The ship is nearly upside down, partially encased in the iceberg that was its doom.
The folk of Land's End still remember the wreck of the 
Gaspard, often giving content, yet wistful, sighs as they remember the ship that went down in shallow water containing 1600 gallons of whiskey is nice, solid, and well sealed barrels....
The ribs of the ship are mixed with those of the vast sea creature that tried to devour it, the bones of the sailors now lost to the tides.
And of course, the Irish Rover....
    In the year of our Lord, eighteen hundred and six,
    We set sail from the Coal Quay of Cork
    We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
    For the grand City Hall in New York
    We'd an elegant craft, it was rigged 'fore and aft
    And how the trade winds drove her
    She had twenty-three masts and she stood several blasts
    And they called her the Irish Rover
    We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags
    We had two million barrels of stones
    We had eight million sides of old blind horses' hides
    We had four million barrels of bones
    We had five million hogs and six million dogs
    And seven million barrels of porter
    We had three million bales of old nanny goats' tails
    In the hold of the Irish Rover
    There was awl Mickey Coote
    Who played hard on his flute
    When the ladies lined up for a set
    He was tootin' with skill
    For each sparkling quadrille
    Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet
    With his smart witty talk
    He was 




 of the walk
    And he rolled the dames under and over
    They all knew at a glance
    When he took up his stance
    That he sailed in The Irish Rover
    There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee
    There was Hogan from County Tyrone
    There was Johnny McGurk who was scared stiff of work
    And a man from Westmeath called Malone
    There was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule
    And fighting Bill Tracy from Dover
    And your man Mick McCann, from the banks of the Bann
    Was the skipper on the Irish Rover
    We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out
    And our ship lost her way in the fog
    And the whole of the crew was reduced down to two
    'Twas meself and the captain's old dog
    Then the ship struck a rock; what a shock
    The bulkhead was turned right over
    We turned nine times around - then the poor old dog was drowned
    Now I'm the last of the Irish Rovers 
The Auld Grump