Schooner Aurora ~ June 1837

The schooner Aurora came ashore in moderate weather in June 1837, her crew having been saved through their own efforts and with little difficulty as there was little excuse for losing a vessel under sailing conditions as they existed at the time.

     The real story behind her loss came to light when the New York Courier published the following brief news item:

     “On Thursday last United States Marshal, Mr. Waddell, arrested Richard Sheridan, late master of the schooner Aurora of New York, John Crocker, mate, and James Norton, seaman, on the charge of the most serious nature, and which, if proved, will place the lives of the offenders in jeopardy. The prisoners are charged with willfully wrecking and losing on Ocracoke Bar, the schooner Aurora, bound from Havana to New York, in June last, and they are also charged with stealing from the vessel after she was wrecked $4000 in doubloons, which had been sent on board in Havana, consigned to Don Francis Stoughton, Spanish Consul in New York.”

     The Marshal specifically charged that Captain Sheridan had enlisted the aid of the two crewmen, and together they had carefully planned the shipwreck and stolen the 264 doubloons, which had then been entrusted to the Captain by his henchmen for transfer to the north where they could be converted into American money. About the time this charge was made public it may have become obvious to Crocker and Norton that they joined forces with the wrong man, as on meeting him in New York they were told that he had been robbed of the doubloons and there was no loot to divide.

     When the Captain was brought to trial in New York in February he was found guilty—the doubloons had been discovered in the hands of yet another accomplice—and he was ordered to pay costs and to repay the Spanish Consul, $4,919 in all. Captain Sheridan was kept in jail for an undetermined period as further punishment.

Read more about the schooner Aurora at the Ocracoke Island Journal.

Brig Carroll ~ 8 February 1837

On January 25, 1837 the brig Carroll set sail from New Orleans, bound for Baltimore. She carried a cargo of cotton, pork, hides, lard, castor oil and madder. Captain Miller and his crew also carried two passengers and a dog named Pillow.

     After two uneventful weeks at sea, they approached Cape Lookout the night of February 8. Because it was obscured by fog, the first indication Captain Mitchell had of his proximity to Lookout Shoals was when, at 10 p.m., the Carroll suddenly struck a sand bar, ground to a stop and careened over on her side. Almost immediately, the brig drifted over the bar and into deep water again. An investigation showed she was shipping relatively little water and to outward appearances was not badly damaged. But when the helmsman tried to carry out a command he found that the wheel had lost contact with the rudder—it was soon obvious the rudder had been completely torn loose from the ship, leaving her practically unmanageable.

     Due to rapidly increasing winds from the southeast, Mitchell decided to make every effort to get his vessel ashore before she foundered at sea with the imminent possibility of death for them all. “Finally,” passenger Bangs reported later, “the light of Cape Lookout came in sight, distance about one mile. We endeavored by shifting the position of the sails to gain the light, but it was impossible to do so as the wind headed too much, and we struck the shore one mile to the south of the Cape. We remained beating on the shore all night, with a tremendous sea breaking over us every minute, looking forward with the greatest anxiety for daybreak, to see and get ashore if possible.

     “The looked-for hour arrived,” Mr. Bangs continued. “Orders were given to clear the boat and all hands get in. The boat, however, no sooner touched the water than was filled, capsized, and dashed to pieces in the surf. It was fortunate for us all it so happened, for it was impossible a boat of any kind could live on such a sea, much less gain the shore with the wind ahead and the tide making out.”

     As the morning wore on Mitchell, his crew and passengers made attempts to get a line to the beach some 40 or 50 yards away, but without success; and when people arrived on shore opposite the wreck they were powerless to get a line out to the Carroll as Mitchell and his cohorts were to get one in to them. Soon, the sky clouded and it began to rain. This turned to sleet, then hail and finally snow. By noon, with huge breakers crashing down around them, Mr. Bangs noted, “we had been exposed for 14 years and almost chilled to death.”

