The Sun.
London, England, 1868-12-21 00:00:00

THE SUN, LONDON, MONDAY EVENING, DECEMBER 21, IE6B.

MISCELLANEOUS NETVS.

every case without exception—the majority of the
juries who tried the Fenian prisoners in Ireland were
Roman Catholics, principally of the middle class—a
strong proof that Fenianism had never any hold on the
really influential portion of the Irish community.
But it is this very class of the community that is
now most prominent in petitioning for the release of
the men whom their former verdicts condemned, and
it may from this be inferred that they no longer
entertain the smallest dread of the Brotherhood—a
sentiment that must be now be pretty general
throughout Britain.
OVEREND, GURNEY, AND CO. AGAIN.
It was bad a lough to be ruined in fortune, and
subjected to bitter commercial degradation—and all
this the unfortunate, or, as some may no doubt
think, the culpable directors in the above unfortunate
concern have already suffered. Worse, however,
remains to be encountered. Some time ago certain
shareholders in the once flourishing and eminent
bank applied for a criminal summons against th'
directors, and lodged information before the Lord
Mayor in justification of their application. This
summons has been at last granted, and is made
returnable on the Ist of January next. The pro-
ceedings, it is true, may lead to nothing, but the mere
fact of their having to appear before the chief
magistrate of the city on such a charge will be keenly
felt by men who once stood so high in the estimation
of their fellow citizens. Some excuse must, however,
be made for shareholdershaving resorted t.)so extreme
a measure, for the men whom they accuse have caused
more misery than results from scores of crimes, and
if there be really any ground for believing that the
law has been infringed by the persons accused,
there can be no reason whatever why high station in
the commercial world, or misfortune affecting their
own pecuniary interests, should shield them from the
consequences of acts which have proved so ruinous to
thousands.

THE -WRECK OF THE HIBERNIA.

(From the Anglo-American Times.)
The loss of oneof thegreat passenger steamersply-
ing between New York and Great Britain is an event
too important, touching us too nearly, to pass un-
noticed. The Hibernia of the Anchor line left
New York, Nov. 14, for Glasgow, with 74 pas-
sengers and a crew of 59. On the 24th she was
within seven hundred miles of Ireland, and la-

bouring in a heavy gale when the accident
happened, which sealed her doom. The shaft
of the screw broke, while the screw hung on and
beat in the stern posts, making a leak so for-

midable that it was found impossible to keep the

ship afloat. Next morning when the day broke
_ .

:here were ten feet of water in the hold, and as the

ship was gradually settling down—•the boats—five

n number—were lowered, which was done by

orders. Officers and seamen were told off to each

boat, and the passengers divided amongst them.
The boats were provisioned and supplied with fresh
water, and a few minutes after seven o'clock they
pushed off from the sinking ship. Ten minutes
later the Hibernia went down, stern foremost, and
the heavily laden boats were left alone on the ocean.
With one, the struggle was soon over, for in a few

minutes after, the boat under the command of the
chief mate capsized, and 33 persons were drowned
before the eyes of the others, who were help-
less to assist. In the evening, the captain's

boat, in a very leaky condition, was picked up
by the Star of Hope on her way from Quebec to
Aberdeen. Her captain appears to have acted cre-

