NATAL.

Globe, Volume III, Issue 273, 27 April 1875, Page 3

NATAL.

FRIGHTFUL SHIPPING DISASTERS AT THE CAPE OF GOOD HOPE. The Durham correspondent of the Goldfields Mercury writes on December 8 th : It is not often that a correspondent writing from this colony has a sadder tale to tell than must come from my pen in this present instance. To-day has indeed been a Black Tuesday, and must so remain in our recollections while memory shall last. Of all the shipping disasters which have occurred upon our coast since this country had a history have been none so terrible, sudden and overwhelming as the one which has overtaken us this day. Not only have three vessels been wrecked upon this sandy shore, but no less than forty-five or fifty precious lives have been sacrificed ; a loss which no insurance could prevent and no ransom can regain. At 6 o'clock last night the following vessels rode at anchor in the roadstead : —The Zulu, from Zanzibar; the Transvaal, Wagrien, Fairy, and Barbara Taylor, from London; the Star of Wales, from Adelaide ; the Pelham, from Delagoa Bay; and the Umvoti, from Calcutta. The last look I had of all these vessels was at 6.30 p.m. Within half an hour from that moment the wind shifted to the south-east, and soon blew a gale, accompanied by the most deluging rain that I, or my predecessors here, ever saw or heard before continue for so long a period of time. We had a fearful night; the howling of the storm and the thundering downpour of water prevented many from sleeping, but not from thinking of the poor

fellows out at sea. The morning broke, but the blinding rain and mist prevented any sight of the outer anchorage till the town was passed and the back beach reached. Then I discovered that the following vessels were lost, with all hands save two, viz : The Transvaal, Wagrien, and Star of Wales. The sea was a seething mass of foam from the Bluff to the Umgeni—the troubled waters poured in upon the land with a roar at once sublime and terrible. The Zulu could be seen rising high into the air at one moment, and sinking the next into what appeared a watery grave. Still, ever up she came, and the smoke and steam from her funnel proved that she was easing her anchors by steaming slowly upon them. Far beyond her, although almost shrouded by a wild mist composed of cloud and sea, could be discovered the Barbara Taylor, and if at the distance appearances went for anything, she was likely to weather out the storm. Nearer in to land, and more in the direction of the Umgeni, rode the Fairy, and her name seemed not ill-applied by the light manner in which she rose and fell upon the waves. Nearer in still, and in a most precarious position, was the Umvoti, with two anchors out, holding on like " grim death " from what appeared every moment to be her destruction. So near was she to the sand and the spot where the breakers turned their crested heads and rolled onwards to the shore, that she but barely escaped the " breakers" as they passed under her and left her stern. She rolled and pitched fearfully. Either from fore or aft half her keel could be perpetually seen, and so much did she labor that at about half-past ten they cut away her mizenmast. At about one o'clock it was followed by fore and maintopgallant masts. This so much eased her, that at the hour I write, 10 p.m., she is still " holding on." The plucky little Pelham was much nearer the Umgeni ; she had dragged some distance, and we could see soon after morning her mainmast go over the side, and was not long away when they cut down the foremast also. She then presented a sadly wrecked appearance, with only a bowsprit left. She also was afloat when darkness once more settled on the sea. The saddest part remains to be told, No signs of the three vessels I previously mentioned could be seen. The Transvaal had parted and come ashore at the mouth of the Umgeni soon after daybreak ; her crew had lashed themselves to the rigging, and when she struck and turned completely broadside over they went down into the boiling deep. For ten minutes there was a most intense commotion in one spot upon the surging sea, and then nothing more remained to mark the place where, in less than a quarter of an hour, this fine new ship had broken up like a box of matches, and, with the exception of her captain, who was on shore, not a man survives. The Star of Wales is said to have foundered at her anchors, and, with all her crew, gone down into the deep. Certain it is, no trace of her is left, beyond the bags of flour which the sea has been washing on shore all day.