Chapter XII: Part 12

The rapidity and success of the first movements of the British in Burmah paralyzed the Burmese authorities; but their subsequent inactivity again gave heart to the Government at Ava, and encouraged the idea that it was possible to drive them back to the sea.

In consequence of the absence of all local government, robbers sprang up in every direction, and being allowed to organize themselves, devastated and almost ruined the country. Among the most noted of these robber chieftains was Mya Toon. He burned down Donabew, Zaloon, and many other villages. His stronghold was about 25 miles inland from Rangoon. A small force only of British, under Major Hill, being left in the pagoda of Pegu, was threatened by a considerable body of Burmese. They cut off a boat with ammunition; and a small squadron of man-of-war's boats, with 150 marines and 200 English troops, were afterwards compelled to retreat. This force of Burmese was afterwards dispersed by a strong body of British troops, but Mya Toon still held out in his stronghold, his followers daily increasing. In consequence of the depredations he was committing, Brigadier Dickenson, the commandant at Rangoon, and Commodore Lambert, resolved to send a combined naval and military force to dislodge him. The military force consisted of 300 men of the 67th regiment, Bengal N.L, who, together with a body of marines and blue-jackets from H.M.'s ships 'Fox,' 'Winchester,' and 'Sphinx,' were placed under the command of Captain Granville Loch. There were 185 seamen, 62 marines, and 25 officers, but of these 42 seamen and 5 officers were left in charge of the boats. This force was conveyed from Rangoon to Donabew on the 2nd July, in the 'Phlegethon' and ship's boats. They landed at Donabew without opposition, and having procured some natives to act as guides, and to aid in drawing the two 3-pound field-guns belonging to the 'Phlegethon,' they proceeded to march on the following day towards the position the enemy were supposed to occupy.

The whole of the 3rd of February they marched along a pathway, which lay through a jungle of forest trees and brushwood. Encamping in a deserted valley, about 15 miles from Donabew, they were disturbed occasionally by the distant shots and noises of the enemy. Early on the following morning, the column moved on about five miles further along the same path, until it abruptly terminated on the side of a broad nullah or creek, the opposite side of which was high enough to command the approach, and the whole well entrenched, and armed after the manner of the native fortifications of Burmah. The road at this point had been narrowed by an abattis of sharp-pointed bamboos, which rendered it impossible to deploy the whole strength of the column; indeed, the advance guard, consisting of seamen and marines, marched with difficulty two or three abreast, and the field-guns were in the rear. At this moment a heavy and murderous fire was opened by the enemy upon the British troops, the Burmese being wholly concealed by breastworks, and the British, on the contrary, entirely exposed. Almost every man who approached the edge of that fatal creek was mowed down. Lieut. Kennedy, of the 'Fox,' and Captain Price, of the 67th Bengal Infantry, were killed on the spot. Captain Loch, with the daring which had always distinguished him, led on his gallant followers to the attack. For ten minutes he seemed, to use the expression of one of his companions? "to bear a charmed life," for he stood unhurt in the midst of that terrible fire. Twice he made an unsuccessful attempt to lead his men across the nullah, to storm the fort hand to hand, but each time he was driven back. As he again rallied the seamen and marines for a third attack, a ball fired by a man in a tree struck him on the left side, on his watch, and with such force that it drove the watch itself into his body. He instantly felt that he was mortally wounded, but had still strength and self-possession to fall back about 15 paces to the rear.

The command of the naval force, which had hitherto sustained the brunt of the action, devolved by the death and wounds of the senior officers on Commander Lambert, the son of the Commodore. Twice with his brave companions he made determined but vain attempts to get across to the enemy, when many more lives were lost. He himself received four balls through his clothes, though he fortunately escaped unhurt; but a large proportion of officers and men were already wounded. It therefore became absolutely necessary to provide, without delay, for the retreat of the party by the only road left open to them, the one by which they had advanced; the jungle being impervious in every other direction. The fire of the enemy was still very severe, and each instant more of the British were falling. Most of the native dhooly-bearers and guides had cowardly and treacherously decamped, and it was therefore necessary to employ every man in carrying the wounded. As, under these circumstances, it was impossible to carry off the guns, they were spiked, and the carriages destroyed. The party were compelled even to leave their dead on the field. The enemy kept up a distant fire, but never ventured to approach within fighting distance of the rear, which was manfully covered by the Grenadier company of the 67th.

