A CALAMITY like that of the wreck of the steam-ship London is one of those grievous and tragic events with which, in these stormswept islands, the imagination of the public is only too familiar; yet which, out of the depths of misfortune and the very agonies of death, bring to light the noblest qualities of a seafaring race, and leave a sublime example of heroism behind. The new year, born in the wrath of sea and sky, and cradled, so to speak, in tempests, the like of which, in wide-spread havoc and cruelty of persistence, * We are indebted to the Proprietor of the Illustrated London News for the loan of the wood-block of this engraving.

have hardly been equalled in our shipping annals for nearly half a century, had already written upon the wandering tablet of the treacherous waters, and in more ineffaceable characters on the memories of hundreds of destitute homes, a chapter of terrible sorrow.

Seldom had the fury of the elements ranged over so many seas, and devastated so many shores at once. Not that it would be inconsistent with what is called " the law of storms," so far as these destructive agencies of nature have been reduced, by wide induction and accumulated experience, to the semblance of a law, that their force should be simultaneously felt over widely distant portions of the earth's surface and vast spaces of the sea. But seldom have we heard of such devastation of shipping along lines of opposite coasts, and of such huge disasters far off in the wastes and solitudes of the ocean. From quarter to quarter, almost from month to month, we seem to read of whole fleets of colliers and coasters putting to sea from their northern harbours, often in the face of warning signals, and presently after cast helpless on the quicksands or the rocks. Lamentable as is the domestic side of these common stories of English life, we are apt to dismiss them with the reflection that no doubt the vessels were ill-found, half-manned, and unseaworthy, and that the fatal recklessness of the masters and crews was much to blame. Occasionally we are somewhat more startled by the news of a passenger emigrant ship stranded on a shoal or burnt at sea, or, perhaps, some first-class outward-bound ship from Liverpool or London driven on a lee shore and split to pieces on the rocks within a week of her departure.

Sometimes, as in the memorable case of the Royal Charter, it is a great ship lost with all her company on a return voyage within earshot of home.

The London was probably one of the finest passenger ships out of the port of London, and was only launched at Blackwall in 1864. She was iron built, of 1,752 tons register, 200 nominal horsepower, and nearly 3,000 tons burden, and" had already made two successful voyages to Melbourne, one of which was completed in the short space of 59 days. The London left Gravesend on the 30th December last for Melbourne, and met with such severe weather in the Channel that she was obliged to seek the shelter of the Isle of Wight on the night of the 1st January. From thence to Plymouth she steamed down Channel against a whole gale of wind and a heavy rolling sea, and the pilot boat which put off there to take her into the Sound was capsized, and the pilot drowned.

The London came to an anchorage inside the breakwater at 1 P.M. on the 4th January, and during the afternoon took on board those of her first and second-class passengers who had arranged to join the ship at Plymouth.

At midnight on Friday she proceeded on her voyage, the weather being at that time calm with a light wind ahead.

The officers and crew at that time numbered 86, and there were 153 passengers, giving a total of 239 persons on board. She had full steam on during the whole of Saturday, and the voyage promised to progress very satisfactorily until Sunday morning, when the wind increased and a head sea gradually rose. During the day the London passed several ships, and nothing occurred to create the smallest uneasiness in the minds of any of the officers of the ship. During Sunday night the wind increased to a gale, and the sea rose considerably. On the morning of Monday, the 8th January, the ship was well clear of the land, and Captain MABTIN having ordered the engines to be stopped, made the ship snug under close reefed topsails, and endeavoured to keep her moving slowly ahead. At noon on this day, the wind having somewhat lulled, the engines were again set in motion and kept steaming slowly ahead through the night. At 8 A.M. on Tuesday, the 9th January, while the captain was still endeavouring to keep the ship in her course by means of the screw, the violence of the gale carried away at one sweep the jibboom, the foretopmast, the topgallant mast, and the royal mast. These large spars were not wholly detached from the ship, but hanging fast by the stays swung to and fro with such violence that the crew were wholly unable to secure them. About two hours later the main royal mast was blown completely out of its socket, and added to the general wreck.

