The Sun.
London, England, 1865-01-21 00:00:00

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS

Ties.—lt is a strange and unhappy illustration
of a well-known proverb that so soon after having
announced the loss of one of her Majesty's ship's by
sinking, we should now have to report the total loss
of another by fire.. Years may pass without the oc-
currence of one such calamity, and now we have
two within little more than. a month of each other.
It was on the 4th of last November that the Race-

horse struck off Chefoo Cape, and on the 14th of

December the Bombay took fire near Montevideo.
The two disasters are almost equally complete, and,
for the present, equally unaccountable. As far, in-
deed, as the crew is concerned, the calamity of the
Bombay is not quite so lamentable as that of the
Racehorse. In the latter case only nine men were

saved out of a crew of 107. In the present instance
93 of the crew are, indeed, missing; but from the
letter of the Admiral, which we publish this morn.:

irig, we may, perhaps, hope that some of these will

prove to be safe. ‘7‘ The boats having been picked
up," he says, "by vessels proceeding to different
places, we cannot as yet get a correct return." As
far, however, as the ship is concerned the disaster is

complete. She burnt With extraordinary rapidity,
and in five hours after taking fire she sank in eight
fathoms of water. The Bombay was a screw steam-

ship of 67 guns and 2,782 tons- , and was the flag-
ship of the Admiral commanding on the south-east
coast of America. Until the morning of the 14th of

December she was at Montevideo, bui'on that morn-
ing the Admiral transferred his flag to another ship,
and she left the anchorage under sail. At five
o'clock in the afternoon of the same day the admiral

received news that she was on fire about 13 miles

from his station. Although, however, at such a com-
paratively short distance, the aid which he despatched
was utterly useless. Long before he could reach
the scene of the disaster the vessel was deserted,
and the sinking of the ship was the only thing yet

remaining to complete the calamity. As in the
case of the Racehorse, we are here also obliged to
.

put up with a hurried and imperfect account of
the disaster, and that not from the officer in com-

mand of the ship. The barest facts are all that have
reached,us. These, however, are sufficient to con-
vey to the mind a picture of unusual horror, and to
indicate that even among the terrible examples of
the destruction of ships by fire the present instance
must occupy a conspicuous place. The struggle
with the flames appears to have been completely
over in half an hour, and when the contest was then
abandoned as hopeless, there remained barely time
enough to snatch the ship's crew from the terrible
fate which threatened them. "At 3.35 in the after-

noon," says the Admiral, " the fire was reported.
At 3.52, finding the fire was quickly gaining, the
boats were hoisted out." Ten minutes more were
sufficient to render it impossible to continue even

this operation, and the bOats which had been suc-
cessfully lowered had even then but a quarter of an
hour in which to get clear of the ship before the
mainmast fell. After that, it must be presumed, all
would be over. Those for whom the boats had no
room would have to be left to their fate, and nothing
would remain to them but the. terrible choice of

