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[From the Dublin University Magazine ] >
THE GHOST AND THE BONE-SETTER
“ Why, thin, 'tis a quare an’ as |
tbrqp as you’re sittin' there . ami I*d make j
bould to gayrfhere isn't a hoy in the seven
parashes could tell it better nor crickthcr
thap myself, for ’(was my father himself it
happened to, an' tnanys the time I hcerd
it out iv his own mouth ; an’ I can say, an’
I’m proud a? that flame, my father’s word
was as incredible as any squire’s oath in
the counthry ; and so signs an’ if a poor
man got. into any unlucky throuble, he
was the boy id go into the court an’ prove;
but that dosen’t signify—-he was as hon
est and as sober a man, barriu’ he was a
little .bit too partial to the glass, as you’d
find in a day’s xvalk; an’ there wasii’t the
likes of him in the counthry round for
nate labourin’ and baan diggin’ ; and he
was mighty handy entirely for carpenther’s
work, and mendin’ ould spudetlirees, an’
the likes i’ that. An’ so he tuck up with
bone-setting, as was most nathural, for
none of them could come up to him in
mendin’ the leg iv a stool or a tabic; an’
sure, there never was a bone-setter got so
much custon —man an’ child, young an’
ould—there never was such break in’ an’
mendin’ of bones known in the memory
of man. Well, Terry Neil, for that was
my father’s name, began to feel his heart
growin’ light and his purse heavy; and he
took a bit iv a farm in Squire Phalinn’s
ground, just undher the ould castle, an’
a pleasant little spot it was; an’ day and
mornin,’ poor crathurs not able to put a
foot to the ground, with broken arms and
broken legs, id be coinin’ ramblin’ in from
all quarters to have their bones spliced up.
Well, yer honour, all this was as well as
well could be : but it was customary when
Sir Phelim id go any where out iv the
country, for some iv the tinants to set up
to watch in the ould castle, just for a kind
«fa compliment to the ould family— an’
a mighty unpleasant compliment it was
for the tinants, for there wasn’t a man of
them but knew there was something quaro
about the Quid castle. The neighbors
had it, that the squire’s old grandfather,
as good a gintlcman, Ciod be with lain, as
1 heer’d as ever stood in shoe leather, us
ed to keep walkin’ about in the middle iv
the night, ever sinst he bursted a blood
vessel pullin’ out a cork out iv a bottle,
as you or I might be doin’, and w ill too, j
plase God ; but that dosen’t signify. So,
as I was sayin’, the ould squire used to !
come down out of. the frame, where his j
picthur was hung up, and to brake the i
bottles and glasses, God be marciful to j
us all, an’ dhrink all he could come at —
an’ small blame to hitn for that same ;
and then if any of iho family id be coinin’
in, he id be up again in his place, look
ing as quite au’ innocent as if he didn’t
know any thing about it—the mischiev
ous ould chap.
“Well, your honour, as I was sayin’,
one time the family up at the castle was
stayin’ in Dublin for a week or two ; and
so as usual, some of the tenants had to sit
up in the castle, and the third night it keiri
to my father’s turn. ’Oh tare an ouns,’
says he unto himself, ‘an’ must I sit up all
night, and that ould vagabond of a sperit,
glory be to God,’ says he, ‘serenading
through the house, an’ doin’ all sorts iv
misehief.’ However, there was no gettin’
alf, and so he put a hould face on it, an’
lie went up at night-fall with a bottle of
pottieen, aud another of holy wathcr.
“ft was rainin' smart enough, an’ the
evenin’ was darksome ami gloomy, when
my father got in; and what with the rain
he got, aud the holy wathcr he sprinkled
on himself, it wasn’t long till he had to!
swailce a cup iv the pottieen, to keep the 1
cowdd out iv his heart. It was the ould '
steward, Lawrence Connor, that opened I
the door—and he an’ my father wor always
very great. So when he seen who it was,
au’ my father toultl him ho>v it was his
turn to watch in the castle, he off.rcd to
sit up atong with him; and you inny be !
sure ray father w asn’t sorry for that same, j
So says Larry.
“ ‘Wc’II have a bit iv a fire in the par
lor/-says he.
“ ‘An’ why not in the hall?’ says my
father, for he knew that the squire’s pic
thur was hung in the parlour.
“ ‘No fire can be lit in the hall,’ says
Lawrence, ‘for there’s au old jack-daw’s
nest in the chimney.’
“ *Oh thin,’says my father, ‘let us stop
in the kitchen, for it's very unproper for
the likes iv me to be siltin’ in the parlor,’
says he.' ‘
“Oh, Terry, that can't he,' says Law
rence; ‘if we keep up the ould custom at
ail, we may as well keep it up properly,’!
says he.
