Chapter 2

It was not long before their attention was awakened by the tapping of a cask of rum, which with many more had been washed out of the hold. This beverage presented a powerful attraction; the ship was soon, in some measure, deserted, and the mob concentrated like a swarm of wasps round the casks. All distinctions were now at an end; the better sort of farmer or shopkeeper, scrambled with the pauper for a cup or cap (or shoe) full of the mellow liquid; while the supercargo and his men, aided by myself and a few others, were occupied in hastily putting into some carts the more valuable articles rescued from plunder. As the parties had been immoderate in their potations, so the effects were equally speedy. Women lay on the sand, dead drunk, beside the booty they had collected, while unable to stir, it was snatched from their powerless grasp by others stronger or more sober than themselves. Several pitched battles were also taking place, both amongst boys and men, which generally terminated by each of the combatants falling prostrate martyrs to Bacchus. The infection was universal, and even the three "mounseers," the surviving crew of the Bonne Esperance, could not resist an occasional sly pull at the liquor. These men, though they had only just escaped sudden death, seemed not to be cast down; but with their characteristic agility, one minute assisted to roll the casks into carts, and then ran off perhaps to whisper a compliment to some pretty girl, shrugging up their shoulders at the unceremonious repulse they met with from _mademoiselle_.

But this scene was not to last long: for the tide had been imperceptibly making way and closing. I had always observed that after coming to a certain place, its velocity was greatly accelerated, and it was with feelings of alarm that I saw the danger which the almost unconscious people incurred. From regard to our own safety we had to retreat rapidly towards the shingles, carrying as many of the helpless as time would admit out of danger, in which we were aided by many of the sailors from Torwich, who had assisted in rescuing a portion of the cargo. The peasantry, at last aware of the hazard they ran, took to their heels also; but from the state they were in, many were forgotten or left behind. The roar of waters came rapidly onward, and amid the foaming eddy created by its advance, the stifled death-cry, mingled with the harsh and piercing shrieks of some of the half drowning victims--one moment awakened to the consciousness of their situation, and the next hurried to eternity--burst on the ear; and such was the advance of the spring-flood, that a few minutes after the rush of people had reached the shingles, the curling breakers rolled the bodies of several of the sufferers almost to their feet. The most lively interest was now excited towards a small rock, which jutted out of the sand a little distance from the wreck. The two poor children of a fisherman's widow in the village, were playing in a cavity of this rock, when the tide surrounded them. Their voices were drowned by the roaring of the waters, and their fate would have been unknown, had not the wild appearance and frantic screams of the mother--come in search of her children--attracted notice. When they were discovered, only a ledge of the rock was discernible; and the little sufferers were seen imploring for help amidst the spray with which the waves, fanned by a stiff breeze from windward, covered them. Several brave fellows swam off towards the rock, but before they could reach it, a sudden rush of tide swept over, and engulfed the children amidst the fragments of wreck hurled forward in its advance. One of the sailors seized the youngest of the children and bore him safely to shore. The body of the other was found when the tide ebbed, under a ledge of rocks on the eastern side. Upwards of fifteen persons were amongst the missing. It was an impressive scene, and read a powerful lesson to all.

"Wrecking" has long been deservedly a national reproach. It is, however, rarely accompanied with the cruelty and violence by which it was formerly characterized; and such aggravated scenes now seldom occur. The people of our coasts have become, generally, much more civilized, and probably the "march of improvement" will ultimately eradicate so inhuman a custom. In Cornwall it was carried to such an excess that the example was even given from the pulpit; and there is a story related of a Cornish parson, who upon information being brought to his congregation of a wreck whilst they were at church, exhorted them to pause as they were rushing out _en masse_ in the midst of the service; and having gained the door, took to his heels saying, "Now, my lads, it is but fair we should all start alike!" and reached the wreck first. The people view the plunder of a wreck as a right, and it is in vain to attempt to persuade them otherwise. However it is but justice to say that they have frequently risked, and even sacrificed, their own lives in endeavouring to preserve those of others; though some recent instances, especially in Wales, prove that the old disposition still lurks amongst the people, and sometimes breaks out with unabated violence.

The arrival of a party of the Preventive Service that evening, in some measure proved a check to the plunder of the peasantry; but the guards themselves were not proof against the prevailing infection, and similar scenes to that related, prevailed as long as there was any thing left to drink or pick up; however, a considerable part of the cargo was safely stowed, though there were few of the rum casks that did not afterwards turn out impregnated with bilge water.

