The Loss of the Royal George
By G. H. Walker
When the brave die in battle, the ardour which impels them to glory and renders them insensible of their danger leaves a brilliance behind, which mitigates, in a great degree, the grief of their relatives and friends. But nothing can be more distressing than to behold a multitude of gallant men in a moment of inactivity, perhaps in the midst of amusements and the height of enjoyment, anchored on their own coast, and riding in smooth water, overwhelmed in a moment in the liquid abyss, and precipitated into an awful eternity. Such was the fate of the crew of the Royal George.
The Royal George, one hundred and eight guns, the flag ship of Admiral Kempenfeldt and one of the best ships in the navy, had just returned from a cruise in which she had sprung a leak which demanded attention. The carpenter and others, after a strict survey, finding that the leak was not more than two feet below the water-mark, and supposing it to be occasioned by the rubbing off the copper sheathing, it was resolved, in order to save time, instead of sending her into dock to give her a slight careen, or in the language of the seamen, “a parliament heel”—that is, to lay her to a certain degree upon her side while her defects were examined and repaired at Spithead. It was meanwhile discovered that the pipe, for the occasional admission of water to cleanse and sweeten the ship, was out of repair, and that it was necessary to replace it with a new one. As the ship required to be heeled very much for this purpose, the greater part of the guns were removed from one side to the other; but the vessel heeling more than was intended and the crew having neglected to stop the scuppers of the lower decks, the water came in and for some time she stole down imperceptibly. During this time many of the crew were at dinner; but as soon as they discovered their dangerous condition they beat to arms to right the ship. They were, however, too late, and all their efforts were in vain, for in a few minutes the Royal George fell flat on one side, filled with water, and the guns, shot, etc., falling to the under side, she went to the bottom, August 29th, 1782, before any signal of distress could be made.
At this fatal moment there were nearly twelve hundred persons on board, including about two hundred and fifty women and several children, chiefly belonging to the seamen, who had been permitted to go on board when the ship cast anchor at Spithead and to remain there until the order for sailing arrived. The people who were on watch upon deck, to the number of two hundred and thirty, were mostly saved by the boats, which were manned with the utmost expedition by the ships near the Royal George when they observed that the vessel was going down. Their assistance was, however, delayed for some time by the swell occasioned by the sinking of such a large body, which produced a temporary whirlpool in the water. About seventy others, who rose after the ship disappeared, were also picked up; among these were four lieutenants, eleven women, and the rest seamen.
One of the officers thus rescued was Lieutenant Durham, who fortunately was the officer of the watch and upon deck when he observed the vessel going down. He had just time to throw off his coat and scramble on the beam from which, as the ship sank, he was soon washed and left floating about among men and hammocks. A drowning marine caught him by the waistcoat and held him fast, so that he was several times drawn under water. It was in vain to reason with the man: he therefore clung with his legs round a hammock, with one hand unbuttoned his waistcoat, and, sloping his shoulders, committed it, together with the unfortunate marine, to the waves. He then got to some of the top rigging; a boat came to him, but he nobly declined the assistance offered by those on board her, pointing out to them where Captain Waghorne was in great danger, and desiring them to go to his relief, after which the gallant youth was taken up and brought in safety to the shore.
Mr. Henry Bishop, a young man about nineteen years of age, experienced a very extraordinary preservation. Being on the lower deck at the time of the fatal accident, as the vessel filled the force of the water hurried him almost insensibly up the hatchway, when at that instant he was met by one of the guns which had fallen from the middle deck. Striking him on his left hand it broke three of his fingers; he, however, found himself a few seconds later floating on the surface of the water, where he was ultimately taken up by a boat.
By this sudden and dreadful catastrophe nearly nine hundred persons perished. Among the rest, the loss of Admiral Kempenfeldt, whose flag was then flying on board the Royal George, was universally lamented. He was the son of Lieutenant-colonel Kempenfeldt, a native of Sweden, whose character is preserved in the Spectator, under the name of Captain Sentry. He entered very early into the service of the navy, for which profession he soon discovered uncommon talents. In the year 1757 he was appointed captain of the Elizabeth, and proceeded with Commodore Stevens to the East Indies, where he distinguished himself in three several actions against the French squadron, being always opposed to a ship of superior force. His skill was of the utmost importance during the blockade of Pondicherry as well as at the subsequent reduction of Manilla by Admiral Cornish in 1761. After serving a considerable time in the West Indies he obtained leave to return to England. During the peace he constantly spent part of the year in France, not in the pursuit of pleasure, but in search of professional knowledge, in which, if he did not excel, he at least equalled any naval officer in Europe. At the commencement of the American war he was appointed to the Buckingham, and served as first captain under the Admirals Hardy, Geary, and Darby; and his gallant conduct contributed in no small degree to the capture of the convoy under M. Guichen. His character in private life rendered his acquaintance an enviable acquisition, and as an officer his death was a very severe loss to his country.
The Lark sloop victualler, which was lying alongside the Royal George, was swallowed up in the vortex occasioned by the sinking of the vessel, and several of the people on board her perished.
The Royal George was the oldest first-rate in the service. She was built at Woolwich; her keel was laid down in 1751 and she was hauled out of the dock in July 1755, it being unusual, at that time, to build such large ships on slips to launch. She was pierced for one hundred guns, but having recently had two additional ports, including the carronades, mounted one hundred and eight guns; she was rather short and high, like all the old first-rates, but sailed so well that she had more flags on board her than any vessel then in the service. Lord Anson, Admiral Boscawen, Lord Hawke, Lord Rodney, Lord Howe, and several other principal officers, repeatedly commanded in her. She carried the tallest masts and squarest canvas of any English built ship in the navy, and originally the heaviest metal—namely, fifty-two, forty, and twenty-eight pounders—but they had been changed, on account of her age, to forty, thirty-two and eighteen pounders.