I have now the pleasing duty of calling the attention of their lordships to the merit of Commander Ross, who was second in the direction of this expedition. The labors of this officer, who had the departments of astronomy, natural history and surveying, will speak for themselves in language beyond the ability of my pen; but they will be duly appreciated by their lordships and the learned bodies of which he is a member, and who are already well acquainted with his acquirements.

My steady and faithful friend, Mr. William Thom of the royal navy, who was formerly with me in the Isabella, besides his duty as third in command, took charge of the meteorological journal, the distribution and economy of provisions, and to his judicious plans and suggestions must be attributed the uncommon degree of health which our crew enjoyed; and as two out of three who died in the four years and a half were cut off early in the voyage, by diseases not peculiar to the climate, only one man can be said to have perished. Mr. M'Diarmid the surgeon, who had been several voyages to these regions, did justice to the high recommendation I received of him; he was useful in every amputation and operation which he performed, and wonderfully so in his treatment of the sick; and I have no hesitation in adding, that he would be an ornament to his Majesty's service.

Commander Ross, Mr. Thom and myself, have, indeed, been serving without pay; but in common with the crew have lost our all, which I regret the more, because it puts it out of my power adequately to remunerate my fellow sufferers, whose case I cannot but recommend for their lordships' consideration.

We have, however, the consolation, that results of this expedition have been conclusive, and to science highly important, and may be briefly comprehended in the following words: The discovery of the Gulf of Boothia, the continent and isthmus of Boothia Felix, and a vast number of islands, rivers and lakes; the undeniable establishment that the north-east point of America extends to the 74th degree of north latitude; valuable observations of every kind, but particularly on the magnet; and to crown all, have had the honor of placing the illustrious name of our Most Gracious Sovereign William IV, on the true position of the magnetic pole.

I cannot conclude this letter, sir, without acknowledging the important advantages we obtained from the valuable publications of Sir Edward Parry and Sir John Franklin, and the communications kindly made to us by those distinguished officers before our departure from England. But the glory of this enterprise is entirely due to Him, whose divine favor has been most especially manifested towards us, who guided and directed all our steps, who mercifully provided, in what we had deemed a calamity, His effectual means of our preservation; and who even after the devices and inventions of man had utterly failed, crowned our humble endeavors with complete success.

I have, &c.

JOHN ROSS, Captain, R. N.

To Captain the Hon. George Elliot, &c. } Secretary Admiralty. }



LOSS OF THE CATHARINE, VENUS AND PIEDMONT TRANSPORTS; AND THREE MERCHANT SHIPS.

The miseries of war are in themselves great and terrible, but the consequences which arise indirectly from it, though seldom known and little adverted to, are no less deplorable.—The destruction of the sword sometimes bears only an inconsiderable proportion to the havoc of disease, and, in the pestilential climates of the western colonies, entire regiments, reared in succession, have as often fallen victims to their baneful influence.

To prosecute the war with alacrity, it had been judged expedient to transport a strong body of troops on foreign service, but their departure was delayed by repeated adversities, and at length the catastrophe which is about to be related ensued.

On the 15th of November 1795, the fleet, under convoy of Admiral Christian's squadron, sailed from St. Helens. A more beautiful sight than it exhibited cannot be conceived; and those who had nothing to lament in leaving their native country, enjoyed the spectacle as the most magnificent produced by the art of man, and as that which the natives of this island contemplate with mingled pride and pleasure.

Next day, the wind continuing favorable, carried the fleet down channel; and as the Catharine transport came within sight of the isle of Purbeck, Lieutenant Jenner, an officer on board, pointed out to another person, the rocks where the Halsewell and so many unfortunate individuals had perished. He and Cornet Burns had been unable to reach Southampton until the Catharine had sailed, therefore they hired a boy to overtake her, and on embarking at St. Helens the former expressed his satisfaction, in a letter to his mother, that he had been so fortunate as to do so.

On Tuesday the 17th, the fleet was off Portland, standing to the westward; but the wind shifting and blowing a strong gale at south-south-west, the admiral, dubious whether they could clear the channel, made a signal for putting into Torbay, which some of the transports were then in sight of.—However, they could not make the bay; the gale increased, and a thick fog came on; therefore the admiral thought it expedient to alter his design, and about five in afternoon made a signal for standing out to sea. Of the circumstances relative to the Catharine, a more detailed account has been preserved than respecting the other vessels of the fleet; and they are preserved by a female, with whose name we are unacquainted, in these words.

"The evening of the 17th was boisterous and threatening; the master said he was apprehensive that we should have bad weather; and when I was desired to go on deck and look at the appearance of the sky, I observed that it was troubled and red, with great heavy clouds flying in all directions, and with a sort of dull mist surrounding the moon. On repeating this to the other passengers, two of whom had been at sea before, they said we should certainly have a stormy night, and indeed it proved so very tempestuous that no rest was to be obtained. Nobody, however, seemed to think that there was any danger, though the fog was so thick that the master could see nothing by which to direct his course; but he thought that he had sufficient sea-room.

The fatigue I had suffered from the tossing of the ship, and the violence with which she continued to roll, had kept me in bed. It was about ten o'clock in the morning of the 18th, when the mate looked down into the cabin and cried, "save yourselves if you can!"

The consternation and terror of that moment cannot be described; I had on a loose dressing gown, and wrapping it round me I went up, not quite on deck, but to the top of the stairs, from whence I saw the sea break mountain high against the shore. The passengers and soldiers seemed thunderstruck by the sense of immediate and inevitable danger, and the seamen, too conscious of the hopelessness of any exertion, stood in speechless agony, certain of meeting in a few moments that destruction which now menaced them.

While I thus surveyed the scene around me in a kind of dread which no words can figure, Mr. Burns, an officer of dragoons, who had come up in his shirt, called to Mr. Jenner and Mr. Stains for his cloak; nobody, however, could attend to any thing in such a moment but self-preservation.

Mr. Jenner, Mr. Stains and Mr. Dodd the surgeon, now passed me, their countenances sufficiently expressing their sense of the situation in which we all were. Mr. Burns spoke cheerfully to me; he bade me take good courage, and Mr. Jenner observed, there was a good shore near, and all would do well.

These gentlemen then went to the side of the ship, with the intention, as I believe, of seeing whether it was possible to get on shore. The master of the vessel alone remained near the companion; when suddenly a tremendous wave broke over the ship, and struck me with such violence, that I was stunned for a moment, and, before being able to recover myself, the ship struck with a force so great as to throw me from the stairs into the cabin, the master being thrown down near me. At the same instant, the cabin, with a dreadful crash, broke in upon us, and planks and beams threatened to bury us in ruins. The master, however, soon recovered himself; he left me to go again upon deck, and I saw him no more.

A sense of my condition lent me strength to disengage myself from the boards and fragments by which I was surrounded, and I once more got upon the stairs, I hardly know how. But what a scene did I behold! The masts were all lying across the shattered remains of the deck, and no living creature appeared on it; all was gone, though I knew not then that they were gone forever. I looked forward to the shore, but there I could see nothing except the dreadful surf that broke against it, while, behind the ship, immense black waves rose like tremendous ruins. I knew that they must overwhelm her, and thought that there could be no escape for me.

Believing, then, that death was immediate and unavoidable, my idea was to regain my bed in the cabin, and there, resigning myself to the will of God, await the approaching moment. However, I could not reach it, and for a while was insensible; then the violent striking and breaking up of the wreck again roused me to recollection; I found myself near the cabin-windows, and the water was rising round me. It rapidly increased, and the horrors of drowning were present to my view; yet do I remember seeing the furniture of the cabin floating about. I sat almost enclosed by pieces of the wreck, and the water now reached my breast.

The bruises I had received made every exertion extremely difficult, and my loose gown was so entangled among the beams and fragments of the ship, that I could not disengage it. Still the desire of life, the hope of being welcomed on shore, whither I thought my friends had escaped, and the remembrance of my child, all united in inspiring me with courage to attempt saving myself. I again tried to loosen my gown, but found it impossible, and the wreck continued to strike so violently, and the ruins to close so much more around me, that I now expected to be crushed to death.

As the ship drifted higher on the stones, the water rather lessened as the waves went back, but on their return, continued to cover me, and I once or twice lost my breath, and, for a moment, my recollection. When I had power to think, the principle of self preservation still urged me to exertion.

