No Survivors

 

Few people have heard about the sinking of the Princess Sophia, but it was a major tragedy that deserves a place in this series. Today’s post is a reprint from June 18, 2012. I have made a few minor changes for formatting and similar purposes.

No Survivors

At 2:10 a.m. on October 24, 1918, the Princess Sophia ran aground on Vanderbilt Reef in Lynn Canal, which is part of Alaska’s Inner Passage. The ship stayed there, firmly wedged in the rocks, for almost 40 hours before the wind and the waves changed course and sent the severely damaged ship to its death. During that time, the 278 passengers and 65 crew members watched other boats circling the wreck and waited to be rescued. And yet, there were no survivors.¹

The picture shows the Princess Sophia around 1912, shortly after she was built.² She was 245 feet long and could carry up to 500 passengers with special permission, although her normal capacity was 250.

The Princess Sophia made regular runs between Vancouver, Canada and Skagway, Alaska from late spring through early fall. In October, many residents of Alaska and the Yukon went “outside” for the winter, much as the Florida snowbirds head south today. In 1918, many felt lucky to have tickets on the Princess Sophia for one of the last trips out by water.

The passengers on that fateful trip ranged from gold miners and laborers to politicians and businessmen and their families. The passenger manifest included 37 women and 18 children.

Not long after the Princess Sophia left Skagway, it ran into a blinding snowstorm. Captain Locke had experienced white-out conditions before, and he did not slow down. So when he got off course and ran into Vanderbilt Reef, the ship went right up onto the rocks and stuck fast.

The Princess Sophia put out a distress call and was soon surrounded by would-be rescuers. But the reef and the gale conditions made it impossible for those boats to get close. Captain Locke considered putting his passengers into lifeboats but was concerned that they would capsize in the raging waves and the occupants would drown—something that had recently happened in another shipwreck. Since the Princess Sophia was firmly wedged in the rocks of the shallow reef, he decided to stay put until the weather calmed down. Several high tides passed without budging the ship, which seemed to confirm his judgment.

But late in the afternoon of October 25, the wind shifted and pushed the ship off the rocks. With the huge gashes cut into the hull by the original grounding, the Princess Sophia never had a chance. And because of the stormy conditions and the darkness, the would-be rescuers could only pray for the passengers’ safety. A prayer that God answered in his own way, but not as the rescuers hoped.

The official inquiry concluded that the accident was nobody’s fault and the decision to wait before evacuating the passengers was a judgment call that could have gone either way. But the politicians in Washington may share part of the blame. For years, Alaskan shipping interests had been asking for a light on Vanderbilt Reef, and their pleas had gone unanswered. After the Princess Sophia sank, they finally got their light.

Why do so few people remember the Princess Sophia today? I think it is because there are no survivor stories to add to the romance.

But I would love to know what the passengers thought and did as they were trapped on the stranded ship.

In Harm's Way

 

Today’s blog post about the sinking of the Lusitania is a reprint from July 2, 2012. I have made a few minor changes for formatting and similar purposes.¹

In Harm’s Way

In 1915, Great Britain and her European allies were at war with Germany. The United States was a declared neutral, although its sympathies were with the British. When a German submarine sank the Lusitania on May 7, this country’s official position didn’t change. But the intensity of its feelings did.

The Lusitania left New York on May 1, 1915 and was due to arrive in Liverpool on May 8.² Its passengers were traveling to England for various reasons, some connected with the war and some not. Oliver Bernard was hoping to enlist. Dorothy Connor was a Red Cross volunteer heading for France. Alfred Vanderbilt (son of Cornelius) was on his way to attend a London board meeting of the International Horse Show Association. Stewart and Lesley Mason were on their honeymoon. Third-class passenger Elizabeth Duckworth was simply homesick.

