Many and varied were the explanations given of the causes of this disaster. There had evidently been some uneasiness in regard to her stability in the water at one time, but she had sailed so well on previous trips, in the same stormy waters, that confidence had been restored in her. The belief, afterwards, among many authorities, was that she ought not to have carried sail at all.(47) This was the primary cause of the disaster, no doubt; and then, in all probability, when the force of the wind had heeled her over, a heavy sea struck her and completely capsized her—the water on and over her depressed side assisting by weighting her downwards. The side of the hurricane-deck acted, when the vessel was heeled over, as one vast sail, and, no doubt, had much to do with putting her on her beam-ends. The general impression of the survivors appeared to be that, with the ship heeling over, the pressure of a strong wind upon the under part of the hurricane-deck had a greater effect or leverage upon the hull, than the pressure of the wind on her top-sails. They were also nearly unanimous in their opinion that when the _Captain’s_ starboard side was well down in the water, with the weight of water on the turret-deck, and the pressure of the wind blowing from the port hand on the under surface of the hurricane-deck, and thus pushing the ship right over, she had no chance of righting herself again. It is to be remarked that long after the _Captain_ had sunk, the admiral of the squadron thought that he saw her, although it was very evident afterwards that it must have been some other vessel. In his despatch to the Admiralty,(48) which very plainly indicated that he had some anxiety in regard to her stability in bad weather, he described her appearance and behaviour up till 1.30 a.m.—more than an hour after her final exit to the depths below. In the days of superstitious belief, so common among sailors, a thrilling story of her image haunting the spot would surely have been built on this foundation. In the old fighting-days of the Royal Navy, when success followed success, and prize after prize rewarded the daring and enterprise of its commanders, they did not think very much of the loss of a vessel more or less, but took the lesser evils with the greater goods. The seamanship was wonderful, but it was very often utterly reckless. A captain trained in the school of Nelson and Cochrane would stop at nothing. The country, accustomed to great naval battles, enriched by the spoils of the enemy—who furnished some of the finest vessels in our fleet—was not much affected by the loss of a ship, and the Admiralty was inclined to deal leniently with a spirited commander who had met with an accident. But then an accident in those days did not mean the loss of half a million pounds or so. The cost of a large ironclad of to-day would have built a small wooden fleet of those days.