The cabin now broke more and more, and through a large breach I saw the shore very near. Amidst the tumult of the raging waves I had a glimpse of the people, who were gathering up what the sea drove towards them; but I thought they could not see me, and from them I despaired of assistance.—Therefore I determined to make one effort to preserve my life. I disengaged my arms from the dressing gown, and, finding myself able to move, I quitted the wreck, and felt myself on the ground. I attempted to run, but was too feeble to save myself from a raging wave, which overtook and overwhelmed me. Then I believed myself gone; yet, half suffocated as I was, I struggled very much, and I remember that I thought I was very long dying. The wave left me; I breathed again, and made another attempt to get higher upon the bank, but, quite exhausted, I fell down and my senses forsook me.

By this time I was observed by some of the people on the bank, and two men came to my assistance. They lifted me up; I once more recovered some faint recollection; and, as they bore me along, I was sensible that one of them said the sea would overtake us; that he must let me go and take care of his own life. I only remember clinging to the other and imploring him not to abandon me to the merciless waves.—But I have a very confused idea of what passed, till I saw the boat, into which I was to be put to cross the Fleet water; I had then just strength to say, "For God's sake do not take me to sea again."

I believe the apprehension of it, added to my other sufferings tended to deprive me of all further sensibility, for I have not the least recollection of any thing afterwards until roused by the remedies applied to restore me in a farm-house whither I was carried. There I heard a number of women around me, who asked a great number of questions which I was unable to answer. I remember hearing one say I was a French woman; another say that I was a negro, and indeed I was so bruised, and in such a disfigured condition, that the conjectures of these people are not surprising.

When recovering some degree of confused recollection, and able to speak, I begged that they would allow me to go to bed. This, however, I did not ask with any expectation of life, for I was now in such a state of suffering, that my only wish was to be allowed to lie down and die in peace.

Nothing could exceed the humanity of Mr. Abbot, the inhabitant of Fleet farm-house, nor the compassionate attention of his sister, Miss Abbot, who not only afforded me immediate assistance, but continued for some days to attend me with such kindness and humanity, as I shall always remember with the sincerest gratitude."

The unfortunate sufferer who gives the preceding account, was tended with great humanity by Mr. Bryer, while a wound in her foot, and the dangerous bruises she had received, prevented her from quitting the shelter she first found under the roof of Mr. Abbot, at Fleet. As soon as she was in a condition to be removed to Weymouth, Mr. Bryer, a surgeon there, received her into his own house, where Mrs. Bryer assisted in administering to her recovery such benevolent offices of consolation as her deplorable situation admitted. Meantime the gentlemen of the south battalion of the Gloucester Militia, who had done every thing possible towards the preservation of those who were the victims of the tempest, now liberally contributed to alleviate the pecuniary distresses of the survivors. None seemed to have so forcible a claim on their pity as this forlorn and helpless stranger; and she alone, of forty souls, except a single ship-boy, survived the wreck of the Catharine. There perished, twelve seamen, two soldiers' wives, twenty-two dragoons and four officers, Lieutenant Stains, Mr. Dodd of the hospital-staff, Lieutenant Jenner, the representative of an ancient and respectable family in Gloucestershire, aged thirty-one and Cornet Burns, the son of an American loyalist of considerable property, who was deprived of every thing for his adherence to the British Government.—Having no dependence but on the promises of government to indemnify those who had suffered on that account he, after years of distress and difficulty, obtained a cornetcy in the 26th regiment of dragoons, then going to the West Indies, and was thus lost in his twenty-fourth year. This officer had intended embarking in another transport, and had actually sent his horse on board, when finding the Catharine more commodious, he gave her the preference, while the other put back to Spithead in safety. The mangled remains of Lieutenant Jenner were two days afterwards found on the beach, and interred with military honors.

But the Catharine was not the only vessel which suffered in the tempest. Those who on shore had listened to it raging on the preceding evening, could not avoid feeling the most lively alarm for the consequences; and early on the morning of the 18th of November, several pilots and other persons assembled on the promontory called the Look-out at Weymouth. Thence they too evidently discovered the distress and danger of many of the transports.

Soon after, a lieutenant of the navy, residing at Weymouth, applied to the major of a militia regiment, for a guard to be sent to the Chisell Bank, as a large ship, supposed to be a frigate, was on shore. This was immediately granted, and the major himself marched along with a captain's guard.

The violence of the wind was so great, that the party could with difficulty reach the place of their destination. There they found a large merchantman, the AEolus, laden with timber for government, on shore. Lieutenant Mason of the navy, and his brother, a midshipman, perished in her, and a number of men who would probably have been saved had they understood the signals from shore. The men of Portland who crowded down to the scene of desolation, meant to express, by throwing small pebbles at them, that they should remain on board, to make them hear was impossible, because they foresaw the ship would drive high on the bank. Should that be the case, they might soon leave her without hazard; and accordingly those who continued on board were saved, though many of them were dreadfully bruised.

Not far from the same place, the Golden Grove, another merchantman, was stranded, and in her Dr. Stevens and Mr. Burrows of St. Kitts, were lost. Lieutenant Colonel Ross, who was also there escaped on shore. These two vessels had struck against a part of the Passage-House, almost in the same spot where a French frigate, the Zenobia, had gone to pieces in 1763.

But the scene of distress was infinitely greater about four miles to the westward, where, as already related, the Catharine was wrecked. Along with her, nearly opposite to the villages of Fleet and Chickerell, the Piedmont and Venus, two transports, and soon after the Thomas, a merchantman, shared the same fate.

One hundred and thirty-eight soldiers of the 63d regiment, under the command of Captain Barcroft, were on board the Piedmont; also Lieutenant Ash and Mr. Kelly, surgeon of the same regiment. Of all these, only Serjeant Richardson, eleven privates, and four seamen, survived the catastrophe; all the rest perished.

Captain Barcroft's life had passed in the service. While yet a very young man, he served in America during the war between England and her colonies; and being then taken prisoner, was severely treated. On commencement of the war which has so many years desolated Europe, he raised a company in his native country, and served with it on the Continent during the campaign of 1794. Under a heavy fire of the enemy, he was one of the last men who retreated with it along a single plank, knee-deep in water, from the siege of Nimeguen. In a few months after the disastrous retreat on the Continent, in the winter 1794, he was ordered to the West Indies, and, in the outset of his voyage, perished in the tempest.

Of the few who reached the shore from the Piedmont, there was scarce one who was not dreadfully bruised, and some had their limbs broken. An unfortunate veteran of the 63d, though his leg was shockingly fractured, had sufficient resolution to creep for shelter under a fishing boat which lay inverted on the further side of the bank. There his groans were unheard until a young gentleman, Mr. Smith, a passenger in the Thomas, who had himself been wrecked, and was now wandering along the shore, discovered him. In this ship, the Thomas, bound to Oporto, the master, Mr. Brown, his son, and all the crew, except the mate, three seamen and Mr. Smith, were lost. The last was on his way to Lisbon; but his preservation was chiefly in consequence of his remaining on board after all the rest had left the ship, or were washed away by the waves. She had then drifted high on the bank, when he leaped out of her and reached the ground.

Though weak and encumbered by his wet clothes, he gained the opposite side of the bank, but on gazing on the dreary beach around him, he considered himself cast away on an uninhabited coast. At length he observed a fishing-boat, and approaching it, heard the groans of the unfortunate old soldier, whom he attempted to relieve. But alone he found himself unable to fulfil his intention, and it was a considerable time before he observed any means of assistance near. At last, perceiving a man at some distance, he hastened to him, eagerly inquiring whether a surgeon could be procured for a poor creature with a broken limb, who lay under the boat. Probably the man showed little alacrity, for Mr. Smith found it necessary to purchase his good offices by a gift of half a-guinea, which he imagined would induce him to seek what was so much required. But the man, pocketing the half-guinea with the greatest composure, said he was a king's officer, and must see what bales of goods were driven on shore; then telling Mr. Smith there was a ferry about four miles off, by which he might get to Weymouth. The youth was thus disappointed of his humane design, and the soldier died in that deplorable condition before any other aid attained him.

In the Thomas, the vessel to which Mr. Smith belonged, he witnessed scenes not less distressing. Mr. Brown, the master of the vessel, was carried away by an immense wave just as he was stripping off his clothes to endeavor to save himself. His son exclaiming, "Oh my father, my father! my poor father!" instantly followed. The bodies of both were afterwards found and interred at Wyke.

