- Submerged

Gentoo And Golden Chance

Named after one of the Falkland islands most common penguins, the Gentoo came to the Falklands in 1927 and then spent many years carrying supplies and wool for the farming company Dean Brothers. She later passed into the ownership of Bill Hills until 1981 when she was sold to a new arrival to the islands, who intended to convert her to a houseboat. However when she was put on a new mooring she rested on the bottom and heeled to starboard and the rising tide flooded her.

Gentoo

All I know about the Golden Chance is that she was built in 1900’s and came to the Falkland Islands in the 1940’s for sealing protection.

Golden Chance

Falkland Islands Overview

The Falkland Islands have a total land area half the size of Wales and are made up of two main large islands, and over seven hundred small ones. The islands are basically very hilly, barren and windswept rather like Dartmoor or the Brecon Beacons, and you can have sunshine and sleet in the space of a few minutes. Because of the fierce winds there are no trees on the islands and gorse bushes had to be introduced to form some sort of wind break for the sheep, which form the main farming industry.

Looking away from the main part of Stanley.

Nowadays the population is nearly three thousand strong, of which two thousand live in Stanley. The remaining one thousand live on their sheep farms, which are collectively called The Camp. However the humans are vastly outnumbered by the various species of penguin, which number just under half a million breeding pairs. Since the end of the War in 1982 much has been done to improve the lives of the Falkland Islanders. New roads have been built along with schools and a hospital. All this has to some extent halted the drift of young people moving away.

The Post Office, note the telephone boxes.

Economically the Islands are now much more prosperous mainly due to the fishing which brings in upwards of 24 million pounds a years due to fishing licences in their 200 mile unilateral zone. Tourism is also starting to make an ever bigger contribution. There is oil to be found at the moment but not in economic amounts, but if that happens then the population will definitely increase.

The Liberation Monument

Although first sighted in 1592 by the English seafarer John Davis in the ship Desire, it took until 1690 for the first recorded landing by a Captain John Strong, who claimed it for Britain. Almost certainly other seafarers had sighted the islands over the years, and that’s how Argentina’s claim started. In the 1840s the island’s capital was moved for purely Naval reasons from Port Louis to Port Stanley and was named after the Colonial secretary of the day.

Looking towards Stanleys main jetty.

At the end of the nineteenth century, the Falklands became very important strategically for Britain who used the islands as a major coaling station for their Atlantic fleet. During the Great War the first battle of the Falklands ensured the Britain’s supremacy over the German Fleet and secured the passage around Cape Horn, which at the time was vital to Britain’s interests. Cape Horn is notorious for its fierce storms, and as the amount of shipping increased with the expansion of world trade and the coming of the whaling fleets, the Falklands were perfectly placed to provide repair facilities for storm-damaged ships.

A grim reminder of the war. there are still plenty of minefields around.They will take years to clear.You can buy maps at the tourist office.

Many of the ships that limped into Port Stanley were often too badly damaged to be repaired and they were just abandoned where they ran aground, and you can still see them to this day.

Abandoned clipper ship.

Incidentally during the Second World War, H.M.S.Exeter retired badly damaged to Port Stanley after taking her part in the battle of the River Plate, which sealed the fate of the mighty Graff Spee. The museum has some great photos of her. In the sixties she became part of H.M.S.Bellerophen in Portsmouth where she trained young seamen and Royal Marines, like me, in the art of seamanship.

Lady Elizabeth

The Lady Elizabeth was a three masted barque, 223 ft long,1208 tonnes built in Sunderland by R. Thompson in 1879. her hulk now lies in Whalebone Cove to the east of Stanley harbour and is one of the best preserved wrecks in the Falkland Islands.

Lady Elizabeth

Up until 1889 when she was delivering bricks and cement for the construction of Stanley Cathedral, the Lady Elizabeth had had an uneventful career, but that changed in 1913 when she came to rest in Stanley harbour after her voyage from Vancover to Delagoa Bay in Mozambique was cut short. The vessel, under Captain Peterson, was battered by gales 300 miles south west of Cape Horn, loosing her deck cargo and four crew men overboard in the fierce storm.

The Lady Elizabeth limped into Berkley Sound on 12 march 1913 and on the approach to Stanley harbour she struck the Uranae Rock putting a large hole in her hull and doing considerable damage to her keel. She was eventually towed into the harbour where she was condemned as un-seaworthy and was sold to the Falkland Island Company along with her valuable cargo of timber for a mere 3350 pounds.

Lady Elizabeth as she was.Photo from Stanley Museum

On 17 February 1936 she broke her moorings in a storm and drifted down to her present position.

Montevideo Wreck Trail

Montevideo was founded by the Spanish in the early 18th century as a military stronghold. Its natural harbour soon developed into a commercial center competing with the Argentine capital of Buenos Aires.

The River Plate is the esturary formed by the combination of the Uruguay River and the Parana River. Where the rivers join it is 30 miles wide and it runs to the southwest growing to 137 miles wide where it opens onto the Atlantic Ocean, making it the widest estuary in the world.

The narrow channel into Montevideo is full of container ships and as you aproach you can see the mast of the sunken ship Highland Chieftain. The wreck of the Graff Spee is some 3 miles to your left.

The mseum also yielded a cannon from Nelson’s former flagship Agamemnon.

The Graff Spee

The Highland Chieftain

The Agamemnon

Graff Spee

Montivideo is the largest city, capital and chief port of Uruguay. Its harbour is one of the most important in the America’s. Surrounded by beautiful sandy beaches the city of Montivideo is a mix of historic old buildings (they have just realized what they have and are now busy preserving them) large shady squares, museums and art galleries. It feels very European. The nicest part for the tourist is the old part of the city with lots of nice bars and chi-chi restaurants. The population is nearly one point five million which is roughly 44 percent of the total population of Uruguay.

Graff Spee in Montivideo Harbour

Graff Spee scuttled.

(these two photo’s are courtesy of www.deutschland-class.dk)

This is a fantastic website. If you want to know everything about the Graff Spee, click the link

For the British and Germans however, Montivideo is most famous for the Battle of the River Plate and the destruction of the great German pocket battleship, the Graff Spee, chased into Montivideo by the British cruisers Ajax, Achilles and Exeter.Unable to escape, her Captain was ordered by Hitler to scuttle the ship, and he later commited suicide.

The massive range finder.

Right in the centre of the port is one of her huge anchors as well as the massive range finder that sat right at the top of the ship. About fifteen minutes taxi ride away along the coast is a small Naval Museum at Puerto Del Buceo.

The anchor.

Inside the museum has plenty of photographs of the Graff Spee sinking and the famous photo of Captain Langsdorff giving a naval saluted at the graveside of his fallen crew members when everybody else was giving the Nazi salute.

Langsdorff’s sword.

Some say that Hitler was insenced by his actions, seeing them as disloyal and this probably contributed to Langsdoff’s suicide as he would have most likely been put up against a wall and executed on his return to Germany.

Admiral Harwood’s uniform.

Other items of interest are Langsdorffs ceremonial sword and a uniform from one of the petty officers. Interestingly there is also a uniform donated by Admiral Harwood who masterminded the victory over the German battleship.

Gun from the Graff Spee.

Outside the museum is a 150mm gun raised from the vessel and another small anchor around the side. Its only a small museum, but it is packed full of other stuff about the Uruguayan navy and it is all very well presented.Entrance is free and it is open from 9am to 12pm, then 2pm to 6pm except Thursdays. Well worth a visit.

Photo courtesy Reuters.

On Feb 2006 the eagle figurehead from the stern of the vessel was recovered. To protect the feelings of those still sensitive to Nazi Germany, the swasita on the figurehead was covered as it was pulled out of the water. This reignited all the fears about neo nazism. However the idea is to salvage as much of the wreck as possible. Unfortunately this needs a ton of money so the Eagle will probably be sold, and it will be difficult to stop it getting into the wrong hands.

I am grateful to Simon Shaw for these photos.

Highland Chieftain

As you come up the River Plate to Montevideo you can see the mast of the Highland Chieftain sticking out of the water from miles away. The un-initiated on the ship thought that this was the remains of the Graff Spee. No such luck as she lies broken up underwater some 3 miles away.

The Highland Chieftain was built in 1929 by Harland and Wolf of Belfast, and made her maiden voyage on the London toRiver Plate service, on the 21st of February and later transferred to Royal Mail in 1932. She commenced wartime trooping duties in 1939, but was damaged on the 11th of October, 1940, during a bombing raid on Liverpool.

The mast of the Highland Chieftain.

After the war she did not resume her commercial operations until 1948 on the River Plate service, and was sold out of the fleet in January of 1959 to the Calpe Shipping Company of Gibraltar and converted for use in the whaling industry,and renamed Calpean Star.

The Highland Chieftain

In March of 1960 she suffered rudder damage when off Montevideo, and after leaving under tow she suffered a boiler room explosion which resulted in her being abandoned.The wreck wasn’t cut up for scrap until 1965.

I am very grateful To Andy Jones for the following information and photos. He took the silhouette photo whilst serving on H.M.S.Protector in December 1967

Andy Jones: I believe I photographed the Highland Chieftain (Calpean Star) in 1967. At the time I was serving in the Royal Navy on board HMS Protector the navy’s antarctic patrol ship. We were entering Montevideo for the Christmas period. I was on the upper deck with my camera and took a sunlight silhouette photograph which later won a photographic competition. Oddly you say the ship was cut up for scrap in 1965, if the ship I photographed is the same ship then it was far from being cut up by late 1967. The photograph I have shows the two funnels, bridge and one deck below the funnels. Apart from the foremast, two derricks on the foredeck and two on the afterdeck the rest is sunken. I have viewed the photograph you have and cross matched it with my photograph and I am about 90% sure it is the same ship. Other photographs I have seen only show the foremast and the top of the front derricks. I may have the only photograph of the Highland Chieftain as it was in the 1960’s.

The Highland Chieftain. Photo Andy Jones

Article translated from Spanish. This vessel has known better times, of course. Was launched in 1928, Known as “Highland Chieftain” Part of a fleet of several cruise ships (passenger ships and cargo) identical. After passing the usual tests, entered service in 1929, A maiden voyage between London and Buenos Aires. It continued for years doing transatlantic voyages carrying cargo and passengers between Europe and South America. Displacing 14,000 tons and measured 163 meters long. Accommodate 150 passengers in the luxurious first class, 70 passengers in second class and to 500 in third class (something tells me that the latter were crowded, no?)

H.M.S.Protector at the Falklands. Photo Andy Jones

At the outbreak of World War II, the British seized it for use as troop transports. In that role the ship suffered bombing that severely damage it and put it out of service until 1948. In 1959 was acquired by the company “Calpe Shipping Co., and entirely refurbished and renamed Calpan Star. In early summer of 1959The ship carrying a cargo of birds and other animals to a zoo in Germany. Among them was an albatross, Large-sized seabird. Prior to arriving in port, one of the sailors gave the albatross improper food and he died. This situation is unfortunate, in the beliefs of the seamen, who identified the bird as a “symbol of friendship” and avoid disturbing them or hurting them. So it was no surprise that on reaching the next port, Liverpool, several of the crew demanded their pay and chose to stay there, knowing that the vessel had been “cursed.”

The Calpean – Highland Chieftain

With some replacement crew, Calpean Star completed its journey, being allocated to the Norwegian fleet after the Antarctic. And there the trouble began. The ship suffered first several faults in the generators. Repaired them, then detected a leak of oil into the water supply. Then a break in the main engine compressor would leave it adrift for several days. When the repairs were completed, the rudder of the ship suffered a fracture, such that it had to be towed to Montevideo to solve the problem.

I am grateful to Craig Pearson for sending the photos below of his Uncle and two friends around 1950. If anyone knows who the crew are, please get in touch.

Crew members painting ship. Photo Craig Pearson

This was done and the necessary repairs were completed. But just as “Calpean Star”Left Montevideo, a huge explosion destroyed the engine room and started a fire. Crew members drowned during abandoning ship, which many identify with the sailor who killed the albatross. And the ship would founder hopelessly damned.

More crew-names unknown. Photo Craig Pearson

The curious fact: the ship’s remaining crew were repatriated by air. And in the first leg of the trip had a problem: the landing gear of the plane broke down when it landed in Rio de Janeiro. The seamen declared that only by coming back to their land felt that the curse was over. Believe it or not.

I am grateful to Ian Fordham for this photo of his Great Uncle, Alfred Roy Murley, and the information below

Family Photo.

I attach a family photo taken in Swansea where the family lived about 1910 at some celebration, maybe Xmas? Alfred Roy Murley is on the left and his stepfather John Rowlands second right. Alfred was born Swansea in 1881, gained his masters certificate in 1902 and won the DSC at Gallipoli in May 1915 whilst Chief Officer on the Cardiganshire.He acted as a ship’s master with Royal Mail lines for many years both pre and between the wars. He served mostly on the S America run or to the west coast of the USA and Canada. At the start of WW2, I gather that the RM packets continued in service for a while before being assigned as troopships and operating with the convoys.His stepfather, John Rowlands was originally from Anglesey and also a master mariner. His boat was torpedoed by a U-boat in April 1915 off the Falklands and he went down with it. I was in a contingent of RAF trainee aircrew posted to South Africa for flying training and I boarded the Highland Chieftain in the centre of Glasgow on Sunday morning 18th July 1943. In the afternoon we sailed slowly down the Clyde and anchored in the vicinity of Gourock where a number of other ships were already assembling.The next morning we set off as part of convoy WS32 joining with convoy KMF20 the next day. We were escorted by three frigates and two sloops and joined by the cruiser Charybdis from the 22nd to 25th when we were joined by another four frigate and two destroyers until we reached Freetown on 28th.

I am grateful to Ted Gunn for the following information and photo.

Family Ted in Egypt on his return from South Africa; he is second from the right, standing.

We sailed from Freetown on 5th August and before arriving at Capetown on 18th and we were escorted in all by eight destroyers and two frigates. We sailed from Capetown on 19th arriving at Durban on 22nd. Living conditions throughout were atrocious, fresh water was available for two half hour periods a day which, from my point of view as non tea drinker, gave rise to some dehydration especially through the tropics. In spite of poor quality food, the galley staff managed on a number of afternoons to produce some excellent corned beef bread rolls which they sold to those lucky enough to get to them before they sold out.

The cruiser Charbydis

We were accommodated in the holds of this cargo ship which had been fitted out for the refrigerated transportation of meat and those who could not find a space to sling their hammocks from the cooling pipes near the ceiling slept on the floor. We were not allowed below between meals and with around 1300 service men on board finding a space to sit on deck was a problem (there were no seats) – sitting on our lifejackets provided a little comfort. This was not a cruise that would appeal to holidaymakers.

I am grateful, again, to Ian Fordham for this information about the part the Highland Chieftan in the sinking of the battleship Graff Spee.

On 8th December, 1939, the Highland Chieftan acted as ‘bait’ to draw the Graf Spee into an attack by making an announced departure from Rio de Janeiro bound for the River Plate – but secretly shadowed by a Royal Navy force commanded by Commodore Harwood and assembled to hunt for the Graf Spee. (In fact the Graf Spee was, unknown to the RN, already bound for the River Plate looking for the sister ship of the Highland Chieftan – the Highland Princess). After the Graf Spee was sighted and attacked and damaged by Harwood’s force, it took shelter in the neutral waters of the River Plate close by the anchorage of the Highland Chieftan which had by then made port. It was being held at anchor under RN orders as it was thought the Graf Spee might sail again but was not allowed, under international law, to leave port within 24 hours of a combatant merchant ship. So, the RN was allowing one British ship a day to leave and thus blocking any departure of the warship whilst it awaited reinforcements.

Graff Spee burning – courtesy Simon Shaw

The Germans were under the impression that the RN force assembled to hunt it and standing offshore was much more powerful than it really was and sought approval from Berlin to inter the ship or to scuttle rather than to venture out to sea and engage. Berlin ordered the scuttling as it did not want to risk the boat falling under British control at some point. The Highland Chieftan took on board 60 merchant seamen prisoners released by the Graf Spee when at anchor and was still close by on the night of the 18th December when the Graf Spee was scuttled. These events are recorded in the diary of the Master, T Purcel-Buret, held at Greenwich. The British Naval Attache in Buenos Aires, Capt (later Admiral) Henry McCall sent a message to London on 21st December, that the Highland Chieftan was ready to sail to the UK with the released seamen.

HMS Exeter showing her damage after action with the Graff Spee. Photo courtesy navy photos and Ian Morte

Highland Chieftan made at least 3 more voyages from the UK to the River Plate during 1940 and was damaged by German bombs when docked in Liverpool on 11th October, 1940. It then sailed twice to South Africa during 1941 following conversion as a troopship – as part of convoys WS5A and WS8B. It was thern involved in a heavy collision with the much larger troopship, Dominion Monarch during 1941 when part of convoy WS8A and, as a result, spent several months under repair in dry dock in Durban.

I am grateful to Michael Richardson for the photo of his Father, and an extract from his diary.

Michael Richardsons Father.

Diary extract: Diary of my father’s voyage from Buenos Aires to Liverpool on Highland Chieftain. Mar-Apl 1941

Sun Feb 23rd. H. Chieftain noted in Prensa. (Latin America News Agency) During the following week he was busy with a round of social engagements and completing his work in B.A. for the Gourock Ropeworks Company. Tues 4th Mar. A day on which I felt neither here not there. Furlongs came for my things about 9 o’c. …. Roberts drove me to the boat .. many on quayside seeing off volunteers (for the British forces ) .. mothers, fathers, sisters and sweethearts, I suppose. Layout of ship very familiar. Met several acquaintances in crew. At table with two ship-wrecked ships’ officers (Captain Caird and Chief Engineer from Eurylochus). Still at quayside at 10 p.m.

Wed 5th Mar. Woke up just in the same place & spent a nice sunny day by the dockside. Water too low to move. Av. Star just beside us with Mennonite settlers for Paraguay. Men with beards, women with head kerchiefs and long skirts and aprons & many children.

Th 6th Mar. We left about midnight and arrived Monte about noon. After lunch went ashore with Thomas .. back on board for dinner. Saloon practically empty. Talking to ship-wrecked Chief Engineer Creech afterwards.

Fri 7th Mar. At sea. Little to report, spent lazy day.

Sat 8th Mar. Pleasant day but not very sunny or warm. Up for P.T. with Volunteers at 7.30 and at ‘spotting’ class. Walked, talked and drank with the two ships officers etc.

Sun 9th Mar. P.T. at 7.30, quite strenuous. Service at 10.30 well attended and liked by all with the hymns all know. Played bridge after dinner with 3 Volunteers – Harding, Fitzpatrick and another.

Mon 10th Mar. Much warmer. P.T. in morning but couldn’t face second dose in evening. At classes on H.A. and Hotchkiss. Had a swim – pool filled for first time. After dinner liqueurs at Chief’s expense – he won the sweep !

