|
Thomas M. M. Hemy
datapages
01,
02
&
03 are now on site. Plus all
of the other image pages, accessible though the index on page
05.  PRIOR PAGE / NEXT PAGE
If you want to make a comment, a site guestbook is here. Test.
To search for specific text on this page:- Enter your search
term & 'Submit'. To repeatedly search the page, press 'ALT S' again & again as
many times as may be required. But beware, once it reaches the bottom of the
page, it starts all over again at the top.
The 1890
newspaper article on page
02 mentions that the artist was
shipwrecked on the northwest coast of England. In his book, 'Deep Sea Days', the author devotes
Chapter IV to the
incident at pages 120 through 136. And for your interest I provide it here. The above two prints were illustrations to that chapter of the book.
CHAPTER IV OF
'DEEP SEA DAYS'
WRECKED OFF ST. BEE'S HEAD
In due course our orders came for us to proceed
from Waterford to Whitehaven, there to discharge our cargo of grain. We left the Irish coast in very dirty January
weather, with a high wind, rain, hail and fog.
We fought our way across the Irish Sea, and arrived off the coast of Cumberland with a hard nor'-easterly breeze blowing.
In the afternoon we sighted a large fishing craft, and our skipper signalled her that he wanted a pilot at once; she
lay to and when we came within speaking distance, they said they would put a man on board of us to pilot the ship into
Whitehaven for ₤7. Our captain thought it too much, and offered ₤3, but eventually advanced it to ₤5. The skipper of
the smack, losing patience, let fly his foresheet and got under weigh, leaving us to our
own devices. It proved an
expensive bit of bargaining for us, and could our skipper have foreseen the sequel he would cheerfully have paid an extra ₤2
rather than have lost assistance by haggling over that paltry amount.
It was beginning to get dark, dusking in fact, owing to the rain and fog, and we could see very little ahead; no lights
were visible on the coast, and as we had been expecting to pick up for some time St. Bee's Head light, the mate went up
on the fore-yard to look out for the beacon, whilst the skipper went below to have another look at his charts. The
feeling that all was not well spread heavily amongst us, for it was apparent that our skipper was at sea in every
sense of that term. These forebodings of coming trouble were soon realised, for presently we heard the mate shout,
"light on the port bow!" and we knew that it was St. Bee's Head, and that the light should have been on our starboard
beam! The skipper rushed on deck as the news was passed down to him, and he had scarcely reached the poop when there
came a shock and a stagger, and someone cried, "she's struck!" - quite unnecessary tidings to those who had been sent
flying and had measured their lengths on the deck, or been thrown against the bulwarks.
The wind just then was
blowing off the land, and the first thing we did was to haul round her yards, and throw the sails aback, but it was of
no use; she had stuck too fast. The long boat was then got out, and a kedge (small anchor) dropped off the port quarter.
After a lot of heaving, this, with the assistance of the sails, proved effective, and we found ourselves afloat
again. But alas! it was not for long, as the order to haul round the yards again was unfortunately given too soon, and
she struck once more farther north. This time she could not be budged, and the wind was veering round to the nor'west.
We had a confabulation for'ard as to what to do next; a tall and sinewy
Irishman taking the lead. We had lost all confidence in the after-guard - and
had come to the conclusion that the only seaman there was the mate, but that he
was too old for his job. We therefore decided that it was up to us to take
matters in hand and carry on.
The lifeboat was alongside, and the men discussed
whether they should take this boat and make an effort to get to Whitehaven, with
a view to getting a tug boat to come and try to get the ship off. Some of them
thought they ought to do so, but others thought they would come to grief if they
tried. I left them at it, for I was tired out and very sleepy, and decided to
seek the shelter of the galley where there was a fire, and try to get a little
sleep, but, with a forethought remarkable in one so young, I hauled a pair of
very natty Wellington boots from under my berth and put them on. I augured that
if I was to be drowned I would at least do my best to make a respectable-looking
corpse, and if I was to be saved, then I would have a fine new pair of boots -
purchased at Waterford and made to order.
I duly reached the galley without being noticed by anyone, and went in,
pulling the sliding door to. After poking up the fire I lay down on the cook's
bench, and in a couple of shakes was in the land of dreams.