“ * Divil sweep the ould custom,’ says j
my father.—to himself, do ye tointf, for he
didn’t like to let Lawrence see that he
was more afeard himself.
“ ‘Oh, very well,’ says he; ‘l’m agree-j
able, Lawrence,’ says he; and so down
they both went to the kitchen, until the 1
fire id be lit in the parlor—an’ that same
wasn’t long doin’.
“Well, your honour, they soon wint up
again, an’ sat down mighty comfortable
by th« parlor fire, and they beginn’d to
talk, an*%p amoke, an’ to dhrink a small
taste iv the pottieen; and, moreover, they
had a good rdusing fire of bogwood and
turf, to warm their shins over.
“Well, sir, as I was saying’, they kep
cotivarsin’ aud smokin’ together most a
greeable, until Lawrence beginn’d to get
sleepy, as was but nathural for him, for
he was an ould sarviutman, and was used
to a great dale of sleep.
“ ‘Sure it’s impossible,’ says inv father,
“it s gettin’ efeepy you are!’
“ ‘Oh; divil a taste,’ says Larry, ‘l’m
only shuttin’ my eyes,’ says he, ‘to keep
out the parfumc of the tibacky smoke,
that’s makin’ them wather/ says he. ‘So
don’t you mind other people’s business,’
says he, stiff enough, (for he had a mighty
high stomach av his own, rest his soul,)
‘and go on,” says he, ‘with your story, for
; I’m listenin’ says he, shuttin’ down his
i eyes.
“Well, when my father seen spakin was
no use, he went on with his story. By i
the same token, it was the story of Jim
Sooiivan aud his ould goat he was telliu’
—an’ a pleasant story it is—an’ there was
so much divarsion it in, that it was enough
! to waken a dormouse, let alone topervint
a Christian goin’ asleep. But, faix, the
way my father tould it, I believe there
1 never was the likes heerd sinst nor before,
for he bawled out every word av it, as if
the life was fairly leavin’ him, thrying to
keep ould Lary awake; but, faix, it was
no use, for the hoorsness came an him,
an’ before he kem to the end of his story,
Larry O’Connor heginn’d to snore like a
bagpipes.
“ ‘Oh, blur an’ ngres,TayiTmy father,
‘isn’t this a hard case,’ says he, ‘that ould
villain, lettin' on to be my friend, and to
go asleep this way, an’ us both in the very
room with a sperit,’ says he. ‘The crass
o’ Christ about us,’ says he; and with
that he was goin’ to shake Lawrence to
waken him, but he just renumbered if lie
roused him, that he’d surely go off to his
bed, ail’ lave him coinplately alone, an’
that id he by far worse.
“ ‘Oh thin,’ says my father, ‘l’ll not
disturb the poor boy. It id lie neither
friendly nor good-natlmred,” says lie, ‘to
tormint him while he is asleep,’ says lie ;
‘only 1 wish I was the same way myself,’
says he.
“An’ with that he beginned to walk up
an’ down, an’ sayin’ bis prayers, until he
worked himself into a sweat, savin’ your
| presence. But it was all no good ; so he
|dhruuk about a pint of sperits, to coni
] pose bis mind.
“ ‘Oil,’ says he, ‘I wish to the Lord I
was as easy in my mind us I.arry there.
Maybe,’says he, ‘if I tliried I could go a
sleep;’ an’ with that lie pulled a big arm
chair close beside Lawrence, an’ settled
witnself in it as well as he could.
“But there was one quare thing 1 for
got to tell you. He couldn’t help, in
spite av himself, lookin’ now an’ thin at,
the picthur, an’ he immediately observed j
that the eyes a v it was tolly in’ him about,
an’ starin’ at him, an’ winkin' at him,!
wherever he wint. ‘Oh,’ says he, when j
he seen that, ‘it’s a poor chance l have,’
says he; ‘an’ bad luck was with me
the day 1 kem into this unfortlituiate
place,’says lie; ‘but any way there’s no
; use in bein’ freckened now,’ snvs he; ‘for
j if 1 am to die, 1 may as well parspire un
daunted,’ says he.