     No one had attempted to swim to shore for rear of the terrible surf, but as the prospect of high tide threatened to engulf them all, it was decided to try to swim ashore with a line. It was further decided the one to do the swimming should be Pillow. As the crew of strong, able-bodied men clung helplessly to the violently pitching hull of the wrecked brig—other standing equally as helpless on the snow-covered show—Pillow, half choked by the rope around his neck, swam with all his fast ebbing strength toward the low lying beach and made it, with the line still tight around his neck. Soon afterwards his shipmates, nearly dead from cold and exposure, were safely pulled ashore!

Steam Packet Home ~ 9 October 1837

Found at http://www.coastalguide.com/ & http://seastar2.com/allairevillage  

From Steamboat Disasters & Railroad Accidents
in the United States by S.A. Howland

When the steamship Home left New York Harbor for Charleston, none of the 135 passengers and crew had any inkling that they were headed directly into the teeth of a storm that would have tragic results. The illustrious passenger list read like a Who's Who of the day, and the only thing on most of their minds was that they would hopefully be a part of a record-breaking ocean passage between the two cities.

The Home had done it twice before. The sleek steamship was the pride of a growing fleet of steam packets that plied the waters off the East Coast in the days prior to the Civil War. Steam-powered side wheelers were rapidly becoming the most popular form of transportation in the country, and the Home was the creme de la creme of these newfangled vessels.

Originally constructed for river trade, the 220-foot ship was converted to a passenger liner by James Allaire, a wealthy New York businessman. The ship's interior was paneled in deep mahogany and cherry wood with breathtaking skylights, saloons and luxurious passenger quarters. Allaire spared no expense in making the Home the most plush vessel of its type. But in an oversight that would prove fatal, he equipped the ship with only three lifeboats and two life preservers.

At peak performance, the Home could easily make 16 knots, unheard of in the days of sail. She embarked on her maiden voyage in the spring of 1837. On her second trip that year, she made it from New York to Charleston in a record-breaking 64 hours. The steam packet immediately became the hot ticket for the wealthy and prominent citizens of the day. When a third voyage was announced in October, 1837, the Home's ticket office was swamped with reservations.

The Home pulled away from the New York docks on October 7 at full capacity, with 90 passengers and 45 crew. Some of the most prominent names of the day were on board: Senator Olive Prince of Georgia; James B. Allaire, nephew of the owner of the Home; and William Tileston, a wealthy Charleston entrepreneur who carried more than $100,000 in notes with him. A majority of the passengers were women and children.

Meanwhile, off the coast of Jamaica, a hurricane was gaining in intensity. Dubbed ''Racer's Storm,'' the cyclone would cross the Yucatan Peninsula, slam into Texas, then curve east over Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and Georgia before emerging in the Atlantic off the Carolina coast.

In the annals of hurricane history, Racer's Storm wasn't a particularly violent storm. But steamships like the home were not built for ocean travel. The long, sleek packets were originally designed for calm river trade routes and were dependent solely on steam for power. They rode low in the water, and the slightest ocean chop sent water sloshing into the boiler room.

So when the Home encountered the fringes of Racer's Storm off the Virginia Capes, Captain Carleton White became concerned. A boiler pipe had burst earlier in the day, and the ship was difficult to control under reduced power. As the storm grew in intensity, the steamship drifted ever closer to the northern Outer Banks shoreline, and Captain White had just decided to beach the vessel when word came from below that the pipe was repaired. Captain White ordered full-steam ahead, not knowing that he was taking his ship and passengers directly into the teeth of the storm.

Several hours later, a huge wave broadsided the Home, sweeping everything above deck and sheering off part of the bulkhead, leaving all the cabins on the port side exposed. Water cascaded into the boiler room. Captain White ordered the passengers and crew to form a bucket brigade to prevent the rising waters from extinguishing the boiler fires. Barely under power, the ship limped around Cape Hatteras on the early evening of October 9.

Finally, at 8 PM, the boiler fires went out and the ship was drifting helplessly. Captain White had no alternative but to beach the ship. He raised the small auxiliary sails, tacked to the west, and headed straight for the beach on Ocracoke Island. He had the three lifeboats readied and assembled the 135 passengers and crew.

The situation was desperate. Confusion reigned on the once-proud liner as men, women and children scrambled to carry what they could to the decks. Finally, the breakers along the shore were spotted in the distance.

