Ramsgate
on the morning of the 25 January, would have presented a bustling scene as the
troops of the 59th and 62nd regiments, marched down the Military Road to the
harbour to embark on their vessels for their journey to Cork. [1] The
majority of the 59th boarded the Sea
Horse, Master James Gibbs, a ship registered in Lloyds as having a burthen of 295 tons, with a crew of 17.[2]
She reportedly took on board five companies of the 59th regiment, consisting of
16 officers and 287 men, 33 women and 38 children and a young naval officer, travelling
to meet his ship the Tonnant, a total
of 393 persons.[3]
The remainder of the regiment embarked on the Lord Melville, Master Thomas Arman, a ship with a burden of 351
tons. She reportedly, took on board 3 captains, 8 Lieutenants, 3 ensigns, 260
rank and file, 2 servants, 33 women and 30 children, a total of 339 of the 59th
Regiment and part of the 62nd Regiment, consisting of a Colonel, 1 Captain, 2
Lieutenants, 3 Ensigns, 75 rank and file, 1 servant, 6 women and 2 children, a
total of 50.[4]
The William Pitt, Master G Proctor,
the largest vessel of the three, with a burden of 418 tons, took on 18 officers
and 406 men of the 62nd Regiment, the remainder of that regiment, 6 officers
and 80 men, embarking on the Hound, Master
Chapman, a three year old ship, with of 324 ton burden and an A1
classification.[5]
Ramsgate
Jan. 25. - Sailed the William Pitt, Lord Melville and Sea Horse transports,
having on board the 2d battalions of the 59th and 62d regiments for
Ireland; they are the finest transports we have had in this harbour for a
length of time past. The Duncombe and Hound transports are still here, waiting
the arrival of either the 14th or 44th regiments, also
destined for Ireland. The above regiments were intended to have been embarked
at Dover, but the transports taking them on board were considered to draw too
much water for that port. Sailed the Good Statesman transport for Plymouth;
Catherine transport for Ostend; and Exchange transport for Calais, with several
freight vessels, to bring over the Blues and 3d Dragoon Guards; 5 or 6
transports remain, taking in the heavy baggage of different regiments, for
hull, London and Portsmouth. Upwards of 100 sail of merchant vessels of
different descriptions have got to the sea this tide, bound to the Westward.[6]
Henry Moses, Ramsgate 1816
Having
sailed on 25 January, the three transports came to anchor in the Downs,
an area of sea, near the English Channel off the East Kent coast, awaiting
the right wind for the voyage. Here they
were joined by the Boadicea, Fox, Promise
and Fancy, Martin, Mariner 2nd, Promise, Betsy, Lord Cawdor, Patriot,
Elizabeth, Mariner 3rd, Triton and William troop transports that sailed from Dover on the 26 January
bound for Ireland, according to Naval Intelligence.[7]
The Boadicea and Fox were transporting the 82nd regiment to Cork, while the other
ships were transporting the 16th and 35th regiments and the 2nd Garrison
Battalion. The Harmony, John and Eleanor transports also sailed to Plymouth: the Britannia for Ostend and the Ulysses and Britannia transports with troops to Calais. Taken in tandem, with
the transports, voyaging from Portsmouth and Plymouth, an estimate of 10,000
troops under sail, bound for Ireland, would be on the conservative side. The
ships parted company as they made their way through the channel.
James Gibbs, master of the Sea Horse and Thomas Arman, master of
the Lord Melville, both left correspondence describing their voyage. According
to Gibbs, about 11am on the morning of 26 January, the Sea Horse weighed anchor, and sailed with light breezes from the N.
N. W. and by about midnight was off Dungeness, a headland further along the
coast of Kent on which a 115 ft. high lighthouse was built in 1792 by
Samuel Wyatt. At about midnight, they spotted the Portland Lights to the N. E.[8]
On Sunday, 28 January they passed Start
Point, with the breeze coming from the N.N.E. They then altered course in the
afternoon as they passed Lizard Point at 5 o’clock and at 11 o’clock they passed the Longships Lighthouse, Lands’
End, 1 ½ nautical miles off. At midnight, it bore N.N.E., 8 miles away. From here they sailed into the
Irish Sea and set a course for Cork.
On the morning of 29 January, there was a
fine strong breeze coming
from the S.S.E., a favourable wind direction in which to sail to Cork. But at noon this was getting much
stronger. As Gibbs’s account states, the Sea Horse made landfall at Ballycotton
Island at 4pm with the rising wind still coming from the S.S.E. From this time
onwards, it was to be ‘a constant and awful struggle with the conflicting
elements’. The mate, John Sullivan, a Cork man, well acquainted with the coast,
then went up the forerigging to look at the land, but fell down on the
forecastle, and broke both his legs and arms, and unable to speak, died in the
arms of his wife, almost three hours later.[9] (It has been
stated that he may have been the only one on board that was well acquainted
with the coast. However, this is highly unlikely, as transport vessels
regularly shipped troops to and from Ireland via Cork and Waterford, the Sea Horse herself having been surveyed
in Cork in 1813.)