For twelve hours of a most fatiguing march did the dejected and mourning party retreat towards Donabew, displaying in adversity the same courage, discipline, and goodwill they had so often exhibited in success. Lieuts. Glover and Bushnell, and also Messrs. Hinde and Wilson, mates, though themselves painfully suffering from their own wounds, successfully exerted themselves in keeping up the spirit of their men, who, under a burning sun, without water, had to carry the heavy burden of their wounded for nearly twenty-four miles. Commander Lambert speaks of the gallantry of Lieut. Horatio Nelson, and the assistance he received from him under the trying circumstances in which they were placed, as also from all the officers and men in the expedition.

The name of Horatio Nelson alone would excite our interest. May he ever prove, as he appears to have done on this occasion, "a true chip of the old block." At Donabew, the seamen and marines embarked in their boats, and the troops were conveyed in the 'Phlegethon' to Rangoon. The gallant Captain Loch was removed to the 'Phlegethon,' where he expired on the morning of the 6th of February, about 40 hours after he had received his wound. He was buried near the Great Pagoda, at Rangoon, amid the general grief of all who served under him, or knew him. "It would be impossible," says Commodore Lambert, "to find a more gallant or intelligent officer, or one more devoted to his profession, which, by his untimely death, has lost one of its brightest ornaments.

In this lamentable affair, the 67th lost 5 men killed and 18 wounded, and the seamen and marines had 7 killed and 52 wounded, in a force of 143 men, 60 marines, and 20 officers.

The officers killed were Captain Loch and Lieut. C. B. D. Kennedy, of H.M.S. 'Fox;' Captain Price, of the 67th Regiment; and George Mills, corporal of marines. Wounded, Lieut. J. H. Bushnell, Mr. H. A. Hinde, mate; Mr. W. C. F. Wilson, mate of H.M.S. 'Winchester;' and Lieut. J. H. Glover, of H.M.S. 'Sphinx.'

The disastrous consequences of this expedition arose entirely from an over-confidence in the leaders of the party, in the too common fault of the British of despising their enemies, and in a want of proper precautions to ascertain the nature of the position to be attacked, and the force guarding it. We have few other naval events to recount during the war. Our old friend the 'Nemesis' was employed in some active affairs in the Bassein river, under Commander Rennie, I.N., senior officer commanding there, in which her first officer, Mr. A. Baker, distinguished himself. After, however, the advance of General Steel, and the annexation of Pegu, no naval operations of any importance were undertaken. The robber chieftain, with his little army, for such he commanded, was afterwards dislodged by a strong force, which left Prome under Sir John Cheape, and then not without great difficulty and some warm fighting, in which Lieut. Cockburn, of the 18th Royal Irish, Lieut. Taylor and Ensign Boileau were killed, and many other officers wounded.

Sir John Cheape speaks in his despatches of the effective aid given by the naval force in this expedition, and expresses his thanks to Commodore Lambert, to Captain Tarleton, and all the officers and men employed. Commodore Lambert has been engaged in the arrangements of the treaty, which we trust will, by this time, have brought this most unsatisfactory war to a conclusion. We have no doubt that, ere long, there will be ample work to be done by the Chips of the Old Block.

CAREER OF THE LATE CAPTAIN LOCH, R.N.

Granville Loch, one of the most gallant officers who ever adorned H.M.'s Navy, was born in 1813; entered the service as a volunteer in 1824, for ten years remaining constantly at sea, till, in 1834, he obtained his lieutenant's commission. When Admiral Fleming, under whom he had served as flag-lieutenant, retired, he became commander; and, perceiving at once that steam was becoming all-important, he betook himself to Glasgow to study the science and practice of that arm in the great factory of Mr. Napier, the steam-engine manufacturer. With an energy unusual even in his profession, he resolved to acquaint himself with its minutest details, worked himself, for a time, as a stoker, and took charge of the engine in the boats which plied between Glasgow and Liverpool. He received from Mr. Napier a certificate of ability, and was immediately appointed to command the 'Vesuvius,' then in the Mediterranean. He was soon afterwards posted, being one of the youngest post-captains in the service, and was appointed to the South American station. On arriving at Rio Janeiro he found his ship in the Pacific. He had important despatches for the admiral, no vessels were likely to start for a considerable period, so he resolved on one of the most astounding feats on record, one which utterly eclipses even the journey of Sir F. Head. He actually rode across the South American continent, and after a series of adventures, out of which any other man would have made at least three volumes, he joined his vessel. On his return home, finding no chance of immediate employment, he volunteered for the expedition to China, where both Sir Wm. Parker and Lord Gough availed themselves of his services. On the conclusion of peace, he visited Calcutta, and travelled homewards through Southern India. In 1846 he was appointed to the 'Alarm,' on the West India station, where he was entrusted with the settlement of the Mosquito question, and sailed up the St. Juan de Nicaragua, took a fort at the end of his voyage, and was the first to navigate a river so filled with rapids as to be deemed impassable, in the face of an enemy. For these services he was made a C.B., and what, probably, gratified him still more, received from Sir Robert Peel and Lord Palmerston the highest compliments in the House of Commons. He then remained on shore till appointed to the 'Winchester,' by the Duke of Northumberland, a peer directly opposed to the politics of his family; and the remainder of his life-history is that of the Burmese war.

