Immediately after the collision, a large wave lifted her off the reef, and crew members reported a large gash in the hull into which water was pouring rapidly.
To prevent her from sinking, the captain ordered her run aground, and she was driven into the rocks again.
She was left stranded in sight of the shore, separated from it by less than 100 yards (91 m).

In the ensuing confusion, all but one of the ship's seven lifeboats were lowered into the water against the captain's orders, all of them improperly manned.
Three flipped while being lowered, spilling their occupants into the ocean; of the three that were successfully launched, two capsized and one disappeared.
The scene at the wreck was horrific, as one of the few survivors, Chief Freight Clerk Frank Lehn recounted:
Screams of women and children mingled in an awful chorus with the shrieking of the wind, the dash of rain, and the roar of the breakers.
As the passengers rushed on deck they were carried away in bunches by the huge waves that seemed as high as the ship's mastheads.
The ship began to break up almost at once and the women and children were lashed to the rigging above the reach of the sea.
It was a pitiful sight to see frail women, wearing only night dresses, with bare feet on the freezing ratlines, trying to shield children in their arms from the icy wind and rain.

Only 12 men made it to shore, and of those, three were washed away by the waves after landing.
The remaining nine men scaled the cliffs and found a telegraph line strung between the trees.
They followed the line through thick forest until they came upon a lineman's cabin, from which they were able to summon help.
These nine men, who became known as the "Bunker" Party, after the survivor Frank Bunker, eventually received much criticism for not attempting to reach the top of the nearby cliff, where they might have received and made fast the cable fired from the Lyle gun on board Valencia.

Meanwhile, the ship's boatswain and a crew of volunteers had been lowered in the last remaining lifeboat with instructions to find a safe landing place and return to the cliffs to receive a lifeline from the ship.
Upon landing, they discovered a trail and a sign reading "Three miles to Cape Beale".
Abandoning the original plan, they decided to head toward the lighthouse on the cape, where they arrived after 2 ½ hours of hiking.
The lighthouse keeper phoned Bamfield to report the wreck, but the news had already arrived and been passed on to Victoria.
This last group of survivors was "well-nigh crazed" by their last sight of the remaining passengers stranded on the ship:
the brave faces looking at them over the broken rail of a wreck and of the echo of that great hymn sung by the women who, looking death smilingly in the face, were able in the fog and mist and flying spray to remember: Nearer, My God, to Thee.
Immediately after the collision, a large wave lifted her off the reef, and crew members reported a large gash in the hull into which water was pouring rapidly. To prevent her from sinking, the captain ordered her run aground, and she was driven into the rocks again. She was left stranded in sight of the shore, separated from it by less than 100 yards (91 m).
In the ensuing confusion, all but one of the ship's seven lifeboats were lowered into the water against the captain's orders, all of them improperly manned. Three flipped while being lowered, spilling their occupants into the ocean; of the three that were successfully launched, two capsized and one disappeared. The scene at the wreck was horrific, as one of the few survivors, Chief Freight Clerk Frank Lehn recounted:
Screams of women and children mingled in an awful chorus with the shrieking of the wind, the dash of rain, and the roar of the breakers. As the passengers rushed on deck they were carried away in bunches by the huge waves that seemed as high as the ship's mastheads. The ship began to break up almost at once and the women and children were lashed to the rigging above the reach of the sea. It was a pitiful sight to see frail women, wearing only night dresses, with bare feet on the freezing ratlines, trying to shield children in their arms from the icy wind and rain.
Only 12 men made it to shore, and of those, three were washed away by the waves after landing. The remaining nine men scaled the cliffs and found a telegraph line strung between the trees. They followed the line through thick forest until they came upon a lineman's cabin, from which they were able to summon help. These nine men, who became known as the "Bunker" Party, after the survivor Frank Bunker, eventually received much criticism for not attempting to reach the top of the nearby cliff, where they might have received and made fast the cable fired from the Lyle gun on board Valencia.
Meanwhile, the ship's boatswain and a crew of volunteers had been lowered in the last remaining lifeboat with instructions to find a safe landing place and return to the cliffs to receive a lifeline from the ship. Upon landing, they discovered a trail and a sign reading "Three miles to Cape Beale". Abandoning the original plan, they decided to head toward the lighthouse on the cape, where they arrived after 2 ½ hours of hiking. The lighthouse keeper phoned Bamfield to report the wreck, but the news had already arrived and been passed on to Victoria. This last group of survivors was "well-nigh crazed" by their last sight of the remaining passengers stranded on the ship:
the brave faces looking at them over the broken rail of a wreck and of the echo of that great hymn sung by the women who, looking death smilingly in the face, were able in the fog and mist and flying spray to remember: Nearer, My God, to Thee.
SS Valencia