Of ninety-six persons on board the Venus, only Mr. John Darley of the hospital staff, serjeant-major Hearne, twelve soldiers, four seamen and a boy were saved. Mr. Darley escaped by throwing himself from the wreck at a moment when it drifted high on the stones; he reached them without broken limbs, but, overtaken by the furious sea, he was carried back, not so far, however, that he was incapable of regaining the ground. Notwithstanding the weight of his clothes and his exhausted state, he got to the top of the bank, but there the power of farther exertion failed, and he fell. While lying in this situation, trying to recover breath and strength, a great many people from the neighboring villages passed him; they had crossed the Fleet water in the hopes of sharing the plunder of the vessels which the lower inhabitants of the coast are too much accustomed to consider their right.

Mr. Darley seems to have been so far from meeting with assistance from those who were plundering the dead, without thinking of the living, that although he saw many boats passing and repassing the Fleet water, he found great difficulty in procuring a passage for himself and two or three fellow-sufferers who had now joined him. But having passed it he soon met with Mr. Bryer, to whose active humanity all the sufferers were eminently indebted.

Before the full extent of this dreadful calamity was known at Weymouth, the officers of the South Gloucester Militia, with equal humanity, were devising how they might best succour the survivors, and perform the last duties to the remains of those who had perished. On the morning of the 19th of November, one of them, accompanied by Mr. Bryer of Weymouth, rode to the villages where those who had escaped from the various wrecks had found a temporary shelter. In a house at Chickerell, they found Serjeant Richardson and eleven privates of the 63d regiment; two of the latter had fractured limbs, and almost all the rest either wounds or bruises. In other houses the sufferers had been received, and were as comfortably accommodated as circumstances would admit.

The gentlemen then crossed the Fleet water to the beach, and there, whatever idea was previously formed of it, the horror of the scene infinitely surpassed expectation; no celebrated field of carnage ever presented, in proportion to its size, a more awful sight than the Chisell Bank now exhibited. For about two miles it was strewed with the dead bodies of men and animals, with pieces of wreck and piles of plundered goods, which groups of people were carrying away, regardless of the sight of drowned bodies that filled the new spectators with sorrow and amazement.

On the mangled remains of the unfortunate victims, death appeared in all its hideous forms. Either the sea or the people who had first gone down to the shore, had stripped the bodies of the clothes which the sufferers had wore at the fatal moment. The remnants of the military stock; the wristbands, or color of a shirt, or a piece of blue pantaloons, were all the fragments left behind.

The only means of distinguishing the officers was the different appearance of their hands from those of men accustomed to hard labor; but some were known by the description given of them by their friends or by persons who were in the vessels along with them. The remains of Captain Barcroft were recognised by the honorable scars he had received in the service of his country; and the friends and relatives of him, and several more, had the satisfaction of learning that their bodies were rescued from the sea, and interred with military honors.

Early in the morning of the 20th of November, a lieutenant of the militia regiment who had been appointed to superintend the melancholy office of interment, repaired to the scene of destruction. But from the necessary preliminaries of obtaining the authority of a magistrate to remove the bodies, not more than twenty-five were buried that day. The bodies of Captain Barcroft, Lieutenant Sutherland, Cornet Graydon, Lieutenant Ker and two women, were then selected to be put into coffins. Next day, those of Lieutenant Jenner and Cornet Burns, being found, were distinguished in the like manner.

The whole number of dead found on the beach, amounted to two hundred and thirty-four; so that the duty of interment was so heavy and fatiguing, that it was not until the twenty-third that all the soldiers and sailors were deposited. Of these there were two hundred and eight, and they were committed to the earth as decently as circumstances would admit, in graves dug on the Fleet side of the beach, beyond the reach of the sea, where a pile of stones was raised on each, to mark where they lay. Twelve coffins were sent to receive the bodies of the women, but nine only being found, the supernumerary ones were appointed to receive the remains of the officers.

Two waggons were next sent to the Fleet water to receive the coffins, in which the shrouded bodies of seventeen officers and nine women had been placed, and on the 24th were carried to the church-yard at Wyke, preceded by a captain, subaltern and fifty men of the Gloucester Militia, and attended by the young gentleman before mentioned, Mr. Smith as chief mourner. The officers were interred in a large grave, north of the church-tower, with military honors, and Lieutenant Ker in a grave on the other side of the tower. The remains of the nine women, which had been deposited in the church during the ceremony, were next committed to the earth.

Two monuments have been erected in commemoration of the unfortunate sufferers, the first bearing the following inscription:

To the memory of Captain Ambrose William Barcroft, Lieutenant Harry Ash and Mr. Kelly, surgeon of the 63d regiment of Light Infantry; of Lieutenant Stephen Jenner, of the 6th West India regiment; Lieutenant Stains of the 2d West India regiment and two hundred and fifteen soldiers and seamen and nine women, who perished by shipwreck on Portland Beach, opposite the villages of Langton, Fleet and Chickerell, on Wednesday the eighteenth day of November, 1795.

On the second monument is inscribed,

Sacred to the memory of Major John Charles Ker, Military Commandant of Hospitals in the Leeward Islands, and to that of his son, Lieutenant James Ker, of the 40th regiment of foot, who both departed this life on the 18th of November 1795, the first aged 40 and the latter 14 years.

The fate of both was truly deplorable, and is a melancholy example of the uncertainty of human affairs.

They were embarked in the Venus transport, and left Portsmouth the 15th of November, with a fleet full of troops, destined to the West Indies, under the command of General Sir Ralph Abercrombe.

A storm having arisen on the 17th which lasted till the next day, many of the ships were lost, and the Venus wrecked on Portland Beach.

The major's body could not be found, although it is possible it may have been among the many others which were driven ashore and buried in this church-yard.

His son's corpse was ascertained, and lies interred under this stone, which was raised by his brother, John William Ker, Esq.



WRECK OF THE BRITISH SHIP SIDNEY,

ON A REEF OF ROCKS IN THE SOUTH SEA.

The Sidney left Port Jackson, on the coast of New Holland, on the 12th of April, 1806, bound to Bengal. Intending to proceed through Dampier's Straits, her course was directed as nearly as possible in the track of Captain Hogan of the Cornwallis, which, as laid down in the charts, appeared a safe and easy passage. But, on the 20th of May, at one A. M. we ran upon a most dangerous rock, or shoal in 3 20 south latitude, and 146 50 east longitude, and as this reef is not noticed in any map or chart, it appears that we were its unfortunate discoverers.

On Sunday 25 fathoms of water were found over the taffrail, and six fathoms over the larboard gangway; only nine feet on the starboard side, and 12 feet over the bows. One of the boats was immediately got out, with a bower-anchor; but on sounding, at the distance of ten fathoms from the ship, no ground could be found with sixty fathoms of line.

When she struck it must have been high water, for at that time there was no appearance of any reef or breaker; but as the water subsided, the shoal began to show itself, with a number of small black rocks. The ship had been striking very hard, and began to yield forward. At three A. M. there were six feet water in the hold, and increasing rapidly; at five the vessel was setting aft, and her top sides parting from the floor-heads.

Upon consultation with my officers, it was our unanimous opinion, that the ship was gone beyond recovery, and that no exertions could avail for her safety. We therefore employed all hands in getting the boats ready to receive the crew, who were 108 in number. Eight bags of rice, six casks of water and a small quantity of salted beef and pork, were put into the long-boat as provisions for the whole; the number of the people prevented us from taking a larger stock, as the three boats were barely sufficient to receive us all with safety.

We remained with the Sidney until five P. M. on the twenty-first of May, when there were three feet of water on the orlop deck; therefore we now thought it full time to leave the ship to her fate, and to seek our safety in the boats. Accordingly, I embarked in the long-boat with Mr. Trounce, second officer, and 74 Lascars; Mr. Robson and Mr. Halkart with 16 Lascars, were in the cutter, and the jolly-boat was allotted to 15 Dutch Malays, and one Seapoy.

Being desirous to ascertain the position of the reef, which could be done by making the Admiralty Islands, our course was shaped thither, steering north by east and half east. During the night, it blew fresh, and the long-boat having made much water, we were obliged to lighten her, by throwing a great deal of lumber, and two casks of water, overboard. The three boats kept close in company, the long-boat having the jolly-boat in tow.

Finding at day-light that the cutter sailed considerably better, I directed Mr. Robson that the jolly-boat might be taken in tow by her. But the wind increasing as the morning advanced, and a heavy swell rising, the jolly-boat, while in tow by the cutter, sunk at ten o'clock, and all on board, to the number of 16, perished. It was lamentable to witness the fate of these unhappy men, and the more so, as it was not in our power to render them the smallest assistance.

The Admiralty Islands were seen at noon of the 22d, bearing N. N. E. three or four leagues distant, and as we had run about fifty-eight miles in the boats, upon a N. by E. half E. course, the situation of the shoal where the Sidney struck was accurately ascertained, and will be found as above laid down.

