‘Twas in the year of 1866, and on a very beautiful day,
That eighty-two passengers, with spirits light and gay,
Left Gravesend harbour, and sailed gaily away
On board the steamship “London,”
Bound for the city of Melbourne,
Which unfortunately was her last run,
Because she was wrecked on the stormy main,
Which has caused many a heart to throb with pain,
Because they will ne’er look upon their lost ones again.
‘Twas on the 11th of January they anchored at the Nore;
The weather was charming — the like was seldom seen before,
Especially the next morning as they came in sight
Of the charming and beautiful Isle of Wight,
But the wind it blew a terrific gale towards night,
Which caused the passengers’ hearts to shake with fright,
And caused many of them to sigh and mourn,
And whisper to themselves, We will ne’er see Melbourne.
Amongst the passengers was Gustavus V. Brooke,
Who was to be seen walking on the poop,
Also clergymen, and bankers, and magistrates also,
All chatting merrily together in the cabin below;
And also wealthy families returning to their dear native land,
And accomplished young ladies, most lovely and grand,
All in the beauty and bloom of their pride,
And some with their husbands sitting close by their side.
‘Twas all on a sudden the storm did arise,
Which took the captain and passengers all by surprise,
Because they had just sat down to their tea,
When the ship began to roll with the heaving of the sea,
And shipped a deal of water, which came down on their heads,
Which wet their clothes and also their beds;
And caused a fearful scene of consternation,
And amongst the ladies great tribulation,
And made them cry out, Lord, save us from being drowned,
And for a few minutes the silence was profound.
Then the passengers began to run to and fro,
With buckets to bale out the water between decks below,
And Gustavus Brooke quickly leapt from his bed
In his Garibaldi jacket and drawers, without fear or dread,
And rushed to the pump, and wrought with might and main;
But alas! all their struggling was in vain,
For the water fast did on them gain;
But he enacted a tragic part until the last,
And sank exhausted when all succour was past;
While the big billows did lash her o’er,
And the Storm-fiend did laugh and roar.
Oh, Heaven! it must have really been
A most harrowing and pitiful scene
To hear mothers and their children loudly screaming,
And to see the tears adown their pale faces streaming,
And to see a clergyman engaged in prayer,
Imploring God their lives to spare,
Whilst the cries of the women and children did rend the air.
Then the captain cried, Lower down the small boats,
And see if either of them sinks or floats;
Then the small boats were launched on the stormy wave,
And each one tried hard his life to save
From a merciless watery grave.
A beautiful young lady did madly cry and rave,
“Five hundred sovereigns, my life to save!”
But she was by the sailors plainly told
For to keep her filthy gold,
Because they were afraid to overload the boat,
Therefore she might either sink or float,
Then she cast her eyes to Heaven, and cried, Lord, save me,
Then went down with the ship to the bottom of the sea,
Along with Gustavus Brooke, who was wont to fill our hearts with glee
While performing Shakespearian tragedy.
And out of eighty-two passengers only twenty were saved,
And that twenty survivors most heroically behaved.
For three stormy days and stormy nights they were tossed to and fro
On the raging billows, with their hearts full of woe,
Alas! poor souls, not knowing where to go,
Until at last they all agreed to steer for the south,
And they chanced to meet an Italian barque bound for Falmouth,
And they were all rescued from a watery grave,
And they thanked God and Captain Cavassa, who did their lives save.
Foundering at Sea of the Steamship London
Plymouth, Jan 16, Evening
Messrs. Money Wigram and Son’s steamship London, Captain Martin, from London for Melbourne, has foundered at sea with about 270 souls on board. The suvivors, 16 of the crew and three passengers, were landed at Falmouth to-day by the Italian bark Marianople. The chief officer among them, Mr. John Greenhill, the engineer, reports as follows:-
“We left Plymouth on the 6th of January. On the 7th we experienced heavy weather with rain. On the 8th the same. On the 9th lost jibboom and foretopmast, topgallant mast and royal mast. About 9 a.m. we lost the port lifeboat, a heavy gale prevailing at the time. On the 10th, at 3 a.m. the ship put about, intending to run back to Plymouth. About the same time the starboard lifeboat was washed overboard by a heavy sea which also stove in the starboard cutter. At noon, in lat. 40.8N., 0.87 W., we were shipping heavy seas, which carried away the engine-room hatch, the water going down and putting the fires out. The passengers were bailing the water out of the ship with buckets. January 11 – The gale was still increasing, with heavy seas, nearly all coming over the ship. During the morning all that could were trying to stop the leak in the engine-room hatch, but to no purpose. About 4 a.m. four of the stern ports were stove in; efforts were made to stop them, but it was found to be impossible. At 10 a.m. lowered the starboard pinnace, which foundered. At 1 p.m. we could see the ship gradually sinking, it being then as low in the water as the main chains. At 2 p.m. the following persons left in the port cutter :- D. G. Wain, John Munro, and J. E. Wilson, passengers; John Greenhill, engineer; John Jones, second engineer; John Armour, third engineer; Thomas Brown, fireman; W. M. Edwards, midshipman; D. T. Smith, boatswain’s mate; William Daniels, quartermaster; John King, Benjamin Shield, Richard Lewis, James Gough, Edward Quin, able seamen; William Grimes, ordinary seaman; A. G. White, boatswain’s boy; William Hart, carpenter’s mate, and Edward Gardiner, second-class steward. About five minutes after leaving the vessel we saw her go down, stern foremost, with about 270 persons on board, all of whom are supposed to have perished. There were two other boats getting ready when we left, but they were too late. The above named persons, who were saved, were picked up by the Marianople, and treated with the greatest kindness by her captain, Carasa.
“JOHN GREENHILL, Engineer”
The survivors were driven before the gale in the cutter for 20 hours before they were picked up, and had one very narrow escape of being swamped, the boat being half filled with water.
The London’s pumps were kept working by a donkey-engine up to the last moment.
The Times, 17th January 1866
Notes
Gustavus Brooke (pictured right), one of the heroes of this tale, was born in Ireland in 1818 and made his first stage appearance in Dublin in 1833. He toured Britain, the US and Australia playing the great tragic roles of Romeo, Hamlet, Othello and Macbeth. It was while returning to Australia, where he had had great success in his previous tour a decade earlier, that he met his death. A biography published in 1892 tells the tale thus:
The London, in which Brooke had quietly arranged to voyage to the Antipodes, was an iron screw ship of some 1,429 tons register… deeming it impossible to turn the ship round… Captain Martin gave orders… to set the engines at full speed. It was blowing a complete gale at the time, and no sooner had the instructions been obeyed than a heavy cross sea struck the vessel, washing away the starboard lifeboat and staving in the starboard cutter… All afternoon the doomed ship laboured greatly, and kept taking in green seas over the port side… Giving no thought to himself, [Gustavus] rushed on deck to do what he could for the others… It now became the captain’s sad duty to inform the ladies that nothing short of a miracle could snatch them from destruction. [Asked if he would join crew and passengers in the last lifeboat] “No! No!” replied Brooke. “Good-bye. Should you survive, give my last farewell to the people of Melbourne