There came a rude awakening; how much later I knew not, but I
was sent flying, and struck the galley floor hard, then I heard and felt the
grinding and rasping of the bottom of the vessel on the rocks as she rolled
furiously. It was pitch dark and evidently some of the aloft gear had fallen and
knocked off the galley funnel, blocking up the aperture, for the place was
chockfull of smoke. I groped about in the suffocating smother until I found a
door, and, frantically pushing it open, I staggered out, gasping for breath. I
gazed around in amazement; they were burning flares and blue lights on the poop,
and I could see men clustered around the starboard rigging engaged in hacking
away the shrouds or their lanyards, in preparation for getting shot of our
masts. As the ship rolled I could see the water pouring over the bulwarks; I
afterwards learned that the wind had increased to a gale and veered round to the
westward; the tide had risen fast, bringing with it a heavy sea. A signal gun had
been fired repeatedly in the hope of getting assistance.
Still only half awake, I made for the poop,
and scarcely knowing, in my dazed condition, what I was doing, ran up the mizen
rigging, but when only half-way up to the cross-trees I heard someone yelling
that the masts were going over the side, at which I sprang out of the standing
rigging, and, clutching a loose rope, dropped down to the deck like a spider
from its web when a wasp pays it a call. It was well for me that I did so, for I
had hardly touched the deck before the mainmast went by the board, carrying with
it the mizen mast. On this some of our hands made a dive below into the cabin,
perhaps in search of liquor, or affected by a blind panic, but they were called
up at once as the sea was now coming over the poop and the companion doors had
to be closed.
Then followed a dreary interval; all the crew
were now on the poop, for there was no friendly mizen rigging to climb into.
The ship, I suppose, had been driven off the rocks deep into the sand, for she
was now steady, with a slight list to starboard, and we were all clinging to the
poop rail. Every minute, however, the tide was rising, and the waves were
threatening to tear us from our hold. It was evidently only a question of time
when they would succeed.
Then a brain wave came to someone; why not make for the
for'ard part of the ship? So far as anybody knew, the foremast was still
standing, and, anyhow, that part of the vessel was higher out of the water that
the after end! But we knew the chance of getting there was very doubtful as we
peered into the black night and watched the waves as they poured in amidships,
making a plaything of the mass of tangled rigging and broken spars. We could
only guess at what lay beyond, for nothing was visible save close at hand, when
the waves amongst the wreckage broke into white foam on the deck below the poop.
To drop down amongst the wreckage and risk being caught by a wave seemed
suicidal! Then again, for all we could see there might be no foremast? or it
might even be that the fore part of the ship had ceased to exist!
The man who took the bull by the horns and who, after watching a great
wave recede, dropped down on to the main deck, was a hero! In a couple of seconds
he had disappeared to view, but after the next wave had gone he was followed by
a bunch of two or three. We did not know their fate - they were simply gone! The
blackness of the night was greater than any I've ever experienced. As the next
wave all but carried us overboard, it was evident we should have to make the
journey ourselves, and it was time to get moving. It was indeed a weird
experience. Frantically leaping and wading, we pushed our way to the for'ard end
of the ship before another wave broke, and found the foremast still standing,
and lashed to the standing rigging were the men who had proceeded us on the
venturesome journey - save he who had been the first to make it. I found him
later, after I had climbed out to the end of the bowsprit, where I lashed myself
to the stay. He had fastened himself in "the head," the cross bars at the top of
the cutwater. Why he had chosen this spot I know not, for, although he was
sheltered from the wind, when the waves broke aboard they rushed over the
forecastle and a veritable cascade descended on him. When his head emerged from
the welter he would express himself in the most awful language.
As for me, perched up as I was on the bowsprit, I looked down on the man, like unto the cherub
that sits up aloft and looketh down on poor Jack. I had managed somehow to secure
one of the two or three lifebelts that were on board, and when my neighbour had
a lucid interval he persistently advised me to make a jump for it. This advice
I, as persistently ignored, and when morning broke it appeared as if I was fully
justified in so doing, for the light revealed a rocky shore which undoubtedly I
should only have reached in fragments. Up the rigging were the rest of the crew;
the only voice came from the ship's youngest apprentice, who was praying; at
least what was blown to me at intervals appeared to me prayers; and the only
comfort that came their way was from the old mate, who was the possessor of the
last plug of tobacco that we had left; this he passed at intervals to the others
to take a chaw from. The hours seemed interminable, and it is always a marvel to
me that we managed to retain our hold for so long. Nature is sometimes merciful;
men can suffer so far and no farther; and when the limit is reached death is an
easy matter. Speaking from my own experience, I know that if I had dropped into
the sea I was quite incapable of lifting a hand to preserve my life, so numbed
was I both in body and mind.