On a fine grey morning, about a week after these events occurred, I wandered out towards the shore: there had been rough weather in the channel, and many wrecks, and the turbulence of the ocean had not yet subsided. It was about half-flood when I reached the _Bonne Esperance_. She had disappeared by piece-meal under the repeated assaults of the sea, but the principal part of the hull was still hanging together. Each wave as it struck her tattered timbers, seemed to sap away her strength and threatened to shake her to fragments. I sat with the supercargo for about an hour, watching the flow of the tide. Her timbers cracked louder and louder at each shock of the breakers; when a heavy sea struck her, her joints loosened, and she broke up at last, scattered into fragments, and whelmed in a gulf of boiling waters which foamed like an immense cauldron over the place she had occupied a minute before. We had watched the progress to this final disaster with the deepest interest--I may almost say sympathy--for we could hardly help looking upon the ship as a friend in need, hovering as it were over destruction without an arm being stretched forth to save her, and it was not without a real feeling of pain and sorrow that we witnessed her destruction.

About half-ebb we descended to the shore--it was covered as far as the eye could reach with her ruin and materials; and one could almost imagine it had been the destruction of a fleet. Thus ended the fate of _La Bonne Esperance_ of Brest, and the occasional appearance of a solitary fragment on the beach, was soon all that recalled her history to the remembrance of the passers-by.

VYVYAN.

[1] The scenes and events in tins sketch are drawn from nature, and real occurrences on the southern coast.

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OLD POETS.

GOOD DEEDS.

Wretched is he who thinks of doing ill. His evil deeds long to conceal and hide; For though the voice and tongues of men be still, By fowls and beasts his sins shall be descried. And God oft worketh by his secret will, That sin itself, the sinner so doth guide, That of its own accord without request, He makes his wicked doings manifest.

SIR J. HARRINGTON.

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DEATH.

Death is a port whereby we reach to joy, Life is a lake that drowneth all in pain, Death is so near it ceaseth all annoy, Life is so leav'd that all it yields is vain; And as by life to bondage Man was brought, Even so likewise by death was freedom wrought.

EARL OF SURREY.

* * * * *

BEAUTY.

Nought under Heaven so strongly doth allure The sense of man and all his mind possess, As Beauty's lovely bait that doth procure Great warriors oft their rigour to repress, And mighty hands forget their manliness. Driven with the power of an heart robbing eye, And wrapt in flowers of a golden tress, That can with melting pleasance mollify Their hard'ned hearts enur'd to blood and cruelty.

SPENSER.

* * * * *

LEARNING.

----But that Learning in despite of fate Will mount aloft and enter Heaven's gate; And to the seat of Jove itself advance, Hermes had slept in Hell with Ignorance. Yet as a punishment they added this, That he and Poverty should always kiss. And to this day is every scholar poor, Gross gold from them runs headlong to the boor.

C. MARLOWE.

* * * * *

FEELING.

----The feeling power which is life's root, Through every living part itself doth shed, By sinews which extend from head to foot, And like a net all over the body spread. Much like a subtle spider, which doth sit In middle of her web which spreadeth wide, If aught do touch the outmost thread of it, She feels it instantly on every side.

J. DAVIES.

* * * * *

INJUSTICE.

So foul a thing, O thou injustice art, That torment'st the doer and distrest; For when a man hath done a wicked part, O how he strives to excuse--to make the best; To shift the fault t' unburden his charg'd heart, And glad to find the least surmise of rest; And if he could make his, seem other's sin, O what repose, what ease he'd find therein.

DANIELL.

* * * * *

RICHES.

Vessels of brass oft handled brightly shine. What difference between the richest mine And basest earth, but use? for both not used Are of little worth; then treasure is abused, When misers keep it; being put to loan, In time it will return us two for one.

C. MARLOWE.

* * * * *

THE IDIOT LOVER.

(DRAWN FROM LIFE.)

_(For the Mirror.)_

"That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, If with his tongue he cannot win a woman."

John Laconi was born in the romantic country of Switzerland. He was educated tolerably well; he was a good musician, and could draw excellently. He possessed a small, though independent fortune. However, notwithstanding his advantages and acquirements, he proved, when he became a lover, to be an idiot.

At a certain period of his life, he fell violently in love with a beautiful young Swiss lady. She was considerably younger than our hero, was much taller, and her elegant refinements rendered her a very desirable object. John had a sister, to whom the young lady paid frequent friendly visits, and upon such occasions, owing probably to that _mauvaise honte_, with which he was cursed, he was usually absent from home. I will not disgust my fair readers with a minute description of _all_ his absurdities; one example, or so, shall suffice.

