Edward Riou

Distressing situation of the Guardian sloop, Capt. Riou, after striking on a floating Island of ice, depiction of the event printed in 1809

Riou positioned himself near the iceberg, and despatched boats to collect the ice. By the time the last boats had been recovered, night had fallen and a sudden fogbank descended, hiding the iceberg from view.[8] Riou found himself in a dangerous situation. Somewhere to leeward lay a large mass of ice, concealed in the darkness and fog.[11] He posted lookouts in the bows and rigging, and began to edge slowly forward. After sometime the danger seemed to be past, and the iceberg left behind, when at 9 o'clock a strange pale glow was reported by the lookout in the bows.[11] Riou ordered the helm to turn hard a starboard, turning into the wind as a wall of ice higher than the ship's masts slid by along the side.[11] It briefly appeared that the danger had been avoided, but as she passed by, the Guardian struck an underwater projection with a crash.[11] Caught in a sudden gust of wind, the ship reared up and swung about, driving the stern into the ice, smashing away the rudder, shattering her stern frame and tearing a large gash in the hull.[11] Despite the seriousness of the situation, Riou remained calm, using the sails to pull clear of the ice, and then taking stock of the damage.[11]

Now clear of the immediate danger of the ice, Riou found himself in a desperate situation. There was two feet of water in the hold and more was rushing in, while the sea was rising and a gale had sprung up.[11] The pumps were manned, but could not keep up with the influx of water, and by midnight there was 6 feet of water in the hold. At dawn on Christmas Day, an attempt was made to fother the hull, which involved lowering an oakum-packed studding sail over the side to cover the gash in the hull and slow the flooding. This was temporarily successful and by 11 o'clock the pumps had been able to reduce the water to a level of 19 inches.[11] The respite was short-lived, as the sail split under the pressure of the water and the water level began to rise again. A number of seaman requested permission to take to the ship's boats.[11] Riou convinced them to stay, but another attempt to fother the hull with another sail failed when the sail immediately ripped. By nightfall on 25 December, the water in the hold had risen to 7 feet, and the ship was rolling violently, allowing water to pour over the ship's side.[11] Riou ordered the stores, guns and livestock to be thrown overboard in an attempt to lighten the ship, but was injured when his hand was crushed by a falling cask while trying to clear the bread-room.[11] By morning the next day, the ship was settling by the stern, while the sails had been torn away in the gale. Again the seamen, this time joined by the convicts, requested to be allowed to take to the boats.[11] Riou at last agreed to this, well aware that there were not enough boats for everyone, and announced 'As for me, I have determined to remain in the ship, and shall endeavour to make my presence useful as long as there is any occasion for it.'[12]

While the boats were prepared, Riou wrote a letter to the Secretary to the Admiralty;

Sir,
If any part of the officers or crew of the Guardian should ever survive to get home, I have only to say their conduct after the fatal stroke against an island of ice was admirable and wonderful in everything that related to their duties considered either as private men or on his Majesty's Service.
As there seems no possibility of my remaining many hours in this world, I beg leave to recommend to the consideration of the Admiralty a sister who if my conduct or service should be found deserving any memory their favour might be shown to her together with a widowed mother.
I am Sir remaining with great respect
Your ever Obedt & humble servt,
E. Riou[12]

Riou gave the note to Mr Clements, the master of the Guardian, who was given command of the launch. A total of 259 people chose to join the five boats, leaving Riou with sixty-two people; himself, three midshipmen, including Thomas Pitt, the surgeon's mate, the boatswain, carpenter, three superintendents of convicts, a daughter of one of the superintendents, thirty seamen and boys and twenty-one convicts.[13] The Guardian was nearly awash by now with 16 feet of water in the hold, but a bumping noise on the deck attracted attention, and on investigation was found to be a number of casks that had broken free and were floating in the hold, trapped under the lower gundeck.[13] Realising that this was providing extra buoyancy, Riou had the gun deck hatches sealed and caulked, while another sail was sent under the hull to control the flooding. Having now created a substitute hull out of his deck, Riou raised what little sail he could and began the long journey back to land, with the pumps being continuously manned.[13]

For nine weeks Riou and his small crew navigated the Guardian, by now little more than a raft, across the 400 leagues to the Cape of Good Hope.[10][13] The Cape of Good Hope was sighted on 21 February 1790, and whalers were despatched from Table Bay to help the battered ship to safety. Riou ran her aground to prevent her sinking, but a gale struck the coast shortly afterwards, completing the wreck of the Guardian.[10][13] The voyage was described by J. K. Laughton in the Dictionary of National Biography as 'almost without parallel'.[9] Those who remained with the Guardian were among the few survivors of the accident. Of the boats sent out on 25 December, only the launch with 15 people survived, having been rescued by a French merchant.[9] The launch had witnessed the sinking of the jolly-boat, before losing contact with the two cutters and the long-boat.[13] Riou arranged for the surviving convicts who had helped to save the ship to be pardoned for their good service.[6]

At 1:15 pm, Parker, waiting outside the harbour with the reserve, raised a signal ordering Nelson to withdraw. Nelson acknowledged the signal but ignored it, while Nelson's second in command, Rear-Admiral Thomas Graves repeated the signal but did not obey it.[18] Riou now found himself in a difficult position. Too junior an officer to risk disobeying a direct order, he reluctantly gave the order for his small squadron to withdraw. In doing so his ships were forced to turn their sterns to the Danish guns, leaving themselves open to heavy fire on their most vulnerable area.[6] The withdrawal of HMS Alcmene and then HMS Blanche reduced the thick cloud of gun smoke that was helping to obscure the British ships, leaving the Amazon exposed to the full force of the Danish guns. Riou remained in action for a further half an hour before reluctantly giving the order to withdraw.[19][20] Lieutenant-Colonel William Stuart, commanding the soldiers of the 48th Regiment recorded that Riou:

...was sitting on a gun, was encouraging his men, and had been wounded in the head by a splinter. He had expressed himself grieved at being thus obliged to retreat, and nobly observed, 'What will Nelson think of us?' His clerk was killed by his side; and by another shot, several marines, while hauling on the main-brace, shared the same fate. Riou then exclaimed, 'Come, then, my boys, let us all die together!' The words were scarcely uttered, when the fatal shot severed him in two.[6]

Command of the Amazon devolved to her first lieutenant, Lieutenant John Quilliam, who completed the withdrawal.[6]