Navigating the Lower Saint Lawrence in the 19th Century.
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Seeing at length that the time had arrived for another effort on
our part, the heavy long boat (the only one remaining with the
ship), after two of three hours' hard work, was lifted from her
solid bed on the deck, and launched over the side. This boat, as is
usually the case, had been roofed over, and fitted up as a pen for
sheep and other livestock: the sheep were all bundled out on the
deck, but the pigs and geese were most of them flung overboard,
supposing that they would be able to save themselves by swimming to
the shore; but, to our astonishment, we found that they were all
killed in the surf, a circumstance that may give some idea of its
force and violence. The lifting and launching of the long boat,
from want of the masts and yards to apply tackles, was no easy
matter; but with willing hearts and stout arms it was at length
accomplished. She was soon manned by the second mate and a few
steady seamen: the rope they took with them was given out smoothly,
and she reached the edge of the surf without much difficultly. Her
passage through this was perilous in the extreme, and was watched,
as may be supposed, from the ship with the greatest anxiety. More
than once we thought that all was over with her and her crew. It
was therefore with feelings of sincere thankfulness and joy that we
saw her thrown, by the last wave, on the beach, and quickly hauled
high and dry by the friendly hands on shore. This was one grand point achieved. A few minutes more, and we beheld, to our unspeakable joy, a large country boat, a much safer and more manageable craft than the long boat, manned by two or three Canadians, hauling towards us through the surf by means of the rope which was now stretched across between the ship and the shore. This rope, however, was so slight, and this distance so great, that we feared its own weight would snap it across, and leave us in a more hopeless predicament than ever; but she reached in safety. One of the persons who came off in this boat, M. Louis Roy, proved to be the chief person of the village, and an active, intelligent man, as we afterwards found him to be. He spoke a few words of English, and showed us, with some exultation, his commission as a justice of the peace. From him we learned that the scene of the shipwreck was Cape Chatte Bay, on the south shore of the estuary of the St. Lawrence, about 300 miles below Quebec, and two miles east of the bold rocky headland called Cape Chatte, or Cap Chats, which, with Pointe des Monts on the opposite side, forms the mouth of the river. By this time it was eleven o'clock A.M., and preparation were immediately made for landing, commencing, of course, with the women and children, more particularly as the men all expressed a wish that they should, if possible, be first to be placed in security. This part of the operation occupied nearly three hours, as no more than three or four women, and as many children, could be ventured into the boat at a time. Had the scene occurred under other circumstances, it would certainly have been regarded as highly amusing. The ship still rolled, and laboured excessively, and boat pitched with such violence in the heavy sea that it was with great difficulty she could be saved from being swamped, or stove to pieces against the ship's side, or against the broken masts and yards that hung about the vessel. Trans-shipping the women and children was therefore a service of considerable risk and difficulty. All were rolled up in blankets, of those who came first to hand, were bundled unceremoniously into the boat. Two or three men first lowered themselves in; one was occupied in bailing out the water, the others assisted in shipping the live cargo from those above. Some of the women, with more courage and reliance, resigned themselves quietly to the care of the men; others seizing hold, in their descent, of a stray rope, would clink to it with a death-like grasp, from which there was no releasing them, screaming and shrieking all the while as if they were about to be hurled over a precipice. The children were deposited with less difficultly, though not with less noise. A strong man, standing on the gangway, seizes hold of the first child within his reach, suspends it by one arm over the ship's side, and, as the boat lifts upon a rising wave, the man below makes a grasp at a kicking leg; the word "let go" is quickly given, the arm is relinquished, round swings the screaming child, sinking, as it were, into a fathomless pit, the head or body inevitably coming in contact with the gunwale, or other part of the boat, but saved, in the collision, from injury by the rolls of blanket in which it is enveloped: and how they escaped without broken bones, or from subsequent suffocation in the bottom of the boat, which was usually half full of water, it is difficult to conceive. Many a child was sent ashore without its mother, and many a mother went off without her children; all, however, were taken care of, and all reached terra firma in safety. The women and children being thus, fortunately, disposed of, the men and officers were next landed in small detachments, ten and twelve at a time, an officer, or non-commissioned officer, generally accompanying each party. There being but one boat employed, the operation of landing was necessarily very tedious, and was not completed before eight o'clock at night. The wind and sea fell considerably in the course of the day, so that towards evening the boat was hauled off and with less difficultly, though few got through the surf without a thorough drenching. As each party jumped from the boat it was received with loud cheers and congratulations by those already on the beach; and sincere, I am sure, were the feelings and inward expressions of thankfulness to "Him in whose hands are the issues of life and death" for a safe and merciful deliverance from what, a few hours before, appeared inevitable destruction. |
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| G. R. Bossé©2001-03 | Page 23 | Chapter 1843 |
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