“Well, your honour, he tliried to keep
lhmseif quite an’ asv, an’ lie thought two
j or three times he might have wint asleep,
I but for the way the storm was groanin’
jand crcekin’ through the great heavy
| branches outside, an’ whistlin’ through
the ould chimnies iv the castle. Well,
after one great roarin’ blast iv the wind,
you’d think the walls iv the castle was
just goin’ to fall, quite an’ claue with the
shakin’ iv it. All of a suddiat the storm
stopt, as silent an’ as quite as if it was a
July evenin’. Well, your honour, it wasn’t
stopped blowin’ for three minutes, before
he thought he hard a sort iv a noise over
the chimney piece; an’ with that my fath
er just opened his eyes the smallest taste
in life, an’ sure enough he seen the ould
squire gettin’ out iv the picthur, for all
world as if he was throw in’ all’ his ritlin’
coat, until he stept out claue ail’ com
plete, out av the chimney-piece, an’ thrun
himself down an the lloor. Well, the
slieveen ould chap—an’ my father thought
it was the dirtiest turn iv all —before he
beginned to do anything out iv the way,
he stopped, lor a w hile, to listen wor they
both asleep; an’ as soon as he thought all
! was quite, lie put out his hand, and tuck
hold iv the whiskey bottle, an’ dliranke at
I luste a pint iv it. Well, your honour,
j when he tuck his turn out iv it, lie settled
it hack mighty cute intirely, in the very
same spot it was in before. An’ he be
ginned to walk up au’ down the room,
j lookin’ as sober ail’ as solid as if he nev
er done the likes-at all. An’ whiuever lie
; went apast my father, he thought lie felt
| a great scent of brimstone, ail’ it was that
j that freckened him entirely; for lie knew
{it was brimstone that was burned in hell,
savin’your presence. At any rate, he
often heer’d it from Father Murphy, an’
he had a right to krnnv what belonged to
J it—he’s dead since—God rest him. Well,
| your honour, my father was asy enough
. until the sperit kem past him ; so close,
God be marciful to us all, that the smell
iv the sulphur tuck the breath claue out
iv him ; an’ with that he tuck such a fit
iv coughin’, that it al-a-most shuck him
out iv the chair he was sittiu’ in.
| “ ‘IIo, ho!” says the squire, stoppin’
.short about two steps all’, and turnin’
round facin’ my father, ‘is it you that’s in
it?—an’ how’s all with you, Terry Neil?
, “ ‘At your honour’s sarvice,’ says my
I father (as well as the fright id let hun, for
he was more dead than alive,) ‘an’ it’s
proud I am to see your honour to-night,’
says he.
‘ 1 erence,’ says the squire, ‘you’re a
respectable man (an’ it was thrucYor him),
an industhrious, sober man. an’ au exam-;
pie of inebriety to the whole parish,’ says]
he.
“ ‘Thank your honour,’ says my fath-
geft in’courage,‘you .were always a
BRUNSWICK ADVOCATE.
civil spoken gintlcman, God rest ;our j
honour.’
“ ‘Rest my honour,’ says the sferitj
(fairly gettin’ red in the face with the 1
madness,) ‘Rest my honour?’ says lie —j
‘Why, vou ignorant spalpeen, says by,,
‘you mane, niggarly ignorsmush,’ inys
he, ‘where did you lave your manners?’
saye he. ‘lf lam dead, it’s no fault iv
mine,’ says lie; ‘an’ it’s not to he thrun in
my teeth at every hand’s turn, by the Ikes
iv you,’ says he, stampin’ his foot an the
llure, that you’d think the boords id sirash!
under him.
“ ‘Oh,’ says my father, ‘l’m only abol
ish, ignorant, poor man,’ says he.
“ ‘You’re nothing else,’ says the sqiire;
‘but any way,’ says he, ‘it’s not to b« lis
tenin’ to yottrgosther, nor convarsin* with
the likes iv you, that I came up —down I
mane,’says he, —(an’ as little as the mis
take was, my father tuck notice iv r.) —
‘Listen to tne now,’ Terence Neil,’says
he, ‘I was always a good inasther to JSath
rick Neil, your grandfather,* says he.
“ ‘Tis thrue for your honour,’ says my
father. ~
“ ‘And, moreover, I think I wss al
ways a sober, riglar gintlcman, says the
squire.
“ ‘That’s your name, sure enough,’j
says my father (though it was a big lie]
for him, but he could not help it.)
“ ‘Well,’ says the sperit, although I was]
as sober as most men—at lnste as nost
gintlemen’—says he; ‘an’ though I was at
different pariods a most extemporary
Christian, and most charitable and inun- i
man to the poor,’says lie: ‘for all that I’m
not as asy where I am now,* says lie, ‘as!
I had a right to expect,’ says he.
“ ‘An’ more’s the pity,’ says my father;
‘maybe your honour id wish to have a 1
word with Father Murphy?’
