that if they preserved order all would be saved. The men stood as at an inspectionnot one moved until ordered to do so. The boats of both ships were lowered. While the launching was going on, the swell of the tide caused a lifeboat to surge against the hull, and one of the crew had his finger crushed. This was absolutely the only casualty. In twenty minutes the whole of the men were transferred to the Iron Duke, no single breach of discipline occurring beyond the understandable request of a sailor once in awhile to be allowed to make one effort to secure some keepsake or article of special value to himself. But the order was stern: "Boys, come instantly." As "four

bells" (2 p.m.) was striking, the last man having been received on the Iron Duke, the doomed vessel whirled round two or three times, and then sank in deep water.*

It is obvious, then, that the discipline and courage of the service had not deteriorated from that always expected in the good old days. Captain Dawkins was the last man to leave his sinking ship, and his officers one and all behaved in the same spirit. They endeavoured to quiet and reassure the men-pointing out to them the fatal consequences of confusion. Captain Dawkins may or may not have been rightly censured for his seamanship; there can be no doubt that he performed his duty nobly in these systematic efforts to save his crew. However much was lost to the nation, no mother had to mourn the loss of her sailor-boy; no wife had been made a widow, no child an orphan; five hundred men had been saved to their country.

Nineteen fathoms, or 114 feet. Her main-topmast-head was afterwards twenty-four feet out of water.

One of the officers of the Vanguard, in a letter to a friend, graphically described the scene at and after the collision. After having lunched, he entered the ward-room, where he encountered the surgeon, Dr. Fisher, who was reading a newspaper. "After remarking on the thickness of the fog, Fisher went to look out of one of the ports, and immediately cried out, God help us! here is a ship right into us!' We rushed on deck, and at that moment the Iron Duke struck us with fearful force, spars and blocks falling about, and causing great danger to us on deck. The Iron Duke then dropped astern, and was lost sight of in the fog. The water came into the engine-room in tons, stopping the engines, putting the fires out, and nearly drowning the engineers and stokers. The ship was now reported sinking fast, although all the watertight compartments had been closed. But in consequence of the shock, some of the water-tight doors leaked fearfully, letting water into the other parts of the ship. Minute-guns were being fired, and the boats were got out. At this moment the Iron Duke appeared, lowering her boats and sending them as fast as possible. The sight of her cheered us up, as we had been frightened that she would not find us in the fog, in spite of the guns. The scene on deck can only be realised by those who have witnessed a similar calamity. The booming of the minute-guns, the noise of the immense volume of steam rushing out of the escape-funnel, and the orders of the captain, were strangely mingled, while a voice from a boat reported how fast she was sinking."

When the vessel went down, the deck of the Iron Duke was crowded with men watching the finale of the catastrophe. When she was about to sink, she heeled gradually over until the whole of her enormous size to the keel was above water. Then she

gradually sank, righting herself as she went down, stern first, the water being blown from hawse-holes in huge spouts by the force of the air rushing out of the ship. She then disappeared from view. The men were much saddened to see their home go down, carrying everything they possessed. They had been paid that morning, and a large number of them lost their little accumulated earnings. These were, of course, afterwards allowed them by the Admiralty.

The Vanguard and the Iron Duke were two of a class of broadside ironclads, built with a view to general and not special utility in warfare. Their thickest armour was eight inches, a mere strip, 100 feet long by three high, and much of the visible part of them was unarmoured altogether, while below it varied from six inches to as low as three-eighths of an inch. It was only the latter thickness where the point of the Iron Duke's ram entered. Their advocates boasted that they could pass through the Suez Canal, and go anywhere.

Every reader will remember the stormy discussion which ensued, in which not merely the ironclad question, but the court-martial which followed-and the Admiralty decision which followed that-were severely handled. Nor could there be much wonder at all this, for a vessel which had cost the nation over a quarter of a million of pounds sterling, with equipment and property on board which had cost as much more,* was lost for ever.

*The total estimated loss was £550,000.

