Cape Race Read online

  There are calamities and disasters which predate the initial tale of Florence (1840) in Cape Race: Stories from the Coast that Sank the Titanic; however, they are more obscure and information is relatively more difficult to obtain. Thus I arbitrarily chose the mid-19th century as a start point. In this era, as well, the great steamers and paddle wheelers were replacing all-sail transatlantic vessels, although the latter still had their day up to the 1950s.

  As well, good reader, you may note that a few stories, episodes, or short takes in Cape Race: Stories from the Coast that Sank the Titanic were taken from my previous books. These accounts have been updated or revised. However, the majority of stories are new, the details of which were found in my search for marine misadventure at Cape Race.

  Robert C. Parsons

  April 2011

  “Preserving Newfoundland’s Maritime History, One Tale at a Time”

  1

  Death and Disaster

  at the Cape

  August 1840

  One of the earliest recorded shipwrecks at Cape Race was also one of the most tragic. The story of the struggle for life is told by a young man from Germany who narrowly escaped death at the Cape; his wife and five children perished in the wreck.

  On June 30, 1840, Phillip Meisenheimer boarded the brig Florence at Rotterdam in the Netherlands. He and his family, along with 75 other passengers, left Germany – then a country composed of many fractious city states – heading for New York. Many wished for a better life in America; other immigrants left their homeland to avoid the conflicts and strife raging between the various kingdoms and states in Germany, still in a state of feudal warfare. The warlords had a habit of conscripting young sons to fight for their city, and fathers went to great lengths to keep their offspring safe.

  Before making the long journey, many of the German passengers sold everything they had and converted their savings and assets into gold or silver. To hide this – their only worldly possessions – they strapped the gold around their waists or had it sewn into their clothes.

  Florence, commanded by Captain Sam Rose of the United States, had eight crew. Meisenheimer’s family and the other passengers had a pleasant voyage until August 9, when they were off Cape Race and surrounded by thick fog. Without warning, Florence was swept onto the rocks between Cripple Cove and Money Cove, Cape Race.

  The ship was fast breaking up. Many took a chance and jumped into the water for their lives. Those who could not swim struggled in the surging tides and rocks. Others, perhaps better swimmers, could have reached the rocks, but the weight of gold strapped to their bodies dragged them down. One American paper, when describing the scenes at the wreck site, said:

  While some passengers and crew were clinging to the doomed ship, Captain Rose and another man reached shore with a rope. Thus, through his efforts and a line to the shore, all the crew, except the second mate, and 30 passengers survived; nearly 50 passengers were lost. One man who found himself on shore was Phillip Meisenheimer. His wife and five children drowned. Others were in a like situation – a father lost or mother, children perished, and in some cases entire families.

  It is likely Captain Rose knew of Cape Race and its dangers but had little knowledge of the lay of the land or of any towns in the area. The 37 survivors had been cast upon a foreign shore without a morsel of food, with only the clothes on their backs. Some were in their bare feet.

  No one in the area or in any of the small settlements west of Cape Race was aware a catastrophe had taken place. Fortunately, it was August. Weather was warm, berries and brook water were plentiful. The ragtag group walked northward, following narrow trails that skirted the long indrafts, crevices, and cliffs. For five days and nights they struggled along, over barren hills, into valleys, over bogs and through thick underbrush, but saw no sign of civilization until they reached the fishing village of Renews.

  There the people took them in for several days, clothed and fed them. Eventually Alan Goodridge and Sons’ business in Renews provided a ship and they sailed to St. John’s. Again charity and goodwill saw them through. A committee, the Florence Subscription List, was formed to raise money and to solicit clothes. The Ladies of Dorcas Society and the St. John’s Chamber of Commerce also helped provide for the castaways. family Bible, stating the name of the brig, the captain, and the names and ages of his family lost off Cape Race.