Tue 11th Mar. Warm and gloriously sunny. Had a swim after morning P.T., another before lunch. H.A. and First Aid classes. Won 11/- in sweep – it all went on drinks. Dozed in deckchair till 1 a.m. Many sleeping on deck. Wed 12th Mar. Fine sunny day – got quite burned. At gun drill and Hotchkiss; 8 likely lads chosen. Up for P.T. at 7.30 & swim after it.

Th 13th Mar. Steward off sick – got no morning tea ! Swimming pool empty – to save water. P.T. at 7.30 also at H.A. gun drill and spotting talk. Sun almost overhead.

Fri 14th Mar. P.T. at 7.30 & swim in refilled pool. Military drill at 9.30. Got quite burned sunbathing & had another swim etc etc. Volunteer watches to start on Sunday.

Sat 15th Mar. Took things a bit easier. Very warm. P.T. & swim before breakfast. Boat drill in afternoon. Some excitement when we sighted another ship.

Sun 16th Mar. Cut P.T. and pool too empty for morning swim – had one before lunch. Divine Service at 10.30, siesta in afternoon. Watches begin today. I’m to start at 1 a.m.

Mon 17th Mar. St. Patrick. Did spells of duty at 1 a.m. and 3 a.m. and again in afternoon. ‘Irish’ cocktail party before dinner & I wined the table. More drinks after dinner but Caird, Creech and I quit when drunken Irish electrician arrived.

Tues 18th Mar. Up at 6.30 feeling quite fit. Had a swim, definitely cooler. On watch at 8 a.m. Sunbathed in afternoon. Had sleep after dinner and prepared for 12 o’c watch. Wed

19th Mar. Duly kept watches. Capt. C pretty bottled for his. Up 7 o’c; original cabin steward back. In sight of land (C Verde) from breakfast time and all forenoon. Siesta after lunch and slept on so kept watch 5 – 6 and 7 – 8. Dark and rather cloudy night.

Th 20th Mar. On watch 8 – 9 and 10 – 11. On first period reported ‘object’ which was shark’s dorsal fin cutting the water. We were issued with civilian respirators. After dinner we had boat drill in darkness.

Fri 21st Mar. On watch again at 1 a.m. Rising crescent of dying moon looked red and ugly. I hailed gun deck, after persuasion by partner. No 4 also reported it. Took afternoon watch. Scharnhorst and Gneisenau reported at large.

Sat 22nd Mar. Morning watch. Voyage drags. Captain Robinson hints another week.

Sun 23rd Mar. Rather cloudy. Church at 10.30. Mon 24th Mar. Wind, choppy sea and squalls of rain in forenoon. Issued with oilskins and sou’wester for morning watch. Night watch suspended.

Tue 25th Mar. Cold, windy and squally with the ship riding bravely through heavy seas. I kept morning watch. First Aid lecture by Dr Dean in afternoon.

Wed 26th Mar. Took watch from 5 a.m. Very cold and rough. Creech stayed in bed most of day. I spent afternoon in bed. Heavy seas striking the side came into cabin by the ventilator.

Th 27th Mar. Wind and sea moderated & a sunny day, though cold. On watch from 4 – 5 only.

Fri 28th Mar. Nice day, cold but sunny. Captain not having meals in saloon after today. Took watch in afternoon. On deck several times to see wonderful display of Northern Lights. North star very high – 60 ° ?

Sat 29th Mar. Nice sunny day. On watch 8 – 12 a.m. and 8 – 12 p.m. About 11.15 a short blast on the siren caused considerable excitement but it was an accident !

Sun 30th Mar. A crisp sunny day. No service as all too busy. Some light snow showers during the day. At 12.30 when I was on watch the alarm was sounded but thank God it was a Lockheed Hudson, which flew around us all afternoon. Saw some distant ships and at night lighthouses on shore. Northern Lights on view again. Mon 31st Mar. On watch from 5 a.m. to 8 a.m. The sun was red over the snow-covered hills. We came amongst the rocks and islands of the Hebrides. Saw destroyer flotilla, aircraft etc. Damn cold on watch, we had snow showers later. Siesta after lunch. Night watch postponed. Tue 1st Apl. In Irish Sea; packed in morning. Got into Mersey about 1 o’c. Played bridge till the tenders took us ashore about 5 o’c.

(He then travelled to Manchester to his in-laws house and met my mother again for the first time in eight months; they slept in the cellar that night).

Transcribed by Michael Richardson. February 2013.

Michael Richardson also sent in the drawing his dad made of his cabin with a neat description.

Drawing

That is a very bad drawing, but actually it is a very nice cabin, and of course I have lots of room in it, as it is really meant for two persons. I’ve got clothes hangers galore, and hooks on the walls besides. We ‘black out’ at 6.30 (ships time), and the sun goes down very suddenly about 7o’c. There is little twilight. The officers are now dressed in whites. I’m running round in short (sic); the Daks are very neat, but I’m not keen on the blue. A khaki drill or linen pair would have been useful.

Michael comments: I see that there continue to be a few new comments on the website, but what would be really great would be to hear from any descendants of the two shipwrecked officers that my father mentioned.

I am grateful to William McKay for the photos and information below.

Bill McKay’s dad is on the left, the other chap is called’Paddy’

y father joined the Highland Chieftain in 1939 after training at Gravesend Sea School to be a steward. At some time he left the Highland Chieftain and ended up at Portsmouth in the Lasher which supplied the troopships with goods

Bill McKay’s dad is fifth from left.

After the war he went back to his native Scotland to Cruden Bay in Aberdeenshire where he did various jobs.Fish buyer,bus depot superintendent. In 1953 he went to work at Stewarts and Lloyds the steel manufacturer in Corby doing welding and oxygen pipefitting.The rest of his life was spent in Corby.

Card

Bill McKay’s Dad is 1st from left.

William has also provided this photo, which he is sure is the Captain of the Highland Chieftain with his family.

I am grateful to Brian Nash for providing the information and photo, below, of his Grandad, William (Bill) Rogan

Most people will be familiar with the poem of the Ancient Mariner, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, in which disaster follows the death of an Albatross. This is the first time I have ever come across a modern counterpart. After a ten year absence, Bill Rogan, aged sixty one, went back to sea in 1959, in order to fulfil a promise to send money back each week, to his old shipmate ‘Spud’, who had lost a leg due to an illness. Unfortunately he chose a ship, the ‘Calpean Star’ that had a reputation as a ‘hoodoo’ ship.

This photo of Bill Rogan was taken on board the Calpean Star

The Calpean Star had arrived back in Liverpool from the Antartic with a baby albatross on board. Two days later it was dead. and that’s when the troubles started. First the ships generator broke down and had to be replaced, then there was a fight and some of the crew walked off the boat to be replaced with Norwegians. A bomb hoax and a fire alongside the ship swiftly followed, and nearly a year later, Lloyds of London reported an explosion aboard the ship, which flooded the engine room, drowning Bill Rogan. He left behind seven daughters and a son.

Clipping

One of his daughters, Mrs. Eileen Sage, said that all his friends tried to stop Bill from joining the ship, but he yearned to go back to the sea.

Agamemnon

HMS Agamemnon was a Royal Navy third-rate ship of the line with an armament of 64 guns.She was 160 feet long,44 feet in the beam and had a crew of 490 officers and men. She was laid down at Bucklers Hard on the Beaulieu River in the New Forest,and was launched on 10 April 1781. She served in the Fleet until 1809, when she was lost after running aground on a shoal in the mouth of the River Plate.

Launched during the American War of Independence, she was immediately put into commission. Initially destined for the East Indies, she sighted a large Franco-Spanish fleet in the Channel and returned home to report the news to the Admiralty.

H.M.S. Agamemnon

In December 1781, she was part of a squadron of 12 of the line under Rear-Admiral Kempenfelt that was sent out to intercept a French fleet and convoy expected to sail from Brest for the West Indies. Early in 1782 she was sent out to join the British fleet in the Leeward Islands, arriving in time to take part in the Battle of the Saintes. After the end of the American War, she was laid up in ordinary (at Chatham?) until the outbreak of the French Revolutionary Wars in 1793.

32 pounder.

In 1793, Agamemnon was recommissioned under Captain Horatio Nelson and sent out to join the Mediterranean Fleet under Lord Hood. It was during this command that Nelson lost the sight of his right eye at the siege of Calvi, Corsica, in 1794, and started on his road to glory.By 1796 she was worn out and returned home in the summer.

The crest on the top is still quite clear.

On 22 July 1805 Vice-Admiral Robert Calder was cruising off Cape Finisterre with a fleet of 15 of the line including Agamemnon, when the combined Franco-Spanish fleet from the West Indies was sighted to windward. The British ships formed into line with Agamemnon fifth in line and engaged the enemy in a thick fog. During the action Agamemnon, which had three wounded, and Windsor Castle lost a mast. By nightfall, with his fleet scattered across the ocean, Sir Robert made the signal to break off the action.

On 21 October 1805 Agamemnon, by then under the command of Sir Edward Berry, took part in the Battle of Trafalgar. In 1806 she took part in the Battle of San Domingo, and on 20 June 1809, while putting into the River Plate in a storm, she grounded on an unmarked reef and was lost, though without loss of life.

In 1993 the wreck was located north of Gorriti Island in Maldonado Bay. Expeditions led by Mensun Bound have documented the remains and recovered a number of artifacts of which this cannon is one.

The Vasa and P.E.G.

When the vasa was hauled out of the sea she had to be drenched in a solution called polyethylene glycol, P.E.G. This became the standard for later salvage attempts like the mary Rose. How does it work? Well this extremely interesting article published in the New Scientist tells you all you could wish to know.

New Scientist Article

IT WAS one of the great finds of the 20th century. The Vasa, the pride of the Swedish navy, heeled over and sank on its maiden voyage in 1628, drowning about a third of the 150 crew – and the ship’s cat – in the catastrophe. Yet when the warship was discovered over 300 years later it was almost completely intact. Conditions at the bottom of Stockholm’s harbour where it sank were perfect for preserving the ship’s timber. The Vasa was salvaged in 1961 and has been carefully preserved in its own museum. Today this stunning ship – complete with masts, over 700 wooden sculptures and the world’s oldest sail – is Stockholm’s biggest tourist attraction.

But despite years of careful preservation, archaeologists have suddenly discovered that the warship is under attack from an enemy just as destructive as those it was originally designed to face. The very chemicals being used to preserve the ship have helped trigger a reaction in its timbers that is generating sulphuric acid on a vast scale. The ship’s oak planks and beams may already have 2 tonnes of acid in them, and if the reaction continues unchecked, the vessel could eventually begin to crumble away. And this problem isn’t unique to the Vasa. Recent studies show that other wooden ships salvaged from the seabed, including the Mary Rose at Portsmouth and the Batavia in Fremantle, Western Australia, are suffering the same problem. The discovery raises fundamental questions about the conservation of waterlogged wood. How can we hope to save the ships around the world that are threatened by acid attack? Is there a better way of conserving waterlogged wood so it can be exhibited in museums? Or would it be better to excavate a wreck, examine it where it lies and then simply rebury it with silt and sand? These are hugely important questions.

According to the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) there are 3 million undiscovered wrecks on the ocean floor. Most of them are wooden ships and all of them contain valuable wooden artefacts. This is an enormous slice of human history, the rotting remains of thousands of swashbuckling yarns. The Queen Anne’s Revenge, for example, thought to be the flagship of the notorious pirate Blackbeard, was found off North Carolina in 1996. The Spanish Main is littered with similar hulks. About 850 ships have foundered around the Azores alone since 1522. And there are ancient vessels dotted all over the Mediterranean. While many of these wrecks have been smashed by storms or eaten away by shipworm – the creature that rapidly destroys submerged wood – the Vasa was more fortunate. It had settled gently into the sediment at the bottom of the harbour and the Baltic’s brackish waters aren’t salty enough to sustain shipworm. The only real damage was caused by motorised anchors which had clawed away some of the ship’s timbers.

The Vasa was also the first major shipwreck to be treated with what was then a new technique for conserving wood. Wood that has been submerged for centuries is very fragile because the cellulose in the cell walls of the timber is eaten away by bacteria. It is also saturated with water: when the Vasa was raised every kilogram of wood contained 1.5 kilograms of water. However, the structure could have collapsed had it been allowed to dry out, so the water was replaced with polyethylene glycol (PEG), which takes the place of the missing cellulose and helps to strengthen the wood. Small artefacts can be simply soaked in a bath of the stuff. Larger objects need a different approach – a slow drenching that gently removes all traces of water. So the Vasa was sprayed with a solution of PEG for 17 years. The treatment proved so successful that it has now become the standard way of conserving waterlogged wood.

The first signs of a problem appeared in 2000. After a humid summer, museum staff noticed powdery deposits on the surface of some of the ship’s planks. So they called in Magnus Sandström, professor of structural chemistry at Stockholm University. He discovered that an unexpected reaction in the timbers was generating sulphuric acid (see “The acid test”). From samples of the ship’s timber, Sandström estimated that the timbers already contained 2 tonnes of acid. And if the reaction continues unchecked, he adds, it will eventually generate a further 6 tonnes of sulphuric acid, which would eat away at the wood. We don’t know how fast it’s breaking the wood down, says Sandström. “It may take 5, or who knows, 50 years before the damage is too severe for the wood to be treated.” Sandström’s immediate concern is to neutralise the sulphuric acid that has built up in the Vasa and to halt the reaction so that no more is formed. Wood does not naturally contain high levels of sulphur. The problem began on the seabed when bacteria in the sediment ran short of oxygen. “If they do not have oxygen,” says Sandström, “they take it from sulphate ions in seawater.” The bacteria reduced the sulphate ions to hydrogen sulphide, which worked its way into the timber and ended up as sulphur.

In the Vasa’s case this was compounded because the growing city of Stockholm treated the harbour as a sewer. In common with other wooden ships the Vasa contained a lot of iron, from bolts and nails to the metal fittings of muskets and cannon balls. Most of the metal corroded when the ship was on the seabed, leaving iron deposits that turned the ship’s oak planking black. When the vessel was restored, the 5500 one-metre-long bolts that held it together were replaced with new iron bolts. But PEG corrodes iron and the continuous spray treatment helped carry the iron deeper into the timber, where it catalysed a reaction between sulphur and water (from moisture in the air), forming sulphuric acid. “It was an unfortunate combination,” says Sandström. “They didn’t know that at the time.” The result is that some parts of the Vasa are extremely acidic: tests in April this year found pHs between 1 and 3.5 at 850 points around the ship. Sandström has already tried spraying the timber to neutralise the sulphuric acid. However the problem is complicated because the museum does not want to close its main attraction, so any spray treatment cannot pose even the smallest threat to public health.

“Technically it can be done,” says Sandström. “We will do it in sections, one part at a time.” His priority is to find a way of halting the acid attack and preventing the rest of the sulphur in the ship from turning into acid. The museum plans to remove the new iron bolts from the ship, but they will only be able to take out about half of them, because as the ship settled down in its new environment the wood shrank and moved, locking many of the bolts in place. And removing even half the bolts will weaken the 60-metre-long vessel. “We will have to make a cradle for the ship to support it,” says Sandström. The bolts will be replaced, possibly with ones of titanium or carbon fibre. Sandström also hopes to stop the remaining iron compounds in the wood from catalysing the acid reaction by preventing oxygen reaching the sulphur. He is also considering using chelating agents – chemicals that lock up the iron as an inert complex. This should help stop the iron from catalysing the acid reaction.

The bad news for archaeologists is that the same problem almost certainly affects most wooden wrecks salvaged from the sea. Sandström has already discovered that the Mary Rose, Henry VIII’s flagship that sank in Portsmouth harbour in 1545, also contains high levels of sulphur. Its hull is still being sprayed with PEG in its Portsmouth museum. Problems down under High levels of sulphur have also been found in the wreck of the Dutch ship Batavia, which sank off the coast of Western Australia in 1629. Part of the wreck is now preserved in the Western Australia Maritime Museum in Fremantle. “The Batavia has a lot of sulphur in it,” says Sandström, who has analysed cores taken from the ship. The Batavia also has very high levels of iron. In all, Sandström has found signs of the problem in almost all the wrecks he has tested – including three still on the seabed. In fact the only one that he has found which is effectively free of sulphur is the Bremen Cog – a 14th century trader that sank in the freshwater of the river Weser.

Ironically, because only part of the Batavia survived, it will be easier to protect from sulphuric acid than the Vasa. The Batavia was salvaged plank by plank and only reassembled in the museum, while the huge hull of the Vasa is intact, and many parts of the ship’s structure are inaccessible. Currently the Western Australia Maritime Museum is keeping the Batavia stable by controlling humidity levels around the ship. “But this is a very expensive thing to do,” says Ian Godfrey of the museum. “For the Batavia the running costs are A$100,000 a year.” Meanwhile small objects from the Vasa will be soaked in an alkali such as sodium bicarbonate to neutralise the acid. Then they will be treated with either more PEG, or with silicone oil. This latter process has a number of variations. Essentially the wood is soaked in ethyl alcohol to remove the water and then acetone to remove the alcohol. It is then soaked in silicone oil with a “cross linker”, methyl trimethoxysilane, to promote polymerisation.

According to Wayne Smith of Texas A&M University, who developed the use of silicone for conserving wood, the result is an artefact that looks like wood, handles like wood and doesn’t need any expensive environmental controls to ensure its stability. The polymer should act as a barrier to oxygen, and computer modelling of accelerated wear tests carried out on silicone-treated wood show that it will be 250 years before it needs treating again, he says. However, the use of silicone oil on wooden artefacts is highly controversial. Many museum conservators dislike the technique because the silicone forms a permanent bond with the wood. Smith dismisses these concerns. He says that PEG also bonds with wood. “There is no such thing as a totally reversible process. Reversibility is never the issue. Retreatability and long-term stability is. Polyethylene glycol is a loose cannon.”

Unfortunately the silicone treatment isn’t cheap. It is roughly three-and-a-half times more expensive than the PEG treatment (which includes the cost of controlling the museum environment). And the size of the vat required to treat an object is also a limiting factor. The biggest thing that Smith has treated so far is a sea chest. Nevertheless he points to a success that would be difficult to emulate with any other technique. Researchers at the university treated a wicker basket full of cannon balls salvaged from the wreck of La Belle, a ship lost off the coast of Texas in 1686. The wicker was weak and the basket was full of silt as well as cannon balls. “It was a mess,” says Smith. So they soaked the lot in silicone and once it was stable, “we just brushed off the dirt”, says Smith, “and excavated the cannon balls.” In December 2001, UNESCO recommended that the best long-term solution for most wrecks was not to try and conserve them out of the water but simply to rebury them once archaeologists have explored the site and recorded the remains. This is partly because of the unresolved problems with conserving waterlogged timber, but also due to the sheer number of sites: conserving all these wrecks out of water would be prohibitively expensive.

