page_title: Luxborough Galley
section_title: Survivors
hierarchical_section_title: Luxborough Galley / Survivors
caption_attribution_description: English: The yawl of the Luxborough Galley
context_page_description: The Luxborough Galley was an English ship involved in a notorious maritime incident during the 18th century.
context_section_description: The escape on the boat left those fleeing in a precarious situation, with no food or water, no compass, and ill-prepared for an ocean voyage to safety. Some of those on board the yawl, decrying their predicament, proposed to relieve their craft's burden by casting the alleged instigators of the blaze, the two boys, into the ocean. This was overruled, and the captain vetoed a proposal to settle the matters by allotment. The later deaths of some occupants made this unnecessary.
  The Luxborough's crew were adrift for two weeks, and their number was reduced to twelve before their rescue by fishermen off the coast of Newfoundland. The captain died the next day. They were tended to by their rescuers before setting out for a major port. Only five men reached this destination; one man went to New England and the rest reached London on 14 October. Of the few survivors, William Boys survived to the age of 74; the surgeon, Scrimsour, to 80; and George Mould died at Greenwich Hospital aged 82.
  The gruesome details of the survivors of the Luxborough Galley appeared in notices in newspapers. In September, the Evening Post and others reprinted the ghoulish report of the Boston Gazette. An account of the incident was the subject of a 1787 book by William Boys, the son of one survivor, Commodore William Boys, R.N. (c. 1700–1774), who had risen through the ranks to become lieutenant-governor of Greenwich Hospital.
  The Penny Magazine of 1834 reproduced part of Boys' narrative, comparing it to the later disaster of the sinking of Royal George. The narrative detailed the journey leading up to the sinking, and the means by which they navigated, improvised a sail, and obtained a meagre amount of water. The frank account of the fifth day of the voyage gave the recipe for their continued survival,
  The sensation of hunger was not so urgent, but we all saw the necessity of recruiting our bodies with some more substantial nourishment, and it was at this time we found ourselves impelled to adopt the horrible expedient of eating part of the bodies of our dead companions, and drinking their blood. Our surgeon, Mr. Scrimsour, a man of the utmost humanity, first suggested the idea, and, resolute to set us an example, ate the first morsel himself; but, at the second mouthful, turned his face away from as many as he could and wept. With great reluctance we brought ourselves to try different parts of the bodies of six, but could relish only the hearts, of which we ate three. We drank the blood of four. By cutting the throat a little while after death, we collected a little more than a pint from each body. Here I cannot but mention the particular respect shown by the men to the officers, for the men who were employed in the melancholy business of collecting the blood in a pewter bason that was in the boat, and the rest of the people, would never touch a drop till the captain, surgeon, and myself had taken as much as we thought proper. And I can truly affirm, we were so affected by this strong instance of their regard that we always left them a larger share than of right belonged to them. This expedient, so shocking in relation, and so distressing to us in the use, was undoubtedly the means of preserving those who survived, as we constantly found ourselves refreshed and invigorated by this nourishment, however unnatural.
  We often saw birds flying over our heads, and fish playing round the boat's stern, which we strove to catch with our hat-bands knotted together, and a pin for a hook, baited with a piece of the dead men's bodies; but with all our contrivance could not catch either fish or bird.
  John Nichols mentions Boys' work in his Literary Anecdotes, and ends his retelling of the events by remarking on the "very great age" of the few survivors. A series of paintings detailing the events was displayed by the younger Boys in his parlour, according to Thomas Pennant.
  Another series of small paintings, attributed to John Cleveley the Elder in 1727, are assumed to be reproductions of the same; these were acquired by the Greenwich Hospital and are now part of th
caption: The survivors, with improvised sail, in the mid-Atlantic. Cleveley, c. 1727.[3]
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