TRAGEDIES OF THE SEA.

NZ Truth, Issue 119, 28 September 1907, Page 8

TRAGEDIES OF THE SEA.

WRECK 'OF. TOE EARL OF ABERGAVENNY In- the " English Channel, WITH THE LOSS OF 247 CIVES, Five Days After Leaving Port,

j Bright vohp the laughing morn— , That morn that sealed her doom— : Dark and sad is her return, And ithe storm lights faintly, burn, 'Mid the gloom. As they, toss upon her stern iT. : Sheridan,, 5 A' fine specimen of lier class was the Earl of Abergavenny, one of the East India Company's vessels, which at this period were the flower of the British mercantile marine. ,To go to the East m the passengers' saloon of one of them was understood to be the highest form of comfort that ocean travellers could then enjoy. \

Three times the Earl of Abergavenny had voyaged to India, an<l 'returned prosperously and happily, and on Friday — the day that old-time sailors viewed, with awe as a sailing day— February 1, 1805, she left port on her fourth and last voyage. The Earl of Abergavenny and four other merchant ships sailed m company from Portsmouth, escorted by his Majesty's frigate Weymouth as convoy. The good fortune which had thrice smiled upon the ship on former voyages was remembered, and the remembrance inspired the passengers with confidence. ONE HEART, AT LEAST

en board beat with misgivings. They were so undefined that they could scarcely be said to have assumed a definite shape, but misgivings they were. nevertheless. Strange to say, the p.ersoni over whom a cloud seemed to 1 brood was the man of all others, who, one would have fancied, had cause for nothing, but confidence and brightest hope; it was the captain himself. From his uncle, who had previously commanded the Earl of A'bergavenny, he heard high praise of her sea-go-ing qualities. The praise he knew to be .just, for he himself had captained her during the last three voyages. Any man m that day might have been proud to be her captain, chartered by so splendid a corporation as the East India Company. Yet this Captain Wordsworth (brother of the poet Wordsworth) felt an unaccountable sinking of spirits at the prospect of the voyage. Tr^ as he might, he could not shake it off.

It was the custom tor the captain of the company's ships to wait upon the directors sitting at the East India House, and take formal leave of them, but Captain Wordsworth's depression prevented him for some time from undergoing this ceremony. Not until he could resist no longer did he go beforo the directors, and receive their parting instructions and good wishes. It was A MOTLEY COMPANY of human beings that crowded the decks when the ' Earl of Abergavenny weighed anchor. To begin with there were the" seamen. 160 strong, as they mustered before starting. There were the King's troops and East India Company's troops to the

number of 159.- There were "between fifty and sixty passengers of both sexes, most of them being m the best of the ship, and there were thirty-two Chinamen on board ; a total, m short, of 402 souls.

Somehow the King's ship, th'e Weymouth, m going through the Needles, became separated from the little fleet of five merchantmen she bad been appointee! to convoy into secure latitudes. It was no light matter this m those critical times, and the ships lay to nearly the whole of the next day. No Weymouth being- visible, however, the ships made, under moderate sail, for the next port, assured that if they did not fall m

WITH THE TRUANT before, they must find her expecting them when they, arrived.

fourth day and a fifth' went by without ; the appearance of the convoy. ,The commanders consulted together, appointed Captain Clarke, of the ship Wexford, to be their commodore, and agreed to wait for ,the Weymouth m Portland Roads, a decision they all .the more easily made on perceiving that- the wind was not m the proper quarter for a favorable run 'down channel. The horizon was for the last time scanned, and no signs promising of the missing convoy, Clarke made the necessary signals for pilots to come and take the ships into safe anchorage.

About half-past three on February 5. a pilot boarded the Earl of 'Abergavenny, and with a steady breeze, she stood up to Portland Roads. The danp-erous character of this t>art of the British coast is well knowi). and the thing especially to be dreaded is

THE MAD RUSH of the tide known as Portland Race. The ship that would reach haven must keep clear of this. Further out at sea, and nearer the white cliffs under which the ' Halsewell whose tragic ending was told m the columns of "Truth" a few weeks back and been shattered to pieces 19 years before, is the Shambles. a sand bank well nigh as dangerous as the Raoc.

