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© William Henry, 2009
Epub ISBN: 978 1 85635 846 0
Mobi ISBN: 978 1 85635 863 7
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In memory of
all who lost their lives at sea during
the Great Famine of 1845–1850
Their whitening bones in Atlantic deep
Have formed a living chain
Connecting their beloved land
With the land they sought in vain.
In God’s house they dwell free from hunger
and destitution.
Acknowledgements
This book would not have been possible without the persistence and research of John Bhaba Jaick Ó Congaola from Lettermullen, Connemara, who provided much of the research material so that the story of the brig St. John and the people who sailed on her will not be forgotten. One of the first people to highlight the plight of the St. John was the late Paddy Mulkerrin of Lettermullen, whose research is also included in this book. Sincere thanks also to Kathleen Berry for making me aware of this story. The poem ‘To Their Memory’ is from John Bhaba Jaick Ó Congaola’s collection. Sincere thanks also to Noel McGuire, Gerry Joyce and St Anthony’s and Claddagh Credit Union for their generous support.
Thanks also to the following: my wife Noreen, sons Patrick and David, and daughter Lisa, the National Library of Ireland, Dublin, the staff of the Clare County Library, Clare Local Studies Project, James Hardiman Library, NUIG, Galway County Library, Island House, Michael Faherty, Marie Boran, Michael O’Connor, Geraldine Curtain, Anne Mitchell, Maureen Moran. To Patrick Henry, Friederike Anger-meier, Colin Merrigan, John Costello, Brendan St John, Jack Meehan, John Sullivan, Johnny Bailey, Kieran Scanlon, P.J. Ui Fhlatarta, Pateen Mháirtin Ó Conghaile, Dermot Nestor, the St John family of Cohasset, the Comerford family of County Clare, the Ancient Order of Hibernians of America, the brig St. John committees of Lettermullen and Boston, and the Cohasset Maritime Museum for allowing John Bhaba Jaick Ó Congaola access to their files. To all in the media who gave excellent publicity to this project: Brendan Carroll, Dave Hickey, Stan Shields, Joe O’Shaughnessy, Margaret Blade, Ronnie O’Gorman, Dickie Byrne, Eamonn Howley, Tom Kenny, Keith Finnegan, Jimmy Norman, Tom Gilmore, Jim Carney, Mary Conroy, Peadar O’Dowd and Des Kelly. Special thanks to Peadar Ó Maoláin – Udarás na Gaeltachta, Cóiste an Bhrig Saint John – Leitir Mealláin, Cóiste an Bhrig Saint John – Boston, Ciarán Ó Scanláin, P.J. and Jacinta Ui Fhlatarta, Seán Folan, Máirtin Tom Sheáinin – Raídió na Gaeltachta, Macdara Ó Curraoin, Risteard Mac Aodha, Comhar Chuigéal, Mairéad Ní Chonghaile, Tom Barrett, Conradh na Gaeilge – Gaillimh, Ann and Fachtna Mellotte.
Special thanks also to Kieran Hoare, James Casserly, Marita Silke, Tim Collins, Mark Kennedy, Liam Frehan, Mary Waller, Bill and Alice Scanlan, and Diarmuid Ó Cearbhaill for proofreading my work and making many valuable suggestions. Thanks to Bob Waller for his excellent work in reproducing photographs. Again I am deeply indebted to a very special friend, Jacqueline O’Brien, who has, as always, given so generously of her time both researching and proofreading, and for her expert advice, encouragement and support throughout this project.
The verse of the poem which appears on the dedication page is from a booklet entitled Centenary Commemoration (21-8-1949) which was published for the centenary of the disaster.
Note: Every effort has been made to acknowledge the sources of all the material used. Should a source not have been acknowledged, please contact Mercier Press and we will make the necessary corrections at the first opportunity.
PREFACE
Many books and stories have been written about the Great Famine, but few have illustrated the horrors as well as this, William Henry’s latest book, Coffin Ship: The Wreck of the Brig St. John. In the lead-up to the central story of the tragic voyage, William Henry paints a picture of the conditions that prevailed in Ireland at the time, particularly at the emigrant port of Galway. He records the despair and desperation of the landless peasants, their often horrific journeys on foot to the famine ships and the callousness and dishonesty they suffered at the hands of the ship captains. He refers to the awful conditions which the emigrants endured in places such as Liverpool, where they were packed into small areas. William Henry does not write merely in general terms, but gives authenticity to the story by referring to individuals and their place of origin.
This excellent build-up gives way to the main story of one particular famine ship, the brig St. John. William Henry describes the characters of the captain and crew and outlines the difficulties of life on such a ship. He is at his best when outlining the mounting tension on board as desperate efforts are made to save the ship from the furious and unexpected storm.
In the aftermath of the tragedy, the William Henry maintains the reader’s interest by relating the personal stories of both the passengers who survived the tragedy and those onshore who helped get them to safety. This is an outstandingly organised and unforgettable story.