“It’s a huge problem trying to raise the money to conserve ships,” says David Gregory, who leads a team at the National Museum of Denmark in Copenhagen researching reburial techniques. The Western Australia Maritime Museum, for example, recently drew up a plan to salvage the James Miller, a former slave trader that sank outside Fremantle in 1841, but abandoned it when the project’s sponsors decided it was too expensive. “Until the problem of conservation is resolved, it is probably best left where it is,” says Godfrey. Yet leaving shipwrecks where they are has its drawbacks. Shipworm, as well as divers searching for buried treasure, can damage sites. Even attempts to clean up the environment can backfire: the heavily polluted waters of Stockholm’s harbour helped preserve the Vasa since the lack of oxygen killed the bacteria that would have eaten away its timbers. But since the 1940s the water quality of the harbour has improved dramatically. Salmon were reintroduced in 1970. If the Vasa had been left where it sank, the cleaner waters in the harbour would have accelerated its deterioration. Who knows how much of the ship and its precious contents would have been lost forever.

From issue 2363 of New Scientist magazine, 05 October 2002, page 38 The acid test The crucial breakthrough in the Vasa’s chemistry came when Farideh Jalilehvand at the Stanford Synchrotron Radiation Laboratory in California analysed a series of 10-centimetre-long cores from the ship’s planks. By grinding up samples taken from different depths in the wood and subjecting them to X-ray spectroscopy, Jalilehvand and Sandström found prominent absorption peaks corresponding to elemental sulphur and sulphate ions – with a smaller peak probably due to iron sulphide. And where the sulphate peak was large the sulphur peak was correspondingly smaller. Things started to fall into place. Sulphur was being oxidised to form sulphuric acid (H2SO4): 2S + O2 + 2H2O = 2H2SO4 One of the reasons that the problem did not emerge sooner was that the Vasa was also sprayed with borax to kill wood eating bacteria. But borax is alkaline and helped to neutralise the sulphuric acid. The 5 tonnes of borax sprayed onto the Vasa would have neutralised about 1.3 tonnes of sulphuric acid.

Sandström realised that iron catalysed the oxidation of sulphur to sulphuric acid – and that polyethylene glycol was corroding the iron and spreading it throughout the vessel. To try and solve the problem, he is testing the long-term stability of two chelating agents – chemicals that form a very strong bond with iron and its compounds and effectively makes them inert. Both of the chemicals, EDMA and DTPA, are derivatives of ethylenediaminetetraacetic acid. EDMA, which is often used to control the take-up of iron by orange and lemon trees, is about a million times more effective than DTPA – but the iron-EDMA complex has a reddish colour. This may make it unsuitable for use on some objects whose appearance is important, although the colour change is a useful indicator that the iron has been chelated. “I think EDMA is the one we will use for the treatment of small objects,” says Sandström. “But we may spray the hull with DTPA.”

S130 E Boat

S-130

E boats were much more than just fast torpedo attack boats, they were in reality a scaled down warship. Heavily armed and extremely fast (in excess of 34 knots) they could cause immense damage to much larger enemy ships and escape unharmed. Called E boats by the British they should be more properly called Schenell-Boote or S boats. The last surviving seaworthy example of this class is at the moment (2008) languishing at Mashfords Yard near the Cremyll Ferry in Cornwall.

S-130 at Mashfords Yard 2007

I am not all that fond of preserving things just to do it. There is a perfectly good example of an E boat at Bremerhaven, but that’s a museum piece. This boat, the S 130 however has a fantastic history that would be hard to invent, and since the object of the exercise is to restore the boat so that it can once again take to the water, then I am all for it.

S-130 in the shed.

Built at the Johan Schlighting boatyard in Travemude, the S 130 was commissioned on Oct 21st 1943, under the command of Oberleutnant zur see Gunter Rabe, with the call sign Raven. At first she operated out of Rotterdam into the North Sea but soon switched to Cherbourgh to patrol the Western and Central Channel areas. During the beginning of 1944 she conducted many savage night actions and then became embroiled in the Allied, Operation Tiger, probably the biggest cock up that the British and Americans had so far made at sea. Operation Tiger was a full scale rehearsal for the American attack on Utah Beach during the forth coming D. Day landings. On the 27th April a German recognisance plane spotted the convoy off Slapton Sands in Devon and vectored two flotillas of E boats to the area. Meanwhile due to a communications mix up British escorting destroyers were removed from the convoy, leaving just a small force of M.T.B.s to cover the exercise. ( click here to read my article in ‘Tombstones’)

Looks like the Galley

At just after one o’clock in the morning in the pitch dark, the E boats, steaming at over 36 knots fell gleefully upon the convoy sinking two landing craft drowning over six hundred men and causing such chaos in the dark, that the Americans started shooting at each other’s landing crafts, killing and wounding soldiers who by now must have thought they were in hell with the night sky lit up by the burning ships and the cry’s of the wounded and dying. The E boats got away scot free leaving over six hundred and thirty nine Americans dead or missing, four times the casualty list when they did the real thing on D.Day. The dead washed in on the tide all along the coast and were buried in unmarked mass graves to hush it all up.

Some original controls.

The S 130 helped to attack the Allied Fleet on D.Day, and as the Allies stormed ever onwards towards Germany she took part in the long retreat eventually ending up in Rotterdam as the War came to its final end. Taken as a British War Prize the S 130 was used for test purposes and re-engined to give a new top speed of 45 knots. It was then decided to deploy the vessel, with other captured E boats, to British occupied Germany to spy on the Russian Fleet. The boats photographed the Russian ships and gathered huge amounts of intelligence, and if they were spotted all they had to do was roar off at high speed. The Russians had nothing fast enough to catch them. Later in 1949, she was used to insert agents into the Baltic States.

There should be three engines.

During this time the British recruited ex German Navy officers to run the boats with mostly German crew. The most notable of these was Hans Helmut Klose who later commanded a unit that landed agents on the coast to link up with the local partisans who harried the Russians in Poland, Latvia, and Estonia. He was so successful that the unit became known in secret circles as The Klose Fast patrol Group. After its success in inserting and more importantly, retrieving agents, MI6 decided to create a more permanent organization in 1951 which it ran until 1955, when due to leaky intelligence within MI6 and others, over forty agents were caught by the Russians who either sentenced them or turned them into double agents.

Interestingly all this joint operations with the ex German officers laid the foundation of what is now the German Navy’s Schnellbootflotille. In the spring of 1956 the units were abandoned and the boats including S 130, were handed back to the Germans where they were used as high speed training vessels. Most of their crews joined the German Navy, including Klose who retired in 1978 with the rank of Vice Admiral. S 130 continued to be a training vessel until 1991 when she was paid off in Willemshaven. She then became a houseboat until she was acquired by her present owners for restoration in 2003.

If you want to know more about the subjects below, click the links

The Klose Fast Patrol Group

Restoration of S-130 prior to 2007

Lift of S-130 from Mashfords to Millbrook 2008

Gritviken Whalecatchers

Albatross: This ship was 210 tons and 107 ft long, and was built in Svelvik, Norway in 1921 as a whale catcher, but was later converted to sealing.

Albatross

Dias: This boat is an historically important vessel. She was built as a steam trawler in Beverly, England in 1906, and was originally called the Viola. She was 108 ft long and 167 tons. At first she worked out of Hull, but during the First World War she was commandeered for minesweeping and patrol duties in the North Sea. After the war she was sold to Norwegian owners and renamed Kapduen and became one of the first Norwegian trawlers.

Abandoned side by side.

After a few years she was converted to a whale catcher at Sandefjord, Norway and arrived at Gritviken in 1927 where she was employed as a whale catcher and then a sealer until 1964. She even served as a supply vessel for relieving the Argentine weather station on Laurie Island in the South Orkneys.

Dias

Gritviken Petrel

Whalecatcher Petrel.

The whale catcher Petrel (245 tons and 115 ft) was built in Oslo, Norway in 1928. She was one of the first whale catchers to have a catwalk so that the gunner could run from the bridge to the harpoon gun. She was converted for sealing in 1956 and the gun and catwalk removed. (the gun on it now is a recent addition). Each summer the Petrel visited the beaches around South Georgia and collected the cargo’s of seal blubber.

Petrel with part of the floating dock showing.

Gritviken Overview

Gritviken (the word is Swedish for Pot Cove) is the principle settlement in the UK territory of South Georgia in the South Atlantic. It was so named by a 1902 Swedish surveyor who found four old English try pots used to render seal oil at the site.

The abandoned whaleing station.

It is the best harbour on the island, consisting of a bay, ,King Edward Cove,within a bay, Cumberland East bay. The site is very sheltered, provides a substantial area of flat land suitable for building on, and has a good supply of fresh water.

One of the Try pots found at the original settlement.

The settlement at Gritviken was established on November 16, 1904, by the Norwegian sea captain Carl Anton Larson as a whaling station for his company The Argentine Fishing Company. It was extremely successful with 195 whales taken in the first season alone. The whaler’s utilized every part of the animals. The blubber, meat, bones and viscera were cooked to extract the oil and the bones and meat were turned into fertilizer and fodder.

Looking out from the abandoned whaling station.

Elephant seals were also hunted for their blubber. Around three hundred men worked at the station during its heyday, operating during the southern summer from October to march. A few remained over the winter to maintain the boats and factory. Every few months a transport ship would bring essential supplies to the station and take away the oil and other produce. The following year the Argentine Government established a meteorological station.

Carl Larson

Carl Larson the founder of Gritviken was a naturalized Briton born in Sandefjord, Norway and he had his wife, three daughters and two sons with him at the whaling station. As the manager of the Company, Larson organized the building of Gritviken, a remarkable undertaking accomplished by a team of sixty Norwegians since their arrival on 16 November until the newly built whale oil factory commenced production on 24 December 1904. Larson chose the whaling station’s site during his 1902 visit whilst in command of the ship ‘Antarctic’ of the Swedish Antarctic Expedition (1901-1903) led by Otto Nordenskjold.

Fur seal (they hunted these).

On that occasion, the name Gritviken was given by the Swedish archaeologist John Gunnar Andersson who surveyed part of Thatcher Peninsular and found numerous artefacts from sealers including several try pots that were used to boil the seal oil.

King penguin.

Managers and other senior officers of the whaling stations often lived together with their families. Amongst their offspring was Solveig Jacobson who had the distinction of being the first child ever to be born in Antarctica on 8 October 1903.

Small elephant seals (hunted these as well).

Remains of the ovens for boiling the blubber.

The whale population in the sea’s around Gritviken was substantially reduced over the following sixty years until the station was closed in December 1966 by which time the whale stocks were so reduced that it became uneconomical. Some estimate that in that time over sixty thousand whales were destroyed. Even today the shore around Gritviken is littered with whale bones and the rusting remains of the whale oil processing plants and the abandoned whaling ships.

Gritviken

I have always wanted to go to Gritviken, as it is were the great Polar explorer, Shackleton is buried (see my article about him in the Tombstones section.) Also the abandoned whaling station is very evocative of those (not so) far off days. That sort of existance seems a world away from me popping in on my cruise ship.

Elephant seal by rotting workboat.

All around are the rusting remains of old processing plants and of course the wrecks of the old whalecatchers. The area also abounds with elephant seals, fur seals, penguins and a huge amount of birds.

Gritviken, nestling at the foot of the mountains.

Its a stunning place with dramatic scenery. We were here in the summer with only small ice bergs in the bay. But in winter we would have been lucky to get ashore, as the ice comes right out and the buildings are almost buried in the snow.

Gritviken overview

The Whalecatchers Albatross and Dias

The Petrel

Floating Dock

Gritviken Floating Dock

Actually this is now resting on the bottom but shows quite clearly. The dock was built in 1928. The idea was that she went out to the whale catchers in the bay and they towed the whale carcasses onto the partly submerged dock.

The Floating Dock.

This was then towed back to the slip where the whale was dragged of with heavy hooks and chains and cut up on the slip. Made the whole process of unloading quicker, and let the Catch boats get back to the whales.

Carving the whale up on the slip.

Gives you some idea of the size of these whales.

S.S. Great Britain

The SS. Great Britain, built in 1843 at the Great Western Docks in Bristol was a truly innovative vessel. Designed by the great I.K. Brunel, she was the worlds first iron hulled, steam powered, propeller driven ocean going ship, and was designed to serve the ever expanding trans-Atlantic luxury passenger trade. Originally conceived as a paddle steamer, the ships builders soon realized the enormous advantages of the new technology of screw propulsion and had her engines converted to power a sixteen foot iron propeller.

The Great Brunel.

When the SS. Great Britain was launched she was the largest ship in the world weighing in at a colossal 1930 tons. Her maiden voyage to New York on 26 July 1845 was completed in an astounding fourteen days and showed her ability to do safe and speedy passages. Although she could take up to 252 passengers served by 130 crew, her voyages did not generate much money for her owners as they had miscalculated the demand for their services. When the Great Britain ran aground at Dundrum Bay in Northern Ireland in 1846, her engines were ruined and the expense of re-floating her so drained the finances of her owners that she was sold to Gibbs Bright and Company, who used her to great effect on the Australian run.

S.S. Great Britain

Gold had been recently discovered over there and so the Great Britain was remodelled as a fast luxury emigrant carrier and her accommodation was rebuilt to accommodate 750 passengers. Between 1855 and 1856 the British Government chartered the ship to transport troops to and from the Crimea War. Over 44000 troops were carried during the course of the conflict. Later she was again chartered to carry troops, this time to quell the Indian Mutiny. In 1861 she carried the very first English cricket team to tour Australia. The tour was a great success with England playing twelve games of which she won six, drew four and only lost two.

Aground in Dundrum Bay

By the late 1870’s the SS. Great Britain was starting to show her age, and her owners could no longer keep their full registration as a passenger vessel. However because she had a sleek hull and low profile she could easily be converted to a three masted ‘clipper’ ship. With her engines removed and her spar deck torn off she was unrecognisable as the ship that had been launched all those years ago in 1843. Still she was still useful and could earn money for her owners and this she did by transporting coal from Wales to San Francisco. On her third trip she ran into trouble off Cape Horn and ran for the safety of Port Stanley in the Falkland Islands. Unfortunately for the Great Britain, the cost of repairing her was not deemed economic and so she was sold off for use as a coal and wool storage hulk and remained in Port Stanley.

Abandoned in the Falkland Islands.

Here she remained all through the First World War. Coal from her holds helped refuel H.M.S. Invincible and Inflexible before the decisive Battle of the Falklands in December 1914 which saw the destruction of the German battle cruisers Scharnhorst and Gneisenau. By 1938 the Great Britain’s hull was no longer watertight and she was towed a short distance from Port Stanley to Sparrow Cove where holes were cut in her hull and she was abandoned.

But the story doesn’t end there. People always loved this ship and recognised her historic significance. Unsuccessful salvage attempts were mounted in the 1930’s and 1960’s and during the Second World War bits of her were raffled off to raise money to build Spitfires. 1967 saw the start of what in the end turned out to be the successful attempt, when a naval architect called Dr. Ewan Corlett wrote to the Times about his ambition to bring the great ship back to Bristol. After many false starts plans were laid and surveys done but money remained the biggest problem. In the end a millionaire philanthropist called Jack Hayward (known popularly as ‘Union Jack’) said that ‘he would see the ship home’, and so finally things started to move.

Being towed on the barge.

Unfortunately when the ship was fully surveyed prior to being towed home it was found that the hull was not strong enough to survive the journey. What to do? The salvors, Risdon Beasley came up with the idea of a submersible pontoon that could be placed under the ships hull then pumped out to lift the ship clear of the water. The pontoon would then effectively become a barge with the Great Britain stuck fast on top. On April 7 1970, most of the population of the Falkland Islands turned out to see the old ship start her epic voyage. At first the winds were savage and the sea exceedingly rough, but by the time the ship reached Montivideo all was calm.

Home at last.

As the tug Varius, commanded by Capt. Herzog, towed the barge with her precious cargo at a sedate five knots past Rio and onwards to Reciefe in Brazil the Atlantic Ocean beckoned. The weather remained kind to the Great Britain on the crossing and on June 18th she rounded Cape Finistere and was finally back in her home waters. On July 19th she triumphantly cruised up the Avon and slid into the dock where 127 years to the day, she was first launched by Prince Albert, Queen Victoria’s Consort.

In 1970,the BBC’s Chronicle programme, did a great report on how the ship was saved.Just click the link below to see it.

The Great Iron Ship

Crackington Haven E boat S89

Crackington Haven is a small village on the North Cornish coast situated between Bude and Boscastle, and easily reached from the A39. Once it was a small port importing limestone and coal and exporting slate and local produce. As the other ports in the area like Port Isaac increased in importance Crackington Haven declined and became a sleepy seaside village. In the terrible floods of 2004 that almost destroyed Boscastle, Crackington Haven fared almost as badly with its main bridge being washed away and many of the houses and the local pub being severely damaged. However all is mostly repaired now, and you would hardly know it had happened.

Crackington Haven.

To the right of the small beach is ‘High Cliff’ with a sheer drop of 735ft which takes its name from the fact that it is Cornwall’s highest cliff. Apparently Thomas Hardy used to love to walk all around this area. Our E boat thankfully, is to the left of the beach in Tremoutha Haven about half a mile from Crackington Haven. The Coast Path is well signed and at low tide you can see the E boat remains from the top of the cliffs. If you want to get down to the beach to have a good look it won’t be easy. There are no paths leading down, but at a very low tide you can just about walk around on the rocks from Crackington Haven.

High Cliff

Failing that, go past the remains until you come to a wooden bridge over a small river (more a trickle) and clamber down there. It is not for the faint hearted because the cliffs are very steep, so if in doubt, don’t bother. Once on the beach you will find it more of a boulder field which makes for tiring walking but once you get to the debris field its well worth it. There are three huge engines, a prop shaft and some gearbox and crankshaft assembly’s all grouped in one area. Scattered around are various bits of metal almost hidden amongst the rocks.

S 89 aground

As you contemplate the strenuous return journey it might seem a lot of effort but the views from above and below the cliffs are stunning, and the rocks have some really interesting markings on them showing where the rock has been forced up under huge pressure. Once you get your breath back its well worth walking up to the top of ‘High Cliff’. You will see immediately why Thomas hardy loved it so much.

You can see the remains in the far bay from the cliffs.

After all that exercise you will be ready for a spot of lunch and the local pub The Coombe Barton Inn is just the place to go. Parts of the pub are over 200 years old and it was originally built for the ‘Captain’ of the slate quarry. Try one of their great pasties washed down with a pint of Sharpes Doombar, it will make your legs ache a lot less. All in all a good day out

Maps of Tremoutha Haven and Crackington Haven.

The green star is the wreck.

History of the S 89

S 89 was one of sixteen S boats ( it means Schnell-boote, only us Brits call them E boats, a catch all name for ‘Enemy Boats’ ) ordered by the German navy on 3 Jan 1941 from the shipbuilder F. Lurssen of Vegesack in Bremen. She was nearly 35 m long, 5.28 in the beam and displaced 112 tonnes when fully loaded. She was made of timber over an aluminium alloy frame, had three huge Daimler Benz engines each developing 2050 hp driving three shafts, and had a top speed of 39 knots. The S 89 was armed with four torpedos, two guns, one back and front and some machine guns. A very tough customer indeed.