“ ‘llould your tongue, you mishenble
Niggard,’ says the squire, ‘it’s not iv my i
sowl I’m tbinkiii’—an’l wondher you’d j
have the impitence to talk to a gintlcman
consaruin’ liis soul; —and when I want i
that fixed,’ says he, slappin’ his thigh, ‘l’ll.
go to them that knows what belongs to
the likes,’ says lie. Tts not my sowl, says ]
lie, sittin’down opposite my lather; it’s
not mv sow! that’s annoyin’ me most—l’m
nnasy on mv right leg,’ says lie, ‘that I
brack at Glenvnrloch cover the day 1 kill
ed black Barney.’
(“My father found out afther, it wss a I
favourite horse that fell undher him, af
ther leapin’ the big fmee that runs along
by the glen.)
“ ‘I hope,’ says my father, Hour hon
our’s not nnasy about the killin’ iv him? i
“ ‘llould your tongue, ye fool,’ said the
squire,‘an’ I’ll tell you why I’m anasy an
my lesj,’ says lie. ‘ln the place, where 1
spend most iv my time,’ says lie, ‘except
the little leisure 1 have for lookin’ about
me here,’ says lie,’ I have to walk a great
dale more than I was ever used to,’ says
lie, ‘ and by far more than is good for me
either,’ says lie; ‘ for I must tell you,’
says lie, 1 the people where I am is uncom
monly fond iv could wather, for there is
nothin’ betther to be had; an,’ moreover,
the weather is hotter than is altogether
plisint,’ says lie; ‘ and I’m appinted,’ says
he,’ to assist in carryin* the wather, an’
gets a mighty poor share iv it nivsell,’
says lie, ‘ an’ a mighty throublesotne,
warin’ job it is, I can tell you,’ says he;
‘for they’re all of them surprisingly dliry,
and drinks it ns last as my legs can carry
it,’ says lie; ‘but what kills me entirely,’
says he, ‘ is the wakeness in tny leg,’ says
he, * an’ I want you to give it a pull or
two to bring it to shape,’ says he, ‘ kind
that’s the long an’ the short iv it,’ says he.
“ ‘Oh, plase your honour,’ says my lath
er (for he didn’t like to handle the spirit
at all,) ‘ I wouldn’t have the impitencte to
do the likes to your honour,’ says he; ‘it’s
only to poor crathurs life myself I'd do
it to,’ says he.
“ ‘None iv your blarney,’ says the
squire, ‘here’s my leg,’ says he cockin' it
up to him, ‘pull it for the bare life,’ jays
he; an’ if you don’t ‘by the immortal pow
ers I'll not lave a bone in your carcisli I’ll
not poudher,’ says he.
“When inv father heerd that, lie seen
there was no use in purtendin,’ so he tuck
hold iv the leg, an’ he kep pullin’ an’ pull
in,’ till the sweet, God bless us, beginned
to pour down his lace.”
“‘Pull, you divil,’ says the squire.
“ ‘At your sarvice, your honour,’ lavs
my father.
“‘Pull harder,’ says the squire.
“My father pulled like the divil.
“‘l’ll take a iitttle sup,’ says the squire,
I rackin' over his hand to the bottle,‘to
keep up my courage,’ says ho, lettin’ an
to be very wake in himself intirely. But
as cute as he was, he was out here, for
he tuck the wrong one. ‘Here’s to your
good health, Terence,’ says he, ‘an’ now
pull like the very divil,’ an’ with that he
lifted the bottle of holy w ather, but it was
hardly to his mouth, when he let a screech
out, you’d think the room id fairly split
with it, an’ made one chuck that sent the
leg claue ass his body in niv father’s hands;
down wint the squire over the table, an’
bang wint tny father half way across the
room on his back, upon the llure. Whin
he kem to himself the cheerful mornin’
sun was shinin’ through the windy shut
thers, an’ he was lying fiat an his back,
with the leg iv one of the great ould chairs
pulled clane out iv the socked an’ tight in
his hand, pintin' up to the ccilin,' an' ould
Larry fast asleep, an’ snorin’ as loud as
ever. My father wint that mornin’ to
Father Murphy, an’ from that to the day
of his death, he never neglected confission
nor mass, an’ what he tould was betther
believed that he spoke av it but seldom.
An*, as for the squire, that is the sperit, |
whether it was that he did not like his
liquor, or by fason iv the loss iv his leg,
he was never known to w alk again.”
LOSS OF THE STEAMER PULASKI
AND DESTRUCTION OF MORE THAN
ONE HUNDRED LIVES.
We give below, from the Wilmington Ad
vertiser, the first account of this awful calami
ty. Words are all too weak to give expres
sion to the deep, and heartfelt emotions of hor
ror with which we receive this intelligence.