being devoured by one element or swallowed up by
another. In such a terrible disaster there can be
but one consolation alike for the relatives of those
who are lost as for those who are saved and for their
friends—that is, to know that the officers and crew
did their duty ; and this consolation we have no
doubt will be afforded when we receive more com-
plete details. From the report before us there is
every reason to anticipate this melancholy satisfac-
tion. In the face of a conflagration of such fright-
ful rapidity it cannot but have required the utmost
coolness and discipline to save so considerable a
proportion of the crew ; and, when we read of the
sick having been passed into the boats in the first
instance, we are reminded of the spirit which
was displayed in the case . of the Birkenhead,
and cannot but believe that both officers and men
.must have displayed an equal courage and self-
sacrifice. It is, perhaps, impossible for there to be
a higher test of courage than is afforded in the de-
struction by fire of a ship at sea. The extreme
probability that a certain number of the crew
will have to be sacrificed to the safety of the
rest must make every man feel that he stands in the
very jaws of death, and the horrible nature of the
destruction which threatens him is sufficient to un-
nerve any but a very high or a very habitual sense
of duty. A great fire is by common assent one of
the most terrible of catastrophes even on land, but
it is hard to imagine anything more dreadful than a
fire at sea. All the terrors of two elements are com-
bined in one scene of destruction, and the desolation
of the one and the fury of the other are beyond all
the horrors which men have elsewhere to meet. As to
the cause which produced the disaster, and the rea-
sons which rendered it so uncontrollable, the present
report fails to give us sufficient information. The
fire broke out in the afterhold, and from the uncon-
trollable rapidity with which the flames spread the
Admiral inclines to think that it must have broken
out close to the spirit-room, " and that the spirit
casks must almost immediately have burst and
ignited." He assures us that the discipline which
had so soon to be exerted in .deserting the ship was
first displayed in endeavouring to save her. " The
fire-bell was immediately rung, and with the greatest
order and proMptness an abundant supply of water
was obtained." We trust, therefore, that the cala-
mity will prove to have been as much beyond con-
trol in its origin as it was in its progress, and that
it may be a very long time before we have again to
record so terrible a disaster to our navy.
HERALD. In certain countries where beasts of
burden are scarce, and horses are but seldom used
for draught, the natives are accustomed to associate
strange yokefellows. A bullock pulls lazily by the
side of a mule ; a pony tugs away in company with
a melancholy foxhound ; a donkey brays in discor-
dant unison with the growl of a Cuban mastiff
in reduced circumstances. They agree as well as
the radical difference in their natures will allow.
Pull together. in a certain way they must ; but
they don't like the companionship, and now and
then a bark, a kick, a savage glare of the eye, or
a sudden and obstinate halt on the
part of one
shows the tenor of his feelings towards the other.
A similar incongruity of association may tometimes
be observed in the features of a zoologic•
al exhi-
bition. In the cage of a lion, perhaps, may be seen
a suspicious watchful retriever, over and anon cast-
ing a quiet eye upon the lordly beast's huge stride,
his fierce roar, the hungry clashing of his jaws, and
the unpleasant way in which he shows his terrible
incisors. The dog seems to say, "I am here, it is
true; I and my noisy shambling friend are asso-
ciated together by the necessities of representation ;
but I am non-content ; and I don't approve of My
company." We all know how the birds and the
beasts get on in a " happy family." When the cat
makes a spring the mouse shifts uneasily, though he
can't run away ; when the porcupine erects his quills
the sleek guinea-pig turns what would be tail if he
had any ; when the hawk flutters the hedge-sparrow
h
ops into obscurity. The harmony of the associa-
tion is not actually disturbed, but distrust and
.mental disagreement are chronic, and while the
delighted spectators look on and applaud the unfor-
tunate objects of interest are contemplating the
miseries of their awkward fellowship. It is
.just thus
with Messrs. Scholefield and Bright, the. lion and
the lesser animal who are kept together in the. .Bir-
mingham cage. At certain periods
.they exhibit in.
the Town Hall of the great midland city ; and,..as.
.happens, the senior member of the joint exhibition
is the feebler and the less ferocious one. He has
first to go through his performances, the lion all the
while couchant beside him, awaiting his share in the
interesting proceedings. The mayor initiates the
business. He introduces the performers. In vulgar
parlance, he " stirs them up " with the long pole of
his office. Then the fun commences. The lion's
colleague speaks according to his nature, his pro-
clivities, and the traditions of his being. Upon
one or two points he may agree with his▪ honour-
able and formidable friend. He wants parlia-
mentary reform, he deprecates extravagant
.expen-
diture on the army and navy, and he objects to
intervention in the affairs of foreign countries.
But there the agreement with his leonine asso-
ciate ends. The great point that the lion holds
strong opinions upon is where the split takes
place. The monarch of the platform is all
Federal—even more than Alfred Tennyson assumed
Englishmen to be " all Dane." But his colleague is
all Confederate. Possibly, not without some trepi-
dation, Mr. Scholefield—to drop for a moment the
zoological allegory—expresses by implication his
opinion that England should officially recognise the
Southern States of America. It is then that the lion
has his triumph. He knows that his friend has done
wrong in the eyes of the audience. He feels that,
sitting there as the representative of Federalism, an
opposition to his views has been started that looks
like Birmingham treason ; and the hisses that follow
the pro-Southern avowal confirm him in his position
as lord of the entertainment. Thus ends the first
part of the performance ; and the second—which is
the exciting part—is about to commence. We know
that after some well-graced actor leaves the stage
the eyes of the audience are idly bent on him
that
enters next. But at Birmingham the position is
reversed. The well-graced actor—that i▪
s, the more
popular one—is Mr. Bright ; and instead of idle at-
tention, the hon. member is greeted with " several
rounds of cheers." What he has to do is of the. large,
sweeping, rotund order. The gentle ambling of his
predecessor is as the light comedy that precedes the
vigorous pantomime. Mr. Scholefield has placed
before his hearers an entree merely, and one that
does not altogether agree with them. M. r. Bright
comes on with the piece de resistance, which they all
like. With a plunge, in median rem, he seizes upon
the political pabulum with his teeth, and tears it
to pieces. Happily, 'his first spring is in complete