Captain MARTIN, who had not been in bed since the previous Sunday night, was not at all disheartened up to this moment, but as the gale continued to increase during the morning, with a sea already running mountains high, the position of the ship was undoubtedly felt to be one of some peril. Still, as the wind had somewhat veered round, the engines were kept steaming easy ahead; indeed, it is believed that at that time no person on board felt any anxiety for the ultimate safety of the ship. About 3 P.M. on Tuesday, a tremendous sea struck the ship, and carried the port life-boat clean away from the davits. AU that evening, and through the succeeding night, the wind blew a very heavy gale, and the sea ran very high, but the screw was still kept steaming easy ahead. At 3 A.M. on Wednesday, the 10th January, Captain MARTIN sent for Mr. GEEENHILL, the chief engineer, and informed him of his intention to put the ship about and run for Plymouth, and he desired that full speed should be got up directly. This was immediately done. Up to that time the engines were in good working order, and the skylights were perfect.

In half an hour after the ship's course had been altered she. was again struck by a tremendous sea which carried away the starboard life-boats, and the same sea stove in the starboard cutter. At noon on this day the ship's position was m lat. 46° 48' N., long. 8° 7' W., viz., in the Bay of Biscay, about 200 miles south-west of the Land's End. A very heavy cross sea was running with the wind now dead astern of the ship, which caused her to roll heavily, and much impeded her progress. But no danger was even now anticipated, and all through the evening of Wednesday and long after nightfall the ship continued to steam slowly ahead, the captain and his officers remaining steadily at their posts, and the passengers appearing to have full reliance upon the skill of Capt. MARTIN to bring them safely to port.

At 10-30 P.M. on Wednesday, the ship still rolling deeply in a heavy cross sea, and the wind blowing a whole gale from the S.W., a mountain of water fell heavily over the waist of the ship, and spent its destructive force upon the main hatchway over the engine-room, completely demolishing this massive structure, measuring 12 feet by 8 feet, and the framework of which was made of teak, and flooding with tons of water this portion of the ship. This hatchway had previously been battened down with tarpaulin and a large sail doubled. Instant endeavours to repair the hatchway were made with a promptitude and vigour commensurate with the imminent crisis. Two ladders and a spar were placed over the hatch as supports, and sails and tarpaulins were used to secure it. Even blankets and mattresses from all parts of the ship were thrown over the aperture, but each succeeding sea shipped by the vessel tore away the frail resources of the moment, and also washed into the lee scuppers the men who were endeavouring to repair the damage done, and not more than ten minutes after the hatchway had been destroyed, the water had risen above the furnaces and up to the waist of the engineers and firemen employed in this part of the ship. The lower decks were also now flooded with the rush ol waters the ship was continually taking in.

The chief engineer remained at his post until the water had risen above his waist, when he wont on deck and reported that his fires were out and his engines rendered useless.

Captain MARTIN, with calm conviction, remarked that he was not surprised ; on the contrary, he had expected such a result.

This was the night on which such a large number of vessels were wrecked and so many lives were lost in Torbay, as described on page 191.

Finding his ship at length little more than a log on the water, Captain MARTIN immediately ordered his maintopsail to be set, in the hope of keeping her before the wind.

This difficult work had scarcely been accomplished when the force of the wind tore the sail into ribands, with the exception of one corner, under which the ship lay to throughout the remainder of the night. The donkey engine, supplied with steam by a boiler upon deck, and all the deck pumps were kept going throughout the night, and the passengers of all classes, now aroused to a sense of their imminent danger, shared with the crew their arduous labours. The passengers and crew all this time behaved exceedingly well, and worked with an orderly energy which showed it was for their lives they strove. Notwithstanding every effort the water still gained upon the pumps, and the gale continuing at its height, cross seas with tremendous force were constantly breaking over the vessel, which at length succumbed to the unequal conflict. From this moment the motion of the ship was low and heavy, and she refused to rise to the action of the waves. At a quarter after four o'clock on Thursday morning she Was struck by a stern sea, which carried away four of her stern ports, and admitted a flood of water through the breach, and all the exertions made to close it were wholly unavailing.

From this time all efforts were useless, and at daybreak Captain MARTIN, whose cool intrepidity had never for a moment forsaken him, entered the saloon where all classes of the passengers had now taken refuge, and, responding to an universal appeal, calmly announced the cessation of all human hope. It is a remarkable fact that this solemn admission was as solemnly received —a resigned silence prevailing throughout the assembly, broken only at brief intervals by the well-timed and appropriate exhortations of the Rev. Mr. DEAFER, whose spiritual services had been incessant during the previous twenty-four hours. At this time there were only four boats left, viz., the port cutter, two pinnaces, and a jolly-boat, the two life-boats and the starboard cutter having been previously washed away. At ten o'clock, the ship" still rolling deeply, an attempt was made to launch the iron pinnace, but a sea struck her just as she reached the water, and she sank, leaving a crew of five men struggling for their lives. As the ship was lying to, three of them managed to scramble up the sides of the ship, and the other two were rescued by ropes being thrown to them. After this the exhausted crew appeared indifferent to their fate, and no further effort at launching the remaining boats was made until one o'clock, when the water having reached the main chains, and the ship evidently settling down, the port cutter was got over the ship's side. The captain before this had the foresail loosened and the mainyards braced round, so that the port side of the ship could be brought to the lee side, and the ship brought to on the starboard tack. Even at this moment the sea was so heavy, that those of the passengers who were within reach of the boat appeared to prefer the frail shelter of the sinking vessel to the obvious dangers of a small boat in a raging sea. At this crisis Captain MARTIN, always at hand, addressing Mr.