Not a circumstance, even of accident, allevi
ates the grief of the many surviving friends
and relatives of those, who have perished by
this fatal event; not the most minute fact as
yet appears in mitigation of the murderous
guilt of those whose gross negligence, or whose
childish ambition have occasioned this wide
spread destruction.
From the Wilmington Advertiser, extra, June
18th.
HEART-RENDING CATASTROPHE!!
Loss of the steam packet Pulaski, with a crew
of 37, and Job or JGO Passengers.
On Thursday, Nth inst. tlie steamer Pulas
ki, Capt. Dubois, left Charleston for Baltimore
with about 150 passengers, of whom about 50
were ladies.
At about 11 o’clock on the same night,
while off the North Carolina coast, say 80
miles from land, weather moderate and night
dark—tiie starboard boiler exploded and the
vessel was lost, with all the passengers and
crew except those whose names are enumerat
ed among the saved in the list below.
We have gathered the following facts from
the Ist mate, Mr. Ilibberd, who had charge of
the boat at the time. Mr. Ilibberd states that
at 10 o’clock at night he was called to the com
mand of the boat and that he was pacing the
promenade deck in front of the steerage
house, —that he found himself shortly after up
on the main deck, lying between the mast and
side ot the boat—-that upon the return of con
sciousness, lie had a confused idea of having
heard an explosion, something like that of gun
powder, immediately before he discovered him
self in his then situation. He was induced,
therefore, to rise and walk aft, where he dis
covered that the boat midships was blown en
tirely to pieces; that the head of the starboard
boiler was blown out, and the top torn open—
that the timbers and plank on the starboard
side were forced asunder, and that the boat
took in water whenever she rolled in that di- 1
rection. lie became immediately aware of j
the horrors of their situation, and the danger of!
letting the passengers know that the boat was j
sinking, before lowering the small boats. Ifc j
proceeded thcretore to do this. Upon drop- i
ping the boat, lie was asked his object, and he !
replied that it was to pass around the steamer i
to ascertain her condition. Before doing this,
how ever, he took in a couple of men. He or
dered the other boats to be lowered and tw o
! were shortly put into the water, but they leak
ed so much in consequence of their long ex-
I posure to the sun, that one of them stink after
j a fruitless attempts to bail her.
He had in the interim taken several from
| the water until the number made ten. In the
j other boat afloat there were eleven. While
| they were making a fruitless attempt to bail
] the small boat, the Pulaski went down with a
1 dreadful crash—in about 45 minutes after the
| explosion. Both boats now insisted upon Mr.
11libberd’s directing their course to the shore
| but he resisted their remonstrances; replying
j that he w ould not abandon the spot until day”
I light. At about 8 o’clock in the morning, they
started in the midst of the wailing of the
hopeless beings, who were floating around in
every direction, upon pieces of wreck, to seek
land which was about thirty miles distant
After pulling about 13 hours, the persons in
both boats became tired and insisted that Mr.
Ilibberd should land; this lie opposed, thinking
it safest to proceed along the coast and to en
ter someone of its numerous inlets, but lie
was at length forced to yield to the general
desire, ana to attempt a landing upon the
beach, a little east of Stump inlet. He advis
ed Mr. Couper, who had command of the other
boat, and a couple of ladies with two children
under his charge, to wait until his boat had
first landed, as he apprehended much danger
in the attempt, and should they succeed, they
might assist him and the ladies and children.
There were eleven persons in the mate’s boat,
(having taken two black women from Mr.
Couper’s.) Os these, two passengers, one of
the crew, and the two negro women were
drowned, and six gained the shore.
After waiting for a signal, which lie receiv
] cd from the mate, Mr. Couper and his compan
i ions landed in about three hours after the first
j boat, in safety. They then proceeded a short
] distance across Stump Sound, to Mr. Redd’s,
jof Onslow county, where they remained from
j Friday evening until Sunday morning, and
i then started for Wilmington.* The mate and
J two passengers reached here this morning,
(18th June) about !> o’clock,
j Thus have we hurriedly sketched the most
j painful catastrophe that has ever occurred up
on the American coast Youth, aue, and in
fancy have here been cutoff in a single night,
and found a common death under the same
billow'.
‘•Days, months, years anil ages will circle ■
away,
And still the vast waters will over them roll.”
Wc have never seen a deeper sensation per
vade onr community than the reception of this
i intelligence has produced. The profoundest
sympathy is engraved on every countenance,
| and all wear tire aspect of those sorrowing for
their own dead. We feel assured that all feel
an anxious solicitude to alleviate the distress
of those unfortunate survivors who may come
among us, and vehicles have already been sent
out to bring them into our town, and provision
made for their reception,
j. Passengers tcho left Charleston.