From the Admiralty Islands, we continued standing to the westward, and on the twenty-fifth, made a small island, on which, from its appearance, I was induced to land in quest of a supply of water. Therefore Mr. Robson, myself, and 20 of our best hands, armed with heavy clubs, brought from New Caledonia, (our fire-arms being rendered useless from exposure to the rain) landed through a high surf, to the utmost astonishment of the inhabitants.

As far as might be judged, they had never before seen people of our complexion. The men were tall and well made, wearing their hair plaited and raised above the head; they had no resemblance to Malays or Caffres; and excepting their color, which was of a light copper, they had the form and features of Europeans. They were entirely naked. We also saw a number of women, who were well formed, and had mild and pleasing features.

We were received on the beach by about twenty natives, who immediately supplied each of us with a cocoa-nut. We succeeded in making them understand that we wanted water, on which they made signs for us to accompany them to the interior of the island; on compliance, after walking about a mile, they conducted us into a thick jungle, and, as their number was quickly increasing, I judged it imprudent to proceed further. Thus returning to the beach, I was alarmed to find that 150, or more, of the natives had assembled, armed with spears eight or ten feet long. One of them, an old man of venerable appearance, and who seemed to be their chief, approached, and threw his spear at my feet, expressing as I understood, of his wish that we should part with our clubs in like manner. Perceiving at this time that a crowd of women had got hold of the stern-fast of the cutter, and were endeavoring to haul her on shore from the grapnel, we hastily tried to gain the boat. The natives followed us closely; some of them pointed their spears at us as we retreated, and some were thrown, though happily without effect; and to us they seemed to be very inexpert in the management of their weapons.—On my getting into the water, three or four of the natives followed me, threatening to throw their spears, and when I was within reach of the boat, one of them made a thrust, which was prevented from taking effect by Mr. Robson, who warded off the weapon. When we had got into the boat, and were putting off, they threw, at least, 200 spears, none of which struck, excepting one, which gave a severe wound to my cook, entering immediately above the jaw, and passing through his mouth.

Having escaped this perilous adventure we pursued our course, and got as far as Dampier's Straits, in as favorable circumstances as our situation could well admit. But the Lascars, now being within reach of land, became impatient to be put on shore. It was in vain that I exhorted them to persevere; they would not listen to argument, and expressed their wish rather to meet with immediate death on shore, than to be starved to death in the boats. Yielding to their importunity, I at length determined to land them on the north-west extremity of the island of Ceram, from whence they might travel to Amboyna in two or three days. Being off that part of the island on the ninth of June, Mr. Robson volunteered to land a portion of the people in the cutter, to return to the long-boat, and the cutter to be then given up to such further portion of the crew as chose to join the party first landed.—Accordingly he went ashore with the cutter, but to my great mortification, after waiting two days, there was no appearance of his return or of the cutter.

We concluded that the people had been detained either by the Dutch or the natives. Yet as the remaining part of the Lascars were desirous to be landed, we stood in with the long-boat, and put them on shore near the point where we supposed the cutter to have landed her people.

Our number in the long-boat were now reduced to seventeen, consisting of Mr. Trounce, Mr. Halkart, myself and 14 Lascars and others. Our stock of provision was two bags of rice and one gang cask of water, with which we conceived we might hold out until reaching Bencoolen, whither we determined to make the best of our way. The allowance to each man we fixed at one tea-cupful of rice and a pint of water daily, but we soon found it necessary to make a considerable reduction.

Proceeding through the straits of Bantam, we met in our course several Malay prows, none of which took notice of us excepting one, which gave chase for a day, and would have come up with us had we not got off under cover of a very dark night. Continuing onwards, we passed through the strait of Saypay, where we caught a large shark. Our spirits were much elated by this valuable prize, which we lost no time in getting on board; and having kindled a fire in the bottom of the boat, it was roasted with all expedition. Such was the keenness of our appetite, that although the shark must have weighed 150 or 160 pounds, not a vestige of it remained at the close of the day. But we were afflicted on the following day with the most violent complaint of the stomach and bowels, which reduced us exceedingly, and left us languid and spiritless, insomuch that we now despaired of safety.

On the 2d of July I lost an old and faithful servant, who died from want of sustenance; and on the fourth we made Java head; at the same time catching two large boobies, which afforded all hands a most precious and refreshing meal. At midnight of the ninth, we came to off Pulo Penang, on the west coast of Sumatra; but at day-light, when endeavoring to weigh our anchor and run close in shore, we were so much exhausted that our united strength proved insufficient to get it up.

On a signal of distress being made, a sanpan with two Malays came off, and as I was the only person in the long-boat who had sufficient strength to move, I accompanied them on shore. However, I found myself so weak on landing that I fell to the ground, and it was necessary to carry me to an adjacent house. Such refreshments as could be procured were immediately sent off to the long-boat, and we recruited so rapidly that in two days we found ourselves in a condition to proceed on our voyage. Having weighed anchor on the 12th of July, we set sail, and on the 19th arrived off the island of Bencoolen.

Here I met with an old friend, Captain Chauvet of the Perseverance, whose kindness and humanity I shall ever remember and gratefully acknowledge. On the day subsequent to my arrival, I waited on Mr. Parr the resident, from whom I received every attention.

Leaving Bencoolen on the 17th of August, in the Perseverance, I arrived at Penang on the 27th, where I was agreeably surprized to meet my late chief mate Mr. Robson, who, along with the Lascars, had landed at Ceram. They reached Amboyna in safety, where they were received by the Dutch governor, Mr. Cranstoun, with a humanity and benevolence that reflect honor on his character. He supplied them with whatever their wants required. Mr. Robson was accommodated at his own table, and, on leaving Amboyna, he furnished him money for himself and his people, for the amount of which he refused to take any receipt or acknowledgment. He also gave Mr. Robson letters to the governor-general of Batavia, recommending him to his kind offices. Such honorable conduct from the governor of a foreign country, and with which we were at war, cannot be too widely promulgated. From Amboyna, Mr. Robson embarked in the Pallas a Dutch frigate, for Batavia, which on the passage thither was captured by his Majesty's ships Greyhound and Harriet, and brought to Prince of Wales's island.

From Penang I sailed to Bengal with the Paruna, Captain Denison, and arrived safely in Calcutta in the beginning of May, 1806.



LOSS OF THE DUKE WILLIAM TRANSPORT.

The Duke William Transport, commanded by Captain Nicholls, was fitted out by him with all possible expedition in the year 1758, and lay at Spithead to receive orders. At length he proceeded to Cork, under convoy of the York man-of-war to take in soldiers for America, but just on approaching the Irish coast, a thick fog came on whereby he lost sight of the ship, and as it began to blow hard that night and the next day, he was obliged to bear away for Waterford. When off Credenhead, guns were fired for a pilot; none, however, came off, and Captain Nicholls, being unacquainted with the harbor, brought the ship up, though the sea ran very high. A pilot at last came on board, but the transport broke from her anchor, and on getting under sail, it was almost dark. After running along for some time under the fore-topsail, triple-reefed, and scarce in sight of land, Captain Nicholls cast anchor; and next morning to his great surprise, found high rocks so close astern, that he durst not veer away a cable.—The sheet anchor had been let go in the night, and was the chief means of preservation; the yards and topmasts were now got down, a signal of distress hoisted, and many guns fired. A boat then came from the windward, and a man in her said, if Captain Nicholls would give him fifty pounds, he would come on board, which being promised, he ascended the stern ladder. But when he found the ship so near the rocks, he declared that he would not remain on board for all the ship was worth. However, Captain Nicholls told him, that having come off as a pilot acquainted with the harbor, he should stay and called to the people in the boat to hoist their sails, as he was going to cut her adrift, which he did accordingly. Meantime the pilot was in the greatest confusion; but the captain said it was in vain to complain, and if by cutting, or slipping the cables, he could carry the ship to a place of safety, he was ready to do it. The pilot replied, that he could neither take charge of her, nor venture to carry her in, for he apprehended the ship would be on shore, and dashed to pieces against the rocks, before she would veer; and if she did veer, that a large French East Indiaman had been lost upon the bar, which made the channel very narrow, and he did not know the marks, so as to carry her clear of the wreck. The ship now rode very hard, and it being Sunday a great many people were ready on shore to plunder her, should she strike. Of this Captain Nicholls entertained many apprehensions at low water, as she pitched so much; but fortunately, as the weather became more moderate, two English frigates which lay in the harbor, sent their boats to his assistance, and the custom-house smack arriving, he escaped, though very narrowly, from the threatened danger.