SPIRITED AND GALLANT EXPLOITS.

LIVES PRESERVED BY NAVAL MEN.

HEROISM OF LIEUT. CHRISTOPHER, AND PRESENCE OF MIND
OF JAMES MILES.

The following account was given me verbally, some time ago, by Captain Castle, R.N.; but as I made a note of it at the time, and have the report of the Royal Humane Society to refer to, I can answer for its correctness in all particulars. The conduct of Lieut. Christopher and the boat's crew who volunteered, at the great risk of their own lives, to attempt the preservation of the life of a fellow-creature, was very noble; but I confess I was struck at the time with the extraordinary presence of mind and coolness displayed, under the most trying of all circumstances, by the hero of my tale.

I shall give the story in Captain Castle's own words, as nearly as I can recollect them, and I feel very sure he will vouch for its general correctness:--

"In the year 1837 I commanded H.M.S. 'Pylades,' on the East India station. We were on our return home, by the way of the Cape of Good Hope, when, on the 8th of May of that year, we were off Cape L'Agullus. It was blowing a heavy gale of wind, with a tremendous sea running, such a sea as one rarely meets with anywhere but off the Cape; when, just at nightfall, as we were taking another reef in the topsails, a fine young seaman, a mizen-topman, James Miles by name, fell from the mizen-topsail-yard, and away he went overboard. In his descent he came across the chain-span of the weather-quarter davits, and with such force that he actually broke it. I could scarcely have supposed that he would have escaped being killed in his fall, but as the ship flew away from him, he was seen rising on the crest of a foaming wave, apparently unhurt. The life-buoy was let go as soon as possible, but by that time the ship had already got a considerable distance from him, and should he be able to reach it, even then I felt that the prospect of saving him was small indeed, as I had no hope, should we find him, of being able to pick him out of that troubled sea; and I could scarcely expect that even a boat could swim to go to his rescue, should I determine to lower one. I was very doubtful as to what was my duty. I might, by allowing a boat to be lowered, sacrifice the lives of the officer and crew who would, I was very certain, at all events volunteer to man her. It was a moment of intense anxiety. I instantly, however, wore the ship round, and while we stood towards the spot, as far as we could guess, where the poor fellow had fallen, the thoughts I have mentioned passed through my mind. The sad loss of the gallant Lieut. Gore and a whole boat's crew, a short time before, about the same locality, was present to my thoughts. To add to the chances of our not finding the man, it was now growing rapidly dusk. As we reached the spot, every eye on board was straining through the gloom to discern the object of our search, but neither Miles nor the life-buoy were to be seen. Still, I could not bring myself to leave him to one of the most dreadful of fates. He was a good swimmer, and those who knew him best asserted that he would swim to the last. For my part, I almost hoped that the poor fellow had been stunned, and would thus have sunk at once, and been saved the agony of despair he must be feeling were he still alive. Of one thing I felt sure, from the course we had steered, that we were close to the spot where he had fallen. Anxiously we waited--minute after minute passed by--still no sound was heard; not a speck could be seen to indicate his position. At last half an hour had passed by. The strongest man alive could not support himself in such a sea as this for so long, I feared. Miles must long before this have sunk, unless he could have got hold of the life-buoy, and of that I had no hope. I looked at my watch by the light of the binnacle-lamp. 'It is hopeless,' I thought, 'we must give the poor fellow up.' When I had come to this melancholy resolve, I issued the orders for wearing ship, in somewhat a louder voice than usual, as under the circumstances was natural, to stifle my own feelings. Just then I thought I heard a human voice borne down along the gale--I listened, it was, I feared, but the effect of imagination, yet I waited a moment; again the voice struck my ear, and this time several of the ship's company heard it. 'There he is. Sir! There he is away to windward,' exclaimed several voices; and then in return they uttered a loud hearty cheer to keep up the spirits of the poor fellow. Now came the most trying moment; I must decide whether I would allow a boat to be lowered. 'If I refuse,' I felt, 'my crew will say that I am careless of their lives. It is not their nature to calculate the risk they themselves must run.' At once, Mr. Christopher, one of my lieutenants, nobly volunteered to make the attempt, and numbers of the crew came forward anxious to accompany him. At last, anxiety to save a drowning man prevailed over prudence, and I sanctioned the attempt.

