The Lyttelton Times. WEDNESDAY, APRIL 30, 1890.

Lyttelton Times, Volume LXXIII, Issue 9091, 30 April 1890, Page 4

The Lyttelton Times. WEDNESDAY, APRIL 30, 1890.

Next to the marvellous endurance displayed by the survivors, nothing of the story of the Emilie strikes one so much as the suddenness of that unfortunate ship’s collapse. A gale of wind met her in the face; she opened her seams, became unmanageable, rolled over on her side, and having dropped her masts and her deck-houses into the sea, came upright a waterlogged hulk on the merciless, heaving ocean, with four hap* less men of her company clinging to the stump of the mizzen mast. That is the story of the catastrophe in brief. What followed is interesting as a record of what men can endure. Fortunately there was a sail left flapping on that stump, to which the men were clinging. One of them made a bag of it, all crawled in and huddled together for three days, while the wretched hulk under them drifted about at the mercy of the winds and the tides. What a narrative it is that we have from the lips of two of these men! From the day they made that bag the interest never ceases. We drift about with the tellers of the story during those three awful days; we hear the seas surging over them and the gale howling round them; we see them emerge one by one from their shelter to increase their thirst by sucking that rusty iron pipe left sticking up out of the water barrels. Howtbey suck for bare life; how greedily they drink the half salt water! Then comes the drifting into the bay and the striking on the rocks; we see that adventurous mariner plunge into the sea, swim to the friendly shore, rush up to the creek, drink, drink, drink, and drink again; we see him fasten himself to a flax-bush, and lying down, sleep the sleep of the just beside the flowing stream, the rain beating on his face, the wind buffeting his hair, and yet he sleeps, sleeps, sleeps as long ago he slept in his cradle with his mother’s soft eyes on his chubby, innocent face. The rest try to follow, but they are too weak; so after a narrow escape from drowning they “ turn into the spanker,” and discuss the chances. If the miserable old hull holds together she will drive up higher “bows on” during tbe night, and give them a chance in the morning : if, on the other hand, she goes to pieces, as seems most likely in the case of such a bundle of old timbers, it means death. Having decided to “chance it,” the men dismiss the subject from their minds ; the question of life and death gives way to the question of keeping warm and getting 1 a snooze. How in the morning the ship was found to be holding together and in better position, and how they got ashore with the exception of the mate, the narrative tells us; also, of the simple, kindly ruse by which that poor fellow was induced by deadly fear of abandonment to make the attempt to land in spite of hia poor, gangrened feet. Lastly, we have the days on the island, the discovery of the dead seal and the ravenous gorging that followed, the miserable meals of shellfish, the journey, the final abandonment of the hapless mate; a gleam of light shoots across the sombreness of the story on the first dry day, “ when we dried ourselves on a rock in the sun, and sang hymnsand after that we have the finale in the rescue by the muttonbirders and their great kindness to the starving castaways. To the man who reads with careful thought, it is one of the most thrilling narx-atives on record; eloquent of the groat aimplicity, the dauntless courage, the loyal camevaderie and the vast power of endurance of these sailor-men. No story of tho most accomplished prince of the pen ever approached their plain, unvarnished tale in intensity and realistic force.

The story of the nautical enquiry is a very unworthy sequel. About the facta of tlie wreck there can be no doubt. As we have said, a breeze, open seams, collapse before the ship could be got round to run for the near port. Yet we read in the judgment that there was no evidence of the old tub’s unseaworthiness. Why did these Solons not tell us at once that in their opinion the Emilia was a safer ship when she left the Bluff than any of the direct steamers ? Was the evidence of the men nothing? They deposed to a very seedy state of things indeed.

but it was not “ sufficient evidence.” Why ? Because it was contradicted by the surveyor ? "Wo do not see that the contradiction, of the surveyor can be of much avail in the face of the corroboration by the exceedingly rapid, nay phenomenal, collapse of the ship. The logic of facts was on the side of the men. One fact, it will be said, was not on their side, viz., the fact that they went to sea in the craft which they now declare to have been unseaworthy. No doubt, this fact may have been regarded as a contradiction of the evidence of the men. But that is only another proof of tho manner in which seamen are misunderstood by all, especially magistrates, who have to deal with them. Everybody looks at Jack from tho point of view of grinding discipline. Jack is a. creature to be repressed, disbelieved, chastised, suspected. Jack has so often been lined and imprisoned for refusing to sail in unseaworthy ships, and has so often experienced the weight of tho attentions of officers who have “made it hot for him, to let him know how to tell lies about the craft,” that he has given up complaining as a bad job. Moreover, Jack is a devil-may-care sort of fellow. He thinks a vessel is nnsoawortby ; he thinks at the same time she may “ last out this voyage ; ” he prefers “chancing it” to the certainty of Magisterial reproof and life in a ship “ made hot for him.” Besides ho is always “ chancing it ” in some one or other of the branches of his daily avocation. He '* chanced it ” this time in the Emilie, though he knew she had come into Melbourne not long ago with five feot of water in her, and though ho was aware that the pumps had been kept going all the way from San Francisco, across the Pacific to Australia. The result was that remarkable sequel to which we have drawn attention.

The only evidence listened to was that of the stevedore, which was to the effect that the vessel had been improperly stowed. That, no doubt, helped to hasten the catastrophe. But how was it that a ship was allowed to go away with one-third of a cargo of timber improperly and most dangerously stowed? How was it that the fact of an old ship being stowed with the severest of all possible cargoes impressed nobody ? It is not creditable that in spite of surveyors, Grovernmenb officials, the provisions of the law, and the obvious evidence of facts, a ship in such condition should get away to sea from any of our ports. But the discreditable is, unfortunately, not the incredible. The finishing touch to this revolting picture is in the statement of the law that a foreignowned ship not carrying passengers is not amenable to our law, and can go out or stay in port even when obviously unseaworthy, at the will and good pleasure of her owners or their agents. Poor Jack! He and the cargo can sail to Davy Jones ; the passenger only is sacred in the eyes of the Hew Zealand legislator. But the passenger may ha,veavote,and may have friends with votes. Jack has neither. His only friend is the Cherub that sits up aloft: the sooner he takes his simple virtues to keep that Cherub company the better. Such is the law and the practice of the law in this happy Colony.