Man just came from the wreck. Says no possibility of getting schooner off. Think it will soon break up. Load cement. Bound to St. Pierre. Crew all ashore at Cripple Cove.
Shipping authorities waited nearly 12 hours before a third wire came from Cape Race. Captain Fererrao of Alvina sent more details. The vessel was a total wreck and broke up in the storm of early morning June 7. The crew of 14 and an unstated number of passengers reached Cripple Cove without incident. No cargo, spars, or sails had been salvaged. Except for Alvina’s small boat and a dory, nothing was left of the fine ship.
Alvina was bringing cement to St. Pierre, an outpost or territory of France located a few miles south of the Burin Peninsula. As soon as the cargo would have been landed, the vessel would have prosecuted the fishery based in St. Pierre for the summer of 1927.
Captain William Charles Winsor, the minister of Marine and Fisheries, and F. E. Pittman, Passenger Agent of the Railway, sent the SS Portia to Trepassey to take the crew directly to St. Pierre. By then the moviegoers would have attended the opening night of Shipwrecked at the Nickel Theatre, maybe pondering on the realism of a “staged” wreck on a south seas island. Few would have known of the drama that had just played out its closing scenes between the hard rocks of Cripple Cove and aboard a French ship on the stage of Cape Race.
41
The Elimination of Wrecks?
75th Anniversary of
“Via Cape Race”
In October 1934, Cape Race celebrated the 75th Anniversary of the first “Press Messages” appearing in the United States newspapers marked “Via Cape Race.” One of the features of a milestone commemoration was an interview with George J. Hewitt, the lightkeeper at Cape Pine in 1934. His father, the late George Hewitt, was ten years keeper of the light at Cape Race (and 30 years at Cape Pine). Between father and son they had 76 years of service.
George J. Hewitt spoke of the years of service, his father’s tenure, and times as light keeper, then briefly reviewed some highlights of the station at Cape Race:
1856 – The Cape Race Lighthouse went into operation.
1856 – The telegraph line from Trepassey to Cape Ray was completed and a cable laid across the Gulf to Cape Breton.
1858 – George Hewitt, Sr., was appointed assistant lightkeeper to Captain William Halley, lightkeeper.
1859 – The Associated Press put a news message system in place. News was intercepted at Cape Race from passing ships and sent over the telegraph lines to New York with the byline “Via Cape Race.”
Hewitt’s father had often told him how this system worked and a photo of the news canister is shown in Chapter 6:
Steamers bound from England to the United States would signal Cape Race, by day with flag signals and by night with flares. Cape Race maintained a day and night watch with three men being in each watch.
A boat manned by five men, four to row and one to steer, set out from Cape Race for the boat and one of the men boarded her if the weather was suitable. If too rough the message was placed in a round can (or canister), about a “half-gallon” size.
This can had two loops through which a stick was passed with a flag on the stick. The can was thrown into the water, where it floated with the flag marking the position. The can was picked up by the boat’s crew and taken ashore.
The message was taken 18 miles to Trepassey, where Mr. Moore, the operator for the Anglo-American Telegraph Company, sent it over the wires to the mainland (the United States).
In his reflections on a Cape Race Anniversary, George Hewitt also spoke of what he recognized from local tales and records as being the worst shipwreck at Cape Race: the liner Anglo Saxon. On April 27,1863, while bound from Greenock to Montreal, it went ashore at Clam Cove, three miles from Cape Race. Drowned were 237 of the passengers and crew – saved 208.
Wreck of the Liddesdale
George Hewitt went on to speak of his own experiences at the lighthouse at Cape Pine. He claimed the “best” (not the most tragic) wreck near Cape Pine was that of the steamer Liddesdale. It ground to a stop on December 4, 1882, but didn’t break up until November 11, 1883, providing the people of the area nearly a year of salvage. And salvage was great!
It had a load of cotton, which was practically all salved. Men worked salvaging until late in February 1883, and resumed work again in the spring. The ship was cleaned out by August. Men from St. Shotts made £300 a person. Dan Condon, a shipwright, and John Kean with four divers worked at the salvaging under the direction of Captain Trask, who came from New York to supervise.