GREENHILL, his chief engineer, under whose command this particular boat was rated, said, " There is not much chance in the boat.

There is none for the ship. Your duty is done. Mine is to remain here. Get in and take the command of the few it will hold." Thus prompted, Mr. GBEENHILL, with his fellow engineers and some few others, numbering only 19 souls, among whom were only 3 passengers, quitted the ship—with only a bag of ship biscuits and some turnips and carrots in the shape of provisions, and a small breaker of water, which was spoilt by seing mixed with salt water. They had also four bottles of wine and brandy, which were, however, purposely concealed by Mr.

EDWARDS, a midshipman, who was the only officer saved from the London. These 19 men shouted to the captain to come with them, but with that courage which was characteristic of him, he declined to go with them, saying, " No ; I will go down with the passengers; but I wish you God-speed and safe to land." He had told the men that their course for the nearest land was E.N.E.

for Brest, and that they were distant from that place about 190 miles. An ineffectual attempt was made by those left on board to get the other boats out, but it was too late.

The cutter had scarcely cleared the wake of the vessel, upon the poop of which upwards of fifty of the passengers were seen grouped, when a tremendous sea was seen to break over the doomed circle, who, when the ship rose slowly again, were discovered to have been swept into the surging waters. Another moment, and the vessel herself, settling down stern foremost, threw up her bows into the air, and sank beneath the waves with her crowd of human beings, from whom one confused cry of helpless terror arose, and all was silent. Two hundred and twenty poor creatures were thus lost in this unfortunate vessel.

The cutter, having no sails on board, could only keep afloat before the wind, and was repeatedly in danger of swamping. The men had not been afloat two hours before they saw a full-rigged ship sail past them, but at too great a distance for hail. At 3 A.M. on Friday they sighted the sails of a brig, the crew of which overheard their shouts and bore down towards them, but failing to get into the track of the boat, after making several fruitless tacks, she bore away. At daybreak a full-rigged ship was observed, at some distance, and hoisting a shirt upon an oar, they endeavoured, but in vain, to attract attention. Shortly afterwards the Italian barque Adnanople, Captain CAVASSA, bound with a cargo of wheat from Constantinople to Cork, hove in sight, and the captain, having observed the cutter, immediately shortened sail and lay to, preparing to take them on board. On reaching the ship, notwithstanding the stress of weather and straitened means for the support of so large an increase to his crew, Captain CAVASSA received the Englishmen with unbounded kindness and hospitality, supplying them with all that was needful in their destitute condition. The exigencies of the gale had obliged Captain CAVASSA to sacrifice more than half his cargo, and during the four days' run into Falmouth, the weather carried away his rudder, and brought into useful requisition the services of his English passengers.

And thus were providentially saved. 19 souls of the unfortunate London, to relate the disaster by which upwards of 220 left on board with Captain MARTIN sunk with the ship.* Amongst the passengers on board the London was Mr. G. V. BROOKE, the celebrated actor, and he was among the number lost. He was a tall man, of powerful build, and he is stated by the rescued passengers to have exerted his strength to the utmost in helping to keep the ship afloat, and in encouraging the others to do so likewise.

He assisted at the pumps until working at them was found to be useless; and when last seen, about four hours before the steamer went down, he was leaning with grave composure upon one of the half-doors of the companion, calmly watching the disastrous scene. To the steward he said, " If you succeed in saving yourself, give my farewell to the people of Melbourne." We may add that, as a mark of respect to the memory of Mr. BROOKE, a committee was formed in London amongst actors, and a fund raised for the purpose of providing a life-boat, to be named the G. V. Brooke.

The amount collected has been handed to the NATIONAL LIFE-BOAT INSTITUTION, by whom the boat is to be placed at Poolbeg, near Dublin—that city being the native place of the deceased gentleman.