It was in vain that the then First Lord of the Admiralty told us, in somewhat flippant tones, that we ought to be rather satisfied than otherwise with the occurrence. It was not altogether satisfactory to learn from Mr. Reed, the principal designer of both ships, that ironclads were in more danger in times of peace than in times of war.† In the former they were residences for several hundred sailors, and many of the water-tight doors could not be kept closed without inconvenience; in the latter they were fortresses, when the doors would be closed for safety. The court-martial, constituted of leading naval authorities and officers, imputed blame for the high rate of speed sustained in a fog; the public naturally inquired why a high rate of speed was necessary at all at the time, but their lordships declined to consider this as in any way contributing to the disaster. The Court expressed its opinion pretty strongly upon the conduct of the officers of the Iron Duke, which did the mischief, and also indirectly blamed the admiral in command of the squadron, but the Admiralty could find nothing wrong in either case, simply visiting their wrath on the unfortunate lieutenant on deck at the time. So, to make a long and very unpleasant story short, the loss of the Vanguard brought about a considerable loss of faith in some of our legally constituted naval authorities.‡

CHAPTER V.

PERILS OF THE SAILOR'S LIFE (continued).

The Value of Discipline-The Loss of the Kent-Fire on Board-The Ship Waterlogged-Death in Two Forms-A Sail in Sight-Transference of Six Hundred Passengers to a small Brig-Splendid Discipline of the Soldiers-Imperturbable Coolness of the Captain-Loss of the Birkenhead-Literally Broken in Two-Noble Conduct of the MilitaryA contrary Example-Wreck of the Medusa-Run on a Sand-bank-Panic on Board-Raft constructed-Insubordination and Selfishness-One Hundred and Fifty Souls Abandoned-Drunkenness and Mutiny on the Raft-Riots and Murders-Reduced to Thirty Persons-The stronger part Massacre the others-Fifteen Left-Rescued at LastAnother Contrast-Wreck of the Alceste-Admirable Conduct of the Crew-The Ironclad Movement The Battle of the Guns.

Ir is impossible to read the account of any great disaster at sea, without being strongly impressed with the enormous value of maintaining in the hour of peril the same strict discipline which, under ordinary circumstances, is the rule of a vessel. Few more striking

* Mr. Ward Hunt said publicly that, "If the Iron Duke had sent an enemy's ship to the bottom, we should have called her one of the most formidable ships of war in the world, and all that she has done is actually what she was intended to do, except, of course, that the ship she struck was unfortunately our own property, and not that of the enemy."

+ Mr. Reed wrote to the Times to the effect that there would, undoubtedly, be a "greater measure of safety during a naval engagement than on ordinary occasions," and explained that "the ruling consideration which has been aimed at in these ships has been so to divide them into compartments, that, when all the water-tight doors and valves are arranged as they would be on going into action, the breach by a ram of one compartment only should not suffice to sink the ship."

Sir Henry James, Attorney-General to the previous Government, spoke publicly on the subject in the plainest terms. He said:"One would have thought that if there were a court-martial on the vessel which is lost, the officers of the vessel which caused that loss would not go scot free." The Admiralty was blamed for not having sent the decision of the Court back to it for reconsideration, instead of which they broke a rule of naval etiquette, and seemed anxious to quash inquiry

examples of this are to be found, than in the story of the loss of the Kent, which we are now about to relate. The disaster of the Medusa, which we shall record later, in which complete anarchy and disregard of discipline, aggravated a hundred fold the horrors of the situation, only teaches the same lesson from the opposite point of view. Though the most independent people on the earth, all Englishmen worthy of the name appreciate the value of proper subordination and obedience to those who have rightful authority to command. This was almost the only gratifying feature connected with the loss of the Vanguard, and the safe and rapid transference of the crew to the Iron Duke was due to it. But the circumstances of the case were as nought to some that have preceded it, where the difficulties and risks were infinitely greater and the reward much less certain. The Kent was a fine troop-ship, of 1,530 tons, bound from England for Bengal and China. She had on board 344 soldiers, forty-three women, and sixty-six children. The officers, private passengers, and crew brought the total number on board to 640. After leaving the Downs, on the 19th of February, 1825, she encountered terrible weather, culminating in a gale on the 1st of March, which obliged them almost to sail under bare poles. The narrative* by Sir Duncan MacGregor, one of the passengers, created an immense sensation at its first appearance, and was translated into almost every language of the civilised world. He states that the rolling of the ship, which was vastly increased by a dead weight of some hundred tons of shot and shells that formed a part of its lading, became se great about half-past eleven or twelve o'clock at night, that the main-chains were thrown by every lurch considerably under water; and the best cleated articles of furniture in the cabin and the cuddy were dashed about in all directions.