The Duke William soon afterwards proceeded to Cork to receive soldiers, and sailed from thence with a fleet of transports to Halifax, where they arrived safe, and went to besiege Louisbourg. After landing the troops, the transports, and some of the men of war, went into Gabarus Bay, where the admiral allowed the captains of the former to land their men, being sickly, on a small peninsula, which they engaged to defend from the enemy. Four or five hundred people, therefore, immediately set to work, and cut a ditch, six feet wide and four feet deep, quite across the peninsula, as a protection against the Indians; they planted cannon, and also placed several swivels on the stumps of trees cut down for the purpose. Huts were next erected, gardens made, and the whole ground cleared and converted into pleasant arbours, from selecting portions of the shrubs and trees.

Here the captains of the transports remained some time, during which the sick recovered surprisingly, and cures were operated by a remarkable expedient, called a ground-sweat. This was digging a hole in the ground, and, being put into it naked, the earth was thrown over the patient up to the chin, for a few minutes. At first the earth felt cold, but it quickly brought on a gentle perspiration, which cured the disorder.—No one person died who underwent such treatment.

On the reduction of Louisbourg, the island of St. John, in the entrance of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, capitulated, and the inhabitants were to be sent to France in the English transports. They therefore left the peninsula, which the people had entrenched, and, after much bad weather, in which the Duke William parted her cable, and after a tedious passage, arrived at St. John's; but not without the whole fleet being in danger of shipwreck. A party of soldiers brought the inhabitants down the country to the different transports, and the Duke William, being the largest, the missionary priest, who was the principal man there, was ordered to go with Captain Nicholls. On his arrival, he requested permission for the other people who wished it, to come on board to be married, and a great many marriages followed, from an idea prevailing that all the single men would be made soldiers.

Nine transports sailed in company; Captain Wilson with Lord Rollo and some soldiers, and Captain Moore also with soldiers, under convoy of the Hind sloop of war; the rest being cartels, had no occasion for convoy. Captain Moore's vessel was lost going through the Gut of Canso, by striking on a sunken rock, whence the soldiers whom she carried were put on board Captain Wilson's ship bound to Louisbourg. Captain Moore, his son, mate and carpenter, took a passage in the Duke William.

Contrary winds obliged the fleet to lie in the Gut of Canso, where the French prisoners were permitted to go ashore frequently, and remain there all night, making fires in a wood to keep themselves warm, and some of them obtained muskets from Captain Nicholls for shooting game, as they were not afraid of meeting with the Indians. About three hours after departing, one of them came running back, and begged, for God's sake, that the Captain would immediately return on board with his people, as they had met with a party of Indians, who were coming down to scalp them. Captain Nicholls, with the other masters and sailors, hastily went off, and had scarce got on board when the Indians actually reached the place that they had left. Thus they had a very narrow escape of being murdered and scalped, had not the French been faithful, and Providence interposed.

The fleet, in gaining the Gut of Canso, had been assailed by dangers. During a fine night, some of the transports, worked within the Gut, but Captain Nicholls, and Captain Johnson of the Parnassus, cast anchor without it.

In the night a hard gale arose, and increased so much, that the latter let go three anchors, yet the ship drove ashore and was lost. Another ship, the Narcissus, also parted from her anchors, and was obliged to run ashore, and most of the rest suffered damage. When the weather became somewhat moderate, Captain Nicholls, found that all the French prisoners on board the Parnassus, had gained the land, and had made themselves large fires in the woods, on account of the cold showery weather which prevailed; and, on joining them there, he told them, to their great joy, that he would send boats to carry them off. This he did next morning, and, finding it impossible to save the hull of the Parnassus, though another ship was got off shore, every thing worth saving was taken out of her, and in particular one of the pumps, which was carried on board the Duke William to serve in case of emergency.

On the 25th of November 1758, Captain Nicholls sailed from the Bay of Canso, leading other six transports, with a strong breeze at north-west. All the captains agreed to make the best of their way to France, and not to go to Louisbourg, as it was a bad time of the year to beat on that coast, and then took leave of the agent who was bound thither.

The third day after being at sea, a storm blew in the night; being dark with thick weather and sleet, the Duke William parted company with three of the ships, and the storm still continuing, in a day or two parted with the rest. Nevertheless the ship remained in good condition, and, though the sea was mountains high, she went over it like a bird, and made no water. On the 10th of December, Captain Nicholls saw a sail, which proved to be one of the transports, the Violet, Captain Sugget. On coming up he asked how all were on board, to which Captain Sugget replied, "In a terrible situation. He had a great deal of water in the ship; her pumps were choked, and he was much afraid that she would sink before morning." Captain Nicholls begged him to keep up his spirits, and said, that, if possible, he would stay by him and spare him the pump he had got out of the Parnassus; he also told him that, as the gale had continued so long, he hoped that it would moderate after twelve o'clock. Unfortunately, however, it rather increased, and, on changing the watch at twelve, he found that he went fast a-head of the Violet, whence, if he did not shorten sail, he would be out of sight of her before morning. Captain Nicholls then consulted with Captain Moore and the mate, on what was most proper to be done, and all were unanimous, that the only means of saving the people in the Violet, was to keep company with her until the weather should moderate, and that the main-topsail should be taken in.

Therefore, the main-topsail of the Duke William was taken in, and three pumps got out to be ready in case of necessity. The spare pump was forced down an after hatchway, and shipped in an empty butt, of which the French had brought several on board to wash in. Every thing was preparing, both for pumping and bailing, should it be required, and the people of the transport thought themselves secure against all hazards; they now believed that the Violet gained on them, and were glad to see her quite plain about four o'clock in the afternoon.

On changing the watch they found the ship still tight and going very well, the carpenter assuring Captain Nicholls that there was no water to strike a pump. He, fatigued with walking the deck so long, designed going below to smoke a pipe of tobacco to beguile time, and desired the mate to acquaint him immediately should any alteration take place.

The board next the lower part of the pump had been driven to see how much water was in the well; and every half hour, when the ball was struck, the carpenter went down. As he had hitherto found no water, Captain Nicholls felt quite comfortable in his situation in particular, and, on going below, ordered a little negro boy, whom he had as an apprentice, to get him a pipe of tobacco.

Soon after filling and lighting his pipe, he was thrown from his chair, while sitting in his state-room, by a blow that the ship received from a terrible sea; on which he dispatched the boy to ask Mr. Fox, the mate, whether any thing was washed over. Mr. Fox returned answer, that all was safe, and he saw the Violet coming up fast. Captain Nicholls then being greatly fatigued, thought he would endeavor to procure refreshment from a little sleep, and, without undressing, threw himself on the side of his bed. But before his eyes were closed, Mr. Fox came to inform him that the carpenter had found the water above the kelson, and that the ship had certainly sprung a leak; he immediately rose and took the carpenter down to the hold along with him, when, to his infinite surprise, he heard the water roaring in dreadfully. On further examination, he found that a butt had started, and the more they endeavored to press any thing into it the more the plank forsook the timber. Therefore they went on deck, to encourage the people at the pumps, after making a mark with chalk to ascertain how the water gained upon them.

Captain Nicholls, considering the case desperate, went to all the Frenchmen's cabins, begging them to rise; he said, that, although their lives were not in danger, their assistance was desired at the pumps, where it would be of the greatest service. They got up accordingly, and cheerfully lent their aid. By this time it was day-light, when, to the great surprise and concern of the Duke William's people, they saw the Violet on her broadside at a little distance, the fore yard broke in the slings, the fore-topsail set, and her crew endeavoring to free her of the mizen-mast; probably she had just then broached to by the fore-yard giving way. A violent squall came on, which lasted for ten minutes, and when it cleared up, they discovered that the unfortunate ship had gone to the bottom, with nearly four hundred souls. The stoutest was appalled by the event, especially as their own fate seemed to be approaching.

All the tubs above mentioned were prepared, and gangways made; the Frenchmen assisted, and also the women, who behaved with uncommon resolution. The hatches were then opened, and as the water flowed fast into the hold, the tubs being filled, were hauled up and emptied on the upper deck, which, with three pumps constantly at work, and bailing out of the gun-room scuttle, discharged a great quantity of water. A seam would have done them little injury; but a butt's end was more than they could manage, though every method that could be deemed serviceable was tried. The spritsail was quilted with oakum and flax, and one of the top-gallant sails was prepared in the same manner, to see whether any thing would sink into the leak, but all in vain.