Hewitt said the schooner Cape Race was lost a couple of years previous (June 29,1932) at the Western Head of St. Shotts, and in this very place many years ago, the ribs of several ships could be seen: SS Mondego; SS Capula; SS Arabella; SS Sunrise; SS Gertrude; SS Hartigon; and the remains of two other ships of which he had forgotten the names.
Hewitt, thinking of two recent technological advances in navigation, concluded his discussion of Cape Race with an outlook for the future: Today, with the direction finder installed at Cape Race, and ships equipped with wireless, the dangers of the coast from St. Shotts to Cape Race have been eliminated.
Magnhild , Eliminated?
Were dangers eliminated by 1934? In less than two years after Hewitt’s optimistic prediction, the SS Magnhild went ashore at Mistaken Point.
In late May 1936, the Norwegian ship of 1,136 tons left Halifax and steamed to Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island. There it took on a large cargo for St. John’s; this included 78 head of cattle, 760 pigs, 13 sheep, three horses, general produce, and a part cargo of coal. After leaving PEI, Magnhild stopped at St. Pierre and left for Newfoundland on Friday, June 5, navigating along the south coast.
On June 6, 1936, Saturday morning around nine o’clock, the chief officer was on the bridge during foggy weather. Magnhild and its officers did what many other ships had done before: the crew confused Mistaken Point with Cape Race, thinking in error they had reached the cape when actually they were a few kilometres from it.
In the thick fog and heavy swell, the officer saw breakers ahead and ordered full speed astern. But the momentum carried Magnhild onto the rocks about 150 yards from the cliff in about three to five fathoms of water. It was the western point of Big Cove, Mistaken Point.
On the jagged rocks, the after holds were ripped open and filled with water. Magnhild was in such a position that the 15 crew felt it would break up quickly. When the steamer struck, it was head-on, but within 24 hours it had swung completely around to rest on a ragged ledge with its stern to the cliff. The fore and after peaks, all holds, the engine room, and stokehold were flooded to the main deck.
D. M. McFarlane, Lloyd’s Insurance surveyor, Captain W. L. James, and Mr. A. G. Dearlove, of the Furness Withy Company, hired a car to take them to Trepassey. From there they reached Mistaken Point and made a survey of the damage. Magnhild was a total writeoff. On Saturday afternoon, Sergeant Humber and three customs officers left for Trepassey to keep looters from the wreck and to attempt to save some livestock.
During Magnhild’s voyage, the pigs and sheep were kept on deck; all other animals were below deck. On Sunday night, Harvey and Company, agents for the ship, learned that of all the livestock on board, only the 13 sheep and three calves were saved. All the pigs drowned in their pens as the seas swept over the decks. Hope of saving anything else was termed “impossible, ” as seas made a complete breach of the deck.
By Sunday evening, Magnhild was officially abandoned. Livyers, young and old, men and women, flocked to the free-for-all. A subsequent description from Monday, June 8, 1936, says:
Dories and boats from long distances arrived and stripped the ship of everything movable which was above water. All evening yesterday (Monday) they were engaged in gaffing up the cattle and pigs. Only portions of the cattle could be secured as the animals had been tied up.
When a cow was hooked, as much as possible had to be cut off and hoisted on deck where it was cut up and distributed.
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Officials who went to the scene found that high prices were demanded for boats to take them off to the ship. From ten to 20 dollars per trip was the asking price.
Thus ended the first unique wreck in an era when danger at Cape Race was “eliminated” by modern technology.
42
Beatrice Vivian:
Encounter with an Ocean Liner
June 1936
On June 12, 1936, the 17,000-ton SS California collided with the Burin schooner Beatrice Vivian about 25 miles off Cape Race. Built and launched in Burin in November of the previous year, the 100-ton Beatrice Vivian was into its first season on the Grand Banks, and by June was into a second phase or trip, generally called “the caplin baiting.” Captain James Gosling of Burin had a crew of 25.