"The boat, with Mr. Christopher and a picked crew, was lowered, not without great difficulty, and, sad to say, with the loss of one of the brave fellows. He was the bowman, and as he stood up with, his boat-hook in his hand to shove off, the boat gave a terrific pitch and sent him over the bow. He must have struck his head against the side of the ship, for he went down instantly and was no more seen. Thus, in the endeavour to save the life of one man, another was already sent to his long account. With sad forebodings for the fate of the rest of the gallant fellows, I saw the boat leave the ship's side. Away she pulled into the darkness where she was no longer visible, and a heavy pull I know she must have of it in that terrible sea, even if she escaped destruction. It was one of the most trying times of my life. We waited in anxious suspense for the return of the boat, the minutes, seeming like hours, passed slowly by, and she did not appear. I began at length to dread that my fears would be realized, and that we should not again see her, when after half an hour had elapsed after she had left the ship's side on the mission of mercy, a cheer from her gallant crew announced her approach with the success of their bold enterprise. My anxiety was not, however, entirely relieved till the falls were hooked on, and she and all her crew were hoisted on board, with the rescued man Miles. To my surprise I found that he was perfectly naked. As he came up the side, also, he required not the slightest assistance, but dived below, at once to dry himself and to get out of the cold. I instantly ordered him to his hammock, and, with the doctor's permission, sent him a stiff glass of grog. I resolved also to relieve him from duty, believing that his nervous system would have received a shock from which it would take long to recover. After I had put the ship once more on her course, being anxious to hear the particulars of his escape, as soon as I heard that he was safely stowed away between the blankets, I went below to see him. His voice was as strong as ever; his pulse beat as regularly, and his nerves seemed as strong as usual. After pointing out to him how grateful he should feel to our Almighty Father for his preservation from an early and dreadful death, I begged him to tell me how he had contrived to keep himself so long afloat. He replied to me in the following words:--'Why, Sir, you see as soon as I came up again, after I had first struck the water, I looked out for the ship, and getting sight of her running away from me, I remembered how it happened I was there, and knew there would be no use swimming after her or singing out. Then, Sir, I felt very certain you would not let me drown without an attempt to pick me up, and that there were plenty of fine fellows on board who would be anxious to man a boat to come to my assistance, if you thought a boat could swim. Then thinks I to myself, a man can die but once, and if its my turn to-day, why there's no help for it. Yet I didn't think all the time that I was likely to lose the number of my mess, do ye see, Sir. The next thought that came to me was, if I am to drown, it's as well to drown without clothes as with them, and if I get them off why there's a better chance of my keeping afloat till a boat can be lowered to pick me up; so I kicked off my shoes, and then I got off my jacket, and then waiting till I could get hold of the two legs at once, I drew off my trousers in a moment. My shirt was soon off me, but I took care to roll up the tails so as not to get them over my face. As I rose on the top of a sea, I caught sight of the ship as you wore her round, and that gave me courage, for I felt I was not to be deserted; indeed, I had no fear of that. Then I knew that there would be no use swimming, so all I did was to throw myself on my back and float till you came up to me. I thought the time was somewhat long, I own. When the ship got back, I saw her hove-to away down to leeward, but I did not like to sing out for fear of tiring myself, and thought you would not hear me; and I fancied also that a boat would at once have been lowered to come and look for me. Well, Sir, I waited, thinking the time was very long, and hearing no sound, yet still I could see the ship hove-to, and you may be sure I did not take my eyes from off her; when at last I heard your voice give the order to wear ship again. Then thinks I to myself, 'Now or never's the time to sing out.' And raising myself as high as I could out of the water, I sang out at the top of my voice. There was a silence on board, but no answer, and I did begin to feel that there was a chance of being lost after all. 'Never give in, though,' thinks I; so I sung out again as loud you may be sure as I could sing. This time the answering cheers of my shipmates gave me fresh spirits; but still I knew full well that I wasn't safe on board yet. If I had wanted to swim there was too much sea on to make any way, so I kept floating on my back as before, just keeping an eye to leeward to see if a boat was coming to pick me up. Well, Sir, when the boat did come at last, with Mr. Christopher and the rest in her, I felt quite strong and hearty, and was well able to help myself on board. I now can scarcely fancy I was so long in the water.' I was much struck with the extraordinary coolness of Miles. He afterwards had another escape, which was owing less to his own self-possession, though he took it as coolly as the first. On our passage home the ship was running with a lightish breeze, and almost calm sea, across the Bay of Biscay, when Miles was sent on the fore-top gallant-yard. By some carelessness he fell completely over the yard, and those aloft expected to see him dashed to pieces on the forecastle. Instead of that the foresail at that moment swelled out with a sudden breeze, and striking the bulge of the sail, he was sent forward clear of the bows and hove into the water. A rope was towing overboard. He caught hold of it, and hauling himself on board, was again aloft within a couple minutes attending to his duty, which had so suddenly been interrupted. On his arrival in England, Lieut. Christopher received the Honorary Silver Medal from the Royal Humane Society for his gallant conduct on the occasion of saving Miles's life."