One of three engines to be found.

After working up in the Baltic in 1943 she was assigned to the 2nd S Boat Flotilla working mainly out of Ijmuidn, but also Ostend and sometimes Cherbourg. One night in Oct 1943, S 89 was in company with some other S boats off Cromer when they were surprised by the destroyer H.M.S. Worcester and S 89 was damaged in the ensuing fight. However she got away and was repaired in less than ten days and was ready for another round of dangerous encounters in the North Sea. In 1944 things were getting a bit fraught in the Black Sea and Admiral Donitz decided to send four S boats including S 89, to bolster up the German naval forces there.

These engines developed 2050hp.

In order to get to the Black Sea the boats faced a daunting journey by river and land. They started at Hamburg, first off all having their engines and all other main equipment removed to lighten the load on the road journey. The boats were then towed up the River Elbe to Dresden where they were loaded onto massive eight axle trailers for the start of their 450 km journey overland to Ingolstadt in Germany. Here they were off loaded into the River Danube and towed to a shipyard at Linz in Austria where all their engines and main fittings were replaced. By July the work was completed and the convoy of S boats left the boatyard to continue their 1250 km voyage down the Danube to the Port of Sukina on the Black Sea.

The main debris field.

Unfortunately for Donitz as the boats were on the last leg, the Russians renewed their offensive against the German and Rumanian forces. So fierce was the battle that the Rumanians capitulated and the S89 became involved in helping to fight a rearguard action. Another boat S 86 was mined and severely damaged but S 89 managed to take her in tow and successfully evaded the Russians to get them both safely back to Linz. She then did the same journey in reverse ending back at Hamburg where she joined the 1st training Flotilla.

Big boulders make for tiring walks

Not much is known about the rest of her service, but since she was operating in the Baltic and the war was coming to its end, it’s more than likely that she spent most of her time evacuating German troops and civilians ahead of the advancing Russian army. At the end of the war she surrendered herself, probably at Willemshaven, and as a war prize proceeded under her own steam across the North Sea to H.M.S. Hornet which was acting as a central depot for all these craft.

Part of a gear box?

With no real use for her the S 89 was going to be taken out and used as a target. To this end she was on tow to Wales, when on the 5 Oct 1946 she broke free of her tow in heavy weather and ran ashore in Tremoutha Haven. Before she could be re-floated more bad weather pushed her further up the beach and she started to break up and soon became a total loss.

Chancellor

If you drive from Rame Head back towards Tregantle you will come across Freathy and a large car park. Now don’t go down the path opposite because at the bottom are some steep rocks that block your entrance to the bit of beach you need. Instead, come out of the car park and turn left and walk up the road about 400 yards where you will see a footpath clearly marked. This will take you down to near Withnoe Point which is were, at low tide, you will find the remains of the steam trawler Chancellor half buried in the sand. So what happened to her?

Looking back to Withnoe Point.

On Monday 15th January 1934, the steam trawler Chancellor set sail from Plymouth bound for a few days fishing around the Eddystone. On the Wednesday the weather had got increasingly worse, and the Chancellor set off for home surrounded by thick fog and in the teeth of a south westerly gale. After a couple of hours the skipper, who could not see his hand in front of his face, was amazed to hit a rock.

The Chancellor.

Actually he had hit the bottom of Withnoe Point near Portwrinkle. Luckily the boat got wedged in between a gully which stopped it being completely turned over by the mountainous waves. The skipper ordered all eight of the crew on deck and let off all his flares. Fear full that they had not been seen, he then ordered all the bedding to be burned, and most of the crews clothes as well.

The crew of the Plymouth lifeboat ‘Robert and Marcella Beck.

The Plymouth Lifeboat turned up, but in the huge surf could not get close enough to get the men off. Fortunately the Portwrinkle Livesaving Crew managed to rig up a breaches buoy, and were so efficient that they managed to get all the crew off in under an hour. For the Chancellor however there were to be no miracles. Soon she went to pieces and her remains were scattered along the beach where you can still see them today.

There is still quite a bit of wreckage buried deep in the sand.

Shipwreck and Salvage in South Africa

Cover

Shipwrecks and Salvage in South Africa

If you ‘click’ the link you can order the book online direct from Amazon.

This is a great wreck book. Well researched, plenty of photo’s and loads of dramatic stories. Besides the wrecks featured it has geographical lists of all the other wrecks.Very impressive, and very readable.

Wreck Walks

For many people, divng is not an option. But many love wreck stories, and as I have said many times in this website, our bit of coast is littered with the rusting remains of hundreds of shipwrecks, many of which you can walk along the coast too. Quite often the walk itself will be stunning as I don’t think there is a better bit of coastal scenery any where in England, and usually there is a good pub in the offing.

Many of the wrecks can be seen at low water, but occassionally, if the story is really good, then just going to the place to see the area the ship went down is often enough.

I often warn people to check the tide tables befor they go on the coast walks. But who compiled them? Check out William Huchinson, the Tide Man.

The walks come with detailed maps, and a description of the best pub, if there is one nearby.

Tombstones

Dotted all along the coast of Devon and Cornwall are scores of churches that sprang up over the centuries to serve the multitude of small fishing villages. Most probably because of the dangers involved in fishing, people felt much closer to their Maker. and the church had a very important part to play in their lives. Nowadays the fishing fleets have long since gone into decline, and most of the villages have turned towards tourism in order to make a living. Today people are not so strong on religion, but inexplicably people still seem drawn to these little churches.

The grave of Petty officer William Wood of HMS.Goliath.

The crew of HMS.Goliath.

During the summer you can go to almost any church or graveyard and find people wandering around soaking up the atmosphere. It would seem that more and more people are becoming interested in local history and of course graveyards and churches provide a huge fund of local information. For the wreck hunter graveyards are truly fascinating places. Quite often the search for a new wreck can result from reading a fading inscription. on some worn slate tombstone. Sometimes, visiting the grave of people who lost their lives after being tragically wrecked, somehow brings the whole story to life and makes it a real event, instead of some dusty secondhand tale.

Quite often it is impossible to find the wreck at all, and all that’s left is the memory of a story written on a fading tombstone.

Submarines

The Submarine is probably the Navy’s most formidable weapon, but when it was first invented, nobody wanted to use it because they thought it underhand. The Great War soon got rid of those courtly sentiments, and by the time of the Second World War, Churchill famously said, that the only thing that frightened him was the German U.boats.

The Uboat pens at Lorient and St. Nazaire

Here in the West Country we are lucky to have examples of nearly all types of submarine prior to the nuclear age that have sunk in our waters over the years.Some you can dive on, some are now restricted, and two have been salvaged and put on display.

Three U. boats which are now museum pieces are also included because they are so historically important, and are well worth a visit.

South Africa

If you look at any map of the southern tip of Africa, you will see the locations of many shipwrecks marked quite clearly. Some like the famous Birkenhead, have long since slipped beneath the waves, and only their memorials remain.

However, many lie rusting on wild and empty beaches, and some are right alongside the marine parades in cities like Cape Town. If you have not got the time to dive, then this shipwreck trail will take you to some of the most beautiful and untamed sea scapes anywhere in the world, and fill your head with some of the truly great and tragic wreck stories.

Jackass penquins at Simond’s Town

On the way you will see whales at Hemanus, dolphins almost everywhere, and the famous ‘Jackass’ penguins.The country side is glorious and passes through some of the best wine producing country in the world. Enjoy.

Whilst I have visited all the wreck sites, and gathered a lot of material, I must record my appreciation for two books which proved to be invaluable.

First is Brian Wexham, and his excellent book ‘Shipwrecks of the Western Cape’ which I found in a second hand bookshop, and ‘Shipwrecks and Salvage in South Africa’ by Malcolm Turner, which I bought at the Cape of Good Hope.

‘click’ the book to learn more

Any mistakes are mine, and should not be blamed on these two excellent authors.

Marine Archeology

My first efforts at marine archeology were not particularly brilliant as they consisted of finding a bugle in a wreck near Bahrain (The Gulf) which was also full of whisky. I kept the bugle, drank some of the whiskey, but was transferred before I managed to find out what the wreck was. (still don’t know)

I was then lucky enough to meet Alexander McKee before he found the Mary Rose. He came on board H.M.S.Rhyl and gave us ships divers a talk on her and what he was trying to do. I thought I would be bored to tears, as McKee, then, was considered something of a bore on the subject. Well he wasn’t, and when he saw that we were all hanging on his every word, he told us the full story over a couple of hours, enlisted our help.(You can read about that later) and gave me an interest that has lasted years

Many people make this subject totally boring, but, at its simplest, its a lot of rattling good tales,a lot of luck, some heartache, and a lot of hard work to which many devote their whole lives too.

I have never done that, I have not got the commitment, but I have been on the sidelines of some big finds, and their stories are below.

Many of these discoveries happened a long time ago and now most are in museums.Some of the more interesting ones are detailed in this section.

The Ones That Got Away

The sea is a hard taskmaster, and once it gets a ship into its clutches it rarely lets go. Over the years, hundreds of ships have been lost around the Plymouth coast, and although their cargoes have often been salvaged only a few of the vessels ever get saved. However some vessels do get lucky, and perhaps the easiest ships to save are those that have been stranded, or run aground.

A ship that has completely sunk presents a more difficult problem, and unless there are really good reasons for salvaging her, financial constraints often mean that the vessel stays on the bottom. The costs of these sorts of operations escalate very quickly and often the salvor, although successful, finds that he cannot make a profit. Still there is always someone who thinks that they can succeed where others have failed, and in recent years there have been some vessels that have illustrated these problems rather well, and given the armchair salvage experts amongst us the opportunity of seeing how it’s really done.

Bombs And Bullets

Plymouth they used to say, was the cradle of the Royal Navy,and since before Napoleonic times, rings of fortifications were built around the coast to protect the Navy and its Dockyard. All of these forts practiced fired into the sea, and during the two World Wars, thousands of tons of ammunition, in the shape of bombs and bullets, were dropped, fired, or dumped onto the sea bed.

If you dive around Plymouth it is impossible to avoid seeing these pieces of ordinance, even if you do not immediately recognize what they are. Many are still lethal and should not be interfered with .

I am gratefull to Dave ‘Bomber’ Page, seen here examining a lead covered Armstrong shell, for all the research and photo’s that he provided for this section. ‘Thanks Dave’.

The Talland Bay Wreck

Talland Bay in Cornwall, is just between Looe and Pollpero and is very popular in the summer. There is not much sand, but the rocks are easy to walk on. There is a nice little cafe and the swimming is very good. Just at the top, and overlooking the bay is the local church, and it was while I was wandering around the churchyard that I paused to look out at the view. It was low tide, and there on the rocks was the unmistakeable shape of a ships boiler. I wasn’t surprised, the whole area is littered with wrecks, but I was unaware of any here. A bit of research soon turned up the vessel. She was called the Marguerite and was a 220 ton steam trawler based in Boulogne.

The Marguerite.

On the 3 rd of March 1922, the Marguerite was thrashing up and down the Channel with all her nets out. In spite of the heavy sea’s and strong winds the Skipper was determined to land a big catch in Plymouth the next morning. As the crew fished on in rapidly deteriorating conditions Captain Bonnjon lost his bearings and as a dense mist came down he got completely lost. He thought he was somewhere near the Eddystone, but unknown to him the ship was fast being driven towards the shore. The nets by now were full of fish so they were hauled in and the Marguerite set what she thought was the right course to make Plymouth Sound. As the sea got rougher and the winds grew stronger, the steam trawler was pushed evermore towards the shore. At about half past five in the morning just before dawn broke, the Marguerite ran full tilt onto the jagged rocks in the middle of Talland Bay.

The boiler at low tide.

Luckily the ship was equipped with wireless and sent out an S.O.S. and also blasted her siren off in the hope of attracting attention. The crew of twenty three became extremely anxious as the waves continued to bash into the ship, and the Captain, who had his ten year old son on the trip, strapped him to his shoulders in case the child was swept away Meanwhile in Looe, the Lifeboat had been launched and for some reason was directed to set off towards the Eddystone. When the mistake was realised she was recalled by the use of flares, and as she shaped a course for Talland Bay, she was joined by the Trawler Dorothy, who, because she had a much better turn of speed than the lifeboat, took her in tow and proceeded the three miles down to Talland Bay.

The Crew

On the Marguerite things were taking a turn for the worst as the ship had been lifted by the huge waves and dumped into a cradle of sharp rocks further up the beach, and left broadside to the sea. The constant banging of the hull on the rocks pierced the hull and water started flooding into the hold. The rudder and propeller were broken off and the crew started to get desperate. As dawn finally broke, some of them launched the single boat that they had and headed for the shore. They soon realised that they would not be able to land and were at the end of their tether when the Lifeboat and the Dorothy hove into view. The Dorothy put the Lifeboat as near as she could and then bore away leaving the Lifeboat to drop her anchor and lay back towards the wreck. The Captains son was the first to be passed over, but the Captain waited for all his men to be rescued before he allowed himself to leave his stricken vessel.

The crew were all safely transported to Looe where they were made very welcome and given plenty of food and hot drinks. The Looe Lifeboat( the Ryder) had saved many lives in its career, but this rescue was the largest amount of people it had ever rescued at one time. Later in the day the crew joined the crowds come to see the wreck, which because it was now low tide was more or less high and dry about a hundred yards off the beach. They managed to retrieve their personal belongings and were then taken off to Plymouth for arrangements to be made to send them all home. The Marguerite was never fully salvaged and broke up where she lay.

Today the boiler only becomes visible at low tide even though it is pretty large, and that’s about all there is. You can have a great snorkel in about ten feet and see bits of metal and some ribs stuck down the sides of gullies. It’s an incredibly pretty area full of wrasse and Pollock, and I even saw a four foot conger swimming quite freely about the rocks. I search up and down that bit of the bay but didn’t find anything else. But because the gullies are so deep a lung dive at high tide might produce more. Even so it’s a great area for a swim and a walk, and the Talland Bay Hotel do a good lunch. Say no more.

Ryder Lifeboat

Above, is the Ryder lifeboat that did the rescue. She was restored and in the summer is usually on show at Polperro.

The South Coaster

If you take a train ride from Plymouth to London the train slows right down as it approaches Dawlish and runs along the coast for a few miles, and then enters the Exe estuary. It’s all very scenic, but in the winter months can be a bit fraught as huge waves often wash right over the train. Along one bit of the run, as it nears Starcross, you can see a forlorn looking wreck with a bit of mast sticking out of the water near the railway lines. This is all that remains of the Cardiff steamer, South Coaster.

Uncovered at low tide.

Built in 1916 by John Berg of Delfzijl in the Netherlands, she was originally called the Oostvoorne, then a few years later, Cwea, then the Martin, until finally she ended up with the name South Coaster. She was registered at 513 tons and at the time of her stranding her managing agents were G.J. Livanos of London. In December 1943 the South Coaster had been chartered by the Admiralty to carry coal from Marsden to Exmouth. Now Exmouth is not the easiest of harbours to get into because the channel is very narrow with a large sand bar to one side, and guarded on the other by the Pole Sands. Many ships have run aground here, and the South Coaster was happy to follow their example by going hard aground on the eastern edge of Pole Sands on the morning of 13th December.

Aground

No damage seemed to be done and the local Naval unit sent a landing craft and a tug to see if they could pull her off. However try as they might nothing would shift the South Coaster. After eight days they were still trying, when a south westerly gale blew up in the early hours of the morning, and fearing the worst, the skipper who was still on board with all his crew asked the navy permission to abandon ship. By this time things were getting much worse with big seas breaking against the side of the stranded coaster and the Navy asked the Lifeboat to assist. With great difficulty the Lifeboat managed to get alongside and rescue all thirteen crew. The storm however must have loosened the ship because sometime later Admiralty tugs managed to re-float her and beach her in her present position, in the shallows close to the main railway line.

She is quite big close too.

The storms had damaged her so much that it was uneconomic to repair her, and so she was cut up for scrap. Although the wreck is awash at high tide, at low tide you can easily walk out to her over the mud flats. At Starcross is the excellent Anchor pub. If you walk up the road from there you will see the railway line and a crossing point that leads to a small beach. The mud flats stretch nearly all the way to Exmouth, leaving just small narrow channels and the whole area is alive with huge flocks of birds, especially Oyster Catchers,Dabbers, and if you are really lucky Advocets. The walk out to the wreck can be a bit of a bind as the mud is really sticky and it’s easy to loose a welly. Also you should avoid lots of little tile shelters and old bits of clome pipe. This is not discarded rubbish but a very effective form of crab trap.

High and nearly dry.

Once at the wreck you will be surprised at how big she is. From the outside her bows and hull are substantially intact, and once on board the wreck you can see that there is more inside than shows above the mud. The forward hold is easily recognisable and you can climb along what’s left of the side decks to what’s left of the main superstructure. The mast that you can see from the train is really just part of one of the loading booms and was lashed to the wreck to act as a marker. Aft the ships deck is smashed in but the shape of the bottom of the hull is plain to see, and outside you can still clearly see where the prop was, and in fact the brass collar around what is left of the prop shaft is still there. On the seaward side of the wreck is quite a large scour in the mud, and sometimes you can find bits and pieces like door fittings, brass foot plates, and the inevitable broken pottery and electrical fittings. It all depends on the tides however, as the scour seems to change shape and position with every new tide.

Parts are well broken up.

Because the area is so flat you have to watch the tides very carefully, as the sea rushes back in at a tremendous rate and it’s easy to get caught. Also a word of warning about the trains. They hurtle past the crossing as high speed, so stand well back so as not to be dragged into their side. There was a tragic accident further down the line on the seafront, so don’t get complacent.

I am gratefull to Mark Urry for the following information and photo The “South Coaster” was the first ship my father commanded after obtaining his Master’s certificate. As an armed merchant ship designed to protect unescorted coastal convoys she carried raised gun platforms on the fo’csle and the poop deck, and also had circular gun nests mounted either side of the bridge. These platforms were salvaged for use elsewhere when the ship was declared a total loss.

Capt.Sydney Ralf Bastiani Urry. 1912-2002

The photo shows Marks father in his new Captains uniform about to join his first command, the “South Coaster”. She was mostly plying coastal waters with coal and supplies for the military. The “South Coaster” was grounded shortly after he left her to join his second ship. Capt Urry was eventually disabled by a dive bomber attack on his ship while berthed in Shoreham. Unable to continue his career at sea he retrained as a teacher of Art and Navigation. Right up until his death in Poole, he remained a very keen yachtsman and often returned to pay his respects to the “South Coaster”. His last visit was in 2001. The Anchor Inn at Cockwood When you have finished your exploration of the wreck go back up the road a few hundred yards to the tidal harbour at Cockwood and have a drink and a meal at the Anchor Inn. It is over 450 years old and was once a seamens mission. Inside the original part of the pub is very cosy with wooden booths with their own fireplace.

