THE AVENGER.

The Avenger, a steam frigate, with an armament of 6 heavy guns and 280 men, sailed from Gibraltar on the afternoon of the 17th of December, 1847. As her commander, Captain Charles G.E. Napier, was anxious to spare the coal, the steam was reduced to the least possible degree, leaving sufficient to work the wheels up to the rate of sailing. On Monday, the 20th, the steamer was running with square yards, at the rate of eight or nine knots an hour, steering about east by south, under double-reefed topsails and reefed foresail. At eight o'clock in the evening the usual watch was placed, with directions to keep a careful look-out. The night was dark and squally, with a high sea running, and occasionally loud peals of thunder were heard, accompanied with vivid flashes of lightning.

Most of the officers were collected in the gun-room, with the exception of the captain, who had retired to his sleeping cabin. He had directed his steward to request the attendance of the master, and of Mr. Betts, the second master, who soon joined him in the cabin, where they remained for a few minutes examining the charts. The captain's steward relates, that the above officers went upon deck, when Captain Napier desired him to take away the light, and to leave a small lamp burning in the fore-cabin, which was always kept alight at sea during the night. He accordingly did so, and returned to his berth. In about half-an-hour afterwards he heard some one come down from the quarter-deck, and go into the captain's cabin. In about five minutes the captain went upon deck, where he remained for a short time, and again returned to his cabin, but had scarcely closed the door, before he was summoned upon deck by the officer of the watch.

The officers in the gun-room were upon the point of retiring to their berths, when they were startled by a sudden jerk, which they at first supposed to be a gun broken adrift, but the next moment the ship gave a heavy lurch, as if filling, and her whole frame appeared shaken, and every beam loosened. It would be in vain to attempt to describe the dismay of the crew of the ill-fated Avenger, when thus roused from a sense of comparative security, to find themselves in an instant upon the verge of destruction. Already the deck was crowded with people, most of them only partially clothed, and the rest almost naked. On the bridge between the paddle-boxes stood the captain and master; Mr. Ayling, the master's assistant, the quarter-master, and two seamen were at the wheel. In another minute the ship gave a heavy lurch to starboard, and the sea poured over the forecastle. The captain then gave the order, 'Out boats—lower away the boats.' These were his last words, for he was immediately afterwards washed overboard and drowned.

Lieutenant Rooke, who never appears to have lost his presence of mind, immediately went forward to assist in lowering the boats, but under the firm impression that the ship was fast sinking, and with little hope that there was time enough to get out the boats, or even if lowered, that they could live in such a heavy sea. He saw, however, if anything was to be done, it must be done immediately; he therefore went amongst the men endeavouring to persuade them to lower the starboard cutter; Mr. Betts, the second master, at the same time attempted to lower the port one. Every entreaty and persuasion that Lieutenant Rooke could use was, however, of no avail; the men seemed paralysed with the sudden panic and the apparent helplessness of their situation. Instead of affording assistance, they clustered together, exclaiming, 'Oh, my God, Sir, we are lost—we are lost!' Mr. Rooke, finding that all his arguments were of no avail, crossed the deck to the port side for the purpose of helping Mr. Betts in lowering the port cutter. In his way he met Larcom, the gunner, who had just come from below, with his clothes under his arm, having been in bed when the ship struck. Hastily acquainting him with his intention, they made the best of their way to the cutter, where they were joined by Dr. Steel, the surgeon, Mr. Ayling, master's-assistant, John Owen, a stoker, James Morley, a boy, and W. Hills, captain's steward. At this moment, Lieutenant Marryat made his appearance, his manner calm and self-possessed; he was in the act of addressing himself to one of the party, when the ship gave a heavy lurch to starboard, and the gallant young officer lost his footing, and was washed overboard.

Whilst they were in the act of lowering the cutter, an accident occurred, which was nearly proving fatal to all their hopes of preservation.

In lowering the boat, the foremost fall got jammed, and the after one going freely, the boat had her stern in the water, and her bows in the air; at this moment, Dr. Steel threw in his cloak, which fortunately got into the sleave-hole of the after fall, and stopped it.

Just as the boat touched the water, and before the tackles were unhooked, the ship struck again heavily, and began swinging broadside to the sea, falling over to starboard at the same time, which, from the cutter being the port one, made her crash with great violence against the ship's side; however, by dint of great exertion, the boat was got free from the tackles, and pulled clear of the ship.