Matters had about reached their blackest
when there came from landwards the shrill sound of a locomotive whistle, and
turning eagerly in the direction whence it came, we could distinguish sparks
flying from the engine funnel, then the lights of the carriage windows. It was
indeed the dawn of hope, as well as of a new day! Surely we could not be allowed
to drown with help so near, and daylight breaking! It was not so easy now to
pass out on the long journey, and still less so when the cold grey light of dawn
revealed a village lying in flat country, with a railway station and telegraph
posts! Our revulsion of feeling can be imagined. Our despair when no response
was made to our distress signals; our hours of misery in the darkness; our
joyful hope when we saw the near evidence of civilised activity.
The tide was falling most
certainly, and the question that agitated us was should we be taken off before
it rose again? In the growing light, what a scene of desolation our vessel presented!
Then our eyes turned to the beach, and we saw the second evidence of life - the
figure of a man strolling down from a cottage, which stood apart from its
fellows on a sandy waste opposite the ship. He looked at us, or appeared to do
so, then he sat down and took out his pipe, which he slowly lighted. He was
evidently thinking - and so were we. The tide had now fallen sufficiently
to allow us to get down on the deck, and the man was probably thinking that our
vessel had a cargo of lunatics on board, for we were dancing and jumping about,
beating our hands and cutting all sorts of antics, striving to get some vitality
into our frozen limbs, so as to restore some part of a circulation. This
achieved, we did not sit down and weep; no, the Irishman decided that we were
going to make a raft; our boats were smashed, fragments of them possibly strewed
the adjoining beach - and on that raft there would be volunteers; they would
establish communication with the shore, and having done so would proceed to the
railway station and get the stationmaster to wire to Whitehaven, asking them to
send a lifeboat.
With feverish haste we set about making this raft; we
had plenty of material to work with. The Irishman took charge of this job and
bossed everybody, including his officers. It was a smart piece of work when
finished, then volunteers were called for, and everybody came forward. Selecting
two, our new skipper saw them safely on the raft, which had just been launched,
and we paid out a lot of log line to be landed, as the idea was for those on
shore to haul a rope from the ship, the said rope to be attached to a rock, and
on it we would scramble down to the shore in the event of a lifeboat not being
forthcoming. But it did not work according to plan.
In the first place,
before the raft had gone far the log line fouled some of the wreckage and had to
be cut; then the sea took a hand in the game and the unfortunates on the raft
were nearly torn off and drowned, and only the fact that they were well secured
before starting saved them. The raft eventually got ashore some half-mile away,
and its crew managed to reach the station. There they were informed by the
stationmaster that there was no need to send for a lifeboat, as the ship, where
she now lay, would be high and dry at low water.
We on board were anxiously waiting
for news which came not, and as we were well aware that although the wind and
tide had gone down, they might rise again - the latter certainly, so, we
held a consultation as to what to do next. It was considered that someone should
be able to swim ashore now with the log line, and establish communication, when
it was discovered that the only person on board who could swim at all was the
youngest apprentice, a youth of about fifteen or sixteen. He was, however, a
plucky little chap and he volunteered, so we lowered him into the water and
watched his progress with anxiety. He managed to struggle gamely through the
breakers, and the man who had sat on the rock "thinking" all this time, got off
his perch, waded in and pulled him ashore. Then they both took hold of the log
line and pulled off a rope, which they made fast to a friendly rock. Down this
one after the other of us clambered to land, most of us in a pretty bad case,
some of us unable to walk. The Cambrian proved himself a man of resource and
hospitality also, for he called his wife down, and together they half carried,
half supported the worst cases up to their cottage. There we sat before a
roaring fire and were filled up with hot tea and brandy. When our teeth ceased
from chattering and our limbs and tongues moved freely once more we again went
down to the beach to see how matters were faring there.
We found the ship high and dry as the stationmaster
had predicted, and a crowd of people engaged in loading carts with the cabin
furniture and stores; perched up on the top of one of these I noticed one of our
men, drunk as a lord and singing a ballad.
We asked our Good Samaritan
if he had not heard our signals of distress during the night, and he replied
that he did hear a few bangs, but he thought he had left the inner door open and
that it was their dog going about the house looking for its pups, which he had
sold that day; also, he added, the wind was fit to "tear all up" and was a
terrible row.
It was a chilly day, and we spent it as might be expected.
The village was a typical small watering place - a seaside resort for
Whitehaven, Carlisle and neighbourhood, a place where the inhabitants mostly
hibernate during the winter; living frugally, and waiting patiently for the
summer season, when they can fall on their prey from the inland towns and unload
them of their superfluous cash. In the usual manner, the coming of a wreck, with
the promise it held of grate fuel for the winter, was satisfactory, and there
were possibilities of divers kind of loot also.