In his published account of the disaster, Captain White described the grounding: ''I ordered Trost, the man at the wheel, to port his helm; I then said to Trost, 'Mind yourself, stand clear of that wheel when she strikes, or she will be breaking your bones.' He answered, 'Yes sir, I will keep clear.' The boat immediately struck on the outer bar, slewed her head northward, the square sails caught aback, she heeled offshore, exposing the deck and upper houses to the full force of the sea.''

It was about 10 PM when the Home grounded about seven miles east of Ocracoke Village. The towering breakers raked the ship in terrifying succession, and within minutes, most of the people gathered on deck had been swept into the raging surf. One of the three lifeboats was smashed when the ship struck, and panic ensued as the passengers made for the remaining two boats. Two able-bodied men commandeered the two life preservers and jumped into the sea. They made it to shore alive.

One lifeboat filled with women and children as launched but capsized as it hit the boiling surf. The last boat landed upright but also sank with a few seconds. The sea was filled with screaming women and children. One witness later said he doubted that anyone in those two boats survived.

As midnight approached, the Home began breaking up. Each wave carried away more passengers. Others took their chances. One female passenger lashed herself to a settee and floated to shore, waterlogged but alive. Another woman tied herself to a wooden spar and jumped into the surf. She too made it to shore.

In one ironic instance, two brothers, Philip and Isaac Cohen jumped into the surf. The brothers had been wrecked off the Carolina coast on another ship only a year before. Now they were faced with a much more critical situation. Isaac made it to shore safely, but his brother drowned.

Captain White and seven others had taken refuge of the forecastle deck, and as the ship disintegrated, the forecastle broke free and carried them safely to shore. By 11 PM, all that was left of the Home was its boiler, which rose above the waves like a monument to the 90 people who lost their lives that night.

Dawn broke over a hellish scene. The Ocracoke beaches were littered with debris and bodies. The villagers, accustomed to wrecks on their shores, took in the survivors and buried the dead anywhere they could. The survivors--mostly men--were ferried across the inlet to Portsmouth where they gained berth on outgoing ships. White remained on the island for three days to supervise burials of the victims. He then returned to New York only to face charges of negligence and drunkenness. For years after the disaster, he answered to these charges and wrote his account of the disaster. But the wreck of the Home was the most deadly sea disaster on American shores at the time and his reputation was ruined.

The financial loss to James Allaire was heavy, as the ship had little, if any insurance. The bad press generated by the circumstances of Home's loss left the most lasting impact. Insurance inquiries centered on rumors that the boat's captain had been drunk while at the helm. Although those charges were ultimately found untrue, the public outcry over such a terrible loss of life led to demands for greater safety regulations for steamboats and other sea-going vessels.  Allaire would never fully recover from the damage done to his good name and reputation, which he had worked so long and hard to cultivate. 

On May 10, 1837 the bottom fell out of the American Economy and the Panic of 1837, which had been inevitable since President Jackson issued his Specie Circular the previous July, plunged the young nation into its first great depression. For James Allaire the panic was crippling.  Demand for his products dried up quickly as the crisis grew.

The long-lasting effects of the disaster were more positive. As soon as the news became widespread, ship owners voluntarily equipped their vessels with adequate numbers of life preservers. The next year, Congress passed The Steamboat Act, which required all passenger ships to carry one life preserver for each person on board.

New York Herald
New York
October 21, 1837

WRECK OF THE NEW YORK STEAM-PACKET HOME -- NINETY-FIVE LIVES LOST.

