THE LOSS OF THE SUSAN N. SMITH.

Tuapeka Times, Volume II, Issue 103, 29 January 1870, Page 7

THE LOSS OF THE SUSAN N. SMITH.

The " Hartford Courant " contains an account of the loss of this whaling schooner when on her way from Barbadoes to Dominique. The exposure and privation experienced by the survivors were almost without a parallel in seafaring history. The following is a condensed account of this shipwreck : On the 28th August the wind had been blowing fresh, and continued into the night ; but it was nothing like a gale of wind. At two o'clock the next night so severe was the tempest that all hands were called to close reef the sails, which was done speedily. Half an hour later the wind blew a perfect hurricane ; yet under close sail the vessel was kept off before it, and plunged madly through the heavy sea, the high rolling waves making clean over her decks, and sweeping every portable thing away. At three o'clock the gale, still growing more furious, tore the sails from their fastenings as if they were paper ballons, and at the same time a heavy sea washed the decks from stem to stern again, and every small boat was canied into the ocean. The vessel then ran under bare poles until about four o'clock, when she " broached to," that is, came to the wind ; the man at the wheel evidently losing all control of the helm. He had been obliged to steer by the wind, as the compass in the midst of the gale gave no direction whatever, but constantly whirled around and around. ' This was the critical time. Could the original course have been taken the struggling vessel might have rode out tHjitorm in safety, but the fatal turn % $t* wheel had lost control of everything, and it was now life and death — an earnest struggle to save life in the face of,overwhelming disadvantages. • Captain Rounseville had left his wife and cjhildren in the cabin when first his services were required upon deck, but h,e had no fear that the vessel would be wrecked^ He realised the severity of" the' storm, but had confidence in his vessel, and so long as she was kept steady with the wind he apprehended no danger. The broaching-

to was not looked for ; it came suddenly, and then there was desperate work to do. Just as soon as tMs took place the high seas buried the sMp's rail some two or three feet under water. Captain Rounseville immediately seized an axe and went forward to cut away the foremast, in order that the vessel might right up. After cutting the rigging all clear, he found the mast would not fall, and commenced cutting that, but had given but a few blows before the schooner began to over gradually, and in half a minute, at the longest, the masts were lying upon the water, the vessel was clean over. At tMs time the wind was blowing like a hurricane, and roared like heavy thunder. The sea was chopping ugly, and dashing in wildly from all quarters. The going over and all was so quickly done that the captain could not change his position to get aft where Ms wife and children and most of his crew were ; for as soon as , the masts touched, the vessel settled down bodily, and he was washed away from the foremast. After being in the water two or three minutes — most of the time under — he caught there, getting badly hurt in the breast as he brought up heavily against the spar. He got on to the rigging at the top of the mast, by crawling through the rattlings, and there found nearly the whole crew and the officers collected, and holding on to ropes and chains. While there he secured himself with a rope, and the first mate did the same. Here were twenty or more men in the rigging. Just as the captain and mate had got secured, a very heavy sea ■ swept over the ill-fated schooner and hurled the masts fifteen or twenty feet under water. Captain Rounseville says that he thinks he was under water at least a. minute ; he came up strangled and gasping, and when he could look about he found that all were gone except himself and mate. Another furious sea swept over and broke their fastenings, and both went under water. The captain does not know how long he was buried, but he never expected to rise again, though his head struck against something, and he found he was in the rigging at the end of the mast, and by clinging in between the crosstrees he secured himself again. Here he saw the mate trying to get hold of some portion of the rigging, but he did not succeed, and the poor fellow dropped away and was never seen again. Captain Rounseville also found here one o/ the crew, who had been wa?hed away, holding on to the rigging, and an hour later another man swam up and got hold of the mast. When daylight came two men were discovered sitting on the vessel's bow. These men had been in the forecastle, and when the schooner Avent over got out, and as the mast broke secured a place to hold on till the hull partially righted. At about half-past seven o'clock one of the oificers came in swimming and got on dselc, but after speaking a few words to those on the bow, laid down and immediately died from exhaustion. He had been in the water about three hours, and was naked and chilled. At about the same time one of the men found on the mast left and succeeded in getting on board the vessel, the only portion of which out of water was the port bow. The other man in the rigging was washed away and drowned. Now left alone on the mast, Captain Rounseville found it exceedingly difficult to sustain himself. Every sea that washed over the prostrate spar buried him from two to ten feet under water, barely giving Mm time to catch breath as each rolling wave in turn covered him. So often were these seas upon him that three or four times a miuute he was under water, and the waves dashed against him with terrific force. At two o'clock in the afternoon the mast slewed around, and the men on the vessel got a rope to Mm, and by its aid he was drawn on board to keep company with the other survivors there awaiting their fate. Nothing of special interest occurred during the following thirty hours ; all this time, through the dismal watches of the night, the rescued, but not yet saved, men held firmly in their places, hoping for help in the coming day. On Monday afternoon another of the crew swam towards the vessel and joined the others — now five in all. He was seen for two hours before he came up, and was floating on a cabin door, on which he had been for thirty-six hours. All that these five men had to hold them was a portion of the rail, about six feet long and eight inches wide. Here they sat with their feet on the sides, making fast to each other. On Wednesday, the condition of the weather and of the vessel was such that the captain was able to go to the cabin. He had. hoped that he might learn something of the fate of the loved ones, and it was also desirable that something to eat or drink should be found, if anything remained ; but the cabin had been washed completely out, and neither the bodies were discovered, nor could anything be got to appease hunger or thirst. This was a bitter disappointment, for it had been believed that when the cabin could be explored, provisions would be obtained, and it had now been four days since a particle of food had been eaten or a drop of fresh water tasted. : "<lt was with heavy hearts that the- sufferers returned to their narrow sitting place on the rail, but with little hope left to encourage them. One ray of hope j came, however, as a barrel was disco-

vered floating out of the vessel. Thinking that it might contain provisions of some sort, two of the men started for it, and, after two hours' steady work in the water, secured it, but found to their disappointment, that it was a barrel of epsom salts. All through the week the captain and his four companions clung to the wreck — eight days without food or water. There is hardly another such case on record. The testimony of all is that the thought of food scarcely entered their minds, but their burning thirst nearly drove them to distraction. On Sunday morning the first sail that had been in sight since the disaster occurred appeared, some distance off — too far to be attracted. The little hope that was excited suddenly departed as the whitened sails were lost to view in the distance. But two hours later another vessel came in sight, about three miles off, and here was new hope to the wretched men ; but the vessel passed on, unattracted by the low lines of the wreck. These two last sad disappointments led to the raising of a signal of distress, and an old blue coat was hoisted. About one o'clock in the afternoon another vessel appeared about four miles off to the windward, and before dark the captain of this vessel, Capt. Oxley, of the ship Flatworth, en route from China to London, discovered the wreck, and by dark had got within 100 yards of it. He got out a boat and sent it alongside. Capt Rounseville and his companions were so weak that they could not stand, and by another day they must have perished, and as the boat came up they slid into it helplessly, and were taken to the Flatworth, where every attention was paid' to them by the kind-hearted Englishman in command. When taken off two of the cailors were entirely naked, as they had been during the whole week. The sun had blistered them, as it had the captain and the others. All were the merest skeletons. Captain Rounseville, who weighed before the wreck 190 pounds, had lost nearly 90 pounds in his eight days of suffering. A teaspoonful of brandy was given each one to start with, but even this was too much for their shattered systems, and very socn after reaching the ship all were unconscious, and remained in that state for two days.