James Casserly
President of the Old Galway Society, 2009
INTRODUCTION
The loss of the brig St. John off the coast of Massa-chusetts in October 1849 was one of the most tragic events to occur during the Great Famine of 1845–50. This book traces the last voyage of the brig St. John, and briefly recounts the story of some of those who sailed on her in an attempt to acquaint the reader with the human beings behind the statistics. It begins with a look at the background of the famine and includes eyewitness accounts from areas such as Skibbereen and Connemara. These accounts describe the horrific living conditions which left so many with little choice but to undertake the frightening and dangerous voyage overseas. It was the nightmarish and appalling conditions throughout the country that forced so many to take the path to a famine ship. The third chapter explores the conditions on board these coffin ships, focusing on several particularly shocking examples to highlight the sufferings of these people. The fourth chapter accompanies these people on their gruelling walk to the port, while the remaining chapters are devoted to the story of the St. John, its tragic end and aftermath. The book also includes a list of both the survivors and victims amongst the passengers and crew of the St. John.
The voyage to the New World was long and perilous. About one-fifth of those who sailed from Irish shores during the famine perished en route. Sources indicate that in 1847 alone, some 100,000 people set sail for British North America, with an estimated 20,000 of them either perishing aboard the ‘coffin ships’ or dying afterwards as a result of conditions on board. The remains of those who died from disease and hunger during the voyages were consigned to a sea grave. There was nothing to mark their final resting place.
The Irish peasants had worked long, hard hours in an exploitative landlord system. If they were unable to pay the extortionate rents demanded of them, they faced eviction. Bolstered by the police, the landlords’ agents evicted many from their homes. The peasants’ situation was exacerbated by a government that showed little interest in their plight. In the years before the famine the indifference and contempt of some members of
the British government, expressed in their policies towards Ireland, had in a sense sealed the fate of the Irish people. Yet as famine ravaged the country, Ireland was being governed by the British Empire, a world superpower at the height of its glory.
However, not everyone turned a blind eye to the suffering of the Irish peasants. The Choctaw nation of North America, being no stranger to suffering and indifference itself, was moved to compassion by the plight of the Irish during the famine. In the winter of 1831, tens of thousands of Choctaws had been removed from their ancestral homelands in Mississippi and sent to a reservation in Oklahoma. The reason was that settlers and many other white Americans saw the Choctaw as standing in the way of progress and in their eagerness to secure land to raise cotton, they pressurised the federal government into forcibly acquiring the Choctaws’ territory. During the forced march to the reservation, which became known as the ‘Trail of Tears’, almost half of the Choctaw people perished. The Choctaws raised $710 for the starving Irish, which would be equivalent to more than €100,000 in today’s money.
Other groups also tried to help, among them the Society of Friends, or the Quakers as they are more commonly known. The Quakers donated consignments of flour, rice, biscuits and meal to the Irish people. Eventually soup kitchens replaced public works projects in Ireland and by 1847 this support was reaching some three million people on a daily basis.
Many older people still remember their parents being extremely conscientious regarding the wastage of food. I believe that this was a legacy from the famine passed down through successive generations. In a similar vein, for most Irish people it is an absolute priority that they have ownership of the house in which they live; it is embedded in the Irish mindset. This is another possible legacy from a period when evictions were the order of the day for those who could not afford to pay the rent.
I have been asked time and time again why I switched, midstream, from writing a series of children’s books to writing about a tragedy such as the loss of the brig St. John. The original impetus for this book came from a dream. One night, while asleep in my bed, I found myself transported onto a nineteenth-century sailing ship. It was a beautiful sun-drenched day. I looked up at the sails as they fluttered gently in the warm breeze. I could feel the slow and gentle side-to-side motion of the ship as it floated on the waves. Moments later I became aware of movements ahead of me at the entrance to the hold of the ship. It was open and a sailor was slowly emerging from it, dragging a large object concealed by a white sheet along behind him. A second sailor stood to the rear of the first, and he was holding on to the other end of the sheet. The two sailors proceeded towards the gunwale of the ship where they emptied the contents of the sheet onto the deck.
I was shocked by what I saw – it was the lifeless, emaciated body of a man. It suddenly dawned on me that I was aboard a coffin ship. I had no idea how I had arrived there but for some reason I didn’t question the strangeness of my surroundings. The sailors returned to the hold and repeated this same exercise several times over until a small heap of bodies lay on the deck. The sailors seemed oblivious to my presence as they lifted one of the bodies. One sailor grabbed the legs, while the other took the arms, and between them they raised the corpse onto the gunwale. They then dropped the body into the sea as though they were discarding nothing more than an old and worn pair of boots.
As they grabbed the next body, my emotions got the better of me and I shouted at them to have some respect, to say a prayer at least for these poor, wretched human beings. They didn’t seem to hear me as they lifted a second body and consigned it to the sea. Advancing towards them I shouted, ‘At least bless yourselves’, but once again my cries fell on deaf ears. I looked down at one of the corpses still lying on the deck. Suddenly his head rolled around to face me. His eyes flew open and he looked directly at me in shock. I knew that he was aware of my presence. The sailors then grabbed him and threw his body over the side of the ship.