Earlier in the week, Beatrice Vivian had put into Placentia for fresh caplin and had tied up by the Lunenburg schooner Bruce and Winona. Captain Gosling later learned that Bruce and Winona sailed from Placentia the same day as his vessel to obtain bait at Garnish, but struck a rock near Corbin Head in the fog and sank that same day.
Beatrice Vivian returned to the banks from Placentia, resumed fishing, and by late evening was feeling its way along in the dense fog that often blankets the banks south of Cape Race. Without warning, the steamer California loomed up on the port bow.
It was around 5: 00 p.m. and many of Beatrice Vivian’s crew were on deck; others were aft, preparing to go on deck. Several were sitting around the forecastle table, waiting for supper when the liner cut, full impact, into the bow of the schooner. These men in the forecastle climbed out of the skylight or up the companionway. If they had been asleep in the forecastle, many would have been killed or drowned.
California sliced through the schooner’s bow near the forepeak on the port side – the foremast fell, and spars were thrown onto the liner’s deck 30 feet above. Part of the schooner’s anchor chain and rigging wrapped around the propeller of the liner, clanking against the steel hull until it was freed hours later. Captain Gosling, interviewed later in a Halifax newspaper, said:
The crew rushed to the dories on the starboard side and threw off six. Some men had time to grab a few belongings in the five minutes before the aft section sank, but most of us lost everything. California put about immediately to look for a buoy that had been put out at the time of the collision. It had been going at about 12 to 15 knots.
Beatrice Vivian’s engineer, Clyde Hollett, had just climbed out of the engine room, where he had finished oiling the engine. In an interview with the author in 1991, he remembered the disaster:
When the foremast fell, wires and rigging fell over the dories, basically covering them with debris and lines. So the men used their heavy bait choppers to clear the rigging and free the dories. These were the same choppers the fishermen cursed up in heaps when they cut up bait. The choppers were so big and clumsy, but now saved their lives since the dories were cleared quickly. As the men lifted out the dories by hand, no one spoke. There was no confusion or panic.
I was one of the last off and it was the first and only time I ever jumped “up” into a dory from a schooner. Within 7 to 8 minutes the level of the deck where I stood was under water and I reached up to catch the gunnels. Captain Gosling wanted to get his vessel’s papers, log, charts, and so on, but saved nothing; I managed to grab my oilskins and small clothes chest. The ocean was smooth as a millpond.
Beatrice Vivian hung there for a minute or so, but when the compressed air inside blew out her timbers, she went straight down bow first.
While in the dories, the men stayed together and sounded their location with the small foghorn kept in each boat. Without this, it would have been very difficult for the liner’s men to find the five dories in the thick Cape Race fog. Within 15 to 20 minutes, the Burin men climbed aboard. Seamen on California lowered straps to hook onto each dory and lifted them on deck.
Gosling was at a loss to explain how the accident happened, for although the schooner had been blowing its horn continuously and the steamer’s whistle was set on automatic, neither vessel heard the other.
Bound from Glasgow, Scotland, to New York, California put into Halifax to transfer the men to the Halifax harbour tug and then continued on to New York. In Halifax, most men were housed in the Seamen’s Institute until they made connections with the steamer Portia going to Port aux Basques and along the south coast to home.
Lost in the Cape Fog
Two months later, the Cape Race fog claimed another fine steamer when the captain of the 1,469-ton Cyril misjudged his position while steaming slowly off Cape Race. Bound for England from Miramichi, Cyril struck land near Portugal Cove South on August 2. The crew was rescued, but the steamer was never refloated.
Cyril stayed intact for nearly two months, allowing Larder’s wrecking and salvaging tugs to retrieve much of the cargo of lumber. On October 1, 1936, wrecking steamer Stella Maris brought a full cargo of birch lumber from the wreck to Trepassey. Towed behind the tug were two rafts of spruce and birch deals (large squares of unsawn logs). Captain Larder dynamited Cyril in several places to get at some cargo. In his report of the steamer, Larder said he expected the vessel to hold together for a few more days.
Ironically, this was the second ship named Cyril lost near Cape Race; the previous one, also in August, was 30 years before. That Cyril, too, carried lumber and was en route from New Brunswick to England.
