The Loss of HMS Resistance – 24 July 1798
In the aftermath of a fire that destroyed the frigate Resistance in the Far East, a dozen survivors encountered both Malay inhumanity and kindness before just four men were returned to their countrymen.
Late on the afternoon of 23 July 1798, the frigate Resistance 44, Captain Edward Pakenham, anchored in the Straits of Banca (the modern-day Bangka) to rendezvous with a Malay sloop which she had previously detained on the suspicion of it being Dutch, but which was now to be returned to its rightful owner.
Launched in 1782, the Resistance had seen service in the last year of the American Revolutionary War before being paid off. During the inter-war years, she had been refitted as a 22-gun troopship until reinstated in her original class as a 44-gun ship during the summer of 1793 following the commencement of the French Revolutionary War. That winter, she had sailed for the East Indies where she had remained. Her captain, Edward Pakenham, who was probably in his early forties and had brought her out to the East Indies, was both the grandson and the brother of officers who would reach flag rank, and he was a post-captain of eight years seniority.
In the early hours of 24 July, the Malay sloop joined company and was restored to her captain and crew as planned. Some hours later, at about 4 a.m., a fire broke out aboard the Resistance and it quickly spread, engulfing the whole ship until an explosion rent her apart. 314 crew, 4 women, and 14 Spanish prisoners burned to death or drowned whilst just 13 badly burned men survived, the most senior of whom was a quartermaster, Alexander McCarthy. Clinging to the remains of the starboard hammock netting, they cried out for assistance, yet the Malayan sloop stood by impassively, her crew hearing the entreaties but doing nothing until at length she weighed anchor and set sail.
Throughout the rest of the morning, and with a single pumpkin for refreshment, the four fittest survivors laboured on the construction of a raft from those timbers which they could salvage. Fortunately, the weather remained mild, whilst the proximity of the mainyard allowed them access to valuable ropes which they could use for lashings and cloth from which they could fashion a sail. The jolly boat’s mast was also recovered and by the early afternoon the raft, such as it was, had been completed. With the low-lying Sumatra but three leagues distant, and the civilisation of a Dutch settlement at Pelambang six leagues away, they had every hope of survival.
Sadly, for most of the men it was not to be. Barely any headway had been made for the shore before a gale sprang up at about 7p.m., the sea became heavy, and the current set against them. Unable to resist such pressure, the raft was torn apart and the mast and sail broke free at about one o’clock the next morning. In the mad, thrashing, panic-stricken minutes that followed, a 22-year-old Irish seaman from Wexford, Thomas Scott, who had been sleeping on deck and had thus been able to escape the initial explosion and wreck, joined three other men (Quartermaster McCarthy, John Hutton and Joseph Scott) in swimming across to an anchor stock; by lashing two spars across it they were able to remain afloat. Of the nine others on the raft, one had already died before it had been dashed to pieces, and the other eight gradually disappeared beneath the waves, their cries for help unavoidably going unheeded.
Somehow, with the current coming round to their favour, the four survivors reached the Sumatran surf at 9 o’clock on the evening of the 25th, and despite their fatigue they were able to swim ashore. Scavenging what leaves and grass they could to lie on, they slept until the next morning, but their ordeal was far from over. Exhausted, dehydrated, half-naked and starved, the men set out to find water, which luckily did not take long, but of anything edible, even a shellfish, there was no sign. Then hours later, at 4 o’clock in the afternoon, one of the men sighted a Malaccan prow about a quarter mile further along the beach. Thomas Scott, who was able to communicate in both Dutch and Malay, was sent ahead to parley whilst the other three men sought a hiding place lest the natives proved hostile. As Scott approached, he saw more prows on the beach with Malays working on them, but as soon as he was discovered a crowd rushed at him, weapons raised. Falling to his knees, he pleaded for mercy, whereupon one of the Malays, whom he later described as a ‘rajah’, ordered the mob to stand back. Scott was then interrogated as to his nationality, and once the Malays were satisfied that he wasn’t Dutch, he was spared. His companions were collected, they too were fully interrogated, and at length the two Scotts were placed in one prow, McCarthy and Hutton were sent to another, and with the whole force putting to sea the shipwrecked survivors were fed with rice and fish.
Over the succeeding days the men were fairly treated, although in due course the two Scotts were separated, with Thomas being held as a slave to the rajah at Penobang. Not long afterwards, Joseph Scott was reunited with McCarthy and Hutton, and they came into the custody of the Sultan of Lingga, who, being on friendly terms with the British, organised their return to Penang. Thomas faced the indignity of being sold in the market at Lingga, but word of his fate had reached the British at Malacca, and an emissary was dispatched to the Sultan. Hitherto unaware of Scott’s presence, the Malay happily paid his ransom, thereby facilitating Scott’s return to his countrymen on 5 December.
The first news of the Resistance’s loss reached Britain in the summer of 1799 when Thomas Scott’s testimony in the Madras Courier was reprinted in the home press. The cause of the fire in the frigate was never established, but the most accepted belief was that it was started by a lightning strike.