The Earl of ftbergavemvr started for the Roads under a steady breeze, which suddenly slackened at the moment when it was necessary to preserve a good headway. The galloping tide bore the ship towards the Shambles, and the faster she drove the less was she under the •helmsman's control, m the fata boiling Race jgb'e became totally ungovernable. and-""was driven oh the jagged rocks.

During an hour the ship remained m this position, beating upon the rocks incessantly, and with terrible crashes. At times, the officers and men could scarcely keep their footing because of the shocks. 'At a quarter past four o'clock the breakers subsiding somewhat, the vessel cleared the rocks, and moved into deep water, to the great relief of the passengers and crew. The ship, however, was making: much water, but all sail was crowded on, and an effort was made to

RUN FOR PORT. The damage sustained by the vessel, though, was greater than was at j first supposed, the water pouring I through the leak so rapidly that the | ship refused to answer her rudder. This state of things, though, was not held to be a matter of life and death, for they were m sight of shore. 'Yet, as a matter of pre--caution, guns of distress were fired, but it was not thought necessary to get out the boats. The carnentcr reported that the water, which at 'first was six inches, had increased to eight feet m the hold, and was still rising. The rapid decline of day, and the discovery of vital injury to the bottom of the ship directly under the pumos, rendered the prospect a very dismal one.

Promptly and cheerfully, pumping; and bailing were prosecuted to the fullest extent : notwithstanding; which by eight o'clock it was patent that the Earl of Abergavenny was settling ir deep water. Signal suns were now fired without intermission, and a couple of officers and half-a-dozen men pulled off m one of the boats to get Assistance from the land. A little later a pilot sloop came uuon the scene, and took off some of the nassengers.

As if the troubles which had within the past six hours come upon him were not sufficient. Captain Wordsworth was now worried by a portion of the crew. The officers had comforted the people, but ' sad confusion prevailed when the hoats had left, and it became whispered that the shin was sinking. In the darkness and turmoil, at- ten o'clock at night, a body of reckless sailors I pushed their way to the captain and demanded more spirits. The request was refused, and tlie applicants were reminded of their duty, and asked to perform it like men. But they clamored again and again, replying to the remonstrances of the officers that it did not matter, as it would be all over with them m an hour's time. From that moment FORCIBLE MEASURES WERE TAKEN to prevent the men from getting at the liquor stores, and one of the mates was stationed at the door of the spirit room with a brace of pistols to guard against attack. By-and-by, while the water poured m on all sides, and the end drew near, he was seen sternly fulfilling his trust, importuned by the sailors, and quietly reasoning with them that il ! the end must come, they ought to die ' like men. Peering through the darkness towards the shore, eagerly the throngs on the deck waited for the boats. Every little noise was caudit, and it was gleefully said, "They are coining ; that is the sound of oars." But the sound would cease, and tiie

people, sickened at heart, .would give way to weeping, and to regrets that they had not gone away m the boats that had left an hour before. The sea had become heavier: as night .wore on, and this may account for the delay m taking .to the ship's boats. Whatever the reason may be, it remains a fact, that no attempt was made to escape by them. It was probably, thought certain that 'ASSISTANCE WAS NEAR, else by using the boats at eight o'clock when the ship began to setitle, it was said every, person might have been saved. The chief officer, about eleven o'clock, .walked up to Captain Wordsworth : "Sir," he said, -"there is no hope of saving the ship." ,To this the captain replied, "It cannot he help- | cd." A few minutes later a swell of unusual dimensions advanced with j steady roll ; (the Earl of Abergavenny reeled as if struck, gave a] heavy surge, and. went down m j twelve fathoms of water, bow fore- 1 most. Then, m the act of sinking, ! she righted, and sank with masts and rigging standing.This enabled many to find- a [temporary foothold m .the shrouds.; But the ship had i SUNK TOO SUDDENLY! to allow, of the safety, of a great number, and the captain was amongst those who sank with herThe shock occasioned by. her touching ground threw several from the rigging ; some could not climb fast enough to outrun the speed of the descent. Struggling persons now crowded the surface. Wherever a loose spar floated there also floated half-drowned men.

