I have always admired – and been somewhat disturbed by –
Thomas Hardy’s poem “The Convergence of
the Twain” in which he meditated on how the Titanic and the iceberg that was to sink her were brought
separately into existence and how they were to meet for one decisive moment only:
And as the smart ship grew
In stature, grace, and hue,
In shadowy silent distance grew the Iceberg
too.
Alien they seemed to be;
No
mortal eye could see
The intimate welding of their later history,
Or sign that they were bent
By
paths coincident
On being anon twin halves of one august
event.
I was reminded of this poem, and of the terrible image of
inexorable, unforgiving destiny which it evokes, when I read recently of the collision
of two vessels four years after the Titanic
disaster. Collisions at sea occur even in our own day, and did so much more
frequently in the days before radar, so at first glance there was nothing
unusual about this event. What did strike me however was that the two vessels
involved were so dissimilar – one the epitome of luxury, the other’s
accommodation so Spartan that its crew was entitled to compensation for their
discomfort.
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| The SS France in her full glory |
In the early years of the twentieth century giant ocean
liners were as much symbols of national pride as they were means of mass
transportation. Ever larger and more luxurious British and German liners
competed on the North Atlantic but it was not until 1912 – “Titanic Year” – that France was to
provide a worthy competitor. She was named, with obvious pride, the SS France, a 712-foot long vessel capable
of carrying 2020 passengers. Driven by four Parsons steam turbines of total
45,000-hp – the first such units installed in a French passenger ship – she was
capable of a top speed of 23.5 knots. Like the foreign liners she would compete
with, she carried the ultimate status symbol of the era – a dummy fourth
funnel.
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| Even before the SS France, French liners had an established reputation for comfort and luxury. The illustrations above refer to an earlier vessel, the SS La Provence of 1905 |
At 24,666-tons the France was
smaller her British and German competitors – her
Cunard contemporary, the Lusitania
was of 44,060-tons – but what she lacked in size was more than made up for by
the unprecedented luxuriousness of her accommodation. Her first-class interiors,
decorated in style Louis Quatorze were
perhaps the most opulent on any liner, resulting in the nickname of The Versailles
of the Atlantic.
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| First Class music room on the SS France |
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| Salon on the SS France. Note fireplace and portrait of the "Sun King" |
The ship with which the France’s
destiny would “converge”, in Hardy’s phrase, could not have been more different.
HMS Eden was one of thirty-four
destroyers of the “River Class”
commissioned into the Royal Navy between 1903 and 1905 (the sheer numbers of
vessels in the navy of this period is remarkable by modern standards). One of
only three of these ships to be driven by turbines, the Eden’s installed 7000-hp drove her at a maximum of 25.5 knots. On
her 550-tons and her 226-foot length she carried four 12-pounder guns and a
half-dozen smaller, these being primarily intended for use against other
destroyers and torpedo craft. Her two 18-inch torpedo tubes would make her a threat
to larger enemy vessels in any fleet action. Accommodation of her 70 strong crew was by
necessity basic – her beam was a mere 24 feet – and like all destroyer crews of
the period they were entitled to “Hard Lying
Money” as a compensation.
 |
| HMS Eden |
The Eden’s career
was to be spent in home-waters. Even before outbreak of war she was to prove and
unlucky ship for in 1910 she broke loose from her moorings in Dover harbour in
story weather and sank. She was refloated and returned to service thereafter.
 |
| HMS Eden sunken at Dover 1910 |
The France’s
career on the North Atlantic was cut short after two years by the commencement of
World War 1. She was taken into naval service – initially, and unsuitably due
to her high coal consumption, as an armed merchant cruiser and thereafter as a
troop carrier. The Eden meanwhile had been assigned to “The Dover Patrol”, the British
naval force tasked with ensuring the safe passage of men and materials between
Britain and France across the English Channel. The success of the Dover Patrol
in keeping losses to a minimum, despite the presence of German U-boats
operating out of bases on the nearby Belgian coast, was one of the Royal Navy’s
most remarkable achievements in World War 1.
It was in the early hours of 18th June 1916 that
the convergence of this twain was to occur in the English Channel, off the
French port of Fécamp on the Normandy coast.
Wartime conditions inevitably meant manoeuvring with limited lighting of
ships and collision was a constant danger. The consequences for the Eden were fatal, her 550 tons no match for the France’s more than
40-times times greater tonnage. The Eden’s
commander, Lieutenant A.C.N. Farquhar, and 42 officers and men went down with her
and 33 survivors were picked up by the France.
Within the larger scale of World War 1, and occurring only three weeks after the
Battle of Jutland, the Eden’s tragedy
was quickly forgotten by all but the families of those who had perished.
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| The France in service as a hospital ship in the Mediterranean |
Essentially undamaged, the France went on with busy war service. The sinking in late 1915 of Titanic’s sister, the Britannic, which had been converted to a
hospital ship, demanded provision of another ship of high capacity. This need
was to be met by the France and she
was to serve in this role in the Mediterranean until entry of the United States
into the war increased the demand for troop transportation. The France once again changed role and as a
trooper proved capable of carrying up to 5000 men at a time across the Atlantic,
shipping them to Europe in 1918 and back home in 1919. One suspects that the
comfort level for these troops was substantially lower than for the 2020
passengers she would carry in peacetime.
 |
| Troops of the American 15th Infantry Division being transported by the France |
The France’s
civilian career resumed in 1920. Her luxurious accommodation was once again an attraction
to the wealthy and in 1924 she was converted to almost total first-class
accommodation only, with only 150 third-class berths. She was to continue in
service until the early 1930s. By then a dinosaur, the Depression made demand
for the comfort she offered less affordable and continued operation was
uneconomic. She was scrapped in 1935.
The French presence in the North Atlantic passenger trade
was not at an end however and in the year that the France was scrapped the Normandie,
arguably the most beautiful liner ever built, entered service.
But that’s another story.
Britannia’s Reach by Antoine Vanner
"Britannia’s reach is not just political or military alone. What higher interest can there be than consolidation of Britain’s commercial interests?” So says one of the key figures in this novel , which centres on the efforts of a British owned company to reassert control of its cattle-raising investment in Paraguay, following a revolt by its workers. The story of desperate riverine combat brings historic naval fiction into the age of Fighting Steam. Click on the image below for more details.
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