Thomas Frederick Melville

Drowned at Herold's Bay 28.2.1863

Reported in the Swellendam Courant:

Melancholy case of drowning

A son of Mr Thomas Melvill, of George, was unfortunately drowned at a place named Herold's Bay, on the 28th ult. It seems that Mr Melvill and family together with some friends, had gone to the spot for the purpose of spending a few days in fishing and bathing. On the morning in question, Mr Melvill's sons, Thomas and Walter, went to bathe, at a distance of about 300 years from the spot where the tent was pitched, and in sight of the party, who were looking on, and saw them not deeper than up to their waists, apparently out of danger, when suddenly they heard a scream. Mr Melvill called out, "Oh? They are drowning." The whole party immediately rushed to the post, Mr Melvill and his son-in-law Mr Bantjes, undressing as they ran. Mr Melvill called for the whip-stick, but by the time they had reached the spot, an under-current had swept them both at least 200 yards from the bathing place. Walter, being a good swimmer, and the stronger of the two, kept his ground pretty well, and was eventually washed up exhausted on a rock, and rescued; but his brother was unfortunately carried out beyond his depth and drowned. The feelings of the bereaved parents baffle description. The deceased was upwards of 16 years of age, a promising youth, the picture of health, and very ingenious. He died on his brother's birthday, only six months after the death of a sister."

A poem written on the death of his son and namesake, Thomas, by his father Thomas John Melvill.

Elegy by Thomas Melvill

Oh, cruel sea! why didst thou tear From parents' hearts the child, To friends and Kindred ever dear So kind, so meek and mild? Just 16 years and four months old In youthful bloom and might More precious far than Ophir's gold He is vanished from our sight

Exhausted, O! for help he cried He struggled but was drowned. Th foaming sea all aid defied Though many stood around. A younger brother safe was thrown By God's good power on shore While he whose loss we most bemoan Then sunk to rise no more

Oh sea! give up the breathless body Could parents cease to weep Whilst ever from them hidden lay His body in the deep. On his dear bones so far away Where feet of man ne'er reach To birds and beasts become the prey On some storm-beaten beach

We turn to where his now bright soul Is landed and at rest Where storms of sorrow never roll Across the peaceful breast, We wait till at the trumpet's sound The sea shall yield its dead And graves to earth's most constant knell Wide open shall be spread.