The Avenger now lay broadside to the sea, with her head towards Africa, falling at the same time to windward, with her deck exposed; the foremast, mainmast, and mizen topmast falling over the starboard side, and the funnel on the gangway, no doubt killing many of the crew as it fell. As the boat left the ship's side, some one attempted to burn a blue-light, but it went out immediately. The sea was now occasionally seen to break over the forecastle and quarter, and Mr. Rooke, in the hope of saving some of the crew, gave orders to lie on their oars, and keep the boat's bow to the ship, to be ready to pick up any of the survivors in the event of the ship's falling to pieces. Lieutenant Rooke and his little party[19] remained by the ship for about an hour and a half, the moon at intervals shining out brightly from behind the heavy clouds, and discovering the Island of Galita, apparently at about ten or twelve miles distant. The weather now became more tempestuous; the rain poured in torrents; and all being almost exhausted with pulling against a strong current, and being gradually drawn away from the ship, Lieutenant Rooke considered it most advisable to run under the lee of Galita, and there, if possible, remain on their oars until there was daylight sufficient to land, and seek assistance for the ship, in the event of the island being inhabited.

All being of the same opinion, the boat's head was turned towards Galita, and they took a last look of the Avenger, which appeared to be firmly fixed, and likely to hold together for some time.

The weather grew worse and worse; the boat, under a close-reefed mizen on the bumpkin stepped as a foremast, was steered with an oar by the second master. When they had arrived within about two miles of the island, the wind shifted to a very severe squall, accompanied with lightning, thunder, and a heavy hail-storm. Mr. Larcom, the gunner, now took the place of the second master in steering the boat, which was scarcely got round, before the wind caught her with such violence, that it seemed impossible the boat could live.

The squall continued without intermission for two hours and a half, when the moon again emerged from the clouds, and the Island of Galita was discovered on the port quarter. Some in the boat exclaimed, 'That is the island!' which, at the time, they supposed to be long out of sight, as the boat appeared to be going rapidly through the water; this naturally led to a conjecture that a strong current set to the northward and eastward. The wind still continued to veer about, and at one time they thought that they must have passed the ship, but the night was too dark to enable them to discern anything clearly many yards beyond the boat.

In this manner they passed the long hours of night, exposed to cold, hunger, and exhaustion; and, as Lieutenant Rooke afterwards observed, with the full expectation that they would be unable to survive until morning. The second master appeared to have lost all reason. Upon being questioned as to whereabouts they were, or in what direction it was necessary to steer, he seemed to be scarcely aware that he was addressed. The doctor, the master's assistant, and the boy Morley, were lying at the bottom of the boat during the whole night, and the stoker, John Owen, was wrapped in his jacket, and appeared, if possible, in a worse condition than the second master. When asked to do anything, he only replied by vacant answers, and before morning became an idiot. At last the wished-for day broke, and the coast of Africa was discerned about eight or nine miles distant. As Lieutenant Rooke considered that the boat could not be kept above water much longer, he determined upon attempting a landing, and accordingly he himself steered her towards a small spot of sand, apparently clear of the rocks, and slightly sheltered by a reef running out into the sea.

This officer, from the time the boat quitted the Avenger, had, notwithstanding his own personal sufferings, set a noble example to his comrades, by exerting every effort to sustain their drooping spirits. As he approached the shore, he exclaimed in a cheerful voice, 'This is something like Don Juan's shipwreck; I only hope we shall find a Haidee.' It must not be supposed that this was said out of bravado, or because he was not perfectly aware of the danger, but from the necessity of his duty, as their commanding officer, to infuse a new spirit into his exhausted crew, and to encourage them in the approaching struggle, which he well knew would he 'life or death.' On hearing the above words, poor Steel, the doctor, exclaimed, 'Rooke! Rooke! there are other things to think of now.' The words were prophetic, for before many minutes had elapsed, he had ceased to exist. As they approached the shore, the sail was shifted from the port side to the starboard, and the sheet which had been held by Hills, the captain's steward, for ten hours, was fastened to the thwarts.

Mr. Rooke now again resigned his place as steerer to Larcom, the gunner, and assisted the others in baling out the boat, which had shipped a heavy sea on the quarter. The boat was steered within about one hundred and fifty yards of the beach, when the rollers caught her, first lifting her upright, and, as there was not water enough to float her whole length, she filled and capsized. Larcom, Lieutenant Rooke, Hills, the captain's steward, and the boy Morley, succeeded in gaining the beach, but the rest of their unfortunate comrades perished.

We should here mention that this was the second occasion on which the boy Morley narrowly escaped a watery grave.

When the Avenger was at Lisbon, the boy fell overboard, and would have perished, had it not been for Lieutenant Marryat, who, at the risk of his own life, sprung into the sea, and rescued the boy.

In a few minutes a Bedouin Arab, who had been watching the boat from some high ground, came toward them and conducted them to his hut, where he supplied them with some milk; and having lighted a fire, they were enabled to dry their clothes.

