreck, was now carried towards a small cove, into which she happily drifted; she struck heavily against the rocks, then gave some tremendous yauls, and gradually sunk until nothing was left above water but the bows, the broken bowsprit, and the wreck of the masts as they laid on the booms.

All on board deemed that the crisis of their fate had arrived,—and they prepared for the final struggle between life and death. There were some moments of awful suspense, for every lurch the ill-fated vessel gave, was expected to be the last; but when she seemed to sink no deeper, there came the hope that her keel had touched the bottom, and that they should not all he engulfed in a watery grave.

Before she sunk, the frigate's bows had gone so close into the rocks as to enable some sixty or seventy people to jump on shore; and a hawser was got out and fixed to a rock, by which several others were saved; but by a tremendous surge, the piece of rock to which the hawser was fastened was broken away, and for a time all communication with the land was suspended. They tried every means that could be devised to convey a rope from the ship to the land, but for a long time without success, until Mr. Geach, the boatswain, swung himself on the stump of the bowsprit, and by making fast two belaying pins to the end of a line, he succeeded in throwing it on shore. To this a stronger cable was bent, and it was dragged through the surf by the people on the rocks, who then kept it taut.

Although a few words only are required to describe the mode by which a communication was established between the ship and the shore, yet it had been a work of toil, time, and danger. The boatswain had more than once nearly lost his life by being washed away by the waves as they swept over the wreck; the captain, who directed his proceedings, was standing up to his middle in water, upon one foot only, frequently losing his hold, and with great difficulty regaining his position.

The boatswain, when the preparations were completed, suggested that, in order to test the strength of the cable, a boy should be the first to make a trial of it; accordingly, a young lad was firmly secured to a sort of cradle or bowling knot, and drawn on shore in safety. The success of the attempt was announced by a loud cheer from the strand, and the captain then took upon himself to direct the landing of the rest of the crew by the same means. He stationed himself on the knight head, so as to prevent a general rush being made; he then called each man separately, and one by one they slung themselves upon the rope and were swung on shore. Nothing could exceed the good conduct displayed by the whole of the ship's company, every order was promptly obeyed, and the utmost patience and firmness exhibited by every individual.

When the greater part of the people had quitted the wreck, there still remained several who could not be induced even by the earnest and repeated entreaties of their commander to leave their dry position on the yards. The strength of the captain and boatswain was almost exhausted, and as they could not persuade any more of the men to avail themselves of the proffered means of safety, they were obliged, though very reluctantly, to leave them on the wreck, and they themselves joined the crew on the rocks.

In the course of an hour or two, however, the party who had stayed by the wreck, took courage and ventured upon the rope; but as the stump of the bowsprit, which was over the larboard cathead, rendered it extremely hazardous to come forward, they did not all get on shore till daylight. In the morning, Captain Burgess's first care was to muster his men, and a melancholy spectacle presented itself. Sixteen were missing, and of those who were gathered around him, many had been dreadfully bruised and lacerated in their efforts to reach the shore. Amongst those who perished was a fine spirited lad, the son of Captain Bingham, late commander of the Thetis. But a few months before, Captain Bingham himself had been drowned in the Guayaquil: thus father and son lay far from their native land, beneath the western flood.

The warlike of the isles, The men of field and wave, Are not the rocks their funeral piles, The seas and shores their grave? Go, stranger! track the deep— Free, free, the white sail spread; Wind may not rove, nor billows sweep, Where rest not England's dead.

The crew of the Thetis had now time to look around them, and to consider what was next to be done. The prospect was a sad one. Before them, and almost hidden by the white foam, lay the once noble frigate, now a complete wreck; the cove into which she had drifted was bound by lofty and precipitous crags, arising abruptly from the sea, and varying in height from 80 to 194 feet. The men and officers were perched in groups on points of the rocks; few of them had clothing enough to cover them, and scarcely any had shoes. There seemed to be no means of ascending the precipice; but to do so must be their first object; and anxiously they sought for some part which might offer a surer footing, and a less perilous and perpendicular ascent. At last they succeeded in casting a rope round one of the projecting crags, and by help of this some of the strongest of the party climbed the giddy height, and then assisted in hauling up their weaker comrades.

To give some idea of the difficulties which they had to surmount, and their almost miraculous escape, we subjoin the following description of the place from the pen of Captain Dickenson:—

'The coast is formed of rugged and almost perpendicular rocks, varying from 80 to 194 feet in height, a peak rising at each point, and another in nearly the centre of the north-eastern side.

'On viewing this terrific place, with the knowledge that at the time of the shipwreck the wind was from the southward, I was struck with astonishment, and it appeared quite a mystery that so great a number of lives could have been saved; and indeed it will never cease to be so, for that part on which the crew landed is so difficult of access, that (even in fine weather) after being placed by a boat on a rock at the base, it required considerable strength and agility, with the assistance of a man-rope, to climb the precipitous face of the cliff, and I am certain that in the hour of extreme peril, when excess of exertion was called forth, there must have been a most extraordinary display of it by a few for the benefit of the whole.'

When the party were all safely landed on the top of the rocks, they perceived that they were on an island without inhabitants, and affording no shelter, except a few huts, that had been erected for the convenience of the natives curing fish. Fortunately these huts contained a considerable quantity of salt fish and farina. This was placed in charge of the purser, and immediately distributed amongst the ship's company, who stood in great need of refreshment. As soon as the men were sufficiently recovered from their fatigues, they were despatched in parties in all directions, to discover means of communicating with the mainland, from which the island was a few miles distant. Most of them soon returned with the tidings that no means of transport could be procured. This was a very disheartening announcement; but its effects were quickly dispelled by the appearance of a canoe coming into the little cove where the huts were situated.

The seamen made signals to the men in the canoe, inviting them to approach, which they did; and when they came up, they communicated the welcome intelligence, that round a point to the left, on the mainland, there was a village which afforded all kinds of accommodation.

Captain Burgess then ordered Lieutenant Hamilton to go in a canoe, with two or three of his men, to this village, and there to make arrangements for proceeding to the commander-in-chief at Rio Janeiro, and to send off as many canoes as he could procure to convey the ship's company to the mainland.

In a short time several canoes arrived at the island, and Mr. Drake, the purser of the Thetis, was amongst the first sent off to the village, with directions to despatch a sufficient quantity of provisions for the people on the rock; but after making two or three trips between the parties, Mr. Wilson, the master's assistant, returned in one of the canoes to say, that the natives refused to come again without being paid. In this dilemma, Captain Burgess went across himself, and by dint of persuasion and promises of payment, he at last induced some of the natives to go to the assistance of his people; and in the course of a few hours as many were conveyed to the village as was deemed prudent. It was necessary to leave some men to look after the wreck; and to this duty Lieutenant Otway, Mr. Mends, midshipman, the gunner, carpenter, four marines, and thirty-three seamen, were appointed: they therefore remained on the island; and before night Captain Burgess had the satisfaction of seeing all the rest of his crew, if not very comfortably lodged, at least safe and under shelter. In the evening, Lieutenant Hamilton set out overland to Rio Janeiro to apprise the commander-in-chief of the loss of the Thetis, and the distressing situation of her men.