I continue to be amazed by the sheer number – and scale – of
shipping disasters in the 19th Century and many have been described
previously in this blog. It’s notable that in so many cases the “accidents” were
avoidable and attention to even the most basic precautions would have averted them.
Unwillingness to provide adequate lifeboats was to be a common feature up to the
Titanic sinking in 1912, but many other
tragedies resulted from sheer bad seamanship. It’s also probable that the
custom of recruiting crews for short periods – often only a single voyage –
mitigated against formation of efficient teams that worked together over long
periods. Working and accommodated in
often-atrocious conditions, and poorly paid, the merchant-seamen of the period
must have had very little identification with their ships. It’s notable that in
the same era there were relatively few losses in the Royal Navy. On many occasions indeed, naval ships
survived conditions that would have doomed civilian vessels, the cohesion,
discipline and esprit de corps of the
naval crews being worth diamonds in extreme situations.
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| RMS Atlantic (Like other black and white illustrations in this article, this is public-domain ex-Wikipedia) |
These musings were prompted by reading a Victorian-era
account of the wreck of the 3700-ton RMS Atlantic,
a liner belonging to the famed White Star Line which would later own the Titanic. When she came into service in
1871 this ship was one of the fastest and most luxurious afloat. 420-feet long,
and driven at a maximum of 14.5 knots by her single-shaft 600-hp engine, she
carried auxiliary sails on four masts – the back-up to steam that was still essential
in this period. With the “RMS” identifying her as authorised to carry Royal
Mail, the Atlantic was employed on the
prestigious Liverpool-New York route “with
wonderful regularity”, and with capacity for 1166 passengers in addition to
her crew.
In March 1873 the Atlantic
set out on her nineteenth voyage to the United States with 835 passengers – many
of them emigrants – and 117 crew on board. Stormy weather was encountered from
the start and this caused such heavy consumption of coal that the Atlantic’s Captain Williams decided to
head for Halifax, Nova Scotia, to replenish his bunkers before pressing on to
New York. On the evening of March 31st, the Atlantic was within some dozen miles of Halifax and stormy
conditions were continuing. Williams decided to put off entering harbour until
daylight and in the meantime the ship was set on a southerly course. At midnight he retired to rest in the chart-room, leaving instructions for
the officer of the watch to call him at three o’clock. The first officer had
apparently also retired, leaving the vessel in charge of the second and third
officers. Despite proximity to a dangerous coast, they did not take soundings, or
post a masthead lookout, or reduce speed. They failed to spot the Sambro
Lighthouse to the south of Halifax’s harbour entrance.
The watch changed at three o’clock but the captain was
apparently not woken. Minutes later an alarm of “Breakers ahead” was called from
deck, too late to allow evasive action. The Atlantic
had driven herself on to rocks and was stranded there immovably. Pounded by the
waves, she heeled over on her starboard side, rendering it impossible for the boats
there to be launched, while those on the port side, exposed to the storm’s full
fury, were ripped away. Bewildered passengers crowded up on deck and were told
by the officers to lash themselves to the rigging to prevent being washed away.
It appears that significant numbers of passengers never made it on deck and
drowned in the steerage. The Victorian account almost relishes the horror of the
moment: “they slept, ignorant of the
danger, until the cold waves dashed in upon them, and rose to their lips. Then,
one wild startled cry, and all was hushed!”
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| The Wreck of the Atlantic - a contemporary Currier and Ives print (Found on http://angloboerwarmuseum.com and gratefully acknowledged) |
The Atlantic was
aground some fifty yards from a large rock, itself lying about a hundred and
fifty yards from an island behind. The third officer, named Brady, and two
seamen braved the waters and managed to get five lines across to the nearer
rock. A single rope was then passed from this rock to the island behind. The courage
of the men who managed this must have been superhuman. A photograph of one of
these heroes survives, Quartermaster John Speakman.
 |
| One of the heroes: John Speakman |
An appalling choice now confronted the survivors on deck –
stay on the doomed ship or risk passage through the raging surf along the ropes
to the rock and island. “Of those who
made their way to the deck, or clambered into the rigging, tens and scores were
washed away by the inrush of waters. The fore-boom broke loose and, swinging to
and fro, crushed the unfortunates who chanced to be within its range. Then,
again, there were not a few who, in a sudden frenzy, threw themselves headlong
into the sea, and were carried out of sight in a moment.” About two hundred
people managed to gain the rock along the ropes and fifty of them reached the
coast beyond.
At dawn a boat from a nearby island reached the wreck but
was too small to take off survivors. The indomitable Third Officer Brady made
use of tis skiff however to assist freeing of Atlantic’s boats trapped on her starboard side and with them
managed to get more survivors ashore. Captain Williams was apparently still on
board “issuing his orders with admirable
composure, and doing his best to direct, tranquilise and encourage, until his
hands and feet were frozen, when he was rescued by one of the boats.”
The Second Officer, named Frith, was still on board with
thirty-two passengers, one of them a lady, and they had climbed up into the
rigging of the mizzen mast. Some were rescued by boat, others were washed away,
until at last only Frith remained with the lady and a boy. The storm had
worsened and the boats could no longer approach closely. Washed away by the
waves, the boy managed to reach a boat but the lady was held tight by Frith –
one can imagine that with the female clothing of the period survival in the water
would have been impossible. A local clergyman, named Mr. Ancient (a wonderful
name!), had arrived in a small boat with four volunteers and they now made one
last attempt to rescue Frith and the lady. By the time the boat reached the
ship this unfortunate woman had succumbed to cold and it proved impossible to
reach the mizzen mast where Frith was stranded. Ancient did manage however to
get a footing in the rigging of the main mast and threw a rope across to Frith,
who was dragged back by it and then brought to shore by boat.
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| Burial service for victims of Atlantic shipwreck, April 1873, Lower Prospect, Halifax County, N.S. (Could the clergyman be the heroic Mr. Ancient?) |
There were 371 survivors. All 156 women and 189 children on
board died, the only surviving child being the twelve-year-old boy whom Frith
had stood by. Ten crew members were lost, while 131 survived (there appears to
be some uncertainty as to numbers). The courage of the islanders – not least
Mr. Ancient – who came to the rescue and who cared for the survivors afterwards
was beyond praise. There can be little doubt
that neglect of proper precautions when so close to a dangerous coast led to the
disaster. A subsequent court of enquiry resulted in Captain Williams being “severely
censured” but in view of is courage and his efforts to save lives, his captain’s
certificate (“ticket”) was suspended for only two years. One wonders what
became of him afterwards. Did he perhaps become like Conrad’s Lord Jim, haunted by his failure and striving
to make amends?
Perhaps some of the
readers of this article may know.
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