DEVOTED HEROISM AND COURAGE OF MESSRS. SMITH AND
PALMES OF H.M.S. 'SERINGAPATAM.'

1838.

H.M.S. 'Seringapatam,' Captain Leith, was lying off the island of Antigua in August 1838, when, on Sunday, the 26th of that month, eight of her officers, three of whom were youngsters, and all belonging to the midshipmen's berth, with a gentleman a resident in the island, and two seamen, started away from the ship in the pinnace on a cruize. Their intention was to go down to Falmouth Bay, situated about two miles to leeward of English Harbour, where the ship was, and to beat back. The afternoon was very fine, and everything seemed to promise them a pleasant excursion. Having spent a short time in Falmouth Harbour, they hauled their wind, and made three or four tacks on their way back to the ship. The boat, however, made little or nothing to windward, in consequence of the wind being very light. Forgetful of the sudden squalls which visit those latitudes, the merry party of young officers seemed to have kept but a bad look-out to windward; for while standing-in on the starboard tack, the boat was taken by a sudden squall. The helm was put down; but the boat not coming up to the wind so as to lift the sails, she was capsized under every stitch of canvas. She, however, went over so gradually, that all hands had time to creep to windward, and seat themselves on the gunwale. The sails prevented her from turning bottom up, and at the same time protected them, in some measure, from the breaking of the sea. What seems very extraordinary is, that not one of the party, officers or seamen, had a knife in his pocket, so that they had no means of cutting away the rigging and righting the boat. As soon as they had settled themselves on the side of the boat, they had time to look about them, and to consider their perilous position. They were fully two miles from the shore, whence it was scarcely possible any one should have observed the accident, and they were an equal distance or more from the ship; thus the current might carry them far away before any one could come to their assistance. A sea might get up and wash them off the wreck, or sharks might attack and devour them, for the boat's gunwale was only six inches awash. Not a sail was in sight, and all felt convinced that if some unforeseen assistance did not come to their aid they must perish. Despair was well-nigh taking possession of the bosoms of all the party. Silent and melancholy, they sat on the wreck meditating on their fate. All were young. Life, with all its fancied charms and anticipated pleasure had a few short moments previously been before them; and now, death, in all its terrors--slow, lingering, and agonizing--stared them in the face. One only of the whole party was a good swimmer, Mr. W. R. Smith, and he was a very bold and strong one. He looked at the shore; two miles was a long distance to swim, with a full consciousness, too, that those waters swarm with those terrific monsters of the deep, the seaman's just dread--the hideous shark. "Well," said Smith at last, looking wistfully at the distant shore, "I feel I ought to try, as it is the only chance of saving all hands; and I think I could have managed it if I had had but a companion; but it's a long way to go alone through the silent water." "If that is your only reason, Smith, why I will try and keep you company," said Palmes, another midshipman, who had hitherto sat silent, nor complaining like some of the rest. "I am not much of a swimmer, and I don't feel as if I could ever get to shore. However, it's a good cause, and I'll do my best." Thus it was speedily settled, for there was no time to be lost. The two noble adventurers having bid farewell to their shipmates, whom Palmes, at all events, never expected to see again, threw off their jackets and shoes, and struck away together from the wreck. The prayers of those they left behind followed them, for the safety of all depended on their success. Smith swam steadily and strongly, and Palmes made amends for his want of strength and skill by his courage and spirit. Still, before they got half way to the shore, the courage of one of them was to be sorely tried. As Smith swam along he felt his legs strike against something, and, looking down into the clear water, he saw, to his horror, two enormous sharks swimming past him. As yet they had not noticed him; and fortunately was it for both of the brave fellows that they had kept on their trousers and socks, for had the monsters seen the white flesh of their naked feet they would to a certainty have fixed on them as their prey. With admirable presence of mind, Smith kept this dreadful fact to himself, lest the knowledge of it should still further unnerve his companion, who already was almost exhausted by his exertions. At this time they were still full a mile from the shore, which, to their anxious eyes, appeared still further off. "Smith, my dear fellow," exclaimed Palmes, "I can swim no further. Do you push on, and leave me to my fate." "Not I, my lad," answered Smith. "Cheer up, man; we'll yet do well. Here, rest on me for a time; but don't cease striking out." Suiting the action to the word, he came alongside and supported his companion; but he did not tell him why he urged him to keep striking out. Again they struck out together, and Palmes seemed somewhat recovered; but once more his strength forsook him, and he fancied himself incapable of proceeding. Still Smith did not lose courage; but he saw the necessity of keeping their limbs moving, lest the dreadful sharks should be tempted to lay hold of them. Palmes had fully as much moral courage as his companion, but he was his inferior in physical strength; yet feeling that not only his own life and that of Smith, but that of the nine fellow-creatures remaining on the wreck, depended on their reaching the shore, nerved him to further exertions.

