Peter Inglenook

(...)

Night came on with the same dreary prospect as on the preceding, and was passed in continual effort and labour.
— Morning came, the 22d, without our seeing any thing, or any change of weather, and the day was spent with the same struggles to keep the ship above water, pumping and bailing at the hatchways and scuttles. Towards night another of the chain pumps was rendered quite useless, by one of the rollers being displaced at the bottom of the pump, and this was without remedy, there being too much water in the well to get to it: we also had but six leathers remaining, so that the fate of the ship was not far off. Still the labour went on without any apparent despair, every officer taking his share of it, and the people were always chearful and obedient.

During the night, the water encreased; but about seven in the morning, the 23d, I was told that an unusual quantity of water appeared all at once in the forehold, which upon my going forward to be convinced, I found but too true; the stowage of the hold ground-tier was all in motion, so that in a short time there was not a whole cask to be seen. We were convinced the ship had sprung a fresh leak. Another sail had been thrumming all night, and I was giving directions to place it over the bows, when I perceived the ship settling by the head, the lower deck bow-ports being even with the water.

At this period the Carpenter acquainted me the well was stove in, destroyed by the wreck of the hold, and the chain pumps displaced, and totally useless. There was nothing left but to redouble our efforts in bailing, but it became difficult to fill the buckets, from the quantity of staves, planks, anchor-flocks, and yard-arm pieces which were now washed from the wings, and floating from side to side with the motion of the ship. The people, who, to this period, had laboured as determined to conquer their difficulties without a murmur, or without a tear, seeing their efforts useless, many of them burst into tears, and wept like children.

(...)

(from: Capt. Inglefield's narrative, concerning the loss of His Majesty's ship, the Centaur, of seventy-four guns : and the miraculous preservation of the Pinnace, with the captain, master, and ten of the crew, in a traverse of near 300 leagues on the great western ocean, with the names of the people saved. Published in 1783.)