I ran and grabbed the gunwale and stared down at the sea. I was stunned. His body was floating about six inches below the surface of the water and his gaze was still fixed on me. It was then that I noticed he was not alone. As my eyes scanned the ocean I saw that there were literally thousands of other bodies floating alongside him. I was overcome by a mixture of sadness and fear. I heard him whisper the words ‘Remember us, remember us’, as he and all the other bodies slowly sank to the bottom of the ocean. On the second utterance of those haunting words I was sure I heard a chorus of other voices join in.
Suddenly I awoke and realised that it had all been a dream. I was drenched in sweat, but delighted to be safely back in my bed. My mind was a flurry of activity so, knowing there was little chance of returning to sleep, I began to process the dream. Such was the effect it had on me that the following morning I contacted a very gifted friend and spiritual Canadian woman called Naomi Jane Zettl to seek help in clarifying its meaning. Naomi is a woman of great wisdom and a short time later she informed me that one of the main messages of my dream was that something needed to be done to commemorate these people.
At the time I was not sure what to do but Naomi assured me that I would receive guidance and eventually her words made perfect sense. A few months later a woman, Kathleen Berry contacted me to write a book on the brig St. John, but at the time I was too busy. Later a man by the name of John Bhaba Jaick Ó Congaola, from Lettermullen, contacted me and also asked me to write a book on the brig St. John, as he believed I would be interested in the material. At the time I was still too busy to take on the project. Besides, I knew nothing about the St. John, let alone that it was a famine ship.
Over the following two years John Bhaba Jaick Ó Congaola contacted me a number of times to write this book, but each time I declined. Then in July of 2008, being very persistent, he made a final attempt. He had other historical material that he believed would be of interest to me and he offered to give it to me along with the St. John material. Realising this book was not going to go away, I finally agreed to examine the material. I was taken aback by the content: one document stated that if a timber headstone had been placed on the ocean for every man, woman and child consigned to a watery grave during the famine, the tombstones would have extended from Cobh in Cork to Boston Harbour. I was stunned; a shiver ran up along my spine and the hair stood up on the back of my neck. The dream from two years earlier came hurtling back to me.
Some might say that my dream and this material being delivered to me are nothing more than co-incidence, and who could blame them. But all I can say is that you would have to have been there and felt what I felt and saw what I saw to realise that this was more than just a coincidence. I can honestly say that I did not intentionally set out to write this book. It sought me out on five occasions, and thank God that this book, in a sense, chose me.
I – The Great Famine
It may prove difficult for those who have not studied nineteenth-century Irish history to understand why so many thousands of people, in fleeing their country, risked dying from starvation or disease on board a coffin ship. This hazardous journey across the Atlantic Ocean was often undertaken on overcrowded and unsafe ships. The Great Famine, which devastated Ireland between the years 1845 and 1850, was one of the most tragic events in Irish history. It left an estimated one million people dead, although the true figure will never be known. At least another one million people fled to other countries in the hope of a better life.
Outbreaks of famine were not uncommon in Ireland at the time. During the previous century, potato crops had failed on a number of occasions. On the last day of the year 1739, Ireland awoke to find itself in the grip of what could be termed a mini Ice Age. This severe winter was followed by a summer of famine and disease during which a large number of peasants perished. Many parts of Ireland suffered. One report stated that ‘the dead have been eaten in the fields by dogs for want of people to bury them’. Food shortages were reported again in 1816 and 1817. In 1822 Galway was already suffering from the effec
ts of poverty and high unemployment, and the failure of the potato crop that year caused a minor famine. Hordes of people flocked to the city in search of food, but the town was already struggling to feed its own population. During the summer, fever was widespread, and grants were made available by the local authorities to combat the epidemic. By November, the scourge seems to have passed. Other food shortages occurred in 1831 and 1842; the latter resulting in food riots in Galway city where potato stores were attacked. However, the catastrophe of the Great Famine that swept across Ireland in 1845 was incomparable to anything the country had ever witnessed before.[1]
A potato riot in Galway in 1842. (The Illustrated London News)
The devastation of the famine has its origins in the introduction of the Penal Laws of 1695. These unjust laws deprived the Catholic majority of many civil rights in areas such as education, religious freedom and ownership of land, and paved the way for the rise of the Protestant ascendancy class. These landed gentry families exerted an almost limitless power over their tenants. Many were absentee landlords living in England who had little interest in their property except to make as much profit from their tenants as possible. Rents were high and if the tenants could not raise the necessary finance, they faced eviction. The saving grace for the Irish peasant was the potato, as it was cheap to produce, easy to cultivate and yielded large crops. The potato was also a good source of vitamins.
At the time the population of Ireland was about eight million. Tenant housing consisted mainly of small thatched buildings or small one-roomed huts constructed of stone or sometimes turf. While both buildings were very basic, the huts were dreadful places to live. They had no windows or chimney, just a hole in the roof to allow the smoke from the fire to escape. Infant mortality was high because of such impoverished living conditions. Given the rigid land division and landlord policies, the vast majority of the Catholic population were forced to live on the brink of starvation and destitution on an ongoing basis.
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