The Kent was an East Indiaman: a vessel sailing for the British East India Company. She was a new ship of 1,350 tons, under Captain Henry Cobb, and sank on her maiden voyage, bound to Bengal and China. She left the Downs on 19 February 1825 with 20 officers and 344 soldiers belonging to the 31st Regiment of Foot, 43 women and 66 children, 20 private passengers, and a crew (including officers) of 148 men. In all, there were 641 persons on board.[1]
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A report from 1832 states:
THE SHIP ON FIRE, On the 1st of March 1825, the Kent East Indiaman took fire in the Bay of Biscay, She had sailed from the Downs about the middle of February, being bound to Bengal and China. By the roll of the vessel, a cask of spirits had been displaced; and, as the men were about to fix it in its former position, a heavy sea struck the ship, and precipitated a candle from the hands of one of them. This, falling on a small portion of the spirits, which had escaped from the cask, produced an instant conflagration, which defied every effort to stay its progress. At this awful crisis, the Cambria, Captain Cook, bound from London to Mexico, having on board thirty-five miners and superintendents of the Anglo-Mexican company, hove in sight. Seeing a signal of distress, Captain Cook instantly bore down; and, on approaching the Kent, discovered her to be on fire. Not a moment was lost in rendering every possible assistance, and transferring the crew and passengers to the brig. Throughout the whole of this affair, there appears to have been a very obvious display of providential superintendence. The Cambria could not, as we are informed, have fallen in with the Kent, had not Captain Cook been induced to lie to for the purpose of repairing the bulwarks of his vessel. It is also stated, that if the Cambria, on her return to Falmouth, had been detained by the wind a day or two longer, it must have occasioned deplorable discomfort on board his vessel, a brig of two hundred tons, with more than 600 souls crowded together in her cabin and on her deck. But for this timely interference, 547 lives must inevitably have been lost. [2]
By chance the brigantine Cambria saw the Kent's distress signal. Cambria was a small vessel of some 200 tons, bound for Mexico with a crew of 11 men and some 20 Cornish miners. The crew and miners worked tirelessly to rescue survivors, fully cognizant of the risk that the Kent's magazine might explode at any time. There were instances of men who who tied the children of brother soldiers on their backs, and leaping overboard swam with their burdens to the boats. By the following evening, the Cambria had some 550 survivors aboard her.
The crew of the ill-fated Kent unfortunately did not behave as well as the miners or soldiers. They refused to return for their shipmates after the first trip until the captain of the Cambria threatened not to let them board unless they did so.
At 2 a.m. the Kent did explode. Two hours after she blew up, a soldier's wife gave birth on board the Cambria. The following morning Caroline rescued 14 of the men who remained on the wreck and carried them to Liverpool. Cambria landed her survivors back in Falmouth three days later. The miners and others associated with the rescue received silver medals in recognition of their courage and efforts.
Eighty-one people lost their lives:[3]
The loss of the Kent was highly newsworthy and led a number of artists to paint their own versions of the tragedy. In addition to William Daniell, artists that dealt with the tragedy included Théodore Gudin, Thomas Marie Madawaska Hemy (1874-1931), and an anonymous lithographer whose "Loss of the Kent" is in the National Maritime Museum, as are a number of other renditions. (The National Maritime Museum Cornwall also has an acquatint of Daniell's painting.)Thomas Buttersworth (1768-1842)"The East Indiaman Kent on Fire in the Bay of Biscay"-