One fine evening, in the month of June, after spending the day with Laconi's sister, the young lady prepared to return alone to her father's _château_, at the distance of about a mile; and on this occasion, John determined to give a specimen of his gallantry in escorting the fair one home, resolving likewise to declare his passion in plain terms. Accordingly, having put on his hat and cloak, and stationed himself at the gate, he appeared as formidable as any doughty knight in the days of romance, ready to offer his protection to some forlorn damsel. No sooner, however, did the lady appear, than he became so confused as not to be able to answer her greeting. She was also confused for a moment at his manner, but immediately began her walk with much disgust and _nonchalance_; while he, like a silly _valet de chambre_, followed behind, leaving his dear mistress' questions unanswered, and gazing with a vacant stare at the moon. At length, to the lady's infinite satisfaction, the white gate of her father's _château_ appeared in view, and John, finding they had nearly reached their destination, articulated, in a half suffocated tone, "I--I beg pardon, ma--madam, I have been considering--." "You have, indeed, Mr. John," quickly returned the smiling damsel, "but I think you might have chosen another opportunity, more seasonable than the present, to consider the moon!" To this retort, he said nothing, but looked extremely foolish and ridiculous. However, when they had actually gained the gate of the _château_, he boldly resolved to kiss his fair enslaver; but, after a moment, his resolution failed, and his legs tottered under him. Without hearing the lady's sweet "good night," as she tripped gaily from him, he exclaimed, "Madam, can you love me?" This appeal was not heard by the flying maiden, who hastily ascended the steps to her father's door, which opened and concealed her lovely form from the sight of the amazed lover, who had not courage sufficient to follow her.

Whether our idiot did not comprehend the behaviour of his mistress, I cannot say; certain it is, he went home well contented with the success he imagined he had gained towards winning her heart. But, in reality, she was disgusted with his foolery, and ceased paying any more visits to her female friend, in order to avoid the sight of so strange a lover.

John, however, was a kind of philosopher, and calmly sustained his love misfortunes. A particular occurrence happened which will somewhat account for this passive resignation. One evening, during a solitary walk, he saw his identical mistress in company with a young French officer. He walked sullenly home, wrote some verses on the inconstancy of women, drew from recollection a portrait of the cruel fair, which he hung in his study, and banished his former pretences. Report says, that he lived the remainder of his days in a state of celibacy. G.W.N.

* * * * *

SIR HUMPHRY DAVY.

Sincerely do we regret to announce the death of this great and good man--the most celebrated philosopher of our times, who has done more for the happiness of his species than any associated Academy in Europe. He died at Geneva, May 29, aged 51. We shall endeavour to do justice to his talents and amiable character, in a Memoir to be published at the close of this volume of THE MIRROR--prefixed to which will be a fine Portrait of the illustrious deceased.

* * * * *

SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY.

* * * * *

DISCOVERY OF THE FATE OF LA PEROUSE.

_Abridged from the United Service Journal._

The fate of this celebrated French navigator, which for upwards of forty years has remained enveloped in mystery, has at length been satisfactorily ascertained, a result that is owing to the active and spirited exertions of our gallant and enterprising countryman Captain Dillon.

It is a remarkable circumstance, that the discovery of the relics of La Perouse, arose out of the massacre of the ship Hunter's crew, at the Feejee Islands, in 1813.

In this unfortunate affair, fourteen persons in all, from the ship Hunter, lost their lives. The two that escaped with Mr. Dillon, were William Wilson and Martin Buchart, a Prussian, who resided for two years at Bough. The latter entreated captain Robson to give him and his Bough wife a passage to the first land at which he might arrive, as they would certainly be sacrificed if they returned to the island. Having made Tucopia on the 20th of September, Buchart, his wife, and a Lascar, were put on shore, and the Hunter proceeded on her voyage to Canton.

On the 13th of May, 1826, while in command of the St. Patrick, bound from Valparaiso to Pondicherry, captain Dillon came in sight of the island of Tucopia. Prompted by curiosity, as well as regard for old companions in danger, he lay to, anxious to ascertain whether the persons left there in 1813, were still alive. A canoe, in which was the Lascar, soon afterwards put off from land and came alongside. This was immediately succeeded by another canoe, containing Martin Buchart, the Prussian. They were both in excellent health, and exceedingly rejoiced to see him. They informed him, that the natives had treated them very kindly; and that no ship had touched at the island from the time they were first landed, until about a year previous to his arrival, when an English whaler visited them, and was soon after followed by a second. The Lascar had an old silver sword-guard, which he bartered for a few fishing-hooks. Captain Dillon inquired where he had obtained it; the Prussian informed him, that on his arrival at the island, he saw it in the possession of the natives, also several chainplates belonging to a ship, a number of iron bolts, five axes, the handle of a silver fork, a few knives, tea-cups, glass beads and bottles, one silver spoon with a crest and a cipher, a sword, &c. As soon as he became sufficiently acquainted with the language, he asked the natives how they obtained those articles, as they said that the Hunter was the first ship with which they had ever held communication. They replied, that about two days' sail in their canoes to leeward, there was a large group of islands, known generally by the name of Manicolo, to which they were in the habit of making frequent voyages, and that they had procured these articles from the inhabitants, who possessed many more of a similar description.

