MS GILL 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 / 
 
 LIBRARY SCHOOL 
 
THE 
 
 SHIPWRECK; 
 
 SHOWING 
 
 WHAT SOMETIMES HAPPENS 
 ON OUR SEA COASTS ; 
 
 Also, giving a Particular Account oj 
 A POOR SAILOR BOY, 
 
 Who was refused any Assistance by the 
 Wreckers, and who died in consequence 
 of their Inhuman Conduct. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 Printed for the 
 RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY, 
 
 AND SOLD BY J. DAVIS, AT THE DEPOSITORY, 
 56, PATERNOSTER ROW ; J. NISBET, CI, 
 BERNERS STREET, OXFORD STREET; 
 AND OTHER BOOKSELLERS. 
 
THE SHIPWRECK. 
 
 In winter's rude storm, when the tem- 
 pests blow loud, 
 And the hail drives full hard 'gainst 
 the door, 
 
 And babes run together, like lambs in 
 a crowd, 
 
 And cling to their mother, as, forth 
 from a cloud, 
 Fresh and deep-roaring torrents still 
 pour : 
 
 When wolves through the forest in 
 savageness scowl, 
 And poor lambs cry for help, but in 
 vain ; 
 
 And tigers for slaughter rush forward 
 
 and howl, 
 And wreckers, as cruel, do savagely 
 
 prowl 
 
 Round the shores of the dark-trou- 
 bled main : 
 
 'Tis then the poor bark often sinks in 
 the wave, 
 And brave seamen go down to the 
 dead; 
 
 No harbour, nor vessel, nor mortals 
 save, 
 
 To snatch one poor soul from a waters 
 grave, 
 
 Or in pity to hold up his head. 
 
4 
 
 Rut, ah ! there are scenes and sad tales 
 yet behind, 
 Which may well make our heart- 
 blood run chill ; 
 
 When the poor stranded vessel, long 
 press'd Ly the wind, 
 
 Is driv'n on shore, but no safety can 
 find 
 
 From the ivreckers who plunder or 
 kill. 
 
 o 
 
 'Twas gloomy December, and dark 
 was the night, 
 And the sky was so wild and so drear, 
 When to land all the sea-birds, with 
 
 screams, urg'd their flight, 
 Ere the long-forked stream 'gan to 
 flash down its light, 
 And the thunders had burst on the 
 ear. 
 
 'Twas then a poor bark was returning 
 from far, 
 
 After crossing the wide western 
 main, 
 
 Where oft, through the night-watch, 
 
 each long absent Tar 
 Had cast a glad eye on the bright 
 eastern star 
 Which directed his way home again. 
 
 And oft had they mus'd on the long- 
 hop 'd- for morn, 
 
When the wife and the husband 
 should meet ; 
 When the parents and children, and 
 
 lovers forlorn, 
 Should confess, 'midst the troubles to 
 which we are born, 
 There are mingled some portions of 
 sweet. 
 
 But who can now tell what to-morrow 
 may bring, 
 When so frail and uncertain our 
 time ? 
 
 While mirth fills each heart, and so 
 
 gaily we sing, 
 And dream not of danger, or any such 
 
 tiring, 
 
 Oft our clays are cut short in their 
 prime. 
 
 So it proved with yon crew, who, near- 
 ing the land, 
 Had concluded their dangers were 
 past, 
 
 When, lo ! their own coast must be- 
 come the fell strand 
 
 Where Death, in the storm, shall pro- 
 nounce his command, 
 Which numbers that day as their 
 last. 
 
 A long time they strove, both with 
 skill and with might, 
 To surmount all the dangers around ; 
 
6 
 
 But torn were their sails in the last 
 
 dismal night, 
 At day-dawn a lee-shore was full in 
 
 their sight, 
 So they drove on the hard rocky 
 
 ground. 
 
 Crash, crash, went the bark, as the big 
 waves assail'd, 
 And her masts were plung'd over 
 the lee ; 
 
 Then, nor courage nor skill of com- 
 mander avail'd, 
 
 Death drew a long dart, and o'er many 
 prevail'd, 
 And half mangled they sunk in the 
 sea. 
 
 Now high flew the foam, as it broke 
 o'er their head, 
 And the vessel groan'd under each 
 blow, 
 
 And the raging surf rolPd o'er the 
 
 dying and dead : 
 And the rock's craggy cliff was their 
 
 last lonely bed, 
 When the life-blood had ceased to 
 
 flow. 
 
 These sights, so afflicting, to wreckers 
 were dear, 
 Who live by fell rapine and crime ; 
 
 Whose eyes never shed soft Compas- 
 sion's sweet tear, 
 
Whose hearts never learnt e'en their 
 Maker to fear, 
 Or reflect on the end of their time. 
 