Gibbs
then altered his course, as the gale grew, making westward for Kinsale Light House,
intending to alter course and run along the land to the entrance to Cork Harbour
once it was sighted. However not having not seen the light after sailing for
two hours, doubts set in and he became unwilling to proceed any further, as the
weather was so thick and hazy. With the most tremendous sea running, he decided
to take in the top sails and hauled close to the wind, heading in a W.S.W.
direction out to sea. According to Thomas Redding, a seaman on board, ‘In
consequence of the affecting loss of his chief mate, Captain Gibbs was very
greatly annoyed during the night, and appeared to have lost much of that
self-command so essentially necessary to the safety of the vessel, passengers,
and crew’.[10]
At
8pm, the ship got blown off course and spent most of the night on another
heading of S.E., the wind coming from the S.S.W. which was now on their
starboard bow. The tide was setting towards the land and with a large swell
they were being pushed N.E. towards the lee shore, an unadvisable course of
action. According to Redding, he spotted a ‘fogbank or the land’ at about 4
o’clock in the morning and reported it to the second mate, Wilson, who first
derided the idea, but then called the Captain, ‘who had been sitting for some
hours on the companion, apparently lost in a reverie’. They then laughed at his
report.[11]
They were
still drifting in an easterly direction when at five in the morning, 30 January,
they sighted Minehead which was inside them to leeward, wind still coming from
the S.S.W., they then let a reef out of the topsails and set the
mainsail-blowing very hard in order to help get away from the land, but the
wind was so strong that about 10.30am, it broke the fore topmast and it went
over the side. A seaman who was in the foretop had his back and thigh broken.
They were still being blown in the
direction of Waterford, when, about an hour later, just after the wreck of the
fore topmast was cleared, the mainsail then split to ribbons. By this time,
Gibbs had realised his mistake, and was desperate to get out at sea, away from
the lee shore, but this was not possible with the damage to the masts and the
ship not responding to the steering helm. The raging sea was sending them to
the shore so fast, that even though they spotted the Hook Light House under the
lee bow, they could not weather Brownstown Head. They took in all sail and
anchored under the head in seven fathoms of water, using both anchors, they let
out 300 fathoms of cable to try and hold the vessel. [12] The cables were
leading straight out in front of her, turning her bow to the sea, and her stern
towards the shore, as the waves continued breaking over them. At about 12am,
the anchors dragged, as the sea bottom was probably just sand. The wind and sea
were still increasing, with huge waves crashing over the ship from stem to
stern (from the front to the back of the
ship).[13]
At 12.10pm her stern struck. They then
cut away the mizzen and main masts; all the boats connected to the masts were now
washed away. As the ship struck a second time, the rudder, which was, by now of
little use, broke off and the sternpost was knocked in. Redding stated that
about fifty soldiers had rushed into the quarter-boats, to try and save
themselves. However, the boats were rigged to the mizzenmast which was being
cut down and were about to go overboard. They were ordered to leave the boats,
but refused to obey orders and were dashed into the sea and drowned.
The sea continued to break immensely over
the ship and about an hour later, she split in two by the main hatchway. All
the people on board were clinging to different parts of the wreck. According to
Gibbs, there was not the least disturbance among the women. Mrs Baird was
trying to comfort her two daughters in the great cabin, while a Serjeant’s wife
huddled between decks with her three children. The other women were heard
pleading with their husbands to die with them, most of them uttering prayers. However,
Redding paints a more realistic scene, with women screaming for their husbands
and personal preservation coming to the foremost of almost everyone’s minds.
After the ship
broke in two, all but about 30 people that were left clinging to the
forerigging were washed off. According to Gibbs, about 60 people reached the
shore, but for the want of assistance only 4 officers, 25 soldiers, two of whom
are died shortly afterwards, and two seamen and himself were saved.
Mr
Hunt, of Tramore, and his man, Mr. Duckett, jun. and two countrymen, one named
Kirwan, were the persons who contributed most to save the lives of the
unfortunate people. To the indefatigable exertions of Mr. Hunt, in getting us
up to the cottage at the Rabbit-burrow, and sending for spirits to his own
house, and lighting large fires for our accommodation, we are principally
indebted for our lives.[14]
[1] In 1816
Ramsgate was a busy port, 1496 vessels were registered as having entered the
harbour in the previous year.
[4] Cork Advertiser, 1 February 1816.
[6] Cork Mercantile Chronicle, 31 January
1816.
[10]
James Acland, Enemy of Corporate Despots, Memoirs
and Correspodences of a Ghost, Redding’s
Reminiscences. No 1, copy online at https://enemyofcorporatedespots.wordpress.com/.
[11] James Acland, Enemy
of Corporate Despots, Memoirs and Correspodences of a Ghost, Redding’s
Reminiscences. No 1, copy
online at https://enemyofcorporatedespots.wordpress.com/.
[12] Charts of the bay record the
depth of water directly inside Brownstown Head as 42 ft. or 7 fathoms.
[13] Much of this chapter is based on
Walter Phelan, Master SDPO’s interpretation of James Gibbs’s narrative. All
errors are the author’s own.