' Mrs. Nightingale and servant, Mrs. Fraser;
and child, Mrs. Wilkins and child, Mrs. Win. j
Mackay, child and servant, Miss A Parkman, I
; Miss C. Parkman, Miss T. Parkman, Mrs. j
Hutchison, two children and servant, Mrs. La
. niar, Miss R. Lamar, Miss M. Lamar, Miss R.,
| S. Lamar, Miss E. Lamar, Mrs. Dunham, Mrs. i
! Gumming and servant, Mrs. Stewart and scr-j
vant, Mrs. Wort, Mrs. Taylor, Mrs. Wagner,
! child and servant, Miss Drayton, Mrs. Pringle
I and child, Miss Pringle and nurse. Mrs. Mur-!
I ray, Miss Murray, Mrs. Rritt, .Miss Ilealcl,
■ Mrs. Rutledge, Miss Rutledge, Mrs. 11. S. j
Ball, nurse, child and servant, Miss Trapier, i
! Mrs. T,ongworth, Mrs. F.ddings and child. Miss }
j MikeH, Mrs. (’ey and child, Miss Clarke, Mrs.
B- F. Smith, Mrs. N. Smith, Mrt. Gregory, ]
Mrs. Davis, Mrs. Hubbard, Mrs. Merritt, Miss 1
Greenwood, Gen. Heath, Col. Dunham, Maj.!
Twiggs, Judge Rochester, Judge Cameron,
Rev. E. Crofts, Rev. Mr. Murray, Dr. Stewart,
Dr. Cuinining, Dr. Wilkins, Messrs. S. B.
Parkman, G. B. Lamar, C. Lamar, W. Lamar,
T. Lamar, R. Hutchison, R. Brower, L. Liver
more, B. W. Fosdick, H. Eldridjje, C. Ward,
G. Huntington, J. H. Couper, 11. B. Nichols, L.
Bird, A. Lovejoy, W. W. Foster, J. L. Wort,
C. Hodson, W. A. Stewart, I). Ash, A. Hamil
ton, S. Miller, R. W. Pooler, R. W. Pooler, Jr.
W. C. N. Swift, A. Burns, 11. N. Carter, Prin
gle, Rutledge, H. S. Ball, Longworth, F. Mc-
Rea, T. C. Rowand, Eddings, R. Seabrook,
S. Keith, G. W. Coy, T. Whaley, W. Whaley
O. Gregorio, N. Smith, B. F. Smith, G. Y. Da
vis, R. D. Walker, E. W. James, Hubbard, J.
Auze, Bennett, Clifton, Merritt, Greenwood,
Evans, and Freeman.
Passengers saved in the two yawls.
Mrs. P. M. Nightingale, child and servant
of Cumberland Island, Ga.
Mrs. Wm. Frazer and child, St Simon’s Ga.
J. H. Couper, of Glynn county, Ga.
Capt. R. W. Pooler, Savannah, Ga.
R. W. Pooler, Jr. do.
\V T m. Robertson, Savannah, Ga.
Elias L. Barney, North. Carolina,
Solomon.
S. Hibbert, first mate Pulaski.
VV. C. N. Swift, of New Bedford, Mass.
Z. A. Lachtonberg, Munich.
Charles C.Tappan, New York.
Gideon West, New Bedford, Boatswain.
B. Brown, Steward, Norfolk.
Persons drowned in landing.
Mr. Bird of Bryan Cos. Ga.
An old gentleman from Buffalo, N. Y. and
! recently from Pensacola.
A young man, name unknown.
Jersey, a colored woman.
Priscilla, a colored woman, Stewardess.
LAT E R !
FURTHER PARTICULARS.
Office of the Wilmington Advertiser, June 20.
, 8 o’clock, A. M.
JOYFUL INTELLIGENCE FROM THOSE
WRECKED IN THE PULASKI.
We are truly gratified to state, that 80 of
the Pulaski’s passengers were picked up yes
terday morning, about ‘J o’clock, 15 or 20
miles north of the New Inlet, by the sclir.
Henry Cainerdon, on her passage from Phila
delphia to Wilmington, and were landed at
our wharf about 7 o’clock same day. Their
sufferings are more readily imagined than de
scribed.” We have not time for further partic
ulars now, but hope to despatch a 2d edition of
this extra by to-day’s 1 o’clock mail. These
unfortunate sufferers were immediately invited
to the private residences of our gentlemen,
where we feel assured every effort will be
made to soothe their cares and to alleviate
their sufferings. Vessels are now cruising
along the coast, with the hopeoT rescuing oth
ers of these unfortunate beings from a watery
grave.
We here annex the names of the 80, except
; a fireman, name unknown.