A number of passengers were aware of a notice that had appeared in the New York City newspapers that morning, but others were not. The notice, which had been placed by the German embassy, warned potential passengers that “vessels flying the flag of Great Britain, or any of her allies, are liable to destruction in [waters adjacent to the British Isles] and that travellers sailing in the war zone on ships of Great Britain or her allies do so at their own risk.” With or without knowledge of the notice, many passengers were worried about German submarines, but others were sure the Lusitania could outrun them.

That may have been true, but first it had to know the submarine was there. The initial sightings of the U-20’s periscope coincided with the launching of the torpedo. By then it was too late.

The torpedo blew a hole in the ship’s side, taking out the electrical system and steering controls. With the Lusitania continuing at a high rate of speed (a body in motion stays in motion) and no way to stop it, lowering the life boats into the water became a dangerous endeavor even when they were lowered correctly. But many were not. When untrained sailors used the outdated launching equipment, one end of the boat frequently dropped faster than the other and spilled its inhabitants into the water—often while they were still many feet above it.

Then there were the non-existent demonstrations on how to wear life jackets. The instructions were posted prominently in each cabin, but few passengers read them. Many deaths resulted from putting on lifejackets backwards or upside down, both of which forced the wearer’s face into the water.

The Lusitania sank about 12 miles off the coast of Ireland, but it was impossible for other boats to reach it in time. About a half hour passed from the torpedo’s impact to the ship’s last sigh before slipping under the surface. When the rescuers arrived, they found some life boats, but they also saw people clinging to wooden deck chairs and storage boxes and other debris. Of the almost 2,000 people on board, less than 800 survived.

For those of you interested in the people mentioned earlier, Oliver Bernard, Dorothy Connor, and Elizabeth Duckworth were among the survivors. Alfred Vanderbilt and Stewart and Lesley Mason were not.

Subsequent inquiries blamed the disaster solely on the German torpedo. The Germans claimed that the Lusitania was armed and carrying Canadian troops, but those claims have been debunked. Then there is the conspiracy theory that Winston Churchill (First Lord of the Admiralty at the time) set the passenger ship up for destruction as a way to force the United States into the war, but that doesn’t seem to fit the facts, either.

The Lusitania was a British ship, so why did her sinking create such an outcry in America?

There were 159 Americans on board, and 124 of them perished. And regardless of the victims’ nationalities, many people were outraged at the large number of innocent civilians killed, including dozens of babies.²

Contrary to popular belief, the sinking of the Lusitania did not propel the United States into World War I. That would not happen for another two years. Still, it was clearly a contributing factor—a strong link in a chain of events that convinced the United States to join the conflict.

And Germany would discover—as the Japanese did after Pearl Harbor—that it isn’t safe to anger the United States.

_____

¹ The photo of the Lusitania is part of a panoramic picture taken by N. W. Penfield in 1907. It is in the public domain because of its age.

² I recommend The Last Voyage of the Lusitania, by A.A. Hoehling and Mary Hoehling, which is a quick and easy read. For those who want the broader historical context, I suggest Lusitania: An Epic Tragedy, by Diana Preston.

Heros

 

Everyone knows that the Titanic hit an iceberg and sank, taking approximately 1500 lives with it. This week I’m going to reprint a post from April 16, 2012, that looks at it from a slightly different perspective. I have made a few minor changes for formatting and similar purposes.

Heros

On April 10, 1912, the Titanic left Southampton, England on her maiden voyage.¹ Two days later, the unsinkable became the unthinkable.

I’ve always been fascinated by the disaster. This isn’t history told with dry facts and figures. It is primarily a story of real people and how they reacted in a crisis.²                               

While there are some reports of cowardly actions, many more speak of courage. And even most of the actions some call cowardly are at least understandable. For example, 21-year-old Daniel Buckley jumped into a lifeboat with several other men while the crew was loading women and children. The sailors forced the other men out, but a woman threw a shawl over Daniel as he lay sniveling in the bottom of the boat, and he escaped notice. Is that cowardice? Maybe. But I can sympathize with his desire to live.