The Anchor Inn

www.anchorinncockwood.com

Recently the pub has been extended to incorporate more dinning area’s with a lot of nauticalia as its theme. The meals here are great, and whilst they do most things, it is the fish that all the locals come for. Forinstance they can do scallops 28 different ways. While you are browsing the menu have a nice pint of Otter Ale.

Old and New.

The Kantoeng

The Kantoeng, at the time she was launched on 22nd of December 1936, was the largest bucket tin dredger in the world. She was built in Schiedam in Holland by A.F.Smulders for a Dutch mining company operating out of Indonesia. Because she was to be used in the swamps and jungle rivers of that country she bore little relationship to a conventional dredger, and was in fact little more than a huge floating pontoon 222 ft long, 75 ft wide and displacing over 3,500 tons. The machinery, bucket chain and superstructure was then just bolted on to the top. The Kantoeng had no means of propulsion, and had to be towed to all her jobs. However once at the site she could hold and shift her position by the use of four anchors each controlled by a powerfull electric winch.

Probably the largest in the world.

Two massive diesel generators provided the power for the huge bucket chain which had 123 manganese steel buckets which were lowered through a large opening in the pontoon. Each bucket weighed 1.5 tons. After her launch the Kantoeng had two months for trials and fitting out before she left for her first assignment in Indoesia. She left Schiedam towed by two tugs on 4th March 1937 bound for Bamka in what was then the Dutch East Indies. Three days later she sprang a leak off Lands End and the Tug Master descided to turn back for Plymouth to get it fixed. The weather had been pretty bad since the voyage started and now got even worse. During Sunday night the wind got up to near gale force and the Kantoeng broke adrift near the Eddystone.

The huge buckets.

Tugs were sent out from Fowey and Torpoint but despite some men managing to get aboard the drifting vessel the tow could not be reconnected. As the leak increased, the Kantoeng took on so much water that she developed a severe list and the salvage men abandoned her. Shortly after the Kantoeng capsized and drifted upside down towards Fowey Harbour. By Monday night the vessel was about one and a half miles from the harbour entrance and there were fears that her wreck would block the harbour. The tugs and a Navy warship all tried to halt her onward path but to no avail. In the end it was her vast superstructure that saved the day by becoming stuck on the seabed on Tuesday afternoon.

The upturned hull.

The bucket chain fell out and the wreck came to rest about half a mile from the Harbour entrance. On the following weekend holes were cut in her hull so that she sank thus alleviating any more danger to the harbour, and since there were still hopes of a salvage attempt it would be easy to patch the holes and raise the wreck with compressed air. Alas a survey later on by Lloyds declared her a total loss and the owners were compensated by the insurers for her full amount which was ?50,000. Later part of her pontoon was salvaged by the firm of Risdon Beazley, but the rest of the wreck was scattered over the years by storms, so that by the early 1960’s all that was left showing above the water at low tide was a giant gear wheel.

The Bucket Wheel.

However out at sea in about fifty feet of water lay the still intact bucket chain, separating drums and all the other bits and pieces of her upper superstructure. What a dive that must have been, swimming along the buckets lying over on their sides and then through the huge separating drums. Alas all mostly gone now. Since 1970 the wreck was used for underwater explosive training and in 1978 some of the buckets were raised and sent of to a foundry. The explosive training has long since stopped and now a dive on the Kantoeng is a very sedate affair and I have not dived on it for some years (hope to rectify that)

Find Coombe Haven on the map.

Still, it is a very pleasant dive, but because it is a bit out of my area I have included it as a walk, as there is still something to see when the tide goes out. In order to park within a reasonable distance, you need to drive to the National Trust’s car park at Coome Haven. This is to the west of Fowey, and you can easily get there without the fuss of gong through Fowey. Once at the car par, you will see a signed public footpath leading you down the valley to the beach at Coome Haven.

A steep walk.

This is a lovely walk, if a bit steep, through a small woodland down to the sea. Then just carry on walking along the coastal footpath towards Polkerris until you see the bits of wreckage stickng out of the water. You really can’t miss it at low tide. Seals can be often seen in the area, and there is a lot of birdlife.

Wonderfull scenic views.

The scenic views back towards Fowey are delightfull, as are the far reaching views towards the Dodman Point. The walk from the car par to the Kantoeng takes about three quarters of an hour at a slow pace, so its not very demanding.

The Fishermans Arms.

When you have done the walk you can either go into Fowey to that great pub on the quay, the King of Prussia, or go to one we found recently, The Fishermans Arms in a village called Golant. You pass nearby anyway, and the village is about one and a half miles up the river, perched right on its edge. Lovely little place and the pub does a nice lunch or sanwhiches.

William Huchinson

In 1758 William Hutchison became the Dock Master of the Old Dock at Liverpool. As a former ship’s captain he was well aware of what could happen if you misjudged the tides, and so when he swapped his life as a ship’s captain for the steady job ashore he decided to find a better way of predicting the tides. His main job of course was to oversee the arrival and departure of the ships using the Dock, and of course to do this the ships needed to come and go on a high tide.

The suggestion for taking tidal measurements came from James Ferguson, an astronomer and maker of tidal clocks, who Hutchinson met at a regular gathering of the local scientific society. Liverpool’s tidal range was quite large and very variable, and Huchinson soon saw that if he could predict the tides he could run a much more efficient organization. In 1764 he embarked on his twice daily ritual. He had a set of markings carved into the stone dock to provide accurate measurements, and as well as measuring the rise and fall of the tide he also measured the wind direction and strength, the barometric pressure and the general weather conditions, which all have a bearing on the height and timings of the tides.

His dedication soon showed positive results. His first four years of records played a vital part in producing Britain’s first accurate set of tide tables. In 1767 he gave the first three thousand entries in his log to the Holden Brothers who were mathematicians. They were working on a new way of predicting the tides and used Hutchinson’s data to prove their accuracy. In1770 they published the tide tables for Liverpool, and they were so good that all the Pilots had to use them, or pay a fine of five pounds.

Meteorology has come along way since then, but even today Huchinson’s observation are still used by modern day scientists, and modern methods have shown that his measurements were spot on.

This was not his only achievement. In his spare time he set up the world’s first lifeboat station, founded a charity to support the women and children of destitute seamen, and developed an oil fired lamp to replace the fire basket in lighthouses. A truly remarkable man.

Titanic

Although most of the graves for the Titanic victims lie in Halifax Nova Scotia, there are a few scattered around the West Country. Some of these graves are really in the strictest sense only memorials, as the bodies of the people that they commemorate were never recovered. One such grave lies near where I live, in Ford Park cemetery Plymouth, and remembers Henry Philip Creese, a Deck Engineer on the Titanic.

Henry was born in Falmouth and served his apprenticeship at Harland and Wolff in Belfast. He was with the White Star line for fourteen years, and joined the Titanic on 6th April 1912. On his death he left a widow and two small daughters. The stone at Ford park is not his only memorial. He is remembered on various Engineering memorials around the Country, and on family graves in Falmouth and Southampton.

Henry Philip Creese

In an interesting aside to the Titanic story, it turns out that many of the bodies were recovered from the sea by a cable laying ship the Makay-Bennett which was based at Turnchapel in Plymouth. At the time of the disaster she was in Halifax Nova Scotia, her other base, when she was chartered by the White Star line (owners of the Titanic) to recover what bodies she could from the scene.

In all she recovered 116 mutilated and unidentifiable bodies which were given burial at sea, and another 190 which were taken back to Halifax. Whilst other ships were involved in the recovery operation it was the Makay-Bennett that became world famous as the ‘Titanic’s Coffin Ship’.

The grave at Ford Park cemetary.

The crew of the Makay-Bennett were obviously very affected by their grim task, but never lost their sense of humanity. Most of the bodies that they had recovered were interred in the Fairview cemetery in Halifax, and one of the bodies was that of an unknown two year old boy. The crew considered it their privilege to club together to erect a headstone over the poor child.

The Makay-Bennett.

In a strange twist, the child was identified a few years later as Gosta Paulson, and it was found that his mother was buried just a few feet away. One of the few silver linings to a dreadful calamity.

These excellent books by John Avery are available from Beech Books, 2 Beech Court, Beech Avenue, Southampton, Hants. SO18 4TS

For another memorial see St. Kevernes Chuch in this section.

Hera

The Parish of Veryan extends along the South Cornish coast from Pendower Beach in the west, to Portholland in the east. Inland it reaches to Reskivers in the Parish of Tregony. It is a delightfully quiet little Cornish hamlet, but since the road runs right through it you could easily be forgiven for ignoring it. However a stroll around is recommended as it has some very old buildings and a smashing Pub. The church is dedicated to the Cornish Saint Symperian, and goes back certainly to Norman times, and possibly as far as the sixth century.

The Church.

In the churchyard is one of the most unusual graves that I have ever come across. It commemorates the last resting place of the nineteen crew of the German Barque Hera, which was lost when it hit Gull Rock in 1914. (The full story of this wreck can be found in the Falmouth section. Hera)

The Grave.

The grave is approximately twenty-two yards long by one yard wide and edged with granite. The middle is filled with granite chippings with small stone tablets placed every so often along its length. The nineteen unfortunate souls are buried in a line head to toe, two deep.

Photo by Paul Thomas

Dedication from Owners.

Photo by Paul Thomas

The grave was paid for and dedicated by the German owners of the Hera, Rhederei-Aktien-Gesells Chaft. Some restoration has been recently carried out on this grave, but the main headstone has been left slanted backwards resting on a granite stone.The inscription is particularly apt and rather moving.

The Inscription.

The fog hid the light of the harbour

With danger unseen on the lee

The crew brave and true did their duty

In the face of a terrible sea

Missing the light sailing homeward

The ‘Hera’ went down in the deep

Missing their faces we mourn them

Sacred is the spot where they sleep

All honour to brave brothers resting

Safe home in God’s harbour at last

God’s blessing abide with their mothers

Till sorrow and partings are past

Map showing the Village of Veryan

I am very gratefull to Photo by Paul Thomas for the graveside photos. Read all about his Great Grandfather,William Leuty who was on the lifeboat that went to the aid of the Hera. Its all in the Falmouth section.

Slapton Sands Tank

Between Start Point and Dartmouth lies Slapton Sands, a two-mile ribbon of sand with a precarious road running along its top. The village of Torcross is the gateway to the Sands, and in its beachfront car park stands a restored Sherman tank raised from the nearby seabed in 1984.

The Sherman Tank.

At first you would think that this is a fitting reminder of the American Forces who were billeted here during the Second World War, but it is much, much more. This Tank commemorates one of the biggest losses of life during the War, and is the unofficial Tombstone for 946 men who lost their lives during exercise ‘Tiger’, many of whom may still lie buried in unmarked graves.

Memorial Plaque.

In the run up to the invasion of Europe tens of thousands of American troops were billeted around this area so that they could undergo training for the imminent sea borne landings in France. The Americans were to assault a beach in France codenamed ‘Utah’, and Slapton Sands was almost a perfect replica.

Evacuation Area.

In order to train under battle conditions live ammunition was to be extensively used including aerial strafing and artillery bombardment. Because of this 3000 people were summarily evacuated from their farms and villages in 1943, and the American Army moved in. Over the weeks that were to follow the Army held live firings and made many mock attacks on the beach until all was ready for the full dress rehearsal.

Damage caused by offshore bombardment.

Over 30 thousand troops embarked in their assault craft with all the equipment that they would need to land on the coast of France, including tanks. In the early hours of April 28th 1944 this huge armada of assault ships and escort vessels were all milling around out at sea getting in position to start the Exercise when a Flotilla of E boats operating out of Cherbourg, under the command of Hans Shirren, got in amongst the allied ships and caused utter chaos.

Landing craft on Slapton beach.

With the sea bombardment just starting the escort ships did not realize what was happening and opened fire on each other. In the resulting carnage ships were sunk, and nearly a thousand men lost their lives. The E boats got away scot-free and the next day the beaches were littered with dead bodies with more being brought in on every tide. More casualties were caused that night than actually happened when ‘Utah’ was stormed for real on D Day, and the whole thing was such a fiasco that it was all hushed up for years and many of the dead were buried in unmarked graves.

Ken Small

Ken Small who campaigned for years to recover the Tank, uncovered the whole heartrending story whilst researching how the tank came to be lying just off the beach, and produced his best-selling book The Forgotten Dead that tells the whole story.

Ken Small riding the Tank as it is raised from the sea in 1984.

Another memorial further along the Sands.

Leslie Thomas’s The Magic Army is an impressive and often very moving novel, and is a great fictional account of the story as seen through the eyes of the locals and the American troops.

Channel Firing: Tragedy of Exercise Tiger

Another excellent book about the dreadful loss of life in the run up to D Day.

It is with considerable regret that I have heard that Ken has died of a long illness on 15th March 2004. He is buried at Stokenham Church, just a short distance from ‘his’ Tank

Flowers on Kens Grave.

Flowers on Kens Tank.

Kens Grave

Every year the Royal Tank Regiment Association (Plymouth Branch) organise and hold a Memorial Service by the tank in Torcross (all are welcome). It is held on the nearest Sunday to the 28th April (“Exercise Tiger” Anniversary) This year was the 70th Anniversary of the tragic event. During the service Dean Small (Ken’s son) and Laurie Bolton (USA) unveiled a plaque in honour of Ken Small who sadly passed away in March 2004. Laurie Bolton’s uncle lost his life aboard LST 531. Laurie has become a point of contact for many of the surviving veterans and family members.

Dean painting the tank.

Dean with Laurie Bolton.

Dean said “I am proud of my dad’s achievement’s and am privileged to be involved with the tank memorial”. Laurie said “The tank and the memorial site gives people a tangible place to visit and think of there loved ones, and remember the sacrifice made for the freedom we enjoy today”.

Sgt Louis Bolton

Memorial Plaque to Ken Small

If you would like to learn more, please visit

Exercise Tiger Memorial

The Schiller.

Although the Scilly Isles has had many awful shipwrecks, one of the worst was the S.S.Schiller, a German ferry which hit the Retarrier Ledges in 1875. The Schiller was one of the largest vessels of her day, and was making a fast transatlantic passage from New York to Hamburg via Southampton. She was carrying a cargo of sewing machines, gold coins, 254 passengers and 118 crew.

The S.S.Schiller ( from a drawing by Gibson ).

On the evening of the 7th May, the Schiller was somewhere off the Scilly Isles and encountered thick fog. She slowed to 4 knots, and her lookouts kept watch for the reassuring sight or sound of the Bishops Rock Lighthouse or foghorn. Neither were seen, and the Schiller slowly crept inside the Bishops Rock and struck the Retarrier Ledges. The Captain managed to reverse off the reef, but two large waves smashed the ship broadside to the ledges and the hull started to break up.

Artifacts from the wreck in the St Mary’s Museum, Scilly.

Many of the lifeboats were fatally damaged when the Schiller struck, being ground against the rocks, and most of the others were found to be defective due to poor maintenance. As some were cut loose, they just fell into the sea with all their passengers and were crushed between the ship and the rocks. Panic spread and there were extraordinary violent scenes, with men pushing away women and children from the boats so that they could save themselves. The crew were just as bad, and many of the women and children took refuge in the main cabin. Their relief was short lived as the roof was torn off by a huge wave, which sucked all the women and children out onto the deck, where more waves threw their bodies into the sea and drowned them.

The Schiller Memorial by Sally Sharrock

The Captain tried to restore order by firing into the rioting passengers but it was no good. In the end only two boats bearing just 27 people managed to get away. As the Schiller started to slip further into the water people took to the rigging where many were killed or maimed by flying chains and other sailing gear. The Captain had ordered signal cannons to be fired to notify those on shore of their distress, but they were mistaken for requests for a pilot cutter. However at daybreak a cutter from St. Agnes, set out to investigate more reports of gunfire and were shocked to come across the remains of the Schiller. They picked up five survivors and rowed back to St Mary’s to raise the alarm.

The Inscription on the Memorial reads:

In memory of Louise Holzmaister. Born at New York May 15th 1851. Lost her life in the wreck of the SS Schiller off the Scilly Isles may 7th 1875. Her body resting in the deep. This monument has been erected to her memory as a mark of affection by her huspand.

The Mohr family, all lost.

Boats came from all over to try and find survivors but they were few and far between. Some people had managed to get to the small uninhabited islands and were rescued but for the rest hope had vanished. The boats searched for hours but all that was left were lifeless bodies and ships debris floating on the water. Of the 254 passengers and 118 crew only 37 survived. None of them were children.

The Scillonians took great care to gather as many of the bodies as possible, identify, and bury them with reverence and dignity. So impressed were the German Government, that when the Two World Wars broke out between England and Germany, orders were sent out to prevent bombing or attack of the islands in recognition off the kindnesses that the Islanders had shown their countrymen all those years before.

I am extremely gratefull to Bryan Donohue for the following photos and information about his great great grandfather, Louis Beald, who was a cabin boy on the Schiller and survived its sinking.

Louis W Beald

Louis W Beald’s Obituary

Louis W Beald’s Obituary

Bryan Donohue says….The photo of Louis Beald in the irrigation colonization group photo is from his volunteer / charity work. He was a Master Mason in the Freemason fraternity. Many of his contributions throughout his life were to make this world a better place to live in by making something out of nothing and leading people to follow their dreams by teaching them to use their abilities to better mankind as a whole. Two of his sons had also became Freemasons as well, and their wives, members of the Northern Star.

The Salcombe Lifeboat Disaster

On October 27 1916, the Salcombe lifeboat, William and Emma, was launched to go to the aid of a stricken Plymouth schooner Western Lass that was aground at Lannacombe Bay.

The Salcombe Lifeboat.

Fifteen men took her out in the teeth of a furious southwesterly gale and managed to cross the notorious Bar at the mouth of Salcombe Harbour. As the lifeboat made its may through the huge breakers on the Bar, a message came to say that the Prawle Rocket Company had been able to save all of the crew and the lifeboat was not needed. Unfortunately there was no way of getting a message to the lifeboat so it plunged on through the stormy sea to the wreck of the Western Lass. The cox’n, Samuel Distin, could see the rocket line hanging off the schooner and in the pale light of dawn realised that there was no one left to save.

William James Foale – Peter Heath Foale (Senior.)Peter Heath Foale (Junior)

All the lifeboats crew were by now soaked right through and freezing cold. There was nothing left but to get safely back. As they approached the Bar with its huge turbulent breakers some must have doubted the wisdom of trying to get through but in the end they streamed a sea anchor from the stern and took in most of the sail. Just as these preparations were complete a massive wave hit the stern of the boat throwing it broadside to the waves. All the crew were thrown in a great heap to the other side of the boat so when the next wave hit, it just turned the boat over and threw all the men into the sea.

John Ashley.

Several of the men managed to hang on to the upturned hull of the boat but in the end all but two were swept away. ‘Eddie’ Distin and William Johnson were the only two to still be alive when the wreckage of the lifeboat was washed up under Rickham.