ditably, for she was kept cruising 30 hours to find
the missing boats, and of the three unaccounted for
she was successful in picking one. Of the remaining
two but one reached the coast of Donegal, with three
survivors, under Mr. Davies, the second officer. It
requires no great effort of imagination to depict
the horrors suffered by these unfortunate persons
thus drifting in mid-winter for hundreds of miles
over a stormy ocean to be cast on the shores of Ire-
land. On the day the ship sank two of the passen-
gers jumped overboard, and thus perished. Next
day another died, and on that following, two women
and three children. The boat afterwards capsized,
and sixteen others were drowned. For four hours
she lay bottom upwards, when the three sur-
vivors managed to turn her over and get in
again. These few words convey a very in-
adequate idea of the horrors endured. Ship-
wreck assumes different aspects ; there is the
hurl ashore on the crest of huge breakers—the
seething, maddened sea leaping in foam, and dash-
ing with a violence nature only can withstand on
the rock-bound coast=then there is a cry, and
amidst the smash all life is gone, save, perhaps,
that of some stranded wretch cast like a chip on the
beach, and left insensible by the, receding side.
That is the battle of shipwreck—short, sharp, and
decisive ; dying in the whirl of excitement, and with
the imagination fascinated by the horrors of the
scene. But far more agonizing is the great ship in
mid ocean hopelessly sinking with her living burden.
Even the struggle to avoid the land can scarcely
equal the yearning for a look on earth in the hearts
of those thus doomed to a grave which forbids even
the chance of being thrown ashore for Christian
burial. Around is the endless line of the tossing wa-
ters, without a living thing to break it save perhaps
the sea-bird's wing, while inch by inch the vessel
sinks, the last moments allotted now seeming to
fly, now hang in unutterable sloth. There is some-
thing unspeakably awful in thus waiting for a sure
doom, this drawing on of fate, hour by hour, while
the vessel rolls and plunges ; the sea and the appear-
ance of the ship little marking the change. 'T he
gay transport has become the sepulchre, and the
fellow-passengers, separated from mankind, are
now numbered among the dead within this tomb,
while yet in health. There is none of the strife for
life when the heart in its excitement battles against
its end, the imagination not being racked by a full,
long, and horrified gaze on death; it is a dull, leaden,
crushing attempt at passive resignation, realizing in
all its amplitude that one word—Despair. Out of
ten men three cannot endure it, and BYRON never
wrote a truer couplet than this in describing the
shipwreck of I)on Juan—
" And some jumped overboard with dreadful yell,
As eager to anticipate their grave."
In the London it is said passengers loaded their re-
volvers, though we know not if they used them ;
many, rush into drunkenness ; others, unable to
stand the mental strain, break into madness; most
endeavour to make their peace with GOD, but
not a few burst into imprecations in the bitterness
of their hearts, and die raving against their CREATOR.
On board the Evening Star the scene described was
marvellous ; the cabins became strewn with the
finery on which the hearts of the unfortunate women
then bound to New Orleans were set, and they
decorated themselves, heaping on their jewellery, as
if in caricature of the occasion. The imagination
more readily pictures the suffering when the ship is
dashed to pieces on the rocks than the ship slowly
sinking at sea; yet, it is the short, sharp death
against death by slow torture. It is true that the
boats remain ; and sometimes, though not in the in-
stance of the London, there is still a struggle for life,
with hope yet in Pandora's box. Supposing, as was
the case with the Hibernia, the ocean permitted the
launching of these craft, those only who know can tell
the horrors which follow even the successful opera-
tion. There is the cockle-shell dancing on the
spray, below the huge water-logged, heavily rolling
ship, now cast up to the davits, then far beneath,
now driven on with a surging wave till jerked back
by the painter, then crashing into the ship's side,
threatening in her mad, restless action annihilation
to herself. The passengers get in and the ship sinks
in a few minutes, as did the Hibernia —then, let
our readers try to picture what the position is. The
world appears to have sink with the vessel. All
eyes till then rested on the great object which can
alone attract them. For a moment she steadies,
then lurches heavily astern, down goes the poop
and up rises the bows, as if making a last appeal to
HEAVEN, and in a moment more, the boats are all
alone on the wide, wide sea. Perhaps some may
think who have often traversed the ocean that
they can conceive the position, that they can in a
certain degree realize the thoughts, but the change
from a great ship to an open boat in a storm on
the Atlantic can only be known to those who have
experienced it. Now, the passengers are looking
abroad from the crest of a wave with the round line
of the horizon near them on every side, and they
gaze over nothing but a tossing, angry, and jumbled
sea. A moment more, they seem about to be en-
gulphed, for the water on all sides is toppling over
them; before, a big wave is rolling swiftly away, be-
hind a big wave is rolling swiftly up—to the right is
an irregularity on the one before or the one behind,
with a similar projection to the left, giving the im-
pression that the boat is in a hollow, an ocean lake
encircled with sea mountains, a notion scarcely to
be dispelled that the water is closing to swallow all
up. There is a noise of a falling mass from the
jerked-up wave, which turns brilliantly green as its
ridge curls between them and the sky, and on rushes
the billow, leaving behind a seething white creamy
foam; again they are on the rushing crest, the sea
all white around, and spray dashing in drenching
showers, with green water leaping over the gun-
wales as it hurries by, the dull monotonous wash, be-
ing incessantly heard of that already shipped. But
however awful without, the case is ever worse within
the boat. Women and children lie huddled at the
bottom, the rain falls in bitterly cold showers, and
the salt sea is splashed in bucketsful over them.
Then arise the wailing of the young, the moans of the
old, and a leaden despair is stamped on every face.
Literally it is leaden, for the countenance assumes
another complexion as well as another expression.
There is the change from irritation into madness,
and a maniac threatens instant destruction to the
frail craft. There is the cry for water, the irresist-
ible attraction to drink of the sea, the recoil from
the salt ; and that greatest of agonies, the thirst
which makes men mad before they die. Then the
strong contrast, as if some had the nature of angels,
and others that of fiends; self-abnegation in its
noblest form, and selfishness in its vilest shape. Can
we wonder in such a scene that despair enters the
heart; and resigning the last hope, men jump over-
board, eager to anticipate their fate, unable to with-
stand the longing for the crisis—Lost ! or Saved ! We
give this slight sketch not to excite sensational emo-
tions, but to awaken people to a terrible reality. The