  In those early years of westward movements and settlement, few records of immigrant voyages were kept, and an accurate list of passengers on Florence is probably non-existent. But another family is known: Gertrude and Johannes Pieter (Peter) Adrian and their two sons, Michael and Stephen, were from Klingenberg, Bavaria. These four also survived the wreck, but a relative aunt “pulled her skirts over her head” and jumped in panic to certain death.

  According to family sources, the Adrians arrived in New York penniless. However, Michael, age 13 at the time of the shipwreck, reversed his fortunes. Eventually he became a landowner in New York, and founded the German Exchange Bank, which later merged with and became a branch of the First National City Bank of New York. Michael Adrian had six children whose progeny are now scattered across the United States and abroad.

  In August 1999, several descendants of Gertrude, Peter, and Michael Adrian made a pilgrimage to the shores of Newfoundland to view the shipwreck area and to thank the towns that aided their forbearers many years ago. Today a section of the East Coast Hiking Trail that extends from Cape Race to St. John’s commemorates the arduous trek of Florence survivors.

  As for Renews, located 83 kilometres south of St. John’s, it was not the first time immigrants from across the Atlantic had stopped at the picturesque town. It was settled in the 16th century by migratory seasonal fishermen, then by English/Irish colonists and planters. The Encyclopedia of Newfoundland and Labrador claims (although there are many who refute the claim) the ship Mayflower, while bringing the Pilgrims from Plymouth, England, to America in 1620, stopped at Renews for supplies.

  2

  City of Philadelphia

  Lost Near Cape Race

  September 1854

  Due in part to the great loss of life with the wreck of Florence and the negative press Cape Race received in American papers, especially in New York, negotiations began toward erecting some form of a light at Cape Race. In the May 17, 1851, edition of The Times was a brief, almost obscure piece, saying:

  [We] have it from a source which leaves no doubt that the Imperial Government had determined to erect a Beacon 60 feet high at Cape Race.

  It is being built in England and is expected to arrive here in five or six weeks time. Captain Whitmore, of the Royal Engineers, is to proceed shortly to Cape Race to select a site for its erection.

  Before any form of light was erected and publicized, two other ship losses happened in the vicinity of Cape Race. On July 21, 1842, the American steamer Britannia was wrecked at Cape Ballard. With 200 passengers aboard, Britannia was en route from Liverpool, England, to New York. It had been four weeks at sea when it approached the southern climes of Newfoundland. There it entered into a blanket of fog and, the crew unable to see to navigate and pushed by onshore currents, grounded at Cape Ballard.

  Two schooners from Ferryland transported passengers and crew to St. John’s, where the Newfoundland government provided for their immediate needs. A meeting of the Council Board was hastily convened, voting for a sum of £500 to be given for the assistance of Britannia’s passengers “to enable them to get to their various destinations.” The steamer was never refloated.

  The SS City of Philadelphia made its maiden voyage in early September 1854. It left Liverpool, bound for Philadelphia. On Thursday night, September 7, it was somewhere off Cape Race, navigating through heavy rain and pitch-black conditions. Captain Leitch, who had no idea he was close to land, had ordered up a good head of steam, and the great vessel cruised along at nine to ten knots an hour.

  The 2,100-ton ship City of Philadelphia was new and had several innovative features:
it was an iron ship and had screw propellers – many transatlantic ships of this era were wooden paddle steamers. On that first voyage across the Atlantic, City of Philadelphia carried a valuable cargo estimated at £60,000 as well as 510 passengers.

  A little after 11: 00 p.m. it struck land near Cape Race. Fortunately the steamer could be backed off the ledge. Leitch ordered it to be manoeuvred into Chance Cove, about seven and a half miles north of Cape Race. The Newfoundland Express of September 12, 1854, says:

  Fortunately there have been no lives lost, and no accident of any kind, except to the ship. It is aground in the only place in the vicinity where a landing could be effected. It lies in three fathoms of water. After City of Philadelphia struck the rocks at Cape Race, it leaked so badly water had extinguished the fire in the furnaces. The ship had built-in compartments, but the concussion when it struck was so violent that the bulkheads were started and rendered useless.