It was a little before this period that one of the officers of the ship, with the well-meant intention of ascertaining that all was fast below, descended with a lantern. He discovered one of the spirit-casks adrift, and sent two or three sailors for some billets of wood to secure it. While they were absent, he unfortunately dropped the lamp, and letting go his hold of the cask in his eagerness to recover it, the former suddenly stove, and the spirits communicating with the light, the whole deck at that part was speedily in a blaze. The fire spread rapidly, and all their efforts at extinguishing it were vain, although bucket after bucket of water, wet sails and hammocks, were immediately applied. The smoke began to ascend the hatchway, and although every effort was made to keep the passengers in ignorance, the terrible news soon spread that the ship was on fire. As long as the devouring element appeared to be confined to the spot where the fire originated, and which they were assured was surrounded on all sides with water-casks, there was some hope that it might be subdued; but soon the light-blue vapour that at first arose was succeeded by volumes of thick, dingy smoke, which ascended through all the hatchways and rolled over the ship. A thorough panic took possession of most on board.

The deck was covered with six hundred men, women, and children, many almost frantic with excitement-wives seeking their husbands, children their mothers; strong men appearing as though their reason was overthrown, weak men maudlin and weeping; many good people on their knees in earnest prayer. Some of the older and more stout-hearted soldiers and

"The loss of the Kent, East Indiaman," by Lieut.-General Sir Duncan MacGregor, K.C.B.

sailors sullenly took their seats directly over the powder-magazine, expecting momentarily that it would explode and put them out of their misery. A strong pitchy smell suddenly wafted over the ship. "The flames have reached the cable-tier!" exclaimed one; and it was found to be too true. The fire had now extended so far, that there was but one course to pursue the lower decks must be swamped. Captain Cobb, the commander of the Kent, was a man of action, and, with an ability and decision that seemed only to increase with the imminence of the danger, ordered the lower decks to be scuttled, the coverings of the hatches removed, and the lower ports opened to the free admission of the waves. His instructions were speedily obeyed, the soldiers aiding the crew. The fury of the flames was, of course, checked; but several sick soldiers and children, and one woman, unable to gain the upper deck, were drowned, and others suffocated. As the risk of explosion somewhat diminished, a new horror arose. The ship became water-logged, and presented indications of settling down. Death in two forms stared them in the face.

No sail had been seen for many days, the vessel being somewhat out of the regular course. But, although it seemed hopeless, a man was sent up to the foretop to scan the horizon. How many anxious eyes were turned up to him, how many anxious hearts beat at that moment, can well be understood. The sailor threw his eyes rapidly over the waste of howling waters, and instantly waved his hat, exclaiming, in a voice hoarse with emotion, "A sail on the lee bow!" Flags of distress were soon hoisted, minute-guns fired, and an attempt made to bear down on the welcome stranger, which for some time did not notice them. But at last it seemed probable, by her slackening sail and altering her course, that the Kent had been seen. Hope revived on board; but there were still three painful problems to be solved. The vessel in the distance was but a small brig: could she take over six hundred persons on board? Could they be transferred during a terrible gale and heavy sea, likely enough to swamp all the boats? Might not the Kent either blow up or speedily

founder, before even one soul were saved?

The vessel proved to be the Cambria, a brig bound to Vera Cruz, with a number of miners on board. For fifteen minutes it had been very doubtful to all on the Kent whether their signals of distress-and the smoke issuing from the hatchways formed no small item among them-were seen, or the minute-guns heard. But at length it became obvious that the brig was making for them, and preparations were made to clear and lower the boats of the East Indiaman. Although," says Sir Duncan MacGregor, "it was impossible, and would have been improper, to repress the rising hopes that were pretty generally diffused amongst us by the unexpected sight of the Cambria, yet I confess, that when I reflected on the long period our ship had been already burning-on the tremendous sea that was running-on the extreme smallness of the brig, and the immense number of human beings to be saved-I could only venture to hope that a few might be spared." When the military officers were consulting together, as the brig was approaching, on the requisite preparations for getting out the boats, and other necessary courses of action, one of the officers asked Major MacGregor in what order it was intended the officers should move off, to which he replied, "Of course, in funeral order," which injunction was instantly confirmed by Colonel Fearon, who said, "Most undoubtedly-the juniors first; but see that any man is cut down who presumes