43
The Crew Walked Ashore
to The Drook
March 1937
The SS Delia, a ship of 775 net tons, was built by Wood Skinner and Company at Newcastle, England, in 1907. By 1937 it was under charter to the Shaw Steamship Company of Halifax and owned by Inter-Provincial Steamships. The steamer left St. John’s on Saturday, March 7, for Halifax with a load of 3,500 barrels of cod and general cargo.
About 5: 00 p.m. the next day, Sunday, George Shaw, agent for the Inter-Provincial Line, received a message from the operator at Cape Race stating Delia was then about two miles off Freshwater Point, Trepassey, and “in ice.” Three hours later, Captain Renouf of Delia sent word to Shaw that a gale was blowing up, the ship had been damaged by ice, was leaking badly, and that the crew had decided to abandon it.
Nothing much was heard until Tuesday morning, when Shaw heard from Renouf, saying Delia was still afloat about 200 yards off shore from Bob’s Cove (where the liner Kristianiafjord was wrecked 20 years previously). The message stated that the anchors were holding, and apparently there was not much water in the ship.
A postal telegraph from the postmaster at Trepassey reported:
SS Delia caught in ice in Trepassey Bay on Sunday night. Yesterday evening about 6: 15 when about two miles off Drook, the captain and crew left her and walked safely ashore to Drook. They reported the ship as leaking. This morning ship went aground at Freshwater Point but no one can get on board her.
It took nearly two hours to walk across the rugged ice. By 8: 00 p.m., Captain Renouf and 17 crew were safe in The Drook, whose inhabitants, the Perrys and St. Croixs, had helped save and accommodate many shipwrecked crews over the years – one of the most memorable and dramatic was that of the SS To lsby some 30 years previously.
On March 7, the Newfoundland Railway steamer SS Sagona left for The Drook to investigate the wreck. Captain Thomas J. Connors was in charge of any salvage or rescue operations, and he had with him Mr. John Pollock. Pollock brought pumps and towing gear to attempt to free Delia of water and then to pull the steamer off, if possible. By then the steamer was settling aft and the ice was in the same condition as before, but there was a light southeast wind with snow.
By the time Sagona arrived, Delia was submerged in about six to eight fathoms of water. At low tide the top of the superstructure could be seen. Although the dragger Imperialist was standing by and a wrecking tug from Halifax was due to arrive, there was nothing anyone on Sagona could do. It left on March 10 to steam back to St. John’s.
The viselike grip of ice and rock off The
Drook refused to give up its victim. Today in the shipping roster, Canadian Coast Guard’s Shipping Casualties off Canada’s Atlantic Coast 1896-1980 lists the SS Delia as: Foundered, Trepassey Bay, Latitude 46.38 North, Longitude 53.15 West.
44
Unusual Rescue off Cape Race
June 1941
It has been said that practically anything that could happen, has happened to a Newfoundland schooner and, with several hundreds lost that were registered to island owners, the statement may be valid. Over the years, many of our seamen were plucked off sinking schooners, were taken from rocky ledges near shore, pulled from wreckage, or were snatched from an icy world where death from exposure stared them in the face.
In June 1941, another unusual rescue took place off Cape Race when the tern schooner Chesley R came upon five stranded men. But these castaways were not seamen, but airmen from a downed plane.
Built in 1905 in Denmark and named Maagan (Danish for “seagull, ” and it had a seagull carved on the stern), the 123-ton schooner received some damage in Newfoundland waters and was condemned by the Danish owners. The hulk was purchased by Forward and Tibbo of Grand Bank in 1929 and renamed Chesley R. Its square topsails were converted into fore and aft rigging, and in 1937 an engine was installed. For many years it went across to Europe without incident; then, during the war years, Chesley R carried lumber, oil, food, fish, and supplies from various ports: Halifax, Sydney, Grand Bank, and St. John’s. On June 22, 1941, Chesley R, under the command of Heber Keeping and Mate Walter Keeping, was off Cape Race heading for home from St. John’s.
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