In this dismal condition the transport continued three days; notwithstanding all the exertions of the people, she was full of water, and they expected her to sink every minute. They had already got the whole liquor and provisions. The hold now being full, and the ship swimming only by the decks from the buoyancy of empty casks below, the people, about six o'clock on the fourth morning, came to Captain Nicholls, declaring that they had done all that lay in their power, that the ship was full of water, and that it was in vain to pump any more. Captain Nicholls acknowledged the truth of what they said; he told them that he could not desire them to do more, that they had behaved like brave men, and must now trust in Providence alone, as there was no expedient left for saving their lives.

He then acquainted the priest with their situation; that every method for saving the ship and the lives of the people had been adopted, but that he expected the decks to blow up every moment. The priest was stunned by the intelligence, but answered, that he would immediately go and give his people absolution for dying; "which he did," says Captain Nicholls; "and I think a more melancholy scene cannot be supposed than so many people, hearty, strong and in health, looking at each other with tears in their eyes, bewailing their unhappy condition. No fancy can picture the seeming distraction of the poor unhappy children clinging to their mothers, and the wives hanging over their husbands, lamenting their miserable fate:—Shocking situation! words cannot describe it."

Captain Nicholls then called the men down the main-hatchway, along with him, to examine the leak in the hold. He told them they must be content with their fate; and as they were certain they had done their duty, they should submit to Providence with pious resignation. He walked on deck with Captain Moore, desiring him to devise any expedient to save them from perishing. With tears in his eyes, Captain Moore assured him that he knew of none, as all that could be thought of had been used. Providence, in Captain Nicholls' belief, induced him to propose attempting to hoist out the boats, so that if a ship should appear, their lives might be saved, as the gale was more moderate. But to this proposal, Captain Moore said it would be impossible, as every body would endeavor to get into them. Captain Nicholls, however, was of a different opinion, observing, that, under their severe trial, the sailors had behaved with uncommon resolution, and were very obedient to his commands, he flattered himself that they would all continue so; and all were sensible, that in case the ship broached to, the masts must be cut away, to prevent her from oversetting; when it would be beyond their power to hoist out the boats. He then called the mates, carpenters and men and proposed to get out the boats, at the same time acquainting them that it was to save every soul on board if possible, and declaring that if any person should be so rash as to insist on going into them, besides those he should think proper, that they should immediately be scuttled. But all solemnly maintained that his commands should be as implicitly obeyed as if the ship had been in her former good condition; thus setting an example which is rarely to be found.

Captain Nicholls then went to acquaint the chief prisoner on board with what was about to be attempted. He was an hundred and ten years old, the father of the whole island of St. John's, and had a number of children, grand-children and other relations, in the ship. His observation was, that he was convinced Captain Nicholls would not do a bad action, for, by experience, he had found how much care he had taken of him and his friends, and likewise what endeavors had been used to save the ship and their lives; therefore they were ready to assist in any thing he should propose. Captain Nicholls assured him that he would not forsake them, but run an equal chance; this he thought the only means of saving their lives, should it please Providence to send any ship to their assistance, and it was their duty to use all means given to them.

He next asked Mr. Fox and the carpenter whether they were willing to venture in the long-boat, to which they boldly answered in the affirmative, as, whether they perished on the spot, or a mile or two farther off, was a matter of very little consequence, and as there was no prospect but death in remaining, they would willingly make the attempt. Captain Moore, the carpenter and mate, also willingly agreed to his proposal to go in the cutter.

The cutter was accordingly got over the side, and the ship lying pretty quiet, they cut the tackles, when she dropt very well into the water, and the penter brought her up. They next went to work with the long-boat, and day-light having fairly come in, gave them great spirits, as they flattered themselves, should it please God Almighty to send a ship, it would be in their power to save all their lives, the weather being now much more moderate than before.

The mate and carpenter having cut the runners, the long-boat fell into the water as well as the cutter had done, and a proper penter being made fast, she brought up properly.

People were stationed at the main and fore-topmast-heads to look out for a sail, when to the unspeakable joy of all on board, the man at the main-topmast cried out that he saw two ships right astern making after the transport. Captain Nicholls having acquainted the priest, and the old gentleman, with the good news, the latter took him in his aged arms, and wept for joy. The captain ordered the ensign to be hoisted to the main-topmast shrouds, and the guns to be got all clear for firing. The weather was very hazy, and the ships not far distant when first discovered; whenever the transport hoisted her signal of distress, they shewed English colors, and seemed to be West Indiamen; of about three or four hundred tons.

Captain Nicholls continued loading and firing as fast as possible, when he perceived the two ships speak with each other, and setting their foresail and topsails, they hauled their wind, and stood off. Supposing that the size of his ship, and her having so many men on board, added to its being the time of war, might occasion distrust, he ordered the main-mast to be cut away to undeceive them. People had been placed in the shrouds to cut away in case of necessity; but one of the shrouds not being properly cut, checked the main-mast and made it fall right across the boats. On this Captain Nicholls hastily ran aft, and cut the penters of both the boats, otherwise they would have been staved to pieces, and sunk immediately. A dismal thing it was to cut away what could be the only means of saving the people's lives, and at the same time see the ships so basely leave them. No words can picture their distress; driven from the greatest joy to the utmost despair, death now appeared more dreadful. They had only the foresail hanging in the brails; and the braces of both penters being rendered useless by the fall of the main-mast, and the yard flying backward and forward by the rolling of the ship, rendered them apprehensive that she would instantly overset. The ship ran from the boats, until they remained just in sight; and finding they made no endeavor to join her, though each was provided with oars, foremast and foresail, Captain Nicholls consulted with the boatswain on what was most proper to be done in their dangerous condition. He said that he thought they should bring the ship to at all events, though he acknowledged it a dreadful alternative to hazard her oversetting; the boatswain agreed that it was extremely dangerous, as the vessel steered very well. However, Captain Nicholls finding that the men in the boat did not attempt to join him, called the people aft, and told them his resolution. They said it was desperate, and so was their condition, but they were ready to do whatever he thought best. But Captain Moore seemed to be quite against it. Captain Nicholls then acquainted the old gentleman, the priest and the rest of the people, who were pleased to say, let the consequence be what it might, they should be satisfied, he had acted for the best, and all were resigned to the consequences.

He therefore ordered men to every fore shroud, and one with an axe to the foremast to cut it away should that measure become indispensable. But his own situation he declares to have been in the meantime dreadful; in reflecting that this alternative, though in his judgment right, might be the means of sending nearly four hundred souls to eternity. However, the Almighty endowed him with resolution to persevere, and he gave orders to bring the ship to. In hauling out the mizen, which had been greatly chafed, it split; a new staysail was then bent to bring the ship to, which had the desired effect after a considerable time, for a heavy sea striking on the starboard quarter, excited an apprehension that it would be necessary to cut away the mast. When the men in the yawl saw the ship lying to for them, they got up their foremast, and ran on board, holding the sheets in their hands on account of the wind; and as soon as they arrived some men were sent to row to the assistance of the long-boat. They soon joined her, got her foremast up, set the sail, as the cutter likewise did, and to the great joy of all, reached the ship in safety.

Just as the boats came up, the people at the mast-head exclaimed, "A sail! a sail!" and the captain thought it better to let the ship lie, as by seeing the main-mast gone, it might be known that she was in distress. The weather was hazy, and he could see to no great distance, but the strange vessel was soon near enough to perceive and hear his guns. She had scarce hoisted her colors, which were Danish, when her main-topsail sheet gave way; on observing which, Captain Nicholls conceiving her main-topsail was to be clewed up, and she would come to his assistance, immediately imparted the good news to the priest and the rest. Poor deluded people, they hugged him in their arms, calling him their friend and preserver; but, alas! it was short lived joy, for as soon as the Dane had knotted, or spliced her topsail sheet, she stood away, and left them. "What pen is able," says Captain Nicholls, "to describe the despair that reigned in the ship!" The poor unhappy people wringing their hands, cried out, "that God had forsaken them."

It was now about three in the afternoon; Captain Nicholls wore the ship, which she bore very well, and steered tolerably before the wind.