The Brave Crew.

To a small community such as Salcombe such a disaster was a hammer blow, but with the Great War running its brutal course life just had to go on as many a wrecked or torpedoed seamen would still look for help from these small coastal villages. A new lifeboat was found and with it a new crew. But the Cox’n was one of the survivors, ‘Eddie’ Distin.

Thomas Putt

James Alfred Canham

Albert Distin

James Henry Cove

John Ambrose Cudd – Francis Cudd

Albert Edwin Wood

These books are great references but they are now out of print.

These books are great references but they are now out of print.

You should be able to find them second hand.

The Queen.

Falmouth has one of the great natural harbours of the world and is a haven for ships in a westerly or a south westerly storm. However in an easterly gale vessels lying in Carrick Roads are exposed to the full force of the easterly winds which blow straight in between the headlands. Many a ship has dragged its anchor and ended up on the treacherous rocks of Trefusis Point, and one of these was the Government transport Queen, returning from the Peninsula War with the bulk of a British regiment, together with their families, and ten French prisoners of war.

Mylor Churchyard.

Just after Christmas 1813, the Queen, under the command of Captain Carr, left Lisbon and joined a small convoy bound for Portsmouth. There were over 300 people on board and they had a rough passage, so it was with some considerable relief that they sighted Falmouth on Jan 10th 1814, and anchored in Carrick Roads. Despite there being a strong easterly wind and a forecast of more unsettled weather, the Captain only laid out his port anchor with a much reduced length of cable. Even so she lay happily there for three days until the afternoon of Thursday 13th, when she began to drag her anchor. The watch on deck failed to notice what was happening at first, and by the time they notified Captain Carr it was too late.

The impresive memorial.

The starboard anchor had no cable secured to it, and while this was being brought up, the Queen was being rapidly blown towards the shore. When preparations were nearly complete, the port anchor gave up the fight, its rope parted and the Queen was adrift at the mercy of the winds. As she sped across the sea, the crew still valiantly struggled to get the starboard anchor ready, the passengers started to panic screaming and shouting, and the whole enterprise fetched up with a huge crash on Trefusis Point. As the Queen drove onto the Point she broached- to, and huge waves smashed over her carrying all before them and flooding the vessel from stem to stern.

In the confusion attempts were made to fire a cannon as a distress signal but the sea swamped the cannons and by now heavy snow was falling making it almost impossible for anyone to see the wreck from the shore. The Captain ordered all the masts to be cut away, and as they fell the ship gave a sickening lurch which caused guns to be cast adrift and bulkheads to break. As the hull gave way, all below were either crushed to death or drowned. In less than twenty minutes of striking Trefusis Point the Queen had been reduced to matchwood.

Some of the troops managed to scramble ashore but daylight revealed the true horror of what had happened. Scores of bodies washed about in the shallows, many entangled in the ships rigging. Others lay strewn around the rocks were the sea had thrown them. Only eighty five soldiers, nine women, one child, and four prisoners survived. Captain Carr and his entire crew except for the bosun and a cabin boy, perished in the disaster. Some two hundred and fifty bodies were eventually recovered, but not before the looters had been at them. A number of the surviving troopers were eventually court martialed for robbing the corpses.

The Penlee Lifeboat Disaster

The Union Star was a brand new mini bulk carrier launched only weeks before her disastrous end. Her Captain Henry Morton and his wife Dawn watched the launch at the Danish port of Ringkobing. On December 11 1981 captain Morton set sail on his maiden voyage to Ijmuiden to pick up his cargo of fertiliser, which was to be delivered to the Irish port of Arklow. On board for this first trip were his wife, two teenage daughters, and a crew of four.

The Village of Mousehole.

Three days later in hurricane force winds the Union Star ran into trouble eight miles east of the Wolf Rock when sea water managed to get into her fuel supply. It was the beginning of the end. By Saturday night, just five days after the voyage had begun, the Union Star lay battered and wrecked on the Cornish coast, and Henry Morton, his wife, daughters, and all his crew had perished. What made the tragedy infinitely worse was the further loss of eight men, the complete crew of the lifeboat Solomon Browne, which itself was smashed to pieces on that dreadful night when it tried to go to the aid of the Union Star.

The wreck of the Union Star.

Because of the truly awful weather the helicopters scrambled from Culdrose could do little to help, and it was left to the Penlee lifeboat, the Solomon Browne, launched at twelve minutes past eight in the evening from the little village of Mousehole. Under the leadership of the Cox’n Trevelyan Richards the lifeboat struggled down to the Tater Du rock braving forty-foot waves. In a magnificent effort the lifeboat snatched four people from the stricken Union Star, radioed her intentions back to base, and then went in again to try and save the rest. That’s when disaster struck.

The Brave Crew.

What happened nobody will ever know for sure, but with such huge waves so close to the shore the lifeboat probably got smashed against the Union Star’s hull and then pounded into the troughs of the waves against the seabed itself. What ever, all the crew perished and the Solomon Browne disintegrated. Anyone living in Devon and Cornwall that day was stunned by the news. For most of us, seamen or not, the lifeboat is our favourite charity, you see their little boat shaped collection boxes everywhere.

The Landlord was a crew member.

We all pay lip service to the dangers, but we hadn’t, thank God, had a disaster for years. The awful reality of ordinary men, most with wives and children, taking such extraordinary risks suddenly hit home, especially as we were all happily gearing up for Christmas. I went and saw the wreck of the Union Star a couple of days later and it was not a pretty sight. Nobody could have lived through that, but the crew of the lifeboat tried, and in the end that’s all anyone can do. I hope that I would have had their courage, but somehow I doubt it.

The Memorial.

Twenty years on the scars have healed and Mousehole is just another pretty Cornish village, but all around are little echoes of that fateful day. The most evocative is in the Parish Church of Paul, a village just up the road from Mousehole (an easy walk of about a mile) Here in this beautifully simple old church is a granite stone topped by a lantern containing a crystal chalice. The inscription says it all.

Map showing Mousehole and Paul.

St. Keverne Church

Most churches in Devon and Cornwall will have some tales to tell, but if you have not done this sort of thing before, probably the best place to start would be St. Keyerne Church, which more or less overlooks the infamous Manacles reef.

A Victim of the Manacles Reef.

Exactly how many ships have come to grief on the Manacles is not known. Some say a thousand, others as many as three thousand. What we do know however, just by looking around the graveyard at St. Keverne’s is that many hundreds of people have been drowned on those treacherous rocks.

The Mohegan

I suppose the Mohegan is the best known shipwreck and for such a large loss of life the headstone, in the form of a granite Cornish cross, is quite unspectacular. However it’s very simplicity speaks volumes for the care and understanding of the local community, and provides a sincere tribute to the one hundred or so poor souls entombed beneath it.

Thomas Bullock

A short distance away is a small cluster of graves near a stunted tree. One is to the memory of Thomas Bullock chief mate of the Bay of Panama, which was wrecked on 10 March I89I at Nare Head with. the loss of twenty three lives, most of whom are buried at other churches.

Directly in front of this grave is a stone covered plot surmounted with a plain cross resting on a small two tiered plinth. Beneath these stones are interred the bodies of one hundred and four officers and men of the7th Hussars, who were lost in the transport Dispatch when it was wrecked on the Manacle rocks in January 22 I809, whilst returning from the Peninsular War.

H.M.S. Primrose

That terrible Sunday morning whilst the villagers of Porthoustock were desperately trying to save whom they could from the Dispatch, news suddenly came of an. even worse tragedy. The brig H.M.S. Primrose of eighteen guns had struck at the north end of the Manacles reef, and although valiant efforts were made to rescue the crew of a hundred and thirty two officers and men, only one was eventually saved. So in just one terrible night the Manacles had claimed at least two hundred and fifty souls.

H.M.S. Primrose Inscription.

Just behind these last two graves is another weathered headstone with the barely legible inscription Spyridion Vagliauo. This ship was a Greek owned steamer which hit the outer rocks of the Manacles on the 8th of February 1890. The crew all safely abandoned the ship and took to the lifeboats. Unfortunately one of these over- turned whilst the crew were attempting to land, and thirteen men including the Captain was drowned.

Spyridion Vagliauo

The headstone was erected by the wife of the ships engineer, William Hislop, who was drowned, aged thirty one .

Perhaps the most insignificant memorial is a small rounded, weather beaten piece of slate bearing the name John. The headstone may be small but it commemorates probably the worst disaster of all.

The John

The John was a barque of 486 tons engaged in transporting emigrants from Plymouth to Quebec in Canada. On the night of 3 May 1855, the John had two hundred and eighty seven passengers and crew on board when she hit the Manacle rocks, and was later driven broadside on to the rocks off Lowland Point. In the rush to get off the ship, the crew fought with the passengers for places on the lifeboats, the Captain being one of the first to leave. In the event one hundred and ninety three people were drowned, including sixty six children and sixteen infants.

The Captain was later arrested and convicted of manslaughter, and several ‘locals’ received prison sentences for looting the dead bodies as they were washed up on the beach. One hundred and twenty people were eventually buried in a mass grave, and the small headstone put up by a grateful survivor. Maybe it’s size somehow reflects the amount of shame felt by all concerned in this tragic episode.

Carronade from ‘Primrose’.

As you wander around the churchyard you will come across other graves and mementoes from long past wrecks, like a carronade from H.M.S. Primrose, and a memorial plaque to John Smith, a radio telegraphist, who lost his life in the Titanic.

Perhaps most poignant of all is the memorial to James Hill who died in 1919 aged eighty four. He was the coxn of the Porthoustock lifeboat, and played a leading part in rescuing the survivors from the Mohegan. So in this graveyard lie the rescued and the rescuers, the brave and the cowardly. All that’s left of all those brave deeds and the tragic loss of life are a few stone memorials.

Titanic

Yet somehow, thanks in some part to the discoveries made by divers, their stories have leapt the void of history, and are once again ‘real’. This link with the past is one of the great fascinations of wreck diving, and surely gives some purpose to the many memorials scattered in little churches all along the Devon and Cornish coast.

Holbrook V.C. (and the Town)

In Australia, if you drive from Melbourne to Sydney along the Hume highway you eventually come to the little town of Holbrook 245 metres above sea level at the start of the Snowy Mountains. It’s a small farming town with two pubs and a road that goes right through it. There is nothing to distinguish this town from a dozen others, except of course the Submarine stuck right in the middle of the town.

H.M.R.A.N. sub Ottway in Holbrook.

So what’s a submarine doing in a town 400 kilometres from the nearest seaport? Well the story starts back at the time of the First World War when the town of Holbrook was called Germanton. The inhabitants, being very patriotic, thought that they should change the towns name to something more suitable. Several names were suggested but were all turned down, then came the news of Lt Holbrook’s magnificent achievement in the Dardanelle’s. The town petitioned the District government and changed the name of their town to Holbrook. So what did Lt. Holbrook do?

Norman Holbrook on a visit.

On 13th December 1914 he and a crew of fifteen took their submarine B11 and snuck into the Sea of Mamara against heavy opposition from enemy shore battery’s and torpedoed and sunk the Turkish battleship Messudiyeh. The return journey down a narrow channel with every shore battery for miles around shooting at them must have been a nightmare. The compass was out of order and the submarine kept running aground. In the end it had to submerge for nearly eight hours (an unheard of duration for those days) as it felt its way down the narrow channel to safety. Unbelievably they all survived. Holbrook was awarded the Victoria Cross, and every man in the crew was also decorated, an unprecedented honour.

Holbrook and his crew of the B11.

Over the years until his death in 1976 Norman Holbrook visited the town several times and was extremely popular. In 1982 his widow Gundala Holbrook donated his medals and other memorabilia to the town and it is now housed in the excellent Woolpack museum. In amongst all the interesting photos and artefacts is the top of the periscope from Normans old submarine B11.

Scale model of B11.

The citizens of Holbrook however wanted a fitting memorial to Holbrook and in 1972 had a one fifth scale model of his submarine placed in the town park, and later in 1988 a statue was unveiled. For a while everyone was content.

Holbrooks Medals

Periscope

Statue

In the meantime the town had forged an unlikely alliance with the Royal Australian Submarine Squadron and in 1995 they donated the fin of the decommissioned submarine Ottway which was one of six Oberon class subs that the Navy operated. A working party was established to see how they could erect it when word came that they could purchase the rest of the sub, or rather the ‘outer skin’ down to the waterline. Thousands of dollars were raised and Gundala Holbrook made the amazing gift of one hundred thousand Dollars, which enabled the project to forge ahead.

Gundala Holbrook

In order to get the sub to Holbrook it was cut into sections and transported down the Hume Highway on huge trailers. Some journey. Now the submarine lies in the park, not only dedicated to Holbrook but to ‘all those brave men who have served in submarines in war and peace.’ The official dedication took place on the Queens Birthday weekend on 7-8 of June 1997 with Gundala Holbrook as the official guest. I wish I could have been there.

The Sub down to its ‘waterline’.

Incidentally near the sub is a mark 8 torpedo commemorating the actions of Lt. Stoker R.N. D.S.O. and the crew of the Australian sub AE2. But that’s another story.

If you get a chance to go to Holbrook take it. The people are real farming folk, but they just love their town and have a real affection for, and pride in Norman Holbrook.

Sign at the entrance to Holbrook.

To have a town named after you is a fitting memorial for a brave and decent man.

Gossamer

The Gossamer was a 734 ton tea clipper, and two months before she was wrecked near Prawle Point she had been the second ship home in the annual tea race from Shanghai to London. On her fateful voyage she had been outward bound to Australia with a general cargo, four passengers and twenty four crew. She had a stormy start to her voyage with very bad conditions in the Channel.

Chivelstone Church.

Captain John Thomson stayed on deck for hours and eventually went two nights without sleep. When he finally went down to his cabin he fell pole-axed into his bunk. Unfortunately while he slept the pilot got roaring drunk. The Coastguards on Prawle saw the Gossamer attempt to tack and when she failed, reef in most of her sails and drop her two anchors. The noise of the anchor chain going out awoke Captain Johnson but there was little he could do but pray the anchors held. For half an hour they did, but then both cables parted and the Gossamer went full tilt onto the shore about a hundred yards from the optimistically named, Landing Cove. Thirteen were drowned immediately and the Captain was seen to lash his bride of just two weeks to a spar in the hope that she would stay afloat. For a time the two of them clung to the storm tossed bit of wood until the sea took them in its cold embrace. Ironically the pilot survived and was found guilty of manslaughter. Near the entrance to Chivelstone Church is a tombstone to Captain Johnson and his wife Barbara Kerr who came from the Isle of Bute in Scotland. It was Barbara Thomson’s first and last sea voyage.

I think the inscription says it all.

The Ganges Memorial

This memorial was erected in 1872 and records the names of the fifty three boys who died between 1866 and 1899 whilst training to become sailors in the Royal Navy. At the end of the Napoleonic Wars the Navy no longer used impressment to make up its numbers, but instead had improved the terms and conditions of seamen and offered them a pension after a fixed term of service. In order to train enough recruits it was decided to use a number of laid up ships as training establishments and moor them in various harbours around the country.

The Memorial.

Boys aged fifteen to seventeen were then asked to volunteer for service in the Royal Navy, serving at least a year on one of these ships. H.M.S. Ganges was one of the ships chosen, and she was moored just down from a small dockyard at Mylor, where the marina is now. She was a second rate three masted ship, 196 feet long carrying 84 guns. She was made of teak and launched from the Bombay Dockyard in November 1821. She had a largely uneventful service, and was the last sailing battleship to round Cape Horn without the aid of steam.

The Memorial.

However it was on the 20th March 1866 that the name of ‘Ganges’ entered into naval history, for it was then that she was moored here at Mylor and started a tradition of training boy seamen that would last for over a hundred years. The ship itself remained at Mylor for thirty three years and trained nearly fourteen thousand boys. Unfortunately the boys remembered here were to remain forever. Most died of influenza or measles which were fatal in those days, but eight died of accidents, and in the same period sixteen of the crew also died. The ship was removed from Mylor on 27th August 1899 and moved to Harwich where she continued to train boys until a shore establishment was built at Shotley Point in 1905. This tradition carried on untill 1976 when changing times saw its closure.

The famous mast. You can just see the boy at the top.

I must confess an interest here. In 1963 I was in the Junior Royal Marines and I competed at Ganges in the inter services swimming and water polo. The big feature of Ganges was its enormous ship’s mast, and naturally we were challenged to a race up the top. I got to the top of the mast and thought that was enough, only to be pushed aside by a boy who proceeded to stand on the button on one leg. None of our swimming team dared to do the same. It was the only time as a Royal Marine that I was beaten by another Service. Shame.

This film was made by John Douglas.

The Dragon

Two miles inland from Hope Cove lies the tiny village of Malborough. Inside the church are many memorials to the generations of local families, many of who drowned in the unforgiving seas between Bolt Head and Bolt Tail. But our interest lies outside with a small slate stone that’s lettering grows faded and worn. It is here that the bodies of the Chambers family lie, three boys and a girl. The inscription reads:

Here lye the Bodies of Daniel Mary and Joseph Chambers. Sons and daughters of Edward Chambers of Jamacia who were shipwrecked at Cat Hole in this Parish.

Model of an East Indiaman, slightly later than the Dragon.

Between Bolt Head and Bolt Tail lies five miles of the most dangerous waters along this coast. Well over three dozen ships have come to grief on these unforgiving shores and only God knows how many lives have been lost. For the Dragon, a British East Indiaman, homeward bound from Jamaica with a cargo of rum and sugar, the end must have been very swift. Besides the Chambers family, four seamen were drowned but Captain Gleast and ten of his crew survived. In the lottery of life they had won a reprieve but the hopes of the Chambers family had gone forever with only this weathered stone to show that they ever existed.

The weathered Headstone.

So what of the Dragon? Did she still exist, mangled and broken at the bottom of the cliffs, or had she been smashed to pieces and completely dispersed. It was worth a search.

The bottom here is sand with large boulders that have fallen off the cliffs close inshore. Because the water is so shallow and clear it was possible to do a really intensive search over a few days, but nothing was found. This did not come as a complete surprise to us, wrecks are rarely where they are supposed to be, so we moved the search area 100 yards along the base of the cliffs. Very soon we found an anchor and then stumbled across the wreckage of the Deventia.

The bay in front of Lantern Rock is where the Dragon sleeps.

We rather lost interest in the Dragon and completely discounted the anchor at the wrong age. However further research showed that it ‘could’ be from a ship of the Dragon’s period. After a couple of years the sand covered everything and that was the end of our investigations, but I still keep an eye on the area, and one day who knows, the sand might just move back out and reveal all.

Location map.

Crossowen

I am grateful to Susan Coney for the b/w photos of Capt. Hitchins and the Crossowen. Capt. Hitchins was her great uncle.