Misfortunes, the saying goes, never come singly. They had thickened around the Earl of Abergavenny from the outset. The convoy had been lost sight of v owing to the ignorance of the pilot the ship had run aground; j the boats had not been employed to the extent that was possible ; and now the ship . lay fathoms deep. Finally, frost set m to reduce the list of the saved still further. The topmasts and upper spars were above water, ami when the hull touched ground there were 180 odd persons clustered upon them.. None but the physically strong were able to endure THE CONSTANT SPLHSHINC? of the waves and the increasing frost. Benumbed and exhausted, a. jnan from time to time would drop into the water with a deep groan and hollow plunge.

In the dead oE night the joyful sound of boats was heard, and it was nq delusion this time. The most vigorous set up a loud shout, the shout of men whose lives depended upon their lung power. "Boats ahoy, ahoy,; a/hoy !" rang out m the frosty air. But the boats paid no heed. ''Boats ahoy ! help, we are j drowning •!" was shrieked from the j tops of the sunken East Indiaman. No answer- >;• on the contrary, the beat of the oars became fainter and fainter, and the effect on ifche poor fellows was that several loosened their hold on the rigging and fell despairing into the sea, floating and struggling for a while m sight of their companions, ■. and at last yielding up the contest and going to the bottom. Every fresh swell searched the rigging, and added to the NUMBER OF THE DEAD. The approach of a sloop that had heard the signal guns from a distance,; and had ibiean seeking the cause, ihardly. revived the drooping energies of the men m the rigging. Was ib another mockery ? Ah, no ! , for there oa-me the boat from the sloop's side, and already the newest were being taken from the tigging ; the rest were^ bidden by The sailors to hold on a little longer. Three times the boat came, returning on each* occasion with twenty men. The poor fellows m the rigging behaved m a very marked contrast to their comrades, who had gone to their account frantically attempting to procure spirits. The strongest emained until the most exhausted were m safety, and G-ilpin, the fourth officer, was the last to leave.

At length all were safe, and the boat started for the sloop. An exclamation burst from one of the saved.- He pointed towards the wreck, and. following the direction ir. which his finder was extended, his friends saw through the gloom another man m the rigging. The boat returned, and G-ilpin climbed on the yard, and found BENUMBED AND SPEECHLESS, ut still living, a sergeant of the 22ud Regiment. The mate brought him down on his back to the boat. Every, care was taken of the sergeant, but he ; died within twelve hours.

The sloop hoisted sail for Weymouth. No sooner was she well under weigh than a man was seen m the water. The order was given to lav to. and it appeared that it was Baggot, the first officer, who had supported himself from the time of the ship's disappearance m the water. Here. -a?ain occurred a nohle instance of self-denial. He refused to he taken on 'hoard until a lady passenger floating near him was m safety. Even as the chief officer spoke, he began to sink, and, making a last effort he swam towards her, and returned with her to the sloop. Strong hands were held out to

DRAG THEM ON BOARD, so nearly had the chief officer accomplished his generous act of couras:e and usefulness. But a heavy wave passed alone;, and at this moment of apparently certain success, Baggot and the lady for whom he had sacrificed his life were drowned. Duriim that dreadful night 247 lives were lost. Several hoats attracted hv the signal guns were on the search, and hy them many individuals were picked up* m the sea at lone distances from the wreck. The sergeant was

CARRIED TO HIS GRAVE and interred with military honors and. the inhabitants of Weymoutli and the district, who paid every attention to the shipwrecked strangers buried eighty ■bodies, afterwards washed ashtfre m the adjacent village. They lie m one grave, with the record of their fate above them.