I can also understand the different reaction from Mrs. Isador Straus, the wife of one of the owners of Macy’s Department Store. When someone suggested that her husband accompany her in a lifeboat because of his advanced age (67), he refused to go before the other men. Mrs. Straus decided to stay with her husband, saying something like, “We have lived together for many years. Where you go, I go.” They were last seen sitting side by side in deck chairs.

The Straus children were grown and out on their own. Their mother’s decision would be hard on them, but they could go on. So I can understand her decision.

But I can’t understand why Mrs. Hudson Allison chose to stay. By doing so, she orphaned her 11-month-old son and condemned her 2-year-old daughter to an awful death. The boy entered a boat with his nurse, and the girl was last seen clinging to her mother’s leg—the only first class child who died. (In fairness to Mrs. Allison, there is conflicting testimony on this issue, with one eyewitness saying she was frantically searching for her husband and son until it was too late.)

Mr. Straus was a hero, as were the many other men who stood aside without protest to let the women and children go first. Then there is Edith Evans. When she and a married friend reached one of the last remaining lifeboats, there was only room for one more. So Edith told her friend to go first because she had children who needed their mother. The friend survived, but Edith did not.

Also among the heroes were Captain Smith (died), Second Officer Lightoller (survived), and the many other crew members who remained calm and worked feverishly to save as many lives as possible.

There were many heros that night who willingly gave, or at least risked, their lives for others.

And we should be grateful.

__________

¹ The picture at the head of this post shows the RMS Titanic at Southampton on April 10, 1912, two days before her maiden voyage. The photo was taken by Francis Godolphin Osbourne Stuart and is in the public domain because of its age.

² Almost 70 years after it was published, Walter Lord’s A Night to Remember is still the best book about the Titanic. Although it does cover the facts, it excels at capturing the spirit of that night and the emotions of the participants.

The Folly of Trusting Technology

 

Today’s blog post is a reprint from June 25, 2012. I have made a few minor changes for formatting and similar purposes.¹

The Folly of Trusting Technology

On a foggy night in July 1956, two passenger liners used the same shipping channel to head in opposite directions. The Andrea Doria was right where it should be, with the captain on the bridge and its foghorn blowing every two minutes. It probably should have been traveling at a slower speed as it sailed through the fog, but radar was supposed to compensate for the loss of visibility.

The Stockholm was heading east in the westbound channel rather than using the eastbound channel twenty miles south. The westbound channel was shorter and faster, and the Stockholm’s captain claimed it crossed the northbound and southbound lanes at a safer point. The action was permissible because use of the designated channels was recommended but not required. After setting a course, the captain retired to his cabin, leaving an inexperienced third officer on watch.

The captain and crew of the Andrea Doria tracked an oncoming ship on radar and determined that the two ships would pass starboard to starboard (right side to right side) at a close but safe distance. The third officer on the Stockholm also tracked an oncoming ship on radar and determined that the two ships would pass port to port (left side to left side) at a close but safe distance. It was only when the two ships were near enough to see each other through the fog that they realized they were on a collision course.

The Stockholm was significantly smaller than the Andrea Doria, but its steel-reinforced bow was made to slice through the ice floes of the North Atlantic. It also proved effective at slicing up the Andrea Doria. It didn’t go all the way through, but it cut open a number of first class and tourist class cabins and sent their occupants to a watery grave.

Forty-four Andrea Doria passengers died from the collision, a child died from a rescue-related injury, a male passenger died from a heart attack while resting on a rescue ship, and a woman died six months later from injuries incurred during the disaster. The death toll on the Stockholm was five—all crew members who were in their quarters in the bow at the time of the accident.

But the number of survivors was the bigger story. In an amazing rescue effort coordinated by the Coast Guard and involving Navy and commercial boats as well as a French ocean liner that turned round to assist, almost 1,700 people were saved in the eleven hours before the Andrea Doria sunk to the bottom of the ocean. And in an ironic twist, the crew of the wounded but still seaworthy Stockholm rescued many of them.²

The shipping companies and the insurer settled the case before it went to trial, so there was no formal finding of fault. From the sources I read, I think it was a combination of circumstances and human error.

