The next catastrophe which we have to describe, was of a far more
appalling nature, and one which long threw a gloom over the
inhabitants of Plymouth and the neighbourhood.

The AMPHION frigate had been obliged to put into Plymouth for repairs,
and, on the 22nd Sept., 1796, was lying alongside of a sheer-hulk
taking in her bowsprit, within a few yards of the dockyard jetty. The
ship, being on the eve of sailing, was crowded with more than an
hundred men, women, and children, above her usual complement. It was
about four o'clock in the afternoon that a violent shock, like an
earthquake, was felt at Stonehouse and Plymouth. The sky towards the
dock appeared red, as if from fire, and in a moment the streets were
crowded with the inhabitants, each asking his neighbour what had
occurred. When the confusion had somewhat abated, it was announced
that the Amphion had blown up, and then every one hastened to the
dock, where a most heartrending scene presented itself. Strewed in
all directions were pieces of broken timber, spars, and rigging,
whilst the deck of the hulk, to which the frigate had been lashed was
red with blood, and covered with mangled limbs and lifeless trunks,
all blackened with powder. The frigate had been originally manned from
Plymouth; and as the mutilated forms were collected together and
carried to the hospital, fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters
flocked to the gates, in their anxiety to discover if their relatives
were numbered amongst the dying or the dead.

From the suddenness of the catastrophe, no accurate account can of
course be given; but the following particulars were collected from the
survivors.