They remained with their hospitable entertainer during that day, and in the evening made a supper of maize-cake and sour milk. In the meantime, Mr. Rooke had made the Arab understand their situation, and their wish to get to Tunis; and after some trouble and promise of reward, he agreed to conduct them next morning to Biserta. The wearied men then threw themselves on the ground, where they passed the night in company with dogs, cows, and goats, exposed to a violent wind and pouring rain.

Their subsequent proceedings are thus related by Lieutenant Rooke:—

'Wednesday, December 22nd.—At about 9 A.M. we started. Our road lay at first over a ridge of high hills, from which we saw nothing of the ship. We then crossed a sandy plain covered with the cactus, which severely wounded my feet. Afterwards passed through some wooded ravines, and over an extensive marsh intersected with brooks. Towards the evening a horseman overtook us, who seeing the tired condition of the steward, his feet bleeding, and also suffering from a gash on his head, received whilst landing, carried him for about four miles, and when his road lay in a different direction, gave our guide his gun, and a piece of silver for us.

'The night being now dark, and all of us exhausted, we stopped at a Bedouin encampment, and asked for shelter, which after some time was granted. We had been walking about ten hours, and got over more than thirty miles of broken ground, having stopped once for a few minutes to pick the berries off some arbutus trees, being our only food since breakfast till late that night. We were wet, coverless, and all except myself shoeless.

'They gave us some maize-cake and milk. Seeing horses, I made them understand that they would be well paid if they let us have them to take us on to Biserta that night, when they made signs that the gates were locked, but that we should have them in the morning.

'Thursday, December 23rd.—At daylight we set out, but none of us could walk from swollen feet. After a ride of about fifteen miles, sometimes fording streams, and at others nearly up to our horses' knees in mud, we arrived about ten A.M., at Biserta, and went to the house of our consular agent, an Italian, whom I immediately asked to prepare a boat for Tunis.

'The boats here were all too small to send to the wreck, and for which the wind was foul, with a fresh breeze. About 1 P.M. I started for Tunis, and arrived about 11 P.M. at the Goletta, where I landed, and sent to our Vice-Consul, who after some difficulty, owing to the port regulations, came to see me, and tried to pass me through the gates, but did not succeed. He promised to get two vessels ready, as unfortunately there were no steamers here at the time of our arrival. In one I meant to have sent Mr. Larcom to Galita, and the other I intended to take to the wreck.

'Friday, December 24th.—At daylight, when the gates opened, I entered a carriage, and drove up to our consul-general, who ordered his agent to forward my views in every way, sending his son to hurry matters, whilst he communicated with the Bey, who ordered his squadron to sea.

'Whilst my boat was preparing (a Maltese speronara, with a crew of twelve men, selected for their knowledge of the coast,) I wrote two letters, one to Malta, and the other to Lisbon, stating the loss of the ship. Not having slept for four nights, and being thoroughly tired, would account for the vague statement I sent. I then breakfasted, and started about two P.M., having put on board such provisions as my hurried departure admitted of—tea, coffee, biscuits, and spirits, in case I should be fortunate enough to save anybody.

'Saturday, December 25th, on my passage, and at daylight on Sunday I was close to the spot where the Avenger was wrecked, although there was no broken or discoloured water to mark it. I cruised about till satisfied she had either broken up or sunk. Whilst here I saw two steamers (Lavoisier and Pasha) come up and cruise about Galita together: a merchant ship, and a gun-boat of the Bey's, with which I communicated, asking them to take me to Galita, which I wished to examine personally, as also to speak the steamers, my own crew, with whom I had great trouble, refusing to do so. They declined, when I asked them to take half my crew out, and lend me two men, to which request I also received a negative; so I returned to Tunis, arriving at about 1 A.M. on the morning of Tuesday, December 28th. Sir Thomas Reade took all to his house, and made it a home for us. I went on board the French steamer Lavoisier, to thank the captain for his assistance, and also waited on the governor for the same purpose.'

During the summer of the present year, the French government directed Captain Bouchet Rivière to make a survey of the Sorelle. In conclusion, therefore, we will give the following extract from that officer's letter, as it throws some light upon the circumstances which led to the loss of the Avenger:—

'The English frigate, Avenger, was lost on the two Sorelle; I saw between the two heads of rocks, which are aptly named 'Sisters,' her entire engine, two anchors, a shell gun, and some loose parts of the wreck. I recovered and took on board some pieces of iron from the bed of the engine, and a boarding cutlass. The engine lies in a medium depth of ten metres (thirty-three feet).