Our captain had gone to the hotel
and made arrangements with the landlady to cater for us and provide accommodation
for the night, contemplating sending us to Whitehaven the next day to be paid
off.
So we duly made our way to this hotel, where we held a reception,
and partook of considerable liquid hospitality and enjoyed the comfort of the
same; no one, by the way, offered us a change of garments, and it took a
considerable amount of the said beverages to make us forget that we were
externally considerably damp.
The clergyman looked in in the course of
the evening, and that describes it! for he just put in his nose, held up his
hands and fled. Then it came to a question of beds. Be it remembered that we had
only the garments in which we stood, for all our chests had been washed
overboard with the deckhouse, and after our rough experience our working clothes
made us look like tramps. Perhaps there was some excuse for the landlady
remarking that her beds were fit for princes to sleep on, and she was not going
to have ------- I had better not repeat what she did say, it was not
complimentary, and it was lucky for her that she was a woman! Our captain had
guaranteed all our expenses, yet we were put to sleep in our half-dried garments
in a barn. Thanks probably to the hotel's liquors, which were more generous that
its landlady, we slept like tops and were none the worse when daylight broke.
We left those inhospitable quarters next afternoon and went by train to
Whitehaven. Our skipper had given us the name of an hotel where he told us he
had made arrangements for "our comfort." We were to stay there until he had
communicated with his owners and received the money to pay us off.
It was dark when we left the station
and we asked the way from a sergeant of police, and told him who we were. He was
very interested, and directed us to the place, but imagine our disgust when the
landlord frankly refused to take us in. I forget the exact reason that he gave,
but he ended up by calling a policeman to show us the way to a place that he
apparently thought would suit us; and off we went shepherded by this policeman.
We were led into an evil-smelling passage, and the constable opened the door of
a disreputable-looking building, and we were ushered into a large odoriferous
room with bare walls that somewhere in a remote past had been whitewashed. We
were greeted by a hump-backed, forbidding-looking object who was holding a birch
broom in his hand, whether to keep his collection of gutter ornaments in order,
or as a symbol of authority, I know not, but he was evidently "the boss."
Sitting on benches around the room was a collection of wretched-looking tramps
of the cadging, ballad-singing variety, area sneaks, etc., one or two of whom
were cripples and one a bogus sailor. In front of the large fire a man was
engaged in bandaging up an ugly sore on his leg, while another was toasting a
herring.
After a few words with "Daddy" - as we found "the boss" was
acclaimed by his clients - and without speaking to us the policeman retired and
left us standing dumbstricken. We gazed around helplessly at the strange sight,
whilst a blackguard with a shade over his eyes related some dirty scheme he had
succeeded in, which met with laughter from all, particularly "Daddy." We were
helpless, we had not a penny-piece in our pockets, but we felt that this was no
place for us, and made to pass out into the dreary night again; "Daddy" rushed
forward to bar our progress, when suddenly the door opened and in stepped the
police sergeant to whom we had spoken outside the railway station, a Good
Samaritan dressed in blue. "Hullo, boys," he cried in cheery tones, "what are
you doing here?" We told him. "Well," he replied, "you can't and shan't stop
here, or walk the streets. We're not all like that brute at the hotel, follow me
lads," and with the curses of "Daddy" ringing in our ears we filed out.
Our conductor led
us to a quiet, old-fashioned inn, with a landlady of a very different type from
the one of the previous evening, to whom the sergeant explained matters,
finishing up with: "Mrs. ---, you can hold me responsible for their board," and
then turning to our crowd continued, "now, lads, I leave you to behave well and
be a credit to the house and my recommendation."
Then he shook hands with us and left.
That night was a heavenly one for all; nothing was too good for us. I afterwards
heard that the landlady said she had never had better behaved people in her
house. On the next morning I met our mate, and, borrowing a shilling from him,
sent a wire home, and the following day a registered letter reached me, and I
left.
My wire was something in the nature of a surprise to my people, for they had heard
nothing from me for a couple of years or so.
The experiences round Cape Horn and the effects of
the wreck had somewhat broken my nerves and I decided that I had had enough of the sea, so returned to work
at the School of Art at Newcastle.
|
If I find more about the general subject, I'll
add it in in due course!
Thomas M. M. Hemy
datapages
01,
02
&
03 are now on site. Plus all
of the other image pages, accessible though the index on page
05. PRIOR PAGE / NEXT PAGE
To MV Danmark
Slider Puzzle
page &
to the
Special Pages Index.
| A SITE SEARCH FACILITY
THE GUEST BOOK - GO
HERE
|
|
|