But the greatest contributing factor may have been over reliance on technology. Either the radar was wrong or the crew misread it. The Titanic sank because everyone thought it was unsinkable, and the Andrea Doria sank because crew members thought radar was infallible.

It isn’t safe to put too much faith in technology.

__________

¹ The picture at the head of this post shows the Andrea Doria on a previous voyage and has been artistically doctored to avoid copyright infringement. The pictures of the sinking are incredible, but they are not in the public domain yet. Although I might be able to claim fair use, I’d rather play it safe and refer you to the Internet to find them for yourselves. Or you can see them in the resource books I have listed in the next footnote.

² If you want more information, I recommend Desperate Hours: The Epic Rescue of the Andrea Doria, by Richard Goldstein; The Last Voyage of the Andrea Doria: The Sinking of the World’s most Glamorous Ship, by Greg King and Penny Wilson; or Collision Course: The Classic Story of the Collision of the Andrea Doria and the Stockholm, by Alvin Moscow. They contain a lot of duplicate information, so unless you are doing serious research (as I was), you may want to limit yourself to reading only one. For a more personal view, however, I also recommend Alive on the Andrea Doria: The Greatest Sea Rescue in History, by Pierette Domenica Simpson, who is a survivor of the shipwreck.

In Harm's Way

In 1915, Great Britain and her European allies were at war with Germany. The United States was a declared neutral, although its sympathies were with the British. When a German submarine sank the Lusitania on May 7, this country's official position didn't change.* But the intensity of its feelings did.

The Lusitania sank before the other two ships covered in this blog series, but I saved it until now because of its patriotic implications. With July 4 coming up, this is a good time to look back on how a shipwreck inflamed America and moved it closer to war.

The Lusitania left New York on May 1, 1915 and was due to arrive in Liverpool on May 8.** Its passengers were traveling to England for various reasons, some connected with the war and some not. Oliver Bernard was hoping to enlist. Dorothy Connor was a Red Cross volunteer heading for France. Alfred Vanderbilt (son of Cornelius) was on his way to attend a London board meeting of the International Horse Show Association. Stewart and Lesley Mason were on their honeymoon. Third-class passenger Elizabeth Duckworth was simply homesick.

A number of passengers were aware of a notice that had appeared in the New York City newspapers that morning, but others were not. The notice, which had been placed by the German embassy, warned potential passengers that "vessels flying the flag of Great Britain, or any of her allies, are liable to destruction in [waters adjacent to the British Isles] and that travellers sailing in the war zone on ships of Great Britain or her allies do so at their own risk." With or without knowledge of the notice, many passengers were worried about German submarines, but others were sure the Lusitania could outrun them.

That may have been true, but first it had to know the submarine was there. The initial sightings of the U-20's periscope coincided with the launching of the torpedo. By then it was too late.

The torpedo blew a hole in the ship's side, taking out the electrical system and steering controls. With the Lusitania continuing at a high rate of speed (a body in motion stays in motion) and no way to stop it, lowering the life boats into the water became a dangerous endeavor even when they were lowered correctly. But many were not. When untrained sailors used the outdated launching equipment, one end of the boat frequently dropped faster than the other and spilled its inhabitants into the water--often while they were still many feet above it.

Then there were the non-existent demonstrations on how to wear life jackets. The instructions were posted prominently in each cabin, but few passengers read them. Many deaths resulted from putting on life jackets backwards or upside down, both of which forced the wearer's face into the water.

The Lusitania sank about 12 miles off the coast of Ireland, but it was impossible for other boats to reach it in time. About a half hour passed from the torpedo's impact to the ship's last sigh before slipping under the surface. When the rescuers arrived, they found some life boats, but they also saw people clinging to wooden deck chairs and storage boxes and other debris. Of the almost 2,000 people on board, less than 800 survived.