Towards half an hour afterwards, the old gentleman came to him in tears, and taking him in his arms, said he came by desire of the whole people to request that he and his men would endeavor to save their lives in the boats, and as these were insufficient to carry more, they would by no means be accessory to their destruction; they were well convinced by their whole conduct that they had done every thing in their power for their preservation; but that God Almighty had ordained them to perish, though they trusted he and his men would get safe on shore. Such gratitude for only doing a duty in endeavoring to save the lives of the prisoners, as well as their own, astonished Captain Nicholls; he replied, that there was no hopes of life, and as all had embarked in the same unhappy voyage, they should all take the same chance. He thought that they ought to share the same fate. The old gentleman said that should not be, and if he did not acquaint his people with the offer he should have their lives to answer for. Accordingly the captain mentioned it to Captain Moore and the people. They said that they would with the greatest satisfaction remain, could any thing be devised for the preservation of the others; but that being impossible, they would not refuse to comply with their request. The people then thanking them for their great kindness, with tears in the eyes of all, hastened down the stern ladder.

As the boats ranged up by the sea under the ships counter, those that went last cast themselves down, and were caught by the men in the boat. Captain Nicholls told them, he trusted to their honor that they would not leave him, as he was determined not to quit the ship until it was dark, in hopes that Providence would yet send something to their aid; the whole assured him that he should not be deserted.

He had a little Norse boy on board, whom no entreaties could persuade to enter the boat until he himself had done so; but as it was growing dark, he insisted on the boy's going, saying he would immediately follow him. The boy obeyed, and got on the stern ladder, when a Frenchman whom the dread of death induced to quit his wife and children unperceived, made over the taffrail and trod on the Norse boy's fingers. The boy screamed aloud, which led Captain Nicholls to believe that some person was in danger, and on repairing to the place, followed by the old gentleman, they found to their great surprise, that the man, who had a wife and children on board, was attempting to get away and save himself. The old gentleman calling him by his name, said he was sorry to find him base enough to desert his family. He seemed ashamed of what he had done, and returned over the taffrail. By this time, the people of the boat begged the captain to come, as the blows she received from below the ship's counter, were like to sink her.

Captain Nicholls seeing the priest stretching his arms over the rails in great emotion, and apparently under strong apprehensions of death, asked him whether he was willing to take his chance in the boat. He replied in the affirmative, if there was room; and on learning that there was, he immediately went and gave the people his benediction; and after saluting the old gentleman, tucked up his conical robes and forsook the vessel. Captain Nicholls saluted him likewise, and several others, and then left them praying for his safety.

When he entered the boat he bid the sailors cast her adrift; it was very dark, and they had neither moon nor stars to direct them. "What a terrible situation!" he exclaims, "we were twenty-seven in the long-boat, and nine in the cutter, without victuals or drink." Uncertain of their distance from the English coast, they agreed to keep as close as possible to the ship.

It began to blow very fresh, with sleet and snow; the people were fatigued to the uttermost, from working so long at the pumps, and after sitting in the wet and cold, they began to wish that they had staid in the ship and perished, as now they might die a lingering death. Either alternative was awful. Destitute of provision, it was most probable that one must be sacrificed by lot to keep the others alive; and their dismal situation, in arousing the most horrible anticipations, made them forbode the worst.

The boats now began to make water, yet the men refused to bail them, they were in a state of such extreme weariness, and not having slept for four nights, became regardless of their fate. Captain Nicholls, nevertheless, prevailed on them to free the long-boat of water.

Having a brisk gale, they soon ran a long way from their unfortunate ship, when to their great distress, it fell quite calm at ten in the morning. This threw the people in despair, their courage began to fail, and as they could not expect to live so long as to make the land, death seemed again staring them in the face.

Some time after this unlucky party forsook the ship, four of the French prisoners let a small jolly-boat, which was still remaining, overboard, with two small paddles, and swam to her; and just as they left the vessel, her decks blew up with a report like a gun. She sunk in the ocean, and three hundred and sixty souls perished with her.

Captain Nicholls, at length observing the water colored, asked whether they had any twine, on which one of them gave him a ball from his pocket; they knocked the bolts off the knees of the long-boat, wherewith to make a deep-sea lead, and sounding with it were rejoiced to find only 45 fathom water. But the people complaining greatly of hunger and thirst, Captain Nicholls said he was sorry to acquaint them that he had nothing for them to eat or drink, yet encouraged them to bear up with manly resolution, as by their soundings they were near Scilly, and he doubted not, if it cleared, that they should see the land.

The little Norse boy, who had always kept close by the captain, now said that he had got some bread, and on taking it from the bosom of his shirt, it proved to be like baker's dough; however, it was bread, and very acceptable. The whole might amount to about four pounds; and Captain Nicholls having put it into his hat, distributed it equally, calling for those in the yawl to receive their share. But instead of being a relief, it increased their troubles, for being wet and clammy, it hung to the roof of their mouths, having nothing to wash it down. Mr. Fox had some allspice also, which was of little service; having been cut in pieces, the people forced it down their throats, which created some saliva, and by that means it was swallowed.

About noon, a light air sprung up at south-west. Each boat had a foremast, foresail and oars; but owing to the boats having been foul of the main-mast, all the oars were washed away except two from each. Captain Nicholls was told, in answer to his inquiries concerning a noise among the crew, that two seamen were disputing about a couple of blankets, which one of them had brought from the ship. These blankets he ordered to be thrown overboard, rather than they should be suffered to breed any quarrel, as in their unhappy condition it was no time to have disputes. But on reflection having desired that they should be brought to him, he thought of converting them to use, by forming each into a main-sail. Therefore, one oar was erected for a main-mast, and the other broke to the breadth of the blankets for a yard. The people in the cutter observing what was done in the long-boat, converted a hammock which they had on board into a main-sail.

At four in the afternoon it cleared up, when the adventurers descried a brig about two miles distant, to which Captain Nicholls ordered the cutter to give chase, as it being lighter than the long-boat, would sooner get up, and let her know their distress. But the brig, seeing the boats after their course, directly stood from them, owing, as Captain Nicholls supposed, to their odd appearance. For war then prevailing, they were probably taken for the French lugsail-boats, that used to frequent the lands off Scilly. The cutter, however, gained fast on the brig, when, having got about half way, a very thick fog came on, and neither the brig nor the cutter were again seen from the long-boat.

Night fell, and the weather still continuing very foggy, the people, almost dead for want of sleep, reposed themselves, sitting half way in water, it being impossible for so many to find seats. Their captain, anxious for their lives and his own, strove to keep his eyes open, though it was the fifth night that he had taken no rest. About eleven o'clock, when every one was asleep but the helmsman and himself, he thought that he saw land. Yet he was determined not to call out land until he should be sure that it was so. He squeezed his eyelids together to let the water run out of his eyes, as he found them very dim.

Again he thought he saw land very plain, and was convinced that he could not be deceived. By this time the man at the helm had dropped asleep, and he took the tiller himself.—Some space longer elapsed before he would disturb any body, but at last he awoke Captain Moore, telling him he thought he saw land. Captain Moore only answered that they should never see land again. Captain Nicholls then awoke Mr. Fox, who had obtained a sound sleep, and seemed quite refreshed. He immediately cried out that they were near land and close in with the breakers. Lucky it was that he had been awakened, otherwise, Captain Nicholls, from being absolutely unacquainted with them, was satisfied that all on board would have perished.

At the word land every one awoke, and, with some difficulty, the boat cleared the rocks. At first the precise part of the English coast could not be ascertained, but, as it cleared more and more every moment, Captain Nicholls, on looking under the lee-leech of the blanket main-sail, discerned St. Michael's Mount in Mount's Bay. The boat would not fetch the land near Penzance, and, as she had no oars, it was determined to avoid steering round the Lizard and so for Falmouth, but to run her boldly on shore, whatever place she might chance to make. It was a fine night, and, after getting round the point, the people found the water very smooth; keeping the boat close to the wind, they made between Penzance and the point.

Their joy at finding themselves in so favorable a situation, is not to be conceived; it gave them new life and strength.—Those who were forward, exclaimed that there were two rocks ahead, Captain Nicholls hastened before, and his sight having come well to him, he carried the boat between them without touching ground, and in a little time ran her ashore on a sandy beach.

The seamen leapt into the water, and carried the priest and the captain ashore. The former, kneeling down, made a short prayer, and then coming to embrace Captain Nicholls, called him his preserver, and said that he had rescued him from death.

Leaving the boat as she lay, all made the best of their way to the town of Penzance. But some of the people, with sleeping wet, were so much benumbed, that they could scarce get along; and captain Nicholls himself declares, that, from the time of the ship's springing a leak, until that hour, he had had no sleep, and very little sustenance. However, having fallen in with a run of fresh water on the road to Penzance, all were revived by drinking heartily of it.