  As soon as daylight came on Friday morning, the passengers landed at Chance Cove and pitched tents, quartering themselves as best they could. On Sunday, the Telegraph Company’s steamer Victoria went into Chance Cove, transferred 200 passengers, and brought them to St. John’s. On Monday morning it returned for the remaining passengers.

  Mr. Brooking and Sons, the insurance agents for Lloyds of London in Newfoundland, found accommodations for all. Lieutenant Law with a group of military men went to Chance Cove on Sunday to protect the stranded ship. By that time a diving engineer had gone down to inspect the bottom of the wrecked City of Philadelphia. He reported that the ship was on a bed of solid rock, with the bow projected over the rock, and there was a large hole in the bottom. That ended any hopes of salvage.

  One of the final reminders that this new and innovative ship had been lost near Cape Race was an advertisement in the September 14 Newfoundland Express, asking for tenders to transport the stranded passengers to America.

  Yet news of a wrecked ship has a way of getting to towns and villages along a coast where ships come to grief more or less regularly. Soon the crew and passengers would meet the people from towns to the north and south.

  City of Philadelphia was one of the first wrecks in that area in which a passenger wrote a detailed description of a forced landing on a foreign and desolate shore. J. W. Gadsby wrote of his experience in narrative called “Wreck of the Steamer City of Philadelphia.”

  One of the first problems to deal with came from members of the crew. Gadsby reports that some crew who were given responsibility of getting passengers’ trunks and luggage ashore, were arrested. They had ferreted away some valuables, but were caught and put in irons.

  Then, on September 25, as Gadsby noted, wreckers, or “wrackers” as they were termed locally, appeared:

  On the following day, the City of Philadelphia was surrounded by a fleet of fishing smacks, the crews of every one watched every opportunity to steal property. I am informed that they did carry off considerable.

  Some of the more audacious wreckers got broken heads and a treat to some scalding soup thrown over them from the cook and his crew.

  After the effects of the passengers had been gotten safely ashore, the work of breaking out the cargo commenced, but this was slow work, as most of it was submerged in water. On Saturday a small mail steamer, the Victoria, which carried provisions between the different posts of the Telegraph Company, came in sight. Captain Leitch signalled the Victoria. It hove to and when Leith went aboard, he made a deal that passengers would be carried to St. John’s at $5 a head.

  That night 250 passengers embarked on it and the remainder the day following. The luggage was sent after them to the same place, St. John’s.

  The history of Chance Cove is filled with the stuff of folklore and legend, originating mainly from tales of shipwreck and loss of life. Chance Cove is a small, open bight on an exposed stretch of coastline marked by headlands and cliffs that are highest (152 metres or 500 feet) in the vicinity of Cape Race, an area often battered by strong winds, rain, and fog.

  At the time of the wreck of City of Philadelphia, Chance Cove probably had no permanent settlers. In the only census taken of Chance Cove, in 1884, there were seven homes and about 50 people. By 1900 no one lived there, but it has been said the settlement was abandoned under mysterious circumstances. The brief tale of the wreck of schooner Joseph helps verify the strange tales of a curious abandonment of a Newfoundland town.

  Sometime in the early twentieth century, the small schooner Joseph was wrecked at Chance Cove. During a storm the vessel, owned and skippered by Joseph Kean of Bonavista Bay, drifted away in the night and struck on the rocks near Chance Cove. All the crew landed safely but did not know exactly where they were.

  They found the telegraph wires of the Anglo-American Telegraph Line and intentionally cut the line. Joseph’s crew knew the repairman would travel down the pole line to repair the broken wires. Sure enough, he did! They met him as they walked inland and he gave them directions to the nearest habitation. (There is no record if the stranded mariners had to pay for damages to the line or if they were held criminally responsible.)

  The newspaper article on the loss of Joseph concludes with the mystery of Chance Cove:

  Chance Cove is known as a deserted village, and is generally shunned by the fishermen who frequent that part of the shore. At Clam Cove, a few miles distant, the SS Anglo Saxon was lost April 29, 1863, and 307 (sic) people were drowned.