Those only who have swam for their lives when the arms have begun to ache, the knees refuse to bend, and the breath grows short, can tell the feelings of the two gallant young men, but more especially those of the brave Palmes. Spurred on by Smith each time that he grew faint and weary, he nerved himself for fresh exertions. At last, as they strained their eyes ahead, the shore seemed to come nearer and nearer. They could distinguish the sandy beach and the green herbage beyond. On a sudden, before even he expected it, Smith felt his foot touch the shore. With a joyful exclamation of thankfulness, he grasped Palmes by the hand, and aided him to wade on to the dry land. No sooner had they emerged from the water, than, overcome with fatigue, poor Palmes sank down on the beach, where he lay for some time unable to move. We fain would believe, nay, we are certain, that they both offered up in their hearts a silent thanksgiving to the Great Being who had thus mercifully preserved them from the perils of the deep. But the gallant Smith, while rejoicing in his own preservation and that of his friend, did not forget the comrades he had left floating on the wreck. As soon as he had recovered sufficient strength to move, he hurried off to the nearest habitation to give information of the accident, and to procure a boat to go to their assistance. Already much time had been lost. It was half-past 4 when the accident occurred, and they had been two hours in reaching the shore, so that darkness was now rapidly approaching, which, of course, would increase the difficulty of finding the wreck. The instant Palmes found he could move, he also got up and went in search of a boat. He procured one, with a crew to man it, while Smith took charge of another, and they instantly started in search of their shipmates. Meantime information of the sad accident had been conveyed on board the 'Seringapatam.' The kind heart of the captain was much grieved when he heard of it, for he could not but fear that the remainder of the party had perished. From him downwards to the smallest boy in the ship, everybody was most painfully anxious about them. He instantly despatched boats in all directions to search for the missing party. All sorts of reports were flying about on board; and as sharks were known to abound, it was feared by the seamen that they might have destroyed their young shipmates. The night also became very bad; the wind rose, and threatened to increase; the sea got up with it, thick clouds collected, and the white-topped waves added to the gloominess of the night, while the rain came down in torrents, and the lightning burst forth in sharp and vivid flashes, increasing the dangers to be apprehended. The boats of the 'Seringapatam' took different directions, each officer commanding shaping the course he thought most likely to bring him up to the wreck. Some of the searching boats went in a wrong direction altogether, being misled by a pilot as to the direction the current took. Hour after hour passed by, and no sign of the wreck was perceived; and both those on board and many of those in the boats began to despair of success. As they looked out through the darkness they fancied they could hear the voices of their shipmates at a distance imploring aid, or that they saw their figures in the boat amid the surrounding gloom. We shall, however, follow the 'Seringapatam's' barge, commanded by her gunner. He knew the set of the current; and as soon as he shoved off from the ship's side, he ran directly down to leeward along the coast, at the distance he understood the boat had been capsized; he being thus better able to calculate the direction in which she would have drifted. His purpose was then to beat back again; thus entirely covering the ground where the wreck must be. On his way down he fell in with the shore-boat, commanded by Mr. Smith, who, at once approving of his plan, joined him in the search. By their calculations the boat would have drifted some five or six miles to leeward, and would be drawn rather off shore. They were right; and about the very place where they expected, she was discerned still floating as Smith had left her. With anxious hearts they pulled up to her. Five only of the nine were seen still clinging to her. The other four had too probably given themselves up in despair. The crew of the barge cheered, and were answered with a faint hail from those they had come to save, already almost sinking from exhaustion. "Where are the rest?" exclaimed Smith, as he saw their diminished numbers. "Only a short distance in-shore of us," was the answer. "They have not left the wreck five minutes." "Alas! but in those five minutes the poor fellows may have sunk fathoms down, or been grasped by the jaws of the hungry sharks," thought Smith, as he instantly pulled away in the direction indicated.