By the steamboat from Norfolk, arrived this morning, we have the truly heart-rending intelligence that the steam packet Home, Captain WHITE, from New York for Charleston, whence she sailed on Saturday, the 7th instant, sprung a leak on Monday, the 9th, when off Cape Hatteras, and was run ashore six miles north of Ocracoke, in order to save the lives of those on board. The Home had on board ninety passengers, of whom seventy perished, and of her crew of forty-five, twenty-five were lost -- making a total loss of ninety-five lives.
     Two of the passengers who escaped have reached this city. We have conversed with MESSRS. ROWLAND and HOLMES, the two passengers on board the Home, who reached this city on their return to New York to replace their lost papers, etc.
     They state the Home made rapid progress after she left New York, and had proceeded as far as to the southward of Cape Hatteras, when the wind, which had blown very freshly all Monday morning, 9th inst., increased to a gale about two o'clock P.M., and caused the boat to labour very much. It was soon very generally manifest that her frame was not strong enough to withstand the violence of the sea, and we learn that she raised in the bow and stern at least three feet from her proper line. It is supposed that she leaked freely, for she soon settled so deep in the water as to render her wheels entirely useless, and her sails were then raised to run her on shore.
     About seven or eight o'clock, P.M., the water had quenched the fire under the boilers, and she continued nearing the land by means of her sails, until half past ten o'clock at night, when she struck the shore near Ocracoke, and immediately went to pieces. The passengers were now in the greatest confusion and alarm -- some leaped overboard, and were drowned in attempting to swim to land, while others possessed themselves of pieces of timber, and floated ashore nearly exhausted with cold and fatigue.
     One of the gentlemen above mentioned informs us that he remained quietly on the forecastle, and floated on shore on it after the boat went to pieces. MRS. SCHROEDER, one of the two ladies who were saved, lashed herself to one of the timbers, and reached the shore in safety. MRS. LACOSTE, although a very feeble old lady, aged about seventy years, was safely dragged out of the surf. She is supposed to have been buoyed up by a settee. One of the passengers had on a life preserver, and got safely to land by its aid.
     The boat was entirely broken to fragments, and the few trunks which were washed on the beach next day were more or less injured. MESSRS. ROWLAND and HOLMES remained at Ocracoke two days before they could get a conveyance to Norfolk. They state that about twenty bodies had been washed ashore, and were buried before they left the beach, among them the bodies of two or three of the ladies.
     On referring back to the New York papers of the 9th inst., we find a list of the passengers who sailed from New York on the 7th in this ill-fated vessel, which we subjoin. In addition to those here named, there were some six or eight others who went on board just before the Home sailed, and who are not included in the list. The following is a list of passengers, as full as we have been able to obtain, although some of them are probably not correctly spelled:

JAMES B. ALLAIRE
HIRAM ANDERSON
P. ANDERSON
A. C. BANGS
_____ BENEDICT
JOHN BISHOP
MRS. BONDO
R. F. BOSTWICK
J. BOYD
MRS. BOYD
_____ BROQUET and lady, children and servant
C. C. CADY
MRS. CAMACK
_____ CAWTHERS
DARNIS CLOCK
P.H. COHEN
JAMES COKES
REV. G. COWLES and lady
H. B. CROOM and lady
MASTER CROOM
MISS CROOM
MISS CROOM
MR. DESABYE and lady and servant
A. DESABYE
F. DESABYE
P. DOMINGUES
CHARLES DRAYTON_____ FINN
MRS. FLYNN and two daughters
_____ FULLER
_____ HAZARD
CAPT. ALFRED HILL
MRS. HILL
JABEZ HOLMES
B. B. HUSSEY and lady
JAMES JOHNSTON, JR.
_____ KENNEDY
_____ LABEDIE
MRS. LACOSTE
_____ LAROQUE
MISS LEVY
ANDREW A. LOVEGREEN
JOHN MATHER
MRS. MILLER
PROF. NOTT and lady
J. PAINE
G. H. PALMER
O. H. PRINCE
MRS. PRINCE
CONRAD QUINN
WILLIAM S. READ
MRS. RIVIERE
MISS ROBERTS
J. M. ROLL
J. D. ROWLAND (or ROLAND)
CAPT. JAMES SALTER
MRS. SCHROEDER
THOMAS J. SMITH
_____ SMITH
P. SOLOMONS
M. SPROTT
MRS. STOWE (or SLOW)
W. H. TILESTON
H. VANDERZEE
_____ WALKER
_____ WALTON
_____ WELD
_____ WHITING
MRS. WHITNEY
C. WILLERMAN
_____ WOODBURN
MRS. YAUGH (or FAUGH)