A Lovejoy, Camden County, Ga.
Maj. Heath, Baltimore.
Maj. Twiggs and son, Richmond Cos. Ga.
! Mr. Greenwood, Augusta, Ga.
] Mr. O’Gregory, do.
j Mrs. Noah Smith, do.
I Miss Rebecca Lamar, do.
Charles Lamar, Savannah.
I Robert Seabrook, Edisto Island, S. C.
j Masters T. and W. Whaley, do. do.
Mr. R. Hutchison, Savannah.
Mr. A Hamilton, Savannah, Ga.
! Capt Pearson, Baltimore.
Mr. Edings, Edisto Island, S. C.
Mr. C. Ward, Savannah.
Kitchen, Ist Engineer.
I E. Joseph, New York.
! C. W. Clifton, Canton, Mississippi.
I D. Walker and nephew, Thomas Downing,
Charleston.
Warren Freeman, Macon, Ga.
Mr. Burns, New York.
John Cape, fireman, Baltimore.
• , fireman.
Patrick and Bill, deck hands,
llhynah, a negro woman.
A negro woman belonging to Dr. Stewart.
P. S. We are happy to state that the BO
have now been one ni glit among us, and are
much refreshed by a comfortable night’s rest
—at least, all from whom we have heard, and
it is sincerely hoped that they will soon be suf
ficiently recovered to return to their friends.
Further part iculars oJ~ the loss of the Steam Pack
et Pulaski, on tlic night of the lAth instant.
We think it highly inportantto state, in the
first place, that gentlemen of unquestionable
character and judgment concur in saying, the
fatal catastrophe was caused by gross negli
gence on the part of those who had the direc
tion of the machinery. Solomon, a black
waiter on board, who had once been a fireman,
states, that a Ijttlc allcr 11 o’clock, as he turn
ed from the fire room, he heard the 2d Engin
eer, who was on duty, turn the water-cock, and
from the shrill whistle which ensued, he knew
that the water had got too low, and that there
was imminent danger. Mr. Couper, Mr. Love
joy and others,give it as their opinion, that the
blow-cock had been negligently left open—
that the boilers had been emptied—which
alarmed the Engineer, and caused him in his
fright, to fill them suddenly with fresh water.
The boiler being heated to redness, this body
!of water was instantly converted into steam,
I with an expansive force which the sides of the
| boiler were too feeble to resist. It is further
j positively stated, that during the whole passage
, to within twenty minutes of the catastrophe,
j the steam guage-cock indicated from 27 to
12f> inches steam.
' The facts which immediately followed, are
I given correctly by Mr. Hibbert, as published
in our Extra of the lcth, until it reaches the
statement of the sinking. This was not the
case, but she parted into three pieces.
In the breaking up, the whole boat went
underwater, but upon the separation of the
keel from the upper part of the boat, the bow
and stern emerged again. Very shortly after
the forward portion of the stern was depressed
beneath the water, and the hinder portion el- j
evated in the air; upon the highest portion of j
which were 50 to 00 persons; more than two
thirds of whom were ladies and children.
This continued within the view of those pas
sengers upon the bow of the boat, (from whom
this statement is made,) about an hour, when
it entirely disappeared. The keel, after its
separation, came to the surface bottom up-1
wards, when it floated in immediate contact!
with the bow for half an hour, when it was i
seen no more. There was lio one upon this j
fragment
Wc will now proceed to speak of the bow !
and the fate of those whom it contained. Up
on this portion of the wreck there were origin
ally 18. AH immediately proceeded to lighter,
the fragment, by throwing into the sea every
thing not necessary to secure salvation, which
gave it greater buoyancy. On Friday, about
12 o’clock, while floating upon the ocean, two
sails were seen, one in a N. Easterly direction,
and the other in a S. Westerly direction, about
sor six miles distant On Saturday morning
early, a portion of the wreck was discovered
about 5 miles distant with a small sail and a
flag flying, this remnant made a successful at
tempt to reach those upon the bow, whom they
joined about noon. They were five males,
and attached themselves immediately to their
fellow sufferers upon the bow, whose number
they swelled to 23, and abandoned their raft
The 23 then proceeded to erect a jury mast,
upon which a square sail was hoisted —the
wind continuing to blow from the S. E. (in
which quarter it had been ever since the
wreck,) they were blown towards land, which
; became visible about 4 o’clock, P. M. Atsun
set quite a strip of land was seen, and trees
j discovered. The night was passed without
j any material change, and on Sunday morning
; upon the occasional lifting of fog, land was
quite apparent about three or four miles off,
i which they continued to approach until they
j got within half a mile. The wind which had
been gradually coming round settled down to
! N. E. about 11 o’clock, which blew the wreck
along the coast, about the same distance from
land, during the day. The wind gradually in
creased in violence, aud the rain poured down
during the whole of Sunday, until 5 o’clock,
when it became calm and the rain ceased. On
that night the wind came out from the N. W.