For those of you interested in the people mentioned earlier, Oliver Bernard, Dorothy Connor, and Elizabeth Duckworth were among the survivors. Alfred Vanderbilt and Steward and Lesley Mason were not.

Subsequent inquiries blamed the disaster solely on the German torpedo. The Germans claimed that the Lusitania was armed and carrying Canadian troops, but those claims have been debunked. Then there is the conspiracy theory that Winston Churchill (First Lord of the Admiralty at the time) set the passenger ship up for destruction as a way to force the United States into the war, but that doesn't seem to fit the facts, either.

The Lusitania was a British ship, so why did her sinking create such an outcry in America?

There were 159 Americans on board, and 124 of them perished. And regardless of the victims' nationalities, many people were outraged at the large number of innocent civilians killed, including dozens of babies.

Contrary to popular belief, the sinking of the Lusitania did not propel the United States into World War I. That would not happen for another two years. Still, it was clearly a contributing factor--a strong link in a chain of events that convinced the United States to join the conflict.

And Germany would discover--as the Japanese did after Pearl Harbor--that it isn't safe to anger the United States.

_____

* I recommend The Last Voyage of the Lusitania, by A.A. Hoehling and Mary Hoehling, which is a quick and easy read. For those who want the broader historical context, I suggest Lusitania: An Epic Tragedy, by Diana Preston.

** The photo of the Lusitania is part of a panoramic picture taken by N.W. Penfield in 1907.

The Folly of Trusting Technology

On a foggy night in July 1956, two passenger liners used the same shipping channel to head in opposite directions.* The Andrea Doria was right where it should be, with its captain on the bridge and its foghorn blowing every two minutes. It probably should have been traveling at a slower speed as it sailed through the fog, but radar was supposed to compensate for the loss of visibility.

The Stockholm was heading east in the westbound channel rather than using the eastbound channel twenty miles south. The westbound channel was shorter and faster, and the Stockholm's captain claimed it crossed the northbound and southbound lanes at a safer point. His action was permissible because use of the designated channels was recommended but not required. After setting a course, the captain retired to his cabin, leaving an inexperienced third officer on watch.

The captain and crew of the Andrea Doria tracked an oncoming ship on radar and determined that the two ships would pass starboard to starboard (right side to right side) at a close but safe distance. The third officer on the Stockholm also tracked an oncoming ship on radar and determined that the two ships would pass port to port (left side to left side) at a close but safe distance. It was only when the two ships were near enough to see each other through the fog that they realized they were on a collision course.

The Stockholm was significantly smaller than the Andrea Doria, but its steel-reinforced bow was made to slice through the ice floes of the North Atlantic. It also proved effective at slicing up the Andrea Doria. It didn't go all the way through, but it cut open a number of first class and tourist class cabins and sent their occupants to a watery grave.

Forty-four Andrea Doria passengers died from the collision, a child died from a rescue-related injury, a male passenger died from a heart attack while resting on a rescue ship, and a woman died six months later from injuries incurred during the disaster. The death toll on the Stockholm was five--all crew members who were in their quarters at the bow at the time of the accident.

But the number of survivors was the bigger story. In an amazing rescue effort involving several Coast Guard, Navy, and commercial boats as well as a French ocean liner that turned around to assist, almost 1,700 people were saved in the eleven hours before the Andrea Doria sank to the bottom of the ocean. And in an ironic twist, the crew of the wounded but still seaworthy Stockholm rescued many of them.

The pictures are incredible, but they are not in the public domain yet.** Although I might be able to claim fair use, I'd rather play it safe and refer you to the Internet to find them for yourselves. Or you can see them in Richard Goldstein's book, Desperate Hours.

The shipping companies and the insurer settled the case before it went to trial, so there was no formal finding of fault. From the sources I read, I think it was a combination of circumstances and human error.