 Awhile lash'd to ring-bolts, some few 
 yet remain, 
 And their shrieks rend the pitiless 
 air : 
 
 From the wreckers on shore no relief 
 
 can they gain, 
 They beckon, and call, but they beckon 
 
 in vain, 
 
 Who rejoice in the cries of despair. 
 
 Now shore-ward the masts and their 
 tackling swing round, 
 And the wreckers begin their glad 
 toil! 
 
 They curse and blaspheme, while they 
 cover the ground 
 
 With spars, and with sails, and what- 
 ever is found ; 
 For each seizes his share of the spoil. 
 
 When the tempest's wild fury had 
 sometime allayed, 
 They launch/ d off, and boarded the 
 bark ; 
 
 Where their hearts and their eyes still 
 on plunder were stay'd, 
 
 Though the captain and crew for 
 assistance oft pray'd, 
 Ere extinct was life's faint trembling 
 spark 
 
8 
 
 Their cords were untied ; but the wet 
 and the frost 
 Had so stiffened their limbs with the 
 cold, 
 
 That the next breaking wave, as the 
 
 vessel it cross'd, 
 Swept them over the side, and they 
 
 quickly were lost, 
 While the wreckers held on a fast hold. 
 
 One fine youthful Sea Boy alone rode 
 the wave, 
 And half lifeless was thrown on the 
 sand ; 
 
 While his captain and comrades had 
 each found their grave, 
 
 Unpitied by wreckers who strove not 
 to save, 
 
 Or convey them for shelter to land. 
 
 Awhile those on shore throng'd the 
 Ship Boy around, 
 And rudely ask'd all that he knew ; 
 He told them his tale, as be lay on the 
 ground ; 
 
 While the blood from his temples a 
 free course had found, 
 And still weaker and fainter he 
 grew. 
 
 Now reviving, he turn'd his pale cheek 
 from the earth, 
 A vi d concluded his sorrowful tale, 
 
9 
 
 By speaking of her who had given him 
 birth, 
 
 A parent of tenderness, piety, worth, 
 Who liv'd in a far distant vale. 
 
 " My mother," said he, " she is old 
 
 and gone blind, 
 But I love her most dearly and true, 
 In my chest some relief for her wants 
 
 you will find, — 
 Oh ! save it for her who to me was so 
 
 kind, 
 
 And the Lord will be kind unto you/' 
 
 They heard him, as wolves hear the 
 ewes intercede 
 For the lambkins they torture and 
 slay ; 
 
 In an instant they left him to faint 
 
 and to bleed, 
 While they grappled his chest from a 
 
 bank of sea-weed, 
 And like harpies they strove for the 
 
 . prey. ..{ m -)xfl bloi iM 
 
 The news of a wreck, it soon spread 
 
 along shore, 
 And women and men ran for gain; 
 Thus numbers they harden each other 
 
 the more, 
 
 Till to mercy and justice their hearts 
 close the door, 
 That the love of curst money may 
 reign. 
 
10 
 
 Anon, came the pious old Vicar that 
 
 way, 
 
 For he heard there was evil abroad : 
 Against wrecking, and plund'ring, for 
 
 many a day 
 He had preach 'd ; but, alas ; there 
 were few t'obey, 
 Or give heed to his tears, or his 
 word. 
 
 Arriv'd at the spot, what a scene was 
 
 disptay'd ! 
 For its numbers 'twas like to a fair; 
 Dead bodies, and cargo, and trunks 
 
 about lay VI, 
 Or pil'd up in heaps where a centinel 
 
 stay'd ; 
 
 But, nor mercy, nor pity was there. 
 
 The poor fainting Sea Boy the Vicar 
 espied, 
 
 With his head lying hard on a rock ; 
 To aid whose distress, he sat down by 
 his side, 
 
 And many a tear of compassion he 
 cried, 
 
 While the wrecktrs continued to 
 mock. 
 
 Ah! Sir, v spake the Sea Boy, "my 
 
 blood it runs cold, 
 Here life's voyage it shortly must 
 
 end ; 
 
11 
 
 I shall ne'er see my home, nor m-j 
 
 parent behold ; 
 My tales and adventures for ever are 
 
 told, 
 
 I shall never shake hands with a 
 friend. 
 
 " But four days ago, oh ! how happy 
 was I, 
 
 And so was our cheerful ship's band; 
 But, alas ! the rude storm that late 
 
 howl'd in the sky, 
 It has wreck'd our fine bark, and I 
 shortly must die 
 On the shores of this hard-hearted 
 land. 
 
 " My mother oft said, when the young 
 ravens cry, 
 How kind heaven some succour still 
 brings ; 
 
 Ah ! why then give up us, poor seamen 
 to die, 
 
 To perish, while men their assistance 
 deny ? 
 
 Do explain, my good Sir, these 
 strange things. 
 " My Captain was kind to his lads and 
 his men, 
 
 And kind was my mistress so dear, 
 That the poor never call'd and were 
 
 bid call again ; 
 Who ask'd her relief never asked it in 
 
 vain, 
 
 For she lov'd to dry misery's tear. 
 