On Monday it was clear and quite calm. At
12 that day the wind blew a light breeze from
the southwest.
About 4 o’clock four vessels passed within
three miles steering East
On Tuesday morning about sunrise the
Schr. Henry Cainerdon, Capt Davis, was seen
about 5 miles off in an easterly direction. She
continued to near until within 3 miles when
the exhausted sufferers were discovered, she
then immediately squared sails and bore down
to the wreck, which she spoke about half past
8 o’clock, A. M. She then passed by, and an
chored within a short distance. Capt Davis
lowered his boat immediately and succeeded
in transferring the whole of the sufferers to
his vessel, where every proper comfort, at his
command was humanely furnished these unfor
tunate beings.
Intelligence was given by these that they
had seen another portion of the wreck during
the whole of the preceding day, and early the
next morning. Tiie Captain immediately bore
down in the direction designated (easterly) and
in about an hour came up to it; from this he
had the gratification of rescuing Mrs. Noah
Smith, and Miss Rebecca Lamar, Charles La
inar, two gentlemen and two negro women,
in an exhausted and worn out condition. This
work of humanity being finished, Captain Da
vis bote away immediately for Wilmington,
where lie arrived about 7 o’clock on Tuesduv
P. M.
To attempt to describe the feelings of those
80 persons towards their preserver, Capt. Da
vis—the sympathy of the crowd assembled at
the landing—or the mingled emotions of
those companions in misery who had been sep
arated, and here met again in safety, tho’ in
suffering—time does not allow, nor is human
language adequate.
P. S. Since writing the above we have re
ceived the followingadditional intelligence:
13 persons saved, among them Mr. Lamar.
They reached shore near New River Inlet
Mr. Lamar and several others came asliore in.
a boat; the others on fragments of the wreck..
Five are said to be within 12 miles of town.
All are said to be likely to live. Two of these
have just arrived.
.Samuel Brylev, Talbert County Md.
Owen Gallagher.
The only other names of this party known,
! are
Andrew Stevens.
G. B. Lamar.
G. Y. Davis.
Two gentlemen from New York
Mr. Bennett, of Missouri.
Lieut. Thornton, U. S. A.
B. W. Forsdick, Boston.
Mr. Merritt, Savannah.
We can only add that 59 souls in all have
escaped a watery grave, of whom 48 have al
ready arrived in this community, all of whom
it is hoped and believed will be again restored
to their anxious friends.
[From the Charleston Mercury, 23d inst.
Our readers will be not less surprised than'
delighted at the news from Wilmington. It is
good beyond the wildest hope. In addition to
the articles from the Advertiser, we have been
favored with the following particulars, com
municated in a letter to a gentleman of this
city, from which it will be seen that the peo
ple of Wilmington were making every exer
tion to preserve any who might still be floating
on fragments of the wreck.
We regret to add that of the number thus
miraculously preserved, there are only three
belonging to our city, Mr G. Y. Davis, Mr
Robert D. Walker and Master T. W. Downie,
so far as we have been able to ascertain. We
learn from a gentleman, passenger in the N.
C. and one of the number saved, that the fol
lowing persons died on one of the rafts or frag
ments of the Pulaski, on which they had taken
refuge: ,
Mrs B. F. Smith of Charleston.
Mr Rowand, do.
Mrs Stansfield of Savannah.
Rev Mr Woart and Lady.
Dr Ash of New York.
A daughter of Mr Robert Hutchinson of
Savannah.
Dr Stewart and Master T. Lamar.
Mr Joseph Auze, formerly merchant in Sa
vannah, and recently of Mobile, was killed in
the forward part of the Pulaski, by the fall of
the mast
The Rev Mr Murray, who had been lashed
to a part of the Pulaski, was washed off soon
after the misfortune occurred, and Mr Hugh
S. Ball of this city, was lost in endeavoring to
swim from the bow to the stern of the boat to
his lady, whom he perceived in that part of the
steamer.
The party of thirty saved on certain por
tions of the wreck and taken oft’ by the Henry
Camerdon, it will be perceived, were four days
exposed to the weather, a violent gale of wind
blowing from Sunday morning to the evening
of the same day, with nothing to subsist on,
as we have been informed by one of them,
but a little flour and water.
Os the whole number of passengers and
crew, one hundred and seventy, it will be re
collected that sixteen were rescued in the two
small boats which reached Wilmington last