Navigating the Lower Saint Lawrence in the 19th Century.
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So perilous was our situation on board the Premier that,
dangerous as this surf appeared to be, and indeed as it really was,
there was hardly, perhaps, one on board who would not gladly have
encountered it, slender as was the hope, in one of our small boats,
of passing it in safety: and bleak and cheerless as was the barren
and snowy prospect on shore, what would not every being have given
to be able, at this moment, to exchange the ship, where all had
been so comfortable and happy but a few short hours before, for
even this desolate and inhospitable-looking coast? Several hours were lost in devising plans to get a rope on shore: the life-buoy was first thrown overboard with a rope attached to it; this was followed by water casks, &c: all drove slowly towards the land, before the wind; but no sooner did the buoy and casks enter the surf than they were dashed to pieces. The two small quarter boats were next lowered, but they were almost instantly stove in and disabled alongside. At length the ship's launch was manned with great difficutly, and Lieutenant Lysons and the chief mate, with a crew of four men, at the imminent peril of their lives, made an attempt to establish the communication. After disentangling themselves from the broken spars and masts that still hung about the ship's side, they pulled steadily towards the shore, but the rope they took with them not being "paid out" quick enough from the Premier, they were compelled to throw it overboard to save themselves from being swamped. The next moment they were within the surf: twice were they lost to view for a moment, and twice we saw them poised in air, high upon the crested wave: the first and second combers were passed in safety; but neglecting, or being unable to keep the boat's head straight to the shore, the next instant she was struck by the last overwhelming wall and capsized, and officers and men engulphed in the roaring billow. It is impossible to describe the thrill of horror that ran through the ship on witnessing this fearful accident; and little indeed did we expect ever to see any one of the poor fellows rescued from a "watery grave," yet was the merciful arm of Him "who stilleth the raging of the sea," even in this extremity, outstretched to save them; the coming wave swept them to the shore, and they were dragged upon the beach, ere the recoil could wash them back again, almost in a state of insensibility, by a few friendly fishermen. The failure of this, almost our last apparent hope of communicating with the shore, was a sad damper to the spirits of those on board the wreck; nor did they derive much consolation or encouragement from the following little incident. On the beach, and nearly abreast of the ship, lay the root and stump of a large up-torn tree: around this, soon after the capsize of the launch, we observed some persons collected, endeavouring to direct our attention to something they had stuck up on the stump. Our curiosity was naturally excited by this circumstance, and the telescope was handed from one to the other of those who were thought to have the steadiest hand and the keenest eye, but it was not for a considerable time (owing to the distance, and continual lurching and rolling of the ship) that we discovered the object to be a black board, on which were chalked, in large letters, the somewhat doubtful words "Keep out". this we interpreted, as it was intended, into an advice not to make any further attempts to land; and our translation of the letter memorandum was soon after confirmed by observing a boat drawn on to the sand, with her black side towards the ship, on which our shore friends had printed more legibly, the more encouraging words "No Rocks - sea going down - keep out." By this time it was evident that we had driven closer in towards the land - probably within a quarter of a mile, and that the ship was gradually settling herself into a bed of sand; it was also a considerable consolation, and cause of thankfulness, to be assured that there were no rocks immediately about us. Still was the morning (for it was now nearly ten o'clock) fast wearing away in comparative inactivity; and though satisfied of our present safety, yet was the position of those on board anything but enviable. The snow had ceased to fall, but the air was piercingly cold, the wind had shifted, and was now blowing moderately off the land, but the sea, though subsiding slowly, still broke constantly over the decks: the fires were, or course, all extinguished, and there were no provisions procurable. A few of the men had managed to pick up some half-soaked biscuit; and a ham that had been cooked for the officers' mess the day before, part of a cheese, and some biscuit, that found their way into the agent's cabin, proved exceedingly acceptable to such as were fortunate enough to scramble for a scrap: amidst the whole scene, however, of confusion, dismay, and privation, there was no murmuring, no thought of mutiny amongst the soldiers, or the slightest disobedience to orders, no disrespect towards superiors, or any attempt whatever made to procure spirits clandestinely, as is too frequently the case under similar circumstances. The women (who remained quietly, with their children, between decks) seemed resigned to whatever might be their fate; and the men behaved, throughout, with that calm courage so characteristic of the British soldier and sailor in the hour of peril. Two or three of the sergeants' wives, and their children, had congregated in one of the after-cabin, the only dry spot in the ship; and an elder boy read aloud to them from the Bible; a sober and subdued, perhaps I might say, a devout, feeling seemed, indeed, generally prevalent. |
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| G. R. Bossé©2001-03 | Page 22 | Chapter 1843 |
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