His four shipmates were found not far apart, each of them lashed to an oar, and striking out as well as they could for the shore, but strange to say, only one of them could swim at all.

It was then past 9 o'clock, making nearly five hours that the poor fellows had held on to the boat, with all the horrors of death staring them in the face, for, of course, they were not aware that Smith and Palmes had reached the shore, and, indeed, had began to fear that they were already numbered with the dead. Their pleasure, and, we believe, their gratitude, was increased, when they discovered that both had escaped, and had been the means under Providence of preserving their lives.

Their sufferings had been very great--when the storm came on, they expected every moment to be washed from the wreck, and to add to their horrors, a shark had been, for most of the time, lying between the masts of the pinnace, his fiery eyes glaring up at them, and watching them, as about soon to become his prey. Had it not, indeed, been for Smith's coolness and skill as a swimmer, and for the generous daring of Palmes, in all human probability every soul must have perished. The circumstances we have narrated, having been represented to the Royal Humane Society, the Silver Medallion of the Society, with a complimentary letter, was sent out, and presented on the quarter-deck of the 'Seringapatam,' by Captain Leith, to each of the two young officers, in presence of the whole ship's company, a suitable and gratifying reward for their gallantry, in addition to that their own consciences could not fail to afford.

A SECOND ACT OF GALLANTRY RECORDED OF
MR. W. R. SMITH.

Some years after the events I have just described, Mr. W. E. Smith having reached the rank of lieutenant, belonged to H.M.S. 'Endymion.' On the 4th of February, 1847, she was at anchor off Sacraficios Island, near Vera Cruz. The night of the 4th was excessively dark, and a strong current was running past the ship, when Mr. West, mate, slipped his footing from the gangway, and fell into the sea, striking his head against the ship's side. On the cry of "a man overboard," which was instantly raised, Lieut. W. E. Smith and others, rushed on deck; but, owing to the excessive darkness and the strong current, no object could at first be seen floating: at length, some white substance was perceived at a distance, when Lieut. Smith immediately plunged into the water, and struck rapidly out towards it. On reaching the object, he found it to be Mr. West, who was lying quite motionless, though, from his head sinking under water, he would speedily have been deprived of life. Lieut. Smith at once raised his head above water, and kept him floating, until, by repeatedly calling, he attracted a boat to his assistance, when he and his companion were carried on board. The crew were thickly clustering on the rigging, to see them return, and from among them another man missed his footing and fell overboard, from the main-chains. Mr. Smith, who saw the accident, not knowing whether the man could swim, instantly plunged in again to his assistance, but found, on reaching him, that he was perfectly able to keep himself afloat till the boat could arrive to pick him up.

ACCOUNT OF RESCUE OF BOAT'S CREW OF H.M.S. 'WOLVERINE'
BY LIEUT. ARTHUR BURRARD KINGSTON, R.N.

January 16th, 1840;

ALSO OF HIS SAVING THE LIFE OF A BOY OF
H.M.S. 'SARACEN.'

March 13th, 1840.

Among the many acts of gallantry it has been my privilege to recount, there are few which afford me more satisfaction, or which I am more likely to narrate with correctness[1] than the following, as the chief particulars were given me by one of the actors, Lieut. Kingston. Should it, however, by chance, be discovered that I have made any mistake in my account (which I do not think likely will be the case) I alone must be answerable. I have, however, in order to confirm my account, given the official reports on his behaviour on two occasions, when he displayed the most conspicuous gallantry, courage, and presence of mind. At the time of which I speak, H.M.S. 'Wolverine' formed one of the African squadron, and was commanded by the brave and kind Commander Tucker, whose noble conduct and lamented death I have elsewhere described. She had been cruizing off the coast, when, on the 15th of January, 1840, she anchored off the River Brass or St. John, one of the mouths of the far-famed and mysterious Niger. Captain Tucker had made himself thoroughly acquainted with the coast, as well as with the modes of proceeding of the slave-dealers, and of the slavers, and he was thus enable to capture a very large number of vessels, though with single-minded purpose, as his object was to stop the slave-trade, he endeavoured to take them before they got their slaves on board. Soon after she had brought up about four miles from the shore, Captain Tucker ordered the boats to be hoisted out and to be fitted for service, during an absence of three days. While this work was going forward, a canoe was observed paddling off from the shore towards the ship. On her coming alongside, she was proved to contain two natives of great consequence, it seemed, judging from their costume--that is to say, if scarlet dresses, or rather wrappers, round the loins, and ornamented caps, might be admitted as tests of rank. They came up the side without hesitation, and after some cross-questioning they informed Captain Tucker that they had seen a fine schooner, under American colours, up the River Nun, and that from her appearance and movements there could be no doubt that she was a slaver. The promise of a reward induced them, with negro eagerness, to undertake all Captain Tucker proposed, to act as spies, and to bring further information about the vessel, and then to perform the part of pilots in conducting her, when captured, down the river. This information, which, it was hoped was correct, hurried the departure of the boats. Lieut. Dumaresq took charge of the pinnace, as commanding officer of the expedition; Mr. Arthur B. Kingston, then only a mate, had the cutter; and Mr. Thorburn, another mate of the 'Wolverine,' went in the gig. Water, provisions, and arms, having been placed in the boats, and all being ready, they shoved off from the ship at half-past 10 in the morning.