  A number of the bodies were washed ashore at Chance Cove, and others were jugged up, and were interred there. The fishermen tell many ghastly tales about the place, and for years it has been deserted.

  3

  Collision off Cape Race

  September 1854

  Fog – it’s almost continuously produced at the cape by the contact of the Polar Current with the warm waters of the Gulf Stream. For centuries, ever since ships of all makes and sizes passed Cape Race, it has been a menace at this corner of evil name. It is so continuous that subsequent fog alarms at the cape blow and blow. “Hundreds of hours at a stretch, ” according to George Harding’s analysis in “The Menace of Cape Race” in Harper’s Magazine, April 1912.

  He tells the tale from the keeper of the light, who said, “Why, ‘tis nothing but fog here. Sure, sir, the dogs are so frightened by sunlight that they bark when the sun comes out.”

  And it was this fog that surrounded the Collins Line paddle steamer Arctic on September 27, 1854. The ship was running in its thickness about 65 miles southeast of Cape Race. The 260 passengers and crew of 175 had thus far enjoyed the trip from Liverpool, England. They were only a day or so away from their destination, New York, though many were never to see the city. Although one of the fastest transatlantic ships of its age, the 284-foot-long Arctic had two structural problems: it had a wooden hull; most other ships in its class had iron hulls. Also the liner didn’t have any watertight compartments in case the wooden hull – which could be easily punctured by an iceberg or another ship – took on water. It had only six hand pumps that could pump water.

  Captain James Luce had his son with him on the voyage. Also aboard were Mrs. Collins, and her daughter and son; Mrs. Collins was the wife of Edward Collins, the founder of the Collins Line.

  Despite the fog on that early Wednesday morning, Captain Luce had not ordered speed reduced and continued running about 12 knots an hour. About noon the French vessel Vesta plowed into the side of Arctic. What happened next was described by Arctic’s second officer as “chaos and disaster.”

  Filled with 147 seasonal fishermen returning home and a crew of 50, the merchant screw steamer Vesta, bound from St. Pierre to Granville, France, settled lower and lower in the water. Vesta was doing about eight knots and, in the impact, its bow was completely shattered and the foremast broke off. One man was killed and others were seriously injured.

  It looked as if Vesta would be the first to sink, and many aboard believed the best chance for safety was Arctic. Those on Vesta could barely see the other ship through the fog. S
ome men jumped overboard to get on board Arctic, but soon their cries of distress rang out over the water. Arctic was slowly drifting away. One of Vesta’s lifeboats got away with about 15 people.

  Meanwhile, aboard Arctic, Captain Luce, Chief Officer Gourley, and Second Officer Baalham assessed the damage: the iron steamer had made three large holes in the ship about 60 feet abaft the stem. Two holes were below the waterline, one of which was five and a half feet into the side of the vessel. It seemed clear Arctic would go down, and soon.

  The wheel was put to the starboard, the engine stopped instantly, and Arctic backed at full steam until it was free from Vesta. This took a couple of minutes, and shortly after they could see Vesta just off in the distance in the fog. It appeared to be sinking bow first.

  Captain Luce immediately gave orders to start up the six pumps and to clear away Arctic’s quarter boats; Gourley left the ship in charge of the starboard lifeboat.

  As Baalham lowered the port lifeboat, the captain called out, “Hoist up that boat again, Mr. Baalham, and come here to me.”

  Luce ordered Baalham to go up the hold to see what damage had been done. Baalham quickly studied the holes punctured by Vesta and reported the ship would sink soon.

  When Luce heard this, he ordered Arctic ahead at full speed, and they bore away northwest by west, toward Cape Race. By this time they lost sight of the chief officer’s boat and the other steamer, which they supposed had already sunk. Baalham said:

  We had not been on our course more than four or five minutes before we ran over a boat and crew belonging to the Vesta, all of whom perished with the exception of one, a woman, who caught hold of a rope hanging over our bow. (A subsequent report identifies this person as Jassonet Francois.)