But the greatest contributing factor may have been over reliance on technology. Either the radar was wrong or the crew misread it. The Titanic sank because everyone thought it was unsinkable, and the Andrea Doria sank because crew members on the two ships thought radar was infallible.

It isn't safe to put too much faith in technology.

_____

* If you want more information, I recommend Desperate Hours: The Epic Rescue of the Andrea Doria, by Richard Goldstein and Alive on the Andrea Doria: The Greatest Sea Rescue in History, by Pierette Dominica Simpson, who is one of the survivors. It is easier to follow the chain of events if you read Desperate Hours first.

** The picture at the head of this post was not taken on the Andrea Doria, but it is probably typical of the tourist class cabins of the time. The photo shows me with my mother and brothers on the Nova Scotia as we crossed the Atlantic Ocean heading to England (on our way to the Middle East) in September 1957, just over a year after the Andrea Doria sank.

No Survivors

At 2:10 a.m. on October 24, 1918, the Princess Sophia ran aground on Vanderbilt Reef in Lynn Canal, which is part of Alaska's Inner Passage. The ship stayed there, firmly wedged in the rocks, for almost 40 hours before the wind and the waves changed course and sent the severely damaged ship to its death. During that time, the 278 passengers and 65 crew members watched other boats circling the wreck and waited to be rescued. And yet, there were no survivors.*

I've been doing research on maritime disasters, and I thought it would be interesting to blog on some of them. So this week and the next two I will talk about the sinking of three passenger ships that generated a lot of press at the time, but whose stories have been eclipsed by the 100 year anniversary of the Titanic.

The picture shows the Princess Sophia around 1912, shortly after she was built.** She was 245 feet long and could carry up to 500 passengers with special permission, although her normal capacity was 250.

The Princess Sophia made regular runs between Vancouver, Canada and Skagway, Alaska from late spring through early fall. In October, many residents of Alaska and the Yukon went "outside" for the winter, much as the Florida snowbirds head south today. In 1918, many felt lucky to have tickets on the Princess Sophia for one of the last trips out by water.

The passengers on that fateful trip ranged from gold miners and laborers to politicians and businessmen and their families. The passenger manifest included 37 women and 18 children.

Not long after the Princess Sophia left Skagway, it ran into a blinding snowstorm. Captain Locke had experienced white-out conditions before, and he did not slow down. So when he got off course and ran into Vanderbilt Reef, the ship went right up onto the rocks and stuck fast.

The Princess Sophia put out a distress call and was soon surrounded by would-be rescuers. But the reef and the gale conditions made it impossible for those boats to get close. Captain Locke considered putting his passengers into lifeboats but was concerned that they would capsize in the raging waves and the occupants would drown--something that had happened recently in another shipwreck. Since the Princess Sophia was firmly wedged in the rocks of the shallow reef, he decided to stay put until the weather calmed down. Several high tides passed without budging the ship, which seemed to confirm his judgment.

But late in the afternoon of October 25, the wind shifted and pushed the ship off the rocks. With the huge gashes cut into the hull by the original grounding, the Princess Sophia never had a chance. And because of the stormy conditions and the darkness, the would-be rescuers could only pray for the passengers' safety. A prayer that God answered in his own way, but not as the rescuers hoped.

The official inquiry concluded that the accident was nobody's fault and the decision to wait before evacuating the passengers was a judgment call that could have gone either way. But the politicians in Washington may share part of the blame. For years, Alaskan shipping interests had been asking for a light on Vanderbilt Reef, and their pleas had gone unanswered. After the Princess Sophia sank, they finally got their light.

Why do so few people remember the Princess Sophia? I think it is because there are no survivor stories to add to the romance.

But I would love to know what the passengers thought and did as they were trapped on the stranded ship.

_____

* If you want more information, I recommend The Sinking of the Princess Sophia: Taking the North Down With Her, by Ken Coates and Bill Morrison.

*** I got the picture from Wikipedia, which says the photographer is unknown. The photo is in the public domain.