Lieut. Dumaresq had one of the black pilots in his boat, and Mr. Kingston had the other with him. Sometimes sailing, when there was a breeze, and at others, when it fell light, the crews, eager for work of some sort, pulling away with a will, they soon reached the mouth of the River Brass. The river is here pretty broad, its banks, as far as the eye can reach, covered with tall mangroves, their dark foliage imparting a sombre and almost funereal aspect to the scenery. After the boats had pulled about ten miles up the Brass, they reached a sort of natural canal, which connects the Brass with the Nun. After they had passed through this, and had entered the Nun, they hove to for dinner, a meal not at all unwelcome after their long pull. When the crews were refreshed, they again bent to their oars, and proceeded about 30 miles up the Nun. Darkness now rapidly came on, and they were no longer able to see ahead, nor had they been able to discover anything of their looked-for prize. On questioning their black volunteer pilots, the worthy gentlemen seemed very uncertain, not only whether the slaver had sailed, but where she had been, and where they then were. One declared that they had come much higher up than where she was last seen, and that she had probably been sheltered from their observation in one of the numerous creeks which run through the banks of the river. In this dilemma a council of war was held; and at first it was proposed to retrace their steps, till the elder of the black pilots offered to take a small canoe they had with them, higher up the river, to ascertain whether or not the slaver was there. This proposal being agreed to by Lieut. Dumaresq, the two negroes pulled away, and were soon lost in the darkness, not without some slight misgivings as to whether or not they would ever return. However, to pass the time during the absence of the negroes, they piped to supper. A small portion only of the ship's biscuit and salt-pork had been discussed, and a glass of grog had just been served out all round, when the canoe was seen gliding at full speed out of the darkness, the dip of her paddles just breaking the stillness of the night. "Well, my man, any news of the slaver?" asked the lieutenant, in an eager whisper, for the return of the canoe gave him hopes that a prize was at hand. "Ship live there;" answered the elder black, in the clear and distinct tones in which his race can speak, but still only in a whisper. No sooner was this announcement made than the oars were got out simultaneously, and at a word from Lieut. Dumaresq, the boats went ahead like magic. Not a word except the necessary ones of command was uttered. Everyone knew the importance of silence. The three boats, urged on by their eager crews, advanced all abreast at full speed. Ten minutes, or little more, were sufficient to show the dark outline of a schooner, masts and spars relieved against the starry sky. Silent as the grave, the boats pulled on--their oars so carefully dipped, that scarcely a splash was heard. Those on board the schooner slept, or seemed to sleep, for not a sound was heard from her decks. A slaver's crew, however, conscious of the risks they are running in their nefarious traffic, are seldom off their guard, and the British seamen were fully prepared for a reception with a shower of grape and musketry. Yet without a thought of the consequences--on getting close to her, on they dashed with a cheer, and in another instant were alongside and scrambling up her sides. So unexpected had been their attack, that not an attempt at resistance was made, and, to the no small delight of Lieut. Dumaresq and his followers, they found themselves in possession of a fine little schooner, which proved to be the 'Lark,' with a crew of no less than 30 Spaniards. They were first all properly secured and sent down below, with orders to behave themselves, and a hint that if they did not, it would be the worse for them.

A slaver's crew have a right, it is understood, to try and retake their vessel without being treated as pirates, and hung in case they do not succeed, or are afterwards captured, so it becomes necessary to keep a very sharp look-out after them. Her papers were at the same time secured, and on her circumstances being investigated, not a doubt remained as to her character.

Bending sails, and getting all ready for an early start, occupied some time, when the watch being set, with strict orders to keep a wakeful eye on the prisoners, the rest of the party lay down on the sails, and were soon as sound asleep as they would have been in their own hammocks, or in the quiet homes of their childhood's days, when pirates and slavers were rather beings of the imagination than disagreeable realities.