Buchart proceeded to state, that the Tucopians asserted that a great number of articles were on the Manicolo Islands in a state of preservation, and such articles were evidently obtained from the wreck of a vessel. About seven months before captain Dillon touched at Tucopia, a canoe had returned from Manicolo, and brought away two large chain plates, and an iron bolt, about four feet in length. He spoke with some of the crew of the canoe which had last made the voyage to Manicolo. They told him that there was abundance of iron materials still remaining on the island. Those which Martin Buchart saw were much oxydized and worn. The only silver spoon brought to Tucopia, as far as captain Dillon could learn, was beaten out into a wire by Buchart, for the purpose of making rings and other ornaments for the female islanders. Upon examining the sword-guard minutely, captain Dillon discovered, or thought he discovered, the initials of Perouse stamped upon it, which circumstance prompted him to be more eager in his inquiries.

The Prussian said he had himself never made a trip to Manicolo with the Tucopians, but the Lascar had gone once or twice. He positively affirmed, that he had seen and conversed at Paiow, a native town, with the Europeans who spoke the language of the islanders. They were old men, he said, who told him that they had been wrecked several years ago in one of the ships, the remnants of which they pointed out to him. They informed him also that no vessel had touched at the islands since they had been there; that most of their comrades were dead, but they had been so scattered among the various islands, that they could not tell precisely how many of them were still living.

On hearing so many circumstances all tending to confirm his suspicions, from the moment he saw the silver sword-guard with the cipher, captain Dillon determined to proceed as quickly as possible to the Manicolo Islands, examine the wrecks himself, and, if practicable, bring off the two men with whom the Lascar had spoken, and whom, he said, were Frenchmen. For this purpose he begged the latter to accompany him, but as he was married and comfortably settled on the island, neither promises nor threats were of any avail, although captain Dillon offered to bring him back to Tucopia. Martin Buchart, on the contrary, was tired of the savage life he had led for the last fourteen years, and gladly acceded to the wishes of captain Dillon, who after prevailing with a Tucopian also to come on board, sailed for the island. Unfortunately, as the ship neared the land, it fell a perfect calm, and continued so for seven days. At this time the stock of dry provisions was nearly exhausted, and there was no animal food to be procured on Tucopia. The crew lived principally on New Zealand potatoes and bananas. The vessel became every day more leaky from a long continuance at sea; and a person on board, who was interested in the cargo, had, during captain Dillon's stay in the islands, shown himself particularly discontented, and had frequently and warmly remonstrated at what he considered an unnecessary and useless delay; for these reasons, therefore, captain Dillon determined, though with the greatest reluctance, to take advantage of a breeze which sprang up, continued his voyage, and arrived at Bengal with much difficulty, his ship being in a very leaky condition.

Unwilling to abandon his favourite object, captain Dillon now applied to the Asiatic Society, and to the Bengal Government; and in consequence of his representations, his suggestions were at length carried into effect. He was appointed to the command of one of the Company's cruisers, of sixteen guns and eighty-five men, called the Research; and on the 27th of January, 1827, he sailed from Bengal, visited Van Dieman's Land, New South Wales, New Zealand, the Friendly Islands, Ro-Thoma, or Granville Island of the Pandora, Tucopia, and arrived at Manicolo on the 27th of September. This island (Manicolo, or Vanicolo) is not the Mallicolo of captain Cook, being situated only 118 miles to the leeward of Tucopia, in latitude 11 deg. 47 min., whilst the former lies in south latitude 16 deg. 15 min.

Captain Dillon personally visited the reefs on which the French ships are ascertained to have struck and gone to pieces, according to the accounts of the natives, from which the following particulars have been obtained of that disastrous event:--"Many years ago two large ships arrived at the islands; one anchored off the island of Whanoo, and the other off that of Paiow, a little distance from each other. Soon after, and before they had any communication with the natives, a heavy gale arose, and both vessels were driven ashore. The ship off Whanoo grounded upon the rocks. The natives came in crowds to the sea-shore, armed with clubs, spears, bows and arrows, and discharged some arrows into the vessel; the crew in return fired, and killed several of the islanders. The vessel continued to strike violently against the rocks, and soon went to pieces. Some of the crew took to their boats, but were driven on shore, and murdered by the natives; others threw themselves into the sea, and such as reached the land, shared the fate of their unfortunate companions, so that not a single soul belonging to this vessel escaped alive."