Boston Post,
Boston, MA
19 October 1837

Since the above was in type, we have conversed with one of those passengers saved. He says that, at the time the leak was discovered, they were about twenty-five miles from shore, and the vessel had nearly four feet of water in the hold; and with all the pumps going, and all hands, passengers and all bailing, it gained ground upon them so fast that they were obliged to desist and seek their own personal safety. The boat grounded about a quarter of a mile from the shore, and went to pieces in the space of twenty minutes. Those saved got on shore by swimming and on pieces of the wreck. Our informant, with another person only, had the "India rubber Life Preservers," and he states that, if there had been 150 of them on board the boat, he thinnks but a very few would have perished. The following is the letter from Captain WHITE:


Ocracoke, N.C. OCT. 10, 1837

Mr. James P. Allaire, New York

Dear Sir, I have now the painful duty of informing you of the total loss of the steam packet Home, and the lives of most of the passengers and crew. The following passengers are saved:



H. VANDERZEE, New York
JOHN SALTER, Portsmouth, N.H.
ALFRED HILL, do., do.
J. S. COHEN, Columbia, S.C.
ANDREW A. LOVEGREEN, Charleston
CHARLES DRAYTON, do.
B. B. HUSSEY, do.
THOMAS I. SMITH, do.
MRS. LA COSTA, do.
MRS. SHRODER, do.
C. C. CADY, Montgomery, Ala.
J. D. ROWLAND, New York
JAMES JOHNSON, JR., Boston
JOHN BISHOP, New York
DARIUS CLOCK, Athens, Geo.
WILLIAM S. READ, New Haven, Conn.
JABEZ HOLMES, New York
JOHN MATHER, do.
CONRAD QUINN, Jersey City
HIRAM ANDERSON, New York

Twenty passengers saved, is all we can find. The following persons of the crew:

Firemen.

LEVI MILLER, Stamford, Conn.DAVID MILNE, Steward
WILLIAM BLOOM, New York
THOMAS SMITH, do.
TIMOTHY STONE, do.

Deck Hands.

MICHAEL BURNES, JAMES DUFFEY, JOHN TRUST, JAMES JACKSON, SAMUEL _____
CALVIN MARVIN (boy), New York,

And six waiters, names not known, making 19 belonging to the boat. 20 passengers, 19 hands, 1 captain, total 40 souls saved.
     There can be very little saved from the wreck. We had a heavy gale of wind after leaving New York, from N.E. The boat sprung a leak a little to the northward of Hatteras. At first we were able to pump the water out as fast as it came in; but the leak soon increased, so that it gained very fast on us. We scuttled the cabin floor, and all hands, passengers, gentlemen and ladies, commenced bailing with buckets, kettles, etc; but the water soon came up to the furnaces, and put the fires out, and we were obliged to run under sails only. By the time we came to the shore the water was over the cabin floors. We rushed her head on, but owing to her having so much water in, she stopped in the outer breakers. The first sea that came after she struck stove the weather quarter boat and all the houses on deck were stove in; and in twenty-five minutes after she struck she was all in pieces; and I suppose about eighty souls were drowned. Both of the mates, all three of the engineers, and JAMES B. ALLAIRE are lost. Most of the passengers saved have lost nearly all their baggage. I have lost everything have nothing but one pair of pantaloons and a shirt that I had on when I washed ashore."

In haste, yours respectfully.
(Signed) CARLETON WHITE.

There was one gentleman on board named COURSE a Frenchman, who has fought in all Napoleon's battles. He has for some time been a resident of the South. Alas ! that one who has faced death in battles so often, and under such a general should have perished at last so ingloriously.
     A. W. ROAT of the firm of Roat and Taylor, of Charleston, had taken a passage in the Home. He gave it up to MR. WOODBURN.

Brig Indus ~ 18 December 1837

The British brig Indus was wrecked 10 miles west of Cape Hatteras Shoals during a heavy gale. Her crew, which was rescued, was en route to Norfolk, VA from Montago Bay.

Sloop Oran Sherwood ~ 29 October 1837

New York Evening Post

"The sloop Oran Sherwood, Bailey, from New York via Cape Henlopen, bound to Apalachicola, run on shore on Sunday last, 28th, on Currituck Beach about 47 miles south of Cape Henry, during a heavy gale from the northward and thick weather—crew saved, vessel probably bilged."

