Arrived in Liverpool in October, 1852, and was at once chartered by the Golden Line for £12,000, considered a huge sum in those days. Her life, however, was not a long one, as she was lost with all hands between January and April, 1854, and it was generally supposed that she became embayed and back-strapped by a huge ice island in about 44° S., 25° W.
Tragic encounters with ice were by no means unusual in the fifties when every passage maker was trying to follow out Maury’s instructions by running far down into southern latitudes in search of strong fair winds.
The “Indian Queen.”
The Indian Queen, 1041 tons, the most notable Black Baller launched in 1853, and advertised as Marco Polo’s sister ship, was a very fast vessel, her first voyage to Australia being made in 6 months 11 days, and in 1855 she came home from Hobart in 78 days. In 1859 she narrowly escaped the fate of Guiding Star. On 13th March, 1859, she sailed from Melbourne for Liverpool under Captain Brewer, with 40 passengers and the usual cargo of wool and gold dust. All went well until she was half way to the Horn, when on the 27th March the weather became thick with a strong N.W. wind and heavy westerly swell.
On the 31st March she was in 58° S., 151° W. by account; the day was wet, foggy and very cold and the ship logged a steady 12 knots with the wind strong at N.W. At 2 a.m. on the following morning those below were aroused by a violent shock, the crash of falling spars and a grinding sound along the port side, and the first of the frightened passengers to arrive on the poop found the ship lying broadside to broadside with an immense iceberg. All her spars and sails above the lower masts were hanging over the starboard side, the foremast was broken off close to the deck and was held at an angle by its rigging, the mainyard was in half, the bowsprit was washing about under the bows, and though the mizen topmast was still standing the topsail yard was in two, broken in the slings.
The night was dark and rainy and at first the watch below and passengers thought that all was lost. They found no one at the wheel, the port life-boat gone, and not a soul on the poop, but they were somewhat reassured by the appearance of the carpenter who had been sounding the pumps and pronounced the ship to be making no water. Then the second mate appeared aft and announced that the captain, mate and most of the crew had gone off in the port life-boat. Apparently there had been a disgraceful panic which involved even the captain, who actually left his own son, an apprentice, behind on the ship.
However those who had been so shamefully deserted began to buckle to with a will, headed by the second mate, Mr. Leyvret, and the cool-headed carpenter, a man named Thomas Howard. Passengers, cooks, stewards and those of the crew left on board were promptly divided into watches, the captain’s son was sent to the wheel, and whilst some set about clearing up the raffle of gear and getting things ship-shape as far as possible, others shovelled the ice, which lay in masses on the decks, overboard.
With some difficulty the crossjack was backed and the head of the spanker hauled in. At the same time the boat was perceived tossing in the swell on the port beam and apparently endeavouring to regain the ship, and faint cries for help could be heard against the wind. She seemed to be without oars and with sea after sea washing over, she was soon swept past the ship by the back wash off the ice and lost sight of in the fog never to be seen again. The ship, though, with the backed crossjack, began to drift along the side of the berg and presently dropped clear of it into smoother water to leeward.
Day now began to break and all hands set about cutting away the wreck, but the mainyard and the rest of the raffle hanging from the stump of the mainmast was hardly clear before the terrible cry of “Ice to leeward!” arose and a huge berg appeared looming out of the mist. The crossjack was at once braced up, the spanker set and the foresail trimmed in some fashion or other, then in a tense silence the survivors watched the ship slowly forge ahead and, dragging the wreck of masts and spars and torn sails along with her, weather the new danger by a bare 100 yards. And scarcely had she done so when the foremast fell crashing on to the long-boat, the other boats having been already stove in by falling spars. The next business was to get the wreck of the foremast over the side and clear of the ship. Here the carpenter displayed the greatest coolness and skill, being ably backed up by the second mate and the 4 seamen left on board. With the last of the wreck overside, time was found to muster the survivors, when it was discovered that the captain, chief mate and 15 men had been lost in the port life-boat, leaving behind the second mate, carpenter, bosun, 4 A.B.’s, 1 O.S. and 2 boys, besides the cooks, stewards, doctor, purser, and passengers who numbered 30 men, 3 women and 7 children.