12 
 
 " But now her lpnd heart, it will sor- 
 row and break, 
 When she hears the sad tale of our 
 
 woe ; 
 
 Keen anguish will pour its sharp 
 
 stream down her cheek ; 
 In vain for support to these sharks she 
 may seek ; 
 Down to ruin and death she must go. 
 " And must the young babes of our 
 dead plunder'd crew, 
 Come and beg for their bread on this 
 shore, 
 
 And be charged by the wreckers as idle, 
 untrue ; 
 
 And be curs'd, and abus'd, as their 
 cry they renew, 
 And some food for their hunger im- 
 plore ? 
 
 " Oh, Sir! can kind Hettv'n look on 
 all the while, 
 And refrain its dread thunders to 
 hurl? 
 
 Methinks, its blest spirits would speed 
 
 dewn and smile, 
 To inflict their dread anger on wreckers 
 
 so vile, 
 
 And all angels their vengeance un- 
 furl." 
 
 " Hush, hush, my dear child/' cried 
 the pious old man, 
 All was right that was taught in 
 thy youth : 
 
13 
 
 From the day yondei sun bis bright 
 
 course first began, 
 Has thy Maker pursu'd one beneficent 
 
 plan, 
 
 And his ways are all wisdom and truth. 
 
 u But deep, nay, and dark, they some- 
 times may appear, 
 Yet judgment surrounds his blest 
 throne. 
 
 Whence he calls thee to trust him, to 
 
 love and to fear, 
 To submit as a child, w hile a sojourner 
 
 here : 
 
 So far are his purposes known. 
 " W hat though yonder wreckers live 
 
 out a long day, 
 And thyself find an early rough 
 
 grave ; 
 
 Though the wicked appear to succeed 
 in their way, 
 
 And the kind-hearted Seaman be- 
 comes their fell prey, 
 Yet the righteous for ever he'll save. 
 
 4 Isot save from all troubles of liie's 
 stormy day, 
 But from evils hereafter to come : 
 
 Oft as death finds their feet treading 
 duty's safe wa\, 
 
 Still aiming their Saviour to love and 
 obey, 
 
 He conveys then uiest spirits straig 
 homo. 
 
But woe to the wrecker that dies in 
 his sin ! 
 
 To his soul there no peace can re- 
 main ; 
 
 When his heart falls to beat, oh, 
 what torments begin, 
 The worm never-dying shall fasten 
 within , 
 
 And the flame rage with infinite 
 pain ! 
 
 " From realms of despair, he shall lift 
 up an eye, 
 And behold the blest spirits above ; 
 He shall call out for death, but he 
 
 never shall die ; 
 But shall plunge down the gulph, and 
 in misery lie, 
 While the saints share a heaven of 
 love. 
 
 u Nay, on earth, the dread curse often 
 enters his door, 
 And his children they die in ill 
 time ; 
 
 His, wealth is consumed, and he 
 
 wretched and poor, 
 Can revel in plunder and pillage no 
 
 more, 
 
 But must smart in old age for his 
 crime. 
 
 " Oh ! turn then, dear youth, all thy 
 thoughts to the sky, 
 For thy spirit must quickly depart ? 
 
15 
 
 To the Saviour of sinners direct thy 
 
 last cry, — 
 To pardon, and cleanse, and accept, he 
 
 is nigh ; 
 
 May his peace now possess thy whole 
 heart." 
 
 So spake the good man, in kind ac- 
 cents as mild 
 As the zephyrs that fan the still air ; 
 Then he wip'd off the blood from the 
 
 poor dying child, 
 Who, looking to heaven, with confi- 
 dence smiFd, 
 And thus utter'd his last dying 
 prayer : — 
 
 a O Jesus, thou Saviour of sinners 
 below ! 
 
 On thy mercy my soul it relies ; 
 Cleanse its stains in thy blood, which 
 
 so freely did flow ; 
 And, when thou shalt bid it these 
 troubles forego, 
 O take it to Thee in the skies, 
 
 " Forget not my mother, poor, aged, 
 and blind, 
 Nor leave her to sink down in grief: 
 Let a sense of thy love ever comfort 
 her mind, 
 
 While her Sea Boy lies dead in a land 
 far behind, 
 And can bring her no further re- 
 lief. 
 
" O pardon these wreckers , Thou God 
 of all grace ! 
 Let their many dark crimes be for- 
 given ; 
 
 Save, save them from wrath, from 
 
 that horrible place, 
 And grant them to see a Redeemer's 
 blest face ; 
 O receiv e them in mercy to heaven !" 
 Thus saying, he bow'd his faint head 
 to the ground, 
 And, expiring in peace, clos'd his 
 prayer ; 
 
 His soul we may hope, will in glory be 
 found, 
 
 Where no cries of distress ever utter 
 
 their sound, 
 For no pains, no afflictions, are there.