The Evening Post, November 6, 1837

Schooner Premium ~ 8 January 1837

The captain and two crew members were taken off the sloop Premium, en route to its home port of New Haven, CT from Virginia, by a passing unidentified vessel and landed on Ocracoke Bar. The vessel had been abandoned in a sinking condition.

Schooner Seaman ~ 5 March 1837

NORTH CAROLINA MARITIME MUSEUM

Beaufort, NC

www.ncmaritimemuseum.org

1836 Map of the Vicinity by
Morse and Tuttle

On this day in 1837 the schooner Seaman, of Duxbury, was lost at New River Inlet. Half full of water with no people on board, she was boarded March 5 by the Miles King of Norfolk. The crew had been taken off by the steamer South Carolina.

RACER'S STORM ~ October 1837

In late September, 1837, a particularly violent hurricane known as "Racer’s Storm" had blown up south of Jamaica, crossed Yucatan, struck the Gulf coast of Texas, curved to the east to move over Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, George and South Carolina, and arrived off the North Carolina Coast on October 9.

Cumberland

     Even before the eye of Racer’s Storm reached the Outer Banks, it had caused the loss of one ship, the schooner Cumberland, which had struck on Core Banks on October 8 with the loss of her entire cargo of coffee, hides and cigars being transported from Curacao to New York.

     Before the hurricane passed, it was credited with sinking two more ships, seriously endangering a third and taking some 90 lives in one of the worst maritime disasters in Outer Banks history.

     First of the three vessels to encounter the wrath of Racer’s Storm was the brig Enterprize, of Warren, RI, which was within 20 miles of the Virginia Capes on a passage from Wilmington to Georgetown, when she was beaten back by the storm of October 8. “I hauled offshore while the gale continued increasing,” said Captain William Brayton, “On the 9th hove to under close reefed main topsail and at 8 p.m. a heavy sea boarded her and started the deck load. Sounded the pumps and found 3 feet of water in the hold; set both pumps to work and commenced heaving over deck load.”

     The following morning, according to Capt. Brayton, the Enterprize “got into the breakers running masthead high and the wind blowing tremendously swept everything by the board, the vessel striking heavily in going through the breakers.” Soon after she hit, the waves were washing over her to such an extent that the crew members were obliged to jump overboard to try and gain the shore through the breakers. In this attempt one seaman was lost, but the others reached the beach on Bodie Island.

     At the same time the Enterprize was first encountering difficulty off the North Banks, two larger vessels, elegant steam-packets, were proceeding along the same coast in the face of the hurricane winds: The steam packet Charleston, with a full crew and passenger list, was enroute from Philadelphia to her home port in South Carolina; and the steam packet Home, bound from New York to Charleston, the same run on which she had just recently broke all speed records.

Lithograph by Nathaniel Currier depicting the loss of the SS Home
on the Outer Banks during Racer's Hurricane.

The following letter is from a passenger who was aboard the Charleston:

THRILLING NARRATIVE

Extract of a letter from a passenger on board the

Steam Packet Charleston, from Philadelphia

during the same storm in which the Home

was wrecked.

First day afternoon, 10 mo. 8.—The wind and swell of the sea have increased considerably, and the appearance of the ocean is awfully grand. The waves tower above the upper deck, while the gulf which yawns below seems as though it would swallow us up. Our course is in the trough of the sea, with the winds and waves on our side, which makes the boat roll excessively, and the force of the waves striking the boat makes her tremble from end to end. We have shipped some seas on our forward deck, which covered it several inches in water, and altogether, it may be considered quite a storm. The seamen are now reefing our square-sail to be ready for rounding Cape Hatteras, where we are to expect a rough time. The boat rolls so that I have to hold on with one hand, while I write with the other.

