"Charles Dickens, at the age of 47 in 1859, posted to journal periodicals as well as continuing his great work as a novelist. His report on the Royal Charter appeared as 'The Ship Wreck', describing his visit to Moelfre at the end of 1859, among other fascinating essays as a travelling observer in The Uncommercial Traveller.

The Royal Charter at 2719 tons, launched on the Dee in 1855, was owned by Gibbs, Bright and Company, who also owned an earlier rather similar vessel, The Great Britain. That ship is now being restored in Bristol. It enables one to have some idea of the type of iron vessel propelled by steam and sail, which appeared briefly on the oceans of the world.

In the 1850s, Great Britain was diverted to government service, transporting men and equipment to the Crimean War, and then the Indian Mutiny, so the Royal Charter took its place to Australia.

On its first voyage in 1855, the former Whitby whaling captain, The Reverend William Scoresby, who had left the sea as a young man for the church, and became vicar of Bradford, had retired, but continued his maritime research and sailed to investigate the effect of an iron ship on magnetic compass readings. He died before a fateful second voyage, but in recognition of his services to navigation, the owners presented a Bishops Chair made from timbers of the wrecked vessel to his widow. It is now at St Mary's Church, Whitby.

After the tragedy, there was concern in England at the image of the fatalities of the Royal Charter, and especially that no women or children were saved. At that time, it was claimed by some of them that the Welsh villagers had not helped as they should, and were more interested in looking for the gold. Charles Dickens came to Anglesey to assess the true position.

In fact, 28 villagers managed to save some in the extremely dangerous conditions of heavy seas, sweeping in over flat rocks, and then receding with those who had just been cast on to the rocks. They were inevitably sucked back to their deaths, if not helped by villagers who knew the risks of being swept away themselves. My great grandfather was among the 28.

Dickens paid tribute to the Rev. Stephen Roose Hughes, the village rector, who had striven tirelessly to identify and bury the dead, and inform and comfort relatives. The tragedy brought no benefits, only disruption of scarce earnings in the fishing season, suspicion and sadness to the poor seafarers of the village. They were to suffer much bereavement themselves, as seamen in the remaining decades of the era of the commercial sailing ship.

We salute Dickens for his sympathetic report and I was pleased recently to visit his old home in London to pay my respects. My own father, Captain John Owen Lewis, born in Moelfre 30 years after the ship wreck, survived the sailing ship era to sail until 1961, but he lost four cousins at sea in sail, while my mother lost her father, Captain Thomas Owen Lewis at sea when she was four.

On the cruel accusations of looting, the Receiver of Wrecks took charge of personal gold and other valuables washed ashore and after all claims for the property had been settled by the government, the residue was forfeited to the Crown. The ships cargo was, of course, dealt with by the owners and their insurers.

The worthy rector made no claim for recompense for establishing ownership at great personal cost of some of the private property recovered, and fully deserved Dickens's commendation. In fact, most valuables cast ashore were quickly controlled under the orders of the Crown's representatives who arrived very promptly on the site. Much, of course, was torn away by the cruel sea that swallowed it up. Most villagers were devout Christians who would be shamed by such accusations."