THE CERBERUS DISASTER.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 2492, 16 March 1881, Page 4

THE CERBERUS DISASTER.

With, a view of exercising the crew of the ironclad Cerberus in the duties of active warfare, it has been customary to take that vessel for a cruise down Port

Phillip Bay at stated intervals, and there to put the men through a course of torpedo practice, gunnery, &c. One of these excursions has resulted in a shocking catastrophe, which has cast quite a gloom over the community. The “ official” practice had been successfully completed late on last Saturday afternoon, (March 5) a number of torpedoes had been exploded, and other experiments carried out without mishap, and Captain Mandeville, the commander of the Cerberus, and the second officer had left the vessel to attend an open-air concert, to be given at Queenscliff (by Cerberus band), when someone suggested that something should be done for the amusement of the spectators aboard and ashore. Of course what was meant was that hitherto only small charges had been fired, and consequently the spectators had seen nothing to give them a sufficiently vivid idea of the terribly destructive powers of torpedoes. Their curiosity was destined to be satisfied in a manner that they will never forget. An old zinc powder case was nearly filled with 70lbs gunpowder a little wet gun-cotton was added to get rid of it—(the gunner remarking jocularly that “it will all go up”)—and a a small piece of dynamite. I will not here repeat in deta’l the circumstances leading up to the tragic event that followed, for no doubt your readers have already perused them, but it will suffice to say that a crew of six men got into the captain’s gig, intending to explode the torpedo at a safe distance from the ship, and thus throw up a fine volume of water for the amusement of those on shore. While the officers and crew of H.M.C.S. Pinafore —I mean Cerberus —were, in the absence of their commander, thus playing at warfare, the spectators on shore were appropriately enjoying some favorite selections from the popular musical burlesque with which all are familiar. A loud explosion was suddenly heard, and looking seawards, we are told, “ the spectators were amazed at seeing the fragments of a boat and what appeared to be the limbs of men thrown into the air amid a vast upheaval of water. The dreadful character of the disaster was not at first realised, a number of the people believing that a boat filled with ‘dummies’ had been blown up. Unfortunately this was a delusion. Immediately the truth became known, the band played the ‘ Dead March,’ and returned to their ship.” What occasioned this appaling catastrophe is by no means clear. The torpedo was put over the boats side, but one of the oars fouled the wire connecting it with the ship, and it was while two of the crew were trying to free it again that the explosion took place. The body of R. S. Groves, the gunner in charge, was hurled into the air 100 ft, and turned over three or four times before it fell. The surface of the sea seemed covered with fragments of flesh and clothing, and the water was discoloured with blood. Three of the poor fellows comprising the crew were literally blown to atoms, and are simply entered on the ships’s rolls as “missing,” while the bodies of two others were re” covered in a mangled condition. Only one of the crew —Jasper, escaped—how, is a mystery to all. A few minutes before the accident one of the seamen jocularly remarked to him, “By jove, Jasper, you are in the best place if there is a blow-up,” and this strange prediction proved correct. He was blown into the air, but beyond sustaining a shock and bruises to his legs and other trivial injuries, escaped unhurt from the explosion. When he fell into the sea he quickly recovered Lis senses, and struck out for the ship, but would probably have been drowned had not Mr A, Houston, a sub-lieutenant of the Naval Torpedo Corps, jumped overboard and swum to his assistanee. It was a veritable blood-bath. As he swam a man’s heart floated by and touched his face, and altogether the water was in such a dreadful state that he was almost overcome. However, he bravely persevered, and succeeded in saving Jasper’s life. Who is responsible for the tragic event has not yet ben solved, but one thing must be patent to all—that such terribly destructive agents as torpedoes are not the instruments with which to delight a holiday gathering, A few years ago, at a review on Flemington racecourse, a man was blown into atoms by a mine, and the spectators cheered lustily, thinking it was a mummy sent aloft for their amusement. Spectacles of this horrible description, attributable perhaps to the relaxation of discipline engendering carelessness, are uncomfortably suggestive of the old displays when men were “ butcher’d to make a Roman holiday,” and cannot be too stringently discouraged.—“ Daily Times.”