     10 mo. 11.—The gale, of which I spoke in what I wrote on first day, rapidly increased in fury towards night, and the terrific appearance of the billows, with the howling of the wind, convinced me that our situation had become the most serious and dangerous. We were off Cape Hatteras, between 20 and 30 miles from land, in one of the most dangerous parts of the coast of North America. I retired to my berth very late, and was so fully impressed with our danger that I could not sleep, and the tremendous lurching of the boat would hardly allow me to lay in my berth. A little before two o’clock in the morning, a sea broke over the stern of the boat like an avalanche; the concussion was so great as to break in the bulk heads, and shatter the glass in some of the windows, far from where it struck. It broke in the sky-lights in the after cabin, and pouring into it in torrents, made a clear sweep over the after deck, as deep as the bulwarks, nearly four feet. The violence of the sea, lifted the deck fore and aft of the wheel house, making an opening about one inch wide the whole length of the boat, through which the water poured into her sponsons every time she shipped a sea, and she rolled like a log in the water. The weather side, moreover, took so much more than the other, that it occasioned her to list over very much, and deranged the workings of the engines. Had these failed, all hope would have been at an end. The Captain behaved with remarkable coolness and decision. He had been on the upper deck, at the helm, all the day and night, exposed to the fury of the winds and waves without any shelter. When we shipped the sea, at 2 p.m., he ran down into our cabin, said he could not be absent from the helm, and that if we wished to save our lives, we must turn to bailing out water, or he greatly feared the boat would be swamped, she was so loaded with it.

     At this moment four sky-lights, each eight inches by thirty, were pouring down columns of water, the whole cabin afloat, and trunks, settees, bonnet boxes, etc., were dashing from side to side, as the vessel heaved in the trough of the sea. Buckets were procured, and we commenced as fast as we could, but every sea we shipped brought in vastly more than all of us could bail out, and the water soon became so deep as to run into the top of my boots. It was evident some other means must be resorted to. The passengers and crew behaved with great calmness and propriety—none, who were able, refusing to work. We took our matrasses and pillows and stuffed them into the lights, but the returning waves washed them out. We then barricaded them with settees, stationed men to hold them in; this succeeded in part, but no sooner was this accomplished, than a tremendous sea struck us on the other side, and opened a way for the water in there, and into the ladies’ cabin. It now become necessary to put some stopping on the outside, but the boat was shipping such tremendous seas, that it was a work of great hazard. A man, however, was procured to go, who was lashed to the stanchions by a strong rope, but such was the depth of the water on the deck, from the continual washing of the waves, that he could do but little. The boat rolled and pitched so dreadfully that we could scarcely stand even when holding on, and she had shipped so much water that she leaned on the side toward the sea, exposing her to its full action. I stood bailing and handing water from the time it first broke into the cabin, until eight o’clock in the morning, wet to the skin, and nearly ready to sink with fatigue. As the day dawned, the storm raged more furiously, the billows rose as high as our smoke-pipe, and as they curled and broke, fell on us with amazing power. About 10 o’clock the engineer told us he thought the engine could not hold out much longer, she was so disarranged and injured by the heavy shocks of the sea. We knew that, as far as regarded outward means, this was our only hope of safety, and this intelligence was appalling. Our Captain was collected and energetic, but the winds and waves laughed at the puny power of man, and defied all his efforts.

