The Sun.
London, England, 1854-12-11 00:00:00

THE HENRI Ir.
___

The following letter ha; been received from the
Abbe Bertrand, Chaplain of the Henri IV., on the
occasion of the wreck of that vessel :
" OFF THE COAST OF EUPATORIA, Nov. 18,—Our
magnificent ship was wrecked on the 14th at 6 o'clock
in the evening. The tempest commenced at 7 in the
morning, and, in spite of all our care, our activity, end
our energy, we had to yield to its violence. &lice our ar-
rival in the bay of Eupatoria we had two anchors thrown
out, because the approach of winter was felt, and it was
necessary to guard against the bad weather. When the
hurricane came on the captain had out a third anchor and
a fourth. We thought we should be able to resist. Alas,
no l The Henri IV. was destined to share the fate of
several other vessels that were hourly broken to pieces on
the coast. What a terrible spectacle ! The sea was
furious, and bellowed so as to prevent us from hearing
each other, and the ship groaned beneath the blows she
received from it. The whole of the furniture was flung
from one part to the other with the rapidity of a rail-
road. I had remained in the captain's cabin after break-
felt, and while he was on the quarter-deck in order to
direct the movements of the' vessel every article in the
room was flung from one side to another, and for my
•wn part I was near 10-ing my senses. We resisted
for a good while ; though two of our chains had
broken, we held en with two, and the wind began to
calm down. But what a sad thing it was to see tke beach,
on which a dozen merchant vessels had been just dashed
to pieces. Alas ! such also was the fate reserved for
us. About half-past five o'clock the captain and I were
about to sit down to dinner when all of a sudden we
felt a shock, and a man rushed in and cried out,
' Captain, the two last chains have just been broken.'
' The two chains broken l' the captain said ; ' impos-
sible !' He went up on deck again, which he had only
left five minutes before. It was but true—the ship
was en her beam ends. There was no further hope ;
the sea and the wind were too violent for us to hope
to get out to sea. We had only to resign ourselves
to our fate. All that was left fcr us was to be
thrown on that part of the coast where the bottom
was sandy. You cannot have an idea of the anguish we
all felt, expecting every moment the first shock when
the ship touched the ground. We did feel the first
shock, the second, the third, and yet the good ship held
out. We were aground, but we knew not at what dis-
tance from the shore, as we were in darkness. The
weather continued awful. At last the day dawned, and
we found ourselves at 200 metres from the shore, and
our ship had not a single drop of water in her hold. At
some yards from us a Turkish vessel had been wrecked
at 11 o'clock that night, three hours after us. She drove
on a bank, which threw her on her side, and the whole of
the crew we saw clinging to the masts and shrouds, not
being able to remain on the deck, which was completely
under water. At last, after a night passed in indescri-
bable anguish, fearing each moment that the ship was
opening asunder, the day dawned, and we found our-
selves so near land that, in the event of any great acci-
dent occurring, it would not be difficult to save ourselves.
Fortunately our ship is new, five years having scarcely
elapsed since she was launched. We shall all be saved,
as well as the stores. We are, however, on the enemy's
coast, and the Cossacks, who crowded down to us is
the morning, have been received with musketry. Ido
not think they will return in haste. Oh ! that Sebas-
topol were once taken ! Perhar swe are to remain here
until the ship is got off, and she is so noble and so beau-
tiful a vessel that it would be a pity to abandon her.
For the present, however, we have nothing to fear."