It is not often that you can come across a ship abandoned on the beach with all her sails still set. But that’s what happened to some early morning walkers on 7th May 1908 when they came across the Scottish registered brigantine Crossowen adrift on Yarmer Sands with only three feet of water in her hold. Of the crew there was no sign. So what had happened?

Crews Grave.

Capt. Hitchins with some sailors,probably not from the Crossowen.

The Crossowen had embarked a cargo of china clay at Parr the previous day and it can only be assumed that when she left port she became enveloped in a dense bank of fog that had blanketed the south west coast that day. She ended up far to close inshore, and struck Burg Island. The crew, thinking that they were sinking, launched the ships boat and rowed for the shore. Unfortunately they rowed towards the mouth of the nearby river Avon and became overwhelmed by the breakers on Batham Beach. All were thrown into the crashing surf, and it was only later that their drowned corpses were plucked from the waters around the river Avon’s mouth.

The Captains Grave.

Capt. Hitchins.

Six bodies are buried in Thurleston Churchyard together with an unknown boy who, whilst not on the official crew list, was presumed to have been aboard. Their communal grave was erected by public subscription from the local villagers. Later a separate stone for the Captain was placed nearby.

Captains inscripton.

The Crossowen, seen below aground at Yarmer Sands near Thurlestone, was built at Grangemouth in 1878 by Adamson, and originally called the Omega. A 115 feet long with a gross tonnage of 237 tons, she is a sad testament to the old superstition that says, it is bad luck to change a ships name.

The Crossowen.

The Crossowen.

H.M.S.Cressy

It always amazes me how many echoes of history lie hidden away in little country churchyards deep in the Devon and Cornwall countryside. One such memory is contained within the confines of the 12th century church of St. Nicholas and St. Cyriac in the village of South Pool near Salcombe, Devon.

The Parish Church of St Nicholas and St Cyriac.

Mounted on one of the church’s walls is a bronze tablet commemorating the death of John Aubrey Froude R.N. a Midshipman who died on board H.M.S.Cressy in 1914.

H.M.S.Cressy.

He was sixteen years of age. The sinking of the Battleship Cressy, together with the Battleships Aboukir and Hogue on the 22 September 1914 was a disaster in itself, but was made all the more significant because it ushered in the dawn of a terrible new weapon, the submarine.

The Plaque reads:

To the memory of John Aubrey Froude R.N. Son of Ashley Froude C.M.C of Collapit Creeck Kingsbridge and Ethel Aubrey Froude daughter of Captain A.P.Hallifax of Halwell In this parrish and only grandson of James Antony Froude Regus Professor Of modern history Oxford University He died in the discharge of his duty At the age of 16 When serving as midshipman in H.M.S.Cressy This ship was sunk by a German Submarine In the action in the North Sea on September 22 1914 while she Had stopped to rescue the survivors From H.M.S. Aboukir and Hogue Previously sunk in the same action

H.M.S.Aboukir.

At the outbreak of the First World War all the great sea powers had submarines in their fleets, but it is fair to say that virtually all the Navy’s despised them and nobody had any real idea of their deadly potential.

H.M.S. Hogue.

All this changed on the 22 September 1914 when Otto Weddigen in command of the German submarine U9 came into contact with three British battle cruisers, the Hogue, the Aboukir, and the Cressy. Weddigen sunk all three in under an hour causing the loss of 62 officers and 1085 men.

Leutnant Otto Weddigen.

In that one hour Weddigen in his primitive submarine had inflicted more causalities on the Royal Navy than Nelson’s fleet suffered at Trafalgar. In sinking these three cruisers Weddigen brought home the awful reality of submarine warfare. Naval warfare would never be the same again.

The Submarine U9

Weddigen returned to a hero’s welcome, was promoted and given a new submarine. But his luck was not to last. Two months later in command of his new submarine U29 he was rammed by H.M.S. Dreadnaught and sunk. There were no survivors.

Map of Area.

If you want to learn more about Otto Weddigen and how the submarine developed, try this video.

The Caledonia

At Morwenstow, on Cornwall’s wild Atlantic coast, lies the church of St. Morwena and St. John the Baptist. In its churchyard are buried many victims of the sea, but one grave has a well-preserved ships figurehead as a memorial instead of the more usual slate headstone. This figurehead once graced the bows of the ‘Caledonia’, and depicts a Scottish Amazon complete with sword and shield, Tam’o shanter, and sporran. Thanks to the liberal application of gallons of white paint over the years, she is in remarkably good condition and has become known locally as ‘The Last Virgin of Morwenstow’.

The Figurehead.

So what’s the story? The Caledonian was a Scottish brig of some five hundred tons built in Arbroath. During September 1842 she was homeward bound from the Black Sea port of Odessa, when she had to call into Falmouth in order to bury a crewmember who had died of his wounds after being stabbed in a knife fight in Constantinople. ( Istanbul) The Caledonia then left for Gloucester in order to discharge her cargo of wheat. As she left Falmouth a fierce north westerly gale was raging. Around one o’clock in the morning of the 8th of September the look out saw huge waves breaking on Sharp nose Point close to leeward.

Front View.

The Captain, Peter Stevenson, shortened sail and tried to stand clear, but he was too late. The ship refused to come up and soon smashed onto the rocks at Sharp Nose Point. When they hit, the Captain ordered all the crew into the rigging, but no sooner had he done so than the mast smashed down throwing everyone into the raging sea where they all perished. The only survivor of the crew of ten was Edward le Dain from Jersey who miraculously managed to scramble ashore and collapse on the rocks where a farmer fond him, and a tortoise in the awakening dawn.

Postcard from Morwenstow.

The Captain, aged only twenty-eight, is buried immediately underneath the figurehead. The rest of the crew, together with some other seamen, including the Captain of the Alonzo of Stockton wrecked in 1843, perhaps as many as forty in all, are buried by the ‘Upper Trees’. A tall granite cross with the words ‘unknown yet known by all’ was erected in 1924 and marks the spot. At the time three upturned keels were placed there together with some oars forming a rough cross, but they soon disintegrated.

The Stone Cross.

In a rather bizarre twist, the figurehead weighing over one hundredweight was stolen in October 1968. It was later found slightly damaged abandoned in a field at Abbottham Cross, Bideford. No reason for the theft was ever found but at the time it sparked memories of the ‘Virgins’ legend that supposedly said she would rise up with her crewmen and strike the offenders down with her sword.

Location Map.

There is an excellent book about this wreck which blends fact with fiction.

Click on the photo below to see more.

Commander Lionel ‘Buster’ Crabb

I am extremely grateful to Jim Knight for some of the information and photos in this article

Lionel Crabb was born in 1909 to Hugh and Beatrice Crabb who lived at the time in South London.(he later got the nickname ‘Buster’ in honour of the American swimmer, turned actor, Buster Crabbe) They were a poor family and Crabb’s father Hugh was listed as Missing during the Great War. For most of Crabb’s early days he was brought up by Frank Jarvis, a relative of Beatrice who came to stay after the War. For a short and unhappy time Lionel went to school at Brighton College but then transferred to H.M.S.Conway, a Naval Academy. When he left school he was a bit of a drifter having lots of different jobs, and not much liking any of them. In the end Crabb tried to join the Navy in 1939 when he was twenty eight. He was refused on medical grounds, was to old to join the Reserves, so he joined the Merchant Navy instead.

Lionel ‘Buster’ Crabb.

When the Second World War started up he trained as a Merchant Seaman Gunner, and because of this he was able to join the Royal Navy Patrol Service that used trawlers to clear mines. At last he was where he wanted to be. Unfortunately he had to have a medical at some stage, and when he did, it was found that he had a weak left eye, and so he was banned from further sea service. Fed up, Crabb volunteered for Special Duties, and ended up becoming a mine and bomb disposal expert. He was sent to Gibraltar in 1942 to work with the Mediterranean Fleet Clearance Diving Team. His job was to make safe the mines and warheads that the divers discovered. After doing this for a while he thought he could be of more use if he became a diver, and applied to join the Team. Crabb hated the idea of any sort of fitness training, smoke and drank heavily and could only just swim three lengths of a swimming pool, but the head of the Diving team Lieutenant Bailey, accepted him because he was good at mine disposal. (incidentally, when I did my Ships Diver training in 1967, there was no requirement for you to be able to swim)

Davis Submersible Escape Apparatus.

In those days diving equipment was very rudimentary, as up to the outbreak of the Second World War the Navy did not consider the Diver to have an offensive role, and used them mostly for clearance diving or repairing ships bottoms. However attacks by the Italians using Midget Submarines during the First World War put soon paid to this idea. By the time the Second World War started the Italians had become much more sophisticated, and by 1941 had damaged two battleships, H.M.S. Queen Elizabeth and H.M.S. Valiant in the port of Alexandria. By the time Italy surrendered, their midget submarines had sunk 190,000 tons of merchant shipping, and over 90,000 tons of Allied warships. Bailey and Crabb built up the Underwater Working Party, and when Bailey broke his ankle, Crabb took it over. Crabb had to constantly adapt to the Italian threat especially when the Italian’s started to use human torpedoes. The unit secretly took up residence in an old battered steamer called the Olterra moored in a neutral Spanish port just five miles from Gibraltar.

The Italians used this a a secret base.

On board the Olterra the Italians made a workshop to equip their subs and cut an entrance hole below the waterline so that the human torpedo’s could be launched in complete secrecy. On the 7th December three of these were launched to attack shipping in Gibraltar Harbour, and it was only because of Crabb’s vigilance along with his assistant Leading Seaman Bell, that all the attacks were foiled. Just imagine it. With no proper equipment, no suits, just overalls, no fins, just plimsolls, and to breathe a Davis Submersible Escape Apparatus, the two of them patrolled in the dark searching ships bottoms never knowing if a mine was about to go off.

Members of Decima Mas, the team Crabb was up against.

Ironically the Italians surrendered the next year and Crabb was able to not only visit the Olterra to recover various bits of submarines, but he also visited the Italians who had used them. They apparently had a great respect for Crabb and were happy to assist him in his quest to develop these weapons. For all this work and much more, Crabb was awarded the George Medal, and promoted to Lieutenant Commander. Interestingly leading Seaman Bell also got the George Medal and was promoted to Petty officer. This was a bit unusual as it was usually Officers that got the gongs, with the men getting a bit of praise.

The George Medal.

Crabb was then sent to Venice to clear the harbour of wrecks, and when that was finished he was awarded the O.B.E. In 1945 he was moved to Palestine to head up an underwater bomb disposal team and was demobilised in 1947.

Crabb’s other medals.

Some say that he was then recruited into one of the Secret Services. It is a fact that he was recalled to help with the affair of the sunken submarine Truculent that sank with all hands in the Thames Estuary, and in 1956 he was listed in the Navy List as Commander Crabb, Special Branch, based at H.M.S.Vernon in Portsmouth. In 1953 he was supposed to have been in the Suez Canal, and a year later was unsuccessfully engaged to look for the Tobermory Galleon. In October 1955 Crabb was apparently instructed by the Royal Navy to find out why the Russian Cruiser Sverdlov was so manoeuvrable. The ship was in Portsmouth as part of a Spithead Review and since the Americans were also very keen to find out, the mission was overseen by them. Crabb swam to the bottom of the ship where he found a large hole from which a propeller could be lowered to provide more thrust for the bow, which explained the Cruisers superb manoeuvrability. It was the success of this mission that seemed to spur on the idea of inspecting the bottom of the Cruiser Ordzhonikidze which was due in Portsmouth in April 1956 carrying the Russian President Kruschev and his Foreign Minister, Bulganin on a good will visit.

Crabb in 1950 whilst divng to find the Tobermory.

By now Crabb was 46 years old, unfit and a very heavy drinker. On the night of 17th April 1956 he an another un-named man took rooms in the Sally Port Hotel. The next day the Russian ships arrived and tied up at the Suoth Railway Jetty in the Dockyard. That night Crabb was seen in Havant having a drink with some old friends and then he caught the train back to Portsmouth. He was never seen alive again. Less than two months later a body in a diving suit was found floating off Pilsey Island in Chichester Harbour. The body was minus its head and hands thus making identification very difficult. Crabb’s ex wife and his current girl friend, Pat Rose could not say with any confidence that the body was Crabbs. However an inquest recorded an open verdict and the Coroner said that he was satisfied that the body was that of Commander Lionel Crabb.

Recent information (March 2010) has led me to believe that I was wrong about the body being recovered two months after the event. At the time, Jim Knight was a member of an R.A.F. Marine Craft Unit stationed at Portsmouth and has given me the following information which casts a different light on subsequent events.

Jim Knight.

Cmdr. Crabb’s body was not found 2 months after his disappearance. It was 14 months from the 19 April, 1956 to 9 June, 1957.The Body was not found ‘floating around’ in Chichester Harbour. It was in fact brought to the surface by 2 net fishermen, from Prinstead or Southbourne, West Sussex. They made some sort of SOS signal that was seen by the lads in the Air traffic control tower at RAF Thorney Island. ATC in turn notified us at the Marine Craft Section in the mid morning. Myself and two other members of 1107 MCU detachment were duty week end crew. We had an old World War Two 40 ft assault landing craft which was used for inshore and harbour rescue, and in this craft we made our way to Pilsey Island which was only about a mile up channel towards the Solent. We found the fishermen with their net tangled up, with what eventually turned out to be Cmdr Crabb’s body.Untangling the net, we hitched the body onto the lowered front ramp and got it on board. You are correct in that the head and hands where missing, and in the cavity where the head had been, were hundreds of small crabs, and other such creatures. The odour was abominable.On returning to the MCS (Marine craft Section) we were able to run almost up to West Thorney road, due it being still high tide. Waiting for us on the bitumen, were a mob of RAF Officers, 4 men in long black overcoats, RAF Ambulance, local Police and many unknown onlookers.The body, still clad in a frogman’s suit was removed to Chichester Hospital for examination and identification.Later, we members of the Marine Section discussed the incident. None of us could see how the body was indentified. With the advent of DNA, perhaps it could now be proven one way or the other, if the body was that of Cmdr Crabb. Among those on the beach that day was Group Capt. Boxer, Station Commander of RAF Thorney Island. The 4 men in black overcoats must have been MI 6 or such.I have checked the RAF records at RAF Hendon, and they told me that all the records for ALC 1948 had been destroyed. It is a pity that no one has ever given credit for the recovery of the Frogman’s body to the RAF Marine Craft Section.

The crew of ALC1948. Photo Jim Knight.

In every report I have read on this incident, there is no mention of our (Marine Craft) involvement in this clandestine affair, much of which is still under wraps. We ourselves, following the dispersal of the official’s, were reminded of the ‘Official Secrets Act’ and told to keep our mouths shut. On my enquiry to the RAF Museums Historical Section for details of the Daily running record (RAF Form 1524) for ALC 1948, for the date of 9/7/57, I was informed the records for many Marine Craft had been destroyed or lost. Was that not convenient. I have contacted some of my ex crew mates some of which have passed on. Only one remembers the incident,but was not involved. I have been trying to get information of this for a number of years now. Just to prove that I did not dream the whole thing.Another coincidence is, that just a few day prior to Crabb’s disappearance, myself and a few apprentice mates (Shipwright’s in PortsmouthDockyard) went to have a look at the Russian ships, unaware that I would be involved with Cmdr. Crabbe’s espionage attempt again in 14 months, but this time as a National serviceman on RAF Marine Craft.

Photo Jim Knight

In the photo above, you can see the front ramp door behind my back. This we dropped to water level to secure the frogman’s body, then raised slightly, to prevent sinking ourselves. Only one other member of this crew was involved in the recovery. That is the chap sitting on the side holding his cup of tea. L.A.C Ray Howes. (I believe he lived somewhere near Hornsea, S/E Yorkshire) I am standing next to the cockpit, with my back to the ramp door. The aerial was for the “PYE” phone VHF Radio. It was a short distance radio which we were able to contact Thorney Island Air Traffic Control.

Ray Howes.

MI6 and the Admiralty tried to cover the story up and made a complete hash of it. The day after Crabb disappeared all his belongings also disappeared from the hotel, as well as the relevant page in the hotel’s register. The press had a field day, and the incident sparked off a major diplomatic row with the Russians who accused the British of a bungled attempt to spy on their vessel. The then Prime Minister, Anthony Eden was furious when he found out what MI6 and the Admiralty had done, as he had expressly forbidden any such operation. A security blanket was thrown over the whole thing, and even today the major facts of the case have been reclassified so as not to let them into the public domain until at least 2050. Sir John Sinclair head of MI6 was forced to take early retirement and some other senior civil servants were severely censured.

The Ordzhonikidze at Portsmouth.

So what really happened? Well you can take your pick There have been about ten books written on the subject, and acres of newsprint. In some he was captured by the Russians and brainwashed. In others he defected, and of course the Navy said he wasn’t there at all. However its fairly certain that Crabb did swim out to the Russian vessel. But what happened next is down to who you believe. The most credible evidence seems to be a Joseph Zwerkin who was an ex member of the Soviet Naval Intelligence. He was interviewed in Israel in 1990 where he had moved after the fall of Communism. He stated that a diver had surfaced near the ship and had been shot in the head by one of the ships crew. Seem’s about right to me. All the secrecy surrounding this affair seems to be not so much about Crabb and what he did, but rather about what the various Government Agencies did, why they did it, and why did they cover it all up. It is interesting to find out that the Official Government Documents relating to this affair are not scheduled to be released until 2057.

Crabb’s grave in Milton Cemetery.

I decided to put this story in the Tombstone section because Crabb was a bit of a hero to me. I come from a generation of divers that remember him as one of the ‘greats’ In the same way that a Copper would stop you for speeding in the old days before camera’s, and say the immortal lines, ‘who do you think you are Stirling Moss’, we in the Service would be told off for doing something daft in the diving area with the line ‘who do you think you are, Buster Crabb’. If you want to get a flavour of the man have a look at the film The Silent Enemy which depicts his time in Gibraltar. Not a bad epitaph.

Busters Grave.

‘Busters grave can be visited at Milton Cemetery, Milton Road, Portsmouth.

John Bevan has written a new book that is meticulously researched for the historians, but will also give all those conspiracy theorists, plenty to bite on.

Burial at Sea

Every so often you come across something completely outside your experience. One day, Dave and me were diving on one of our favourite areas for bottle collecting. The bottom is just gentle sand ripples, and for a quiet dive I was just content to drift over the area in the hope of finding the odd stone bottle. On this occasion I found more than I bargained for in the shape of a small wooden casket. Well actually, about seven of them. They were just protruding from the sand, were quite dirty and as I could not quite make out what they were, I stuck one in the scrap sack and carried on with the dive. Up top we tipped out the sack and there was the little casket. It was made of some sort off hardwood now black with water stain, had a series of holes drilled in the sides, and had a weighted bottom.

Dave with the ‘casket’.