     At half past ten, a.m., a sea of immense volume and force, struck our forward hatch, towered over the upper deck, and swept off all that was on it. It broke the iron bolts that supported the smoke pike, stove in the bulwarks, tore up the iron sheathings of the engine, and made almost a wreck of the upper works. On the main deck it tore away the guards several inches square, demolished the windows of the main hatch in the men’s cabin, and poured down a torrent of water which filled it nearly two feet deep. It engulfed the fire under the boiler of the engine on that side, and lifted the machinery so as to permit the escape of a volume of steam and smoke, that nearly suffocated us, and so shifted the main shaft of the engine that it no longer worked true, but tore away the wood work, and almost destroyed its further usefulness. It swept all the rooms on both sides, and threw them open to every succeeding wave. The crash was awful, the boat trembled and quivered as thought she was wrecked, and the big bell tolled with the shock, as though sounding the funeral knell of all on board. I never had an adequate idea of a storm before the whole sea was white with foam, and the wind blew up the water in such quantities that the atmosphere was thick with it. Every sea stove in some new place; windows and doors gave way with awful crashes, and several times the fires were nearly extinguished. The captain, who had stood at his post near the helm, now came down from the upper deck and told us the fury of the storm was such that he feared he could not save the vessel, that her upper works were fast becoming a wreck, and as soon as they went she would fill and sink; therefore, if it met the approbation of the passengers, he would endeavor to run her ashore, in the hope of saving our lives. He said all would depend upon the character of the beach, and on our self-possession and calmness to act with judgment at the trying moment, and assured us he would lose his life to save ours. He told us to continue working at the pumps and buckets, and in handing wood for the engines, as long as we could possibly stand; and to avoid giving way to improper excitement; that when the vessel should strike, we must make for the bow after the first sea had swept her decks. He also directed us where to place those articles we should most want if we survived. He then went to the women’s cabin, and calling them all together, stated his apprehensions that the vessel could not be saved, giving them much the same charges he had done to us. All this was done with as much apparent calmness as though all was well. He then ordered the carpenter to be ready with the axe to cut away the mast the moment she should strike, and having made these arrangements, resumed his station at the helm. The boat now rolled more than ever, shipped nearly every sea that struck against her, and swung round from the shock, so as not to obey the helm. An almost constant stream of water swept the decks, and at every stroke of the sea the boat groaned, and the bell rung with a sound that seemed peculiarly awful.

     We all procured ropes and fastened them around our bodies, for the purpose of lashing ourselves to the wreck, and having embraced each other, prepared to take our part in the work, and to meet the awful impending catastrophe. T.G.D., B.W.W., and myself, stood together for a few moments looking on the terrific display around us, and both secretly and openly, I believe, putting up our prayers. After this deeply affecting scene, I went to work and continued at it until eight o’clock at night, pumping, bailing, or handing out water, and carrying wood for the fires. As we were then 25 or 30 miles from shore, the captain’s anxiety was, to put the boat in as soon as possible, before she became unmanageable or began to sink. He steered for Cape Lookout, in North Carolina, though he could not tell certainly where he was, but concluded it must be the nearest land, and that it would be as good a place to be wrecked on as any. But a merciful and kind Providence knew better than we, and at that awful moment was watching over us, and frustrating our designs for our good. The land lay N.N.W., and the gale blowing heavily N.E., so that he could not steer her in; finding this, he came down and desired the engineer to raise steam with wood. To enable him to steer in, or otherwise all hope was gone. Accordingly we all went to handing wood for the engine, but so much had been washed over that we had hardly enough for three hours; the sea had broken down the doors and windows, etc., on deck, and we carefully collected these and put them in to keep up the fire. But with all the steam we could raise, we could not steer for shore, the wind and current carrying us down along shore, but not in towards it; and this proved our safety, for with the tremendous sea, which we afterwards saw setting on the coast, near which we aimed to ground, we must all have perished had we succeeded in our attempt. As it was, the wind, current, and steam, just served to carry us, under the guidance of a gracious Providence, we knew not whither, but into stiller water. About 9 o’clock at night the sea began to be more calm, though the fury of the storm was not lessened, by which the captain was induced to believe that we had doubled the cape and were coming under its lee. By incessant exertions we now nearly cleared the hold and cabin of water, and as the boat shortly came into comparatively smooth water, the captain thought he would try to weather the night at anchor, thinking the storm might abate by morning. Some protested against this and insisted upon running on shore at once, but the captain would not, as he thought we should all perish in the dark. He therefore steered in towards it, and after running two hours dropped two anchors which held the boat. On weighing these in the morning, we found that the largest one had broken short off, and our safety during the night had depended on a small, and, as we should have thought, very insufficient one. Thus a succession of merciful providences attended us, which I shall rejoice to recount when we meet.

     Our captain called a consultation of the passengers on third day morning, in which nearly all agreed that we should run into Beaufort, to refit. As he did not know the channel, it was necessary to sound continually; but after a few hours a pilot came off to us and steered us in handsomely.

     After refitting at Beaufort they proceeded on their voyage and arrived in Charleston on fifth day—10th Month, 1837.