The party, reaching the town about three in the morning, made up to a tavern where they saw a light, and, as it had been a market day, the mistress of the house was still up.—When Captain Nicholls entered by the door, which was not locked, she was undressing, with her back to a fire, the light he had seen, and being greatly alarmed, screamed, "Murder! thieves!"

The appearance of twenty-seven people at such an unseasonable hour, was certainly enough to create apprehension, especially from the condition which they were in. But the captain endeavoring to pacify her, requested she would call her husband or servants, as they were shipwrecked men, and give them some refreshment. The landlord soon came, and, having provided provisions, the people got into as many beds as were there, while the rest of them slept on the floor by the side of the fire.

Next morning the captain, accompanied by the priest, went to the Mayor of the town to make a protest before a notary, and to see if he could get credit, as both he and the people were in want of every necessary, and it was many miles to London. The Mayor received him kindly, but told him that he was no merchant, and that he never supplied people in the condition that he was in, with money, but if he pleased, he would send a servant with him to Mr. Charles Langford, a merchant who generally supplied the masters of vessels in distress with necessaries. Mr. Langford received Captain Nicholls politely, but, in answer to his request for credit, said, that he had made a resolution not to supply with credit any man to whom he was an entire stranger, as he had been deceived by one very lately; and, though his might have been a large ship, to judge by the boat which was come on shore, he, the captain, might not be concerned in her, and, as he should want a great deal of money, he should beg to be excused.—Captain Nicholls answered, that he was partly owner of the ship, and Mr. Langford might be certain that his bills were duly honored. However, he said he could not do it.

Captain Nicholls, grievously disappointed, returned to the inn, where several tradesmen had arrived to furnish the people with clothes and other necessaries. He told the latter he could get no credit, but that they must travel on as far as Exeter, where he was sure of obtaining relief, which was very unwelcome news, as most of the people wanted shoes. The captain next requested the landlord of the inn to get them some breakfast, but he desired to be excused, and wished to know if the captain could get no credit, how he was to be paid. Captain Nicholls was quite at a loss how to act; being denied both credit and victuals, he thought that he would pawn or sell his ring, watch, buckles and buttons. Accordingly, returning to Mr. Langford, he begged he would give him what he thought proper for these things. He took the ring from his finger, the watch from his pocket, and, with tears in his eyes was going to take the buckles from his shoes, when Mr. Langford prevented him, saying he should have credit for as much as he pleased, for he believed him to be an honest man, and saw that his people's distress touched him more, if possible, than his own misfortunes. He then gave what money the captain required.

During these transactions, the second mate and the eight men belonging to the cutter arrived. They said it was so very thick they could not come up with the brig which they were in pursuit of, and that, seeing the Lands-End when it cleared, they got ashore. As nobody would buy the cutter, they had left her, and had inquired the way to Penzance, where, being in great distress, they rejoiced to meet their comrades.

Captain Nicholls went to the inn and discharged what was owing; on account of the unkindness which he had experienced, he resolved to stay no longer, and repaired to another house to breakfast. He next procured the necessaries wanted by his people, and then went with his mates to make a protest. But, not choosing that the declaration should proceed from his own mouth, Mr. Langford's son acted as interpreter to the French priest, who was to make it. The priest accordingly made a strong and full affidavit, that Captain Nicholls and his people had tried every means to keep the ship above water; that they had used the French all the time they were on board, with the greatest kindness and humanity, and that Captain Nicholls had parted from them with the greatest reluctance, and even at their own desire went into the boat, after all hopes of life were gone.

Having remained another day at Penzance to refresh the people, and getting credit for what was wanted, Captain Nicholls, Captain Moore and the officers set out in a carriage for Exeter, while the people, who had got a pass from the Mayor, walked on foot. At Redruth, a town in Cornwall, there were many French officers on parole, as also an English Commissary. Captain Nicholls accompanied the priest to the latter in quest of a pass to Falmouth, that he might embark in the first cartel for France; and here took leave of him.

Captain Nicholls having reached London, was under the necessity of being examined at the Admiralty and Navy Office, about the loss of the people and the ship, she being a transport in the service of government. The Lords of the Admiralty and Commissioners of the Navy told him that he might say more than any man living, as he had brought ashore with him the first man of France, a priest, of course an enemy to both their religion and country: if his behaviour had not been good, he would not have attempted it; but at the same time, they acknowledged that without such a proof, they could not have believed, but finding all hopes gone, he and his people got away by some stratagem. They would pay they said to the hour that the ship foundered, and were very sorry that they could do no more.

The four Frenchmen above mentioned, who had left the transport in the little boat subsequent to the departure of Captain Nicholls and his men, got into Falmouth within two days.

So ended this dreadful and unfortunate voyage, with the loss of a fine ship and three hundred and sixty souls.



COMMODORE BARNEY.

No old Triton who has passed his calms under the bows of the long-boat could say of Joshua Barney that he came into a master's berth through the cabin windows. He began at the rudiments, and well he understood the science. All his predilections were for the sea.

Having deserted the counting room, young Barney, at the age of twelve, was placed for nautical instruction in a pilot-boat at Baltimore, till he was apprenticed to his brother-in-law. At the age of fourteen, he was appointed second mate, with the approbation of the owners, and before he was sixteen he was called upon to take charge of his ship at sea, in which the master had died. This was on a voyage to Nice. The ship was in such a state that it was barely possible to make Gibraltar, where for necessary repairs he pledged her for L700, to be repaid by the consignee at Nice, who however declined, and called in the aid of the Governor to compel Barney to deliver the cargo, which he had refused to do. He was imprisoned, but set at large on some intimation that he would do as desired, but when he came on board, he struck his flag, and removed his crew, choosing to consider his vessel as captured. He then set out for Milan, to solicit the aid of the British Ambassador there, in which he succeeded so well that the authorities of Nice met him on his return to apologize for their conduct. The assignee paid the bond, and Barney sailed for Alicant, where his vessel was detained for the use of the great armada, then fitting out against Algiers, the fate of which was a total and shameful defeat. On his return home, his employer was so well satisfied with his conduct, that he became his firm friend ever after.

He soon offered himself as second in command on board the sloop Hornet, of ten guns, one of two vessels then preparing for a cruise under Commodore Hopkins, for this was in the early part of the revolution. The sloop fell in with a British tender, which she might have captured, but for the timidity of the American captain. The tender, mistaking her enemy, ran alongside and exposed herself to much danger.—Barney stood by one of the guns as the enemy came near, and was about to apply the match, when the bold commander commanded him to desist. Barney, whose spirit revolted at such a cause, threw his match-stick at the captain, with such force that the iron point stuck in the door of the round-house. This, in a youth not seventeen, urged well for the pugnacity of the man. At the end of this cruise, he volunteered on board the schooner Wasp, in which he soon had a brush with the Roebuck and another frigate, and with the aid of some galleys in which he had a command, the enemy was forced to retreat, with more loss than honor. Barney for his good conduct in this affair, was appointed to the command of the sloop Sachem, with the commission of lieutenant before he was seventeen.

Before the cruise, however, Captain Robinson took command of the Sachem, which soon had an action with a letter-of-marque of superior force and numbers. It was well contested, and nearly half the crew of the brig were killed or wounded. In about two hours the letter-of-marque struck.—The captors secured a valuable prize, in a cargo of rum, and also a magnificent turtle intended as a present to Lord North, whose name was marked on the shell. This acceptable West Indian, Lieutenant Barney presented to a better man than it had been designed for, for he gave it to the Hon. R. Morris. On the return of the Sachem, both officers were transferred to a fine brig of fourteen guns, the Andrew Doria, which forthwith captured the Racehorse, of twelve guns and a picked crew. This vessel was of the Royal Navy, and had been detached by the Admiral purposely to take the Doria.

On this voyage a snow was captured, in which the Lieutenant went as prize master, making up the crew partly of the prisoners. Being hard by an enemy's ship, he discovered signs of mutiny among his crew, and shot the ringleader in the shoulder; a proceeding that offered so little encouragement to his comrades, that they obeyed orders, and made sail, but it was too late to escape. The purser of the frigate which captured him, was on a subsequent occasion, so much excited as to strike Barney, who knocked him down, and went further in his resentment than fair fighting permits, for he kicked him down the gangway. The commander obliged the purser to apologize to Barney. Having been captured in the Virginia frigate, which ran aground at the Capes, and was deserted by her commander, Barney, with five hundred other prisoners, was sent round, in the St. Albans frigate, to New York. As the prisoners were double in number to the crew, Barney, formed a plan of taking the ship, which was defeated or prevented by the treachery of a Frenchman.