The history of steam navigation

by John Kennedy

Chapter XVI.

The Loss of the Collins Liner Arctic.

On Wednesday, 27th September, 1854, about noon—Cape Race bearing S.W. by W., 65 miles distant—the steamship Arctic, on her passage from Liverpool to New York, while running through a very thick fog, was struck on the starboard bow about 60 feet abaft the cutwater by an iron steamer. The force of the impact made three large holes in the Arctic—two below the watermark, one of which was about 5½ feet in length and about 1½ feet broad. The fog was so dense that neither vessel saw the other a minute before they collided.

The passengers on the Arctic were at lunch when their vessel was struck, and they immediately rushed on deck. Through the dense fog could be seen very indistinctly on the starboard bow a screw steamer, which was afterwards found to be the French merchant steamer Vesta. No apprehension of danger was felt by those on board the Arctic, and a boat in charge of the chief officer was sent off to the rescue of the passengers and crew of the other steamer. On board of the Vesta no hope was entertained of her ultimate safety, the crew and passengers relying upon being taken off by the crew of the Arctic. When the collision occurred there were several men on the bow of the Vesta, presumably on the lookout, one of whom was killed and the others severely wounded. As it was feared that the steamer was sinking, a rush was made for the boats, and two were launched. The first boat was swamped, but the second boat floated, and was at once boarded by several of the passengers and two of the crew, who, ignoring the captain’s orders to return on board, cut themselves adrift, and abandoned their shipmates. While these occurrences were taking place on the deck of the Vesta the Arctic had disappeared in the fog, those on the Vesta still hoping, however, that she had not deserted them. Meantime, the officers on board the Arctic had discovered that there was little hope of saving their vessel. Mrs. Collins, the wife of the managing owner, with their daughter and son, were passengers, and the captain’s first thought was for their safety. They and several ladies were placed in a lifeboat, but while it was being lowered one of its tackles gave way, and all, with the exception of one lady who clung to a sailor holding fast to the boat, were cast into the sea and drowned. A second boat was lowered successfully, and stored with provisions. It was soon filled with passengers—ladies and gentlemen—but by a strange oversight on the part of the officer in charge none of the crew accompanied them.

The difficulty and danger of lowering the boats was greatly increased in consequence of the impossibility of stopping the ship for that purpose, the pumps having been attached to the main engines in the attempt to keep the vessel clear of water, which was pouring into her through the breaches in her side. Cape Race being within about four hours steaming distance, she was headed in that direction, but after running about fifteen miles the water had risen so high in the stoke-hole as to extinguish the fires, and, in consequence, the engines ceased to work. Almost immediately after the ship stopped, the remaining lifeboats left the ship. There was one large boat on deck, which was capable of carrying fifty persons, but there were not sufficient seamen left on board to launch her, and it is supposed that she was filled with passengers in the hope that she might float off when the steamer sank.

In the Annual Register for 1854, it is stated that Captain Luce and most of his officers exerted themselves with firmness and energy while a hope remained, and the former probably owed his life to his remaining at his post. When his steamer sank he clung first to some floating wood, and afterwards got on a floating paddlebox, on which eleven others had taken refuge, of whom nine were swept away by the sea, the three survivors being rescued by the Cambria, of Glasgow. The captain’s son was killed in his father’s arms by a piece of wreck.

The conduct of Captain Duchesne, of the Vesta, was most praiseworthy. Finding that the Arctic had disappeared in the fog, and that his own vessel had not sunk under him, he, with the utmost promptitude, took measures for saving his ship and passengers. He noticed that, although the steamer’s bows were completely shattered, the forecastle bulkhead had not given way, and this afforded some hope of safety. He at once gave orders to lighten the vessel by the head, by throwing overboard all the fish, cargo, passengers’ luggage, &c., which was in the forepart of the ship, all of which orders were promptly obeyed, and by means of which the vessel’s bows were raised considerably. Her head was raised still more by cutting away the foremast, which had been damaged by the collision. The captain next ordered about 150 mattresses, palliasses and other effects belonging to the crew and passengers to be placed abaft the forecastle bulkhead, over which were thrown sails, backed by boards and planks, the whole being secured by cables firmly wrapped round all.

These operations occupied two days, after which Captain Duchesne proceeded under easy steam for the nearest port (St. John’s), which was entered on the 30th September. Most providentially, considering the disabled condition of the Vesta, she entered the harbour of St. John’s before the rising of a severe gale, which sprang up on the same day. The energy, unwavering perseverance, and superior seamanship exhibited by Captain Duchesne in bringing his vessel into port, elicited the admiration and praise of all who visited the ship.

The American Consul at St. John’s made every exertion to procure vessels to go at once in search of the Arctic or her boats. He succeeded in obtaining the brigantine Ann Eliza, whose owners (Messrs. Warren Bros.) generously gave her without charge. She sailed from St. John’s on the 2nd October, with instructions to cruise in the vicinity of the catastrophe for three days.

The Right Rev. Dr. Field also promptly placed at the disposal of the American Consul his yacht, the Hawk, for the same purpose.

The last moments of the Arctic are thus graphically described[20] by Mr. Baahlam, the second officer of the steamer:—

“In about thirty minutes all the lower fires were out, and, at the least, there were six feet of water in the ship fore and aft. By this time the confusion amongst the passengers was very great, but they used all efforts to assist the crew to keep the pumps going, and in lightening the ship forward for the purpose of getting at the leak from the inside, which we found to be useless, and numbers of them got into the boats, which were still hanging to the davits. In forty-five minutes after the collision I came up from the forehold, and informed the captain that the water was on a level with the lower deck beams, and that it was impossible to get at the leak. I then asked him what he thought would be the probable fate of the ship, when he stated his belief to me that there was no hope of saving her. He then told me to see to my boats. On going to those on the port side I found them completely filled with men and women, and no possibility of getting near them. I immediately went to the starboard side and ordered two of the crew to lower the guard boat, and asked the captain what his intentions were, who replied that the ship’s fate would be his. I then asked him if he would not allow his son to go with me, as I intended to take a boat, but he returned me the answer that he should share his fate. I then jumped into the boat, and was ordered by the captain to cut away the tackle falls, and drop under the stern. I did so; at which time about twenty persons, as I suppose, jumped overboard, of whom seventeen or eighteen were picked up. I fell in with another boat which had been lowered from the other side, and lightened her of part of her complement, leaving nineteen in her, and twenty-six in my own boat. The last sight we had of the ship her guards were level with the water, and the surface of the sea strewed with human beings, who had jumped or fallen overboard—to whom, however, it was impossible for us to render any assistance; and we soon lost sight of all, as the fog continued very dense. I then asked the boat’s crew whether they were willing to be governed by me, which was unanimously approved, and I was put in complete command of both boats.

“We were then about sixty miles S.E. of Cape Race. Deeming it my duty, for the safety of all, I took the nearest course for the land, and, after pulling forty-two hours, with nothing to guide us but the run of the sea, which I took to be heaving from the southward, and in a thick fog which lasted all the time, we reached Broad Cove, some twelve miles North of Cape Race.”

The Arctic, when she sailed from Liverpool on this ill-fated voyage, had 365 souls on board, of whom only 87 were saved. The hull, machinery, and equipment of this steamship were insured for £115,000, as follows:—Underwritten in the United States, £55,000; in London, £40,000; and in Glasgow, £20,000.

The Vesta, which sailed from St. Peter’s the day previous to the collision, had 197 persons on board, viz., a crew of 50 men and 147 passengers; of these 13 were reported missing when she arrived at St. John’s.

FOOTNOTES:

[20] “Illustrated London News,” 21st October, 1854.