Dave immediately recognize it as a cremation casket. Luckily the box was still intact, as he was diving next he took it back down and replaced it in the sand. On his dive he saw three more but left them alone. We dived the area several times after that and saw the odd one or two, but after a couple of years with the action of the wind and tide the sand covered all of the caskets over and we have not seen any for years. However it made us think why they were there. Was it a convenient and cheap way of disposing of the poor victims of Plymouths dreadful bombing during the War when several graveyards were blown up? Or were they much older and possibly the cremated remains of plague victims? In order to find out I contacted one of Plymouths oldest Funeral Directors Walter. C. Parsons who started up as long ago as 1842. I showed them a photo of the casket and they immediately recognize as a type of cremation casket used for burials at sea.

The joints were glued together.

They also dispelled any ideas I might have had about plague or war victims. They also told me that they did not think the casket was pre War, because most of them had their joints glued together, and the ones we had found were still in fairly good order. Apparently burial at sea is still carried out but under very strict controls. Usually the people who request this service are ex. Navy or have some connection with the Navy. When it is convenient the Navy take out any caskets on one of their warships and commit them to the deep with an appropriate service. If you have no connection with the Navy then a fishing boat or some other vessel is chartered and the same is done. You can of course have a complete ‘burial’ at sea, and this used to be done in an area a couple of miles off Rame Head.

Sometimes wreaths are dropped on Anniversary’s.

Unfortunately on a very few occasions the bodies were not properly weighted, and they floated into shore causing distress all round. The regulations have been tightened up recently and now the nearest place you can be ‘buried’ is the Needles reef. Walter. C. Parsons does not offer this service, as it requires a specialist company, but could no doubt organize it if required.

Sir Clowdisley Shovell and The Association

One of the most poignant shipwreck images that I have ever seen is the photograph by F.W.Gibson of the temporary grave of Rear Admiral Sir Clowdisley Shovell in the Scilly Isles. His body had been found floating in the shallows along with many others during October 1707 in the aftermath of one of the greatest maritime disasters England had seen. Four ships and two thousand men had been lost on the Scilly Isles’ treacherous rocks and once again the main cause of the disaster was the navigators inability to accurately calculate their Longitude. This was not due to their carelessness, but to a lack of proper compasses (most were not made of brass and so rusted up at sea) and a clock that could keep accurate time at sea. The only good thing to come out of the Association disaster was that it speeded up the search for a method of accurately discovering Longitude. The best brains in the land including Isaac Newton and Edmund Halley (he of the Comet) were put on the case, and a prize of ?0000 was offered, a colossal sum for those days. In the end it was a clock maker called Edward Harrison who collected the prize, but it took him until 1773 to perfect the chronometer, and his various clocks, one made entirely of wood (with all the working parts) can still be seen at the Maritime museum in Greenwich.

The grave of the Rear Admiral. The spot is still marked today with twoo large stones and a brass plaque. (Photo Frank Gibson)

So what of the Association that caused this entire furore? On the 29 Sept 1707 twenty-one Men of War were at anchor at Gibraltar getting ready to sail back to Britain. The Commander in Chief of this Mediterranean Fleet was rear Admiral Sir Clowdisley Shovell, on board his flagship Association. All that summer Sir Clowdisley and his Fleet had harassed the French and laid siege to the port of Toulon. The sea bombardment of Toulon had been extensive but frankly hadn’t been all that effective because of the huge earthworks that had been thrown up all around the town. The wear and tear on the ships was relentless, and as the winter approached it was time to return to the safety of England where there were suitable dockyards to effect repairs and somewhere to escape the coming storms.

Bill Saunby, Reciever of Wreck with the first finds from the Association in 1967. (Photo Paul Armiger)

The Fleet headed out into the Atlantic and set course for the English Channel. Almost immediately the weather worsened and by the 21 October the storms had pushed the ships well of course. By now they should have been somewhere off the entrance to the Channel, but were in fact approaching the Scilly’s. The Fleet’s sailing masters realizing they were lost hove too to take depth soundings. The depth varied from 300 feet to over 800 feet, so the Fleet, thinking they were still near the Channel blundered on unknowingly towards the Islands. The next day the storms seemed to be worse, and all the time the ships were being driven closer to the land. At eight o’clock in the evening of the 22 October the Association smashed into the Outer Gilstone Ledges at the South Western edge of the Scilly Isles. The entire crew perished as the ship disappeared in a welter of broken wood and angry sea’s. Following behind the Association was the St. George. She struck the same rocks as the Association but managed to bounce of only loosing part of her stern gallery. Three other ships were not so lucky.

Sir Clowdisley Shovell.

The seventy- gun Eagle ran into the Tearing Ledge close to the Bishop’s Rock (no light house in those days) and sank in 130 feet. The Romney disappeared with out trace, her timbers mixed with all the others that had come to grief on the Rosevere Ledges, and the Firebrand, staggering along the southern side of the Western Rock finally sank between Annet and St. Agnes Islands. The last ship the Phoenix ran ashore between Tresco and St. Martins. All in all, four warships, over two thousand men and a famous Rear Admiral were lost. The nation was stunned.

Read all about the Association in this great book.

The finding of the Association by a Royal Navy diving team (featuring Richard Larn) and the subsequent salvage of a vast amount of silver coins by Terry Hiron and Jim Heslin have been well documented. I was lucky enough to meet them both, and have a dive on the Association back in —– In those days Terry and Jim used to allow visiting divers access to the site to help with the donkey work. It was a great experience and although I never found any coins I did help re discover a cannon.

Jim Heslin and Terry Hirron.(photo Paul Armiger)

So what became of Sir Clowdisley Shovell? Local legend has it that he was still alive when he was washed ashore, and that he was murdered by two women for a large emerald ring that they hacked his finger off to get. The truth is probably less lurid. The Admirals body was found washed up in a sandy bay near Porth Hellick almost seven miles from where the Association was wrecked. A local fisherman, Harry Pennick pulled him in, and found a tin box in his pocket, which contained the Admirals Commission. The body was then temporarily buried on the beach near where it had been found. By order of Queen Anne the body was later exhumed, embalmed by a Dr. Yonge of Plymouth (no mention of missing fingers) and given an elaborate funeral with a memorial in Westminster Abbey to mark his place in the Nation’s esteem. You can easily find it in the south aisle near the choir and very fine it is.

The Memorial at Westminster Abbey.

The inscription reads:

Sir Cloudesley Shovell Knt. Rear Adrnirall of Great Britain and Adrnirall and Commander in Chief of the Fleet. The just rewards of his long and faithful Services. He was deservedly beloved of his Country and Esteem’d tho’ dreaded by the Enemy, who had often experienced his Conduct and Courage. Being shipwreckt on the Rocks of Scylly in his voyage from Thoulon. The 22nd of October 1707 at Night in the 57th year of his Age. His fate was lamented by all, But especially the Sea faring part of the Nation to whom he was a Generous Patron and a worthy example. His body was flung on the shoar and buried with others in the sands, but being soon after taken up was plac’d under this Monument which his Royall Mistress has caus’d to be Erected to commemorate His Steady Loyalty and Extraordinary Vertues.

Anson

At the western end of the Lizard lie Kynance sands and the sheer cliffs which form the outer edge of Mount’s Bay. Exposed to all the terrible storms that plague this area these cliffs offer no shelter at all and after Gunwhalloe they give way to the notorious Loe Bar, a great bank of sand that separates the estuary of Helston’s river Cober from the sea. This six-mile stretch of sea from Rill Head to Porthleven is the deadliest of all lee shores, and any vessel that failed to weather the Lizard was almost certainly going to become a wreck.

The ship Torrington en route from Opporto to Southampton with a cargo of wine was wrecked here in 1782, and in April 1808 the German ship Herman and August, again with a cargo of wine was lost in a savage winter’s gale. The 110-ton Brig Royal Recovery was completely wrecked on Loe bar in 1809, and barely a month later a large sloop, the Mars went aground nearby.

The Infamous Loe Bar.

The list goes on and on but of all of the tragic wrecks that came to grief on Loe bar, by far the most famous is that of the frigate H.M.S.Anson a 44 gun-fifth- rate commanded by Captain Charles Lydiard. On Christmas Eve 1807 the Anson left Falmouth to take up her station on the navy blockade that was keeping the French bottled up in Brest. It was blowing hard as the Anson made her way down channel, and when Captain Lydiard finally sighted Ushant the storm was so bad that he decided to put about and return to Falmouth. On the afternoon of December 28th the Anson was well to leeward of the Lizard and being a cut down third-rate she was not a good sailboat and the Capt. Realised that he was in big trouble.

The wreck of the frigate Anson on Loe Bar.

All attempts to clear the land failed and the ship rushed down towards Loe bar. Captain Lydiard ordered the topgallants struck to take some of the way of the ship and then released his biggest anchor. It held, the ship pulled around, and rode quite comfortably. The crew breathed a collective sigh of relief, but it was to be short lived. At 5am. On the 29th the anchor cable parted and although another was immediately dropped it only lasted a couple of hours and then it too parted. Seeing that there was nothing else to do Capt. Lydiard ordered the helmsman to steer the boat full tilt at the beach. The Anson got quite close in and then broached too. Luckily its mast fell down and made a makeshift bridge to the shore over which several of the crew managed to scramble to safety, whilst others were pulled ashore by willing helpers from the nearby villages. Even so over 120 men were lost including that of captain Lydiard who was swept away whilst trying to save a young boy seaman.

Location Map of Anson Memorial.

The Memorial

The bodies that were recovered from the wreck of the Anson were buried in the cliffs and beaches around the wreck site. This was common practise at the time, and there must be thousands of these unmarked graves scattered all over the West Country. Ironically it was just a year after the Anson tragedy, in July 1808, that an Act of Parliament was passed requiring that all such bodies be given a Christian burial.

The Anson Memorial.

The memorial to the dead of the Anson was erected in 1949 and is very easy to find. You can approach from Porthleven and walk across the sands at low tide, but it’s a pretty hard walk and you have to watch out for the tide coming back in. An easier way is to drive to Chyvarloe and then walk about a mile and a quarter along the top of the cliffs. It is a very scenic walk and ends up with a terrific view of the Loe Bar. If you go in rough weather you will easily understand why the crew had so little chance of escape, and the fury of the waves will astound you.

Plaque

If you want to see one of the cannons, go to the nearby town of Helston (famous for the Floral Dance) The cannon, a thirty two pounder weighing three and a half tons can be found outside the town’s museum, and was recovered from Loe bar by divers from the air station at Culdrose.

Henry Trengrouse.

The only good thing to come out of the Anson Disaster was the invention of the Rocket Firing Apparatus. Amongst the people who witnessed the wrecking of the Anson was a Helston man called Henry Trengrouse. He saw some of the sailors drown yards from safety, and was so appalled by the battered and disfigured corpses that were strewn around the beach that he determined that he must try to figure out a way of stopping it ever happening again. Surely, he thought, there must be some way of rescuing people caught up in these terrible circumstances. The device he came up with was a musket fired rocket line which became the fore runner of the modern day rocket line that has saved thousands of lives over the intervening years, and is still in use to this day.

The Submarine A8

The story of the submarine is fraught with danger and disaster. The introduction of this weapon into the Royal navy caused uproar because it was considered to be an underhand way of fighting. The first Holland submarines were superseded by the A class, of which thirteen were built. The record of these boats from the time of their launch, to the beginning of the First World War makes grim reading

The A1 was struck by the liner Berwick Castle in 1904 and sank with all hands. The A3 collided with her own depot ship and sank immediately. A4 was sunk at Devonport in 1905 when the wash of a passing ship flooded her ventilators, and the A5 was badly damaged by two petrol explosions also in 1905. The A7 (see sidebar) was sunk with all hands in Whitsands Bay in 1914, and the A9 foundered just outside Plymouth in1906 after being hit by the steam ship Coath. Luckily she managed to resurface and no one was hurt, but two years later petrol fumes killed four of her crew. These unsettling disasters had the effect of virtually halting the flow of submarine volunteers leading in some cases to men refusing to sail on what they thought were unsafe boats.

Some of the broken memorials.

So we come to the A8, that already had a reputation for being unstable, sometimes diving without warning. On the morning of 8 June 1905 the A8 was on a routine training exercise in company with the A7 just outside the Plymouth Breakwater.

Arthur Bunn Crew aged 31.

As was the routine in those days, the A8 ran with her conning tower hatch open whilst the crew prepared the submarine for diving. In those days submarines did not have hydro vanes to dive the boat, but relied on reducing their buoyancy, clapping on a bit of speed (8 to 10 knots) and putting the helm down. This had the effect of driving the boat underwater. The trouble was the buoyancy of the craft wasn’t very much in any case, so quite often the boats would dive weather the Captain wanted it to or not.

Tom Reeve, Chief Stoker,buried with his family in another part of the graveyard.

A nearby trawler, the Chanticleer, commanded by a Mr. Johns saw the A8 going along with its conning hatch open and four men standing on the submarines casing. Suddenly they were swept into the water as the A8 kicked up her stern and sank. The Chanticleer rushed towards the scene and picked up the four men who were Lt. Candy, the captain, Sub Lt. Murdoch, Petty Officer William Waller, and Acting Leading Seaman George Watt.

Survivor- William Waller.

Tugs and divers raced to the scene and rescue operations quickly commenced. However an hour later these had to be stopped when two great underwater explosions rocked the submarine sending a huge spout of water ten feet into the air. From then on it was fairly obvious that all the rest of the crew had perished.

William Bruckland

William Ayloff

George Beedham

John Knight

Steven Birch

Arthur Rylands

James Simpson

Edmund Green

Thomas Cusack

The A8 was subsequently raised and taken to Devonport Dockyard where the bodies of the crew were evacuated through a hole made by removing a metal plate from the hull. This metal plate was apparently later used to make a cross for the men’s’ funeral. The A8 was quickly repaired and was ready in time for the naval manoeuvres in 1906. It is hard now to explain the depth of grief that this tragic incident caused. The King sent a personal message to all the relatives, and the crews’ funeral procession took one and a half hours to cover the two miles from the Dockyard chapel to the Plymouth and Devonport Cemetery where they were to be interred. The crowds numbered in their thousands and thronged the entire route, in some places twenty deep.

Memorial card showing the crew and the A8.

The funeral cortege was over half a mile long, with the dead sailors laid on gun carriages drawn along by naval ratings. The route was also lined by different Army regiments, and the crews from all the ships moored in the Sound in order to shown their respect and to keep the huge crowds from blocking the procession. Through out all this a band solemnly played Chopin’s Funeral March until the procession reached the chapel at the middle of the Cemetery. At about half past four in the afternoon, the final blessing having been said, the firing party discharged three volleys over the gravesite, and four buglers sounded the Last Post. Whilst most of the crew were laid to rest at the Plymouth and Devonport Cemetery Sub Lt. Fletcher was interred at his family home at Mallingford near Norwich. Leading Seaman John Kerswell was laid to rest at Crediton and E.R.A. Vickers was buried at Southsea.

The Funeral Procession.

Most of the graves are together, but are now sadly neglected, their broken crosses lying strewn upon the ground. The Trust that looks after the graveyard has made massive strides in clearing the place up, and there is some suggestion that the Royal Navy will pay to have the memorials repaired. I hope so. Last Poppy Day politicians and Service Chiefs droned on about how we should never forget. But we will, and in the case of these brave lads, we already have.

They deserve more than that.

2006: I am very glad to anounce that the graves of the A8 crew have recently been restored by the Royal Navy.This was in part brought about by the hard work and dedication of the trust that now runs the Cemetry. they have tidied up the place no end, and because of this many more people visit lookng for their relatives. Even so. well done the Navy.

The restored graves are white.

Photo Mrs.D.Barrett

I am very gratefull to David Barrett and his wife, for the information below and the photo’s. My wife and I enjoy looking around historic churches. Near us, at Marlingford, Norfolk, we found a stained glass window in St Mary’s church. It was erected as a memorial to Sub Lieut Fletcher, who perished in the A8 disaster. We knew nothing about it until we found the information on your site and another one. The Fletcher family resided at Marlingford Hall, near the church.

Photo Mrs.D.Barrett

Motor Vessel Willy

On the first night of the first day of the New Year 2002, the inhabitants of the little Cornish village of Kingsands were rudely awakened by the Police and told to evacuate their houses as quickly as possible. The reason for their haste was the M.V. Willy hard aground just yards from their front doors and carrying a potentially deadly cargo of gas that could ignite at any minute and blow away half of their village.

So how did she get there? On the 30th December 2001 the Willy sailed into Plymouth Sound and proceeded to the Cattewater to discharge her cargo of unleaded petrol. By the evening she had finished unloading and at 2030 she embarked a Pilot and sailed to Cawsand bay to anchor for the New Year Holidays. The following day the wind was NE force 3 to 4. This was unfortunate for the crew as they had wished to carryout the procedure for making the ship gas free. This always had to be done after petrol had been carried, as after it was unloaded the holds would be full of fumes.

MV Willy

Because the villages of Cawsand and Kingsand were downwind it was decided to delay the procedure until the wind shifted to a more favourable position. As New Year’s Eve approached, the crew left on board didn’t celebrate the festival, but carried on with their routine maintenance chores. As the New Year dawned the wind gradually veered to the south east and increased in severity. Cawsand bay is a good anchorage but provides very little shelter from south easterlies. The ships Master realised that his ship was exposed and stayed on the bridge most of the afternoon monitoring the situation, and making sure his anchor was not dragging.

Unfortunately the Captain didn’t know that when the anchor was dropped, its position was not entered accurately into the GPS Radar Guard System and so the alarm circle was far too large and there would be a significant delay before any drag was detected. As night fell the wind increased and the anchor slowly started to drag. At 2235 the GPS alarm sounded. The officer of the watch, not realising that his ship was much closer to the shore than is instruments indicated, spent a fatal four minutes trying to chart his position before he called the Captain.

As the Captain came to the bridge he immediately ordered the engines started but that took over five minutes and all the while the ship gathered way as the anchor lost its grip. As the engines started the Willy was only 50 yards from the shore. The Captain ordered full ahead and as the throttles engaged there was a loud bang as the props hit the rocks. The ship was hard aground and very soon the waves pushed her broadside to the shore. The ship was badly damaged. Several cargo tanks had been ruptured and the engine room was flooded.

Thankfully there were no casualties, but the crew had to be got off fast because of the risk of the gas exploding. Helicopters couldn’t be used because of that risk, and the lifeboat could not get close enough, so the crew were evacuated by cliff lines and a ladder from the shore. By 0204 on the 2 Jan all the crew were safely off the vessel and a 1000 yard exclusion zone was established around the ship and about 100 people were evacuated from the village of Kingsand.

The firm of United Savage Ltd took on the job of re-floating the Willy, and they moved extremely fast. By 5 Jan the ship was confirmed gas free, all the fuel oil had been removed, and most of the cargo tanks were resealed and pumped full of compressed air. The Willy was re-floated on 11 Jan and taken in tow to Falmouth by the tug Far Sky where she was dry docked and repaired to sail another day.

Your Custom Previous Link Text

1

2

3

Your Custom Next Link Text

Devon Shipwrecks

World Shipwrecks

Shipwreck Book Reviews