'From information which has been given me by boats which saw the Avenger at sea the day of her loss, and adding the observations which I was enabled to make on the spot itself, I have every reason to believe that the event happened in the following manner:—

'The Avenger had, during the day, run along the coast of Algeria, but on the approach of night, being then north of Calle, and the weather having suddenly become very bad, with a great deal of wind from the north-west, the captain of the Avenger altered her course immediately to the northward, in order not to be caught in the middle of a dangerous channel. As soon as he thought that the ship had passed the parallel of the Sorelle, he resumed his course to the eastward, satisfied that he would pass several miles to the northward of them. He had not calculated on the currents which I have found at this dangerous spot, and which, with a north-west wind, set to the south-eastward with a rapidity of about 3 miles an hour. The track of the Avenger must have been materially altered by this cause. When she steered east, she was only in the latitude of the Sorelle, and was shortly afterwards, on a very dark night, shattered against these rocks. The first shock must have been dreadful. It took place on the point south-east of the north-west rock; when she cleared this rock, which is at this spot thirteen feet below the surface, leaving a large white furrow, she ran a hundred and sixty feet further, and struck on the south-east rock, which is only about four feet (one metre twenty centimetres) below the surface. She again marked the rock very distinctly. The sea, which is often very rough on this spot, has left nothing remaining but the massive part of the engine, where it can be perceived between the two rocks, covered with thick weed.

'The dangerous Sorelle are formed by two tables of rocks, distant about a hundred and sixty feet from each other, and separated by a channel of a medium depth of thirty-nine to forty-nine feet (twelve to fifteen metres). These two tables of rocks extend from the north-west to the south-east. The north-west one has a diameter of 66 English feet (twenty metres), its highest point is to the eastward, 16 feet under water (five metres). The southeastern has a diameter of 197 feet (sixty metres), and its highest point is only at a depth of 4 feet. This last point is situated, according to my observations, which agree with the position laid down in the chart of Admiral Berard, in 37° 24' of north latitude, and 6° 16' 25" of east longitude from Paris, (or 8° 36' 45" east of Greenwich); 17'.4 miles S. 65° 15' W. of the east point of the Island of Galita, and 27'.3 miles N. 0° 30' E. of Cape Roux.'

The fate of the Avenger leads to many sad reflections. The last of the wrecks described in this volume, one of yesterday, as it were, was more disastrous than many others. It is painful to contemplate the scene of dismay, when the ship struck, so unlike the presence of mind and calm deportment which we have recorded on similar occasions. But every allowance is to be made for the panic which followed a catastrophe so sudden and so overwhelming. The night was dark and tempestuous, the sea was running high, and all the elements were in a state of uproar. The paralyzing effect of this accumulation of horrors appears in the fact, that even after the small party of eight had so far secured their preservation as to be in possession of the cutter, and were within sight of the Island of Galita, two of them were found to be bereft of their reason.

The first crash, and the rapid plunge of the ship into the gulf that opened for her, and the loss of their captain among the first that perished, left the crew without that guidance and control to which seamen are in the habit of looking for support.

But though we have to regret the consternation that prevailed, there was no gross neglect or misconduct to throw a darker shade over the last hours of the Avenger. Captain Napier had been in consultation in his cabin with the master and second-master, examining the charts, and had also been on deck, giving directions to the officer of the watch, but a short time before the first alarm. When the panic was at its height, there was no act of dastardly selfishness for personal preservation, to the disregard of the safety of others. The officers are not accused of losing their composure. Lieut. Marryat is stated to have been 'calm and self-possessed;' and Mr. Rooke's strenuous efforts to lower the cutter, and his manly resolution to remain by the ship, as long as there was any chance of saving the lives of some of the survivors, attest his devotion to his duty to the very last.

The French officer, Captain Bouchier Rivière, who made a survey of the Sorelle after the wreck, and who deliberately considered all the circumstances, imputes no blame to the officers of the Avenger, but generously accounts for the misfortune by referring to the dangers of the spot, the force of the currents, the wildness of the weather, and the darkness of the night. 'The first shock,' says he, 'must have been dreadful.'

It would have been humiliating and afflicting, had this record of the Shipwrecks of the Royal Navy, in which there is so much to admire, been closed with the details of a calamity in any way disgraceful to the service. Truth has required that the words 'dismay' and 'panic' should be used in the foregoing relation; but the terrible suddenness of the event, the instantaneous shock which broke up the Avenger in a moment, without the preparatory warning of 'breakers ahead,' or the previous notice of rocks or shoals in sight, will more than account for the helplessness to which the crew were reduced. They had not time to brace up their shattered nerves. The noble bearing of the two lieutenants, Rooke and Marryat, cool as they were, and in full command of their energies in the midst of crashing timbers and perishing men, places the character of the British seaman in its title light, and winds up our narrative with two more examples of naval heroism.

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