| THE WRECK OF THE BENVENUE | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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This long and detailed account of two wrecks within hours of each other is written by the editor of the Hythe Reporter in November 1891. A fearful storm swept over our shores during the night of Tuesday, and continued unabated till 4 o'clock the next day. Our little town was thrown into such a state of excitement that business was almost paralysed. To attempt to give the experience of everybody would be impossible, and therefore I will merely give an account of what I saw and what I have been able to gather, and I trust my readers will allow me to tell the tale in my own poor way, and if it sounds somewhat egotistical I hope my readers will be generous and overlook my shortcomings in that respect. At about quarter to seven I was awakened by somebody ringing the bell and calling for me; then, bearing in mind the howling of the wind I came to the conclusion that some catastrophe at sea had occurred, and I was right in my conjecture, as a messenger had been sent to ask me to go and see four Frenchmen who had been brought ashore from a wreck, and who could not make themselves understood. I lost no time in making my way to John Benton's at the bottom of Stade Street, and found that the men had left there and gone on to the Coastguards' Station. At about quarter to seven I was awakened by somebody ringing the bell and calling for me; then, bearing in mind the howling of the wind I came to the conclusion that some catastrophe at sea had occurred, and I was right in my conjecture, as a messenger had been sent to ask me to go and see four Frenchmen who had been brought ashore from a wreck, and who could not make themselves understood. I lost no time in making my way to John Benton's at the bottom of Stade Street, and found that the men had left there and gone on to the Coastguards' Station. |
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The foam at the Stade was coming over the full like large flakes of snow, and at one place was two feet high. At the Coastguards' Station I found two of the Frenchmen, in Mr Hennessey's, the brave coxswain of the Hythe Lifeboat; the other two were in another house. The mate told me that their vessel - a schooner from Bordeaux, the Edir (or some such name as that) - under Capt. Joridic, with a cargo of grain, struck the beach at about four o'clock, and almost immediately went to pieces. The crew consisted of the captain, his wife, cabin boy and four men. The latter were brought ashore by a line thrown them by Hennessey, but the captain, his wife and cabin boy disappeared in the waves. Hennessey thus describes the occurrence:
Hennessey says that iron ladders ought to be immediately placed between the groynes along the South-Eastern sea-wall, as at present the shore at that spot is nothing but a death-trap. There is no doubt that they are needed. They have them at Sandgate, where the wall is nothing like so high. The Frenchmen had no clothing but what was lent them, and no shoes. They were anxious to go and see what had become of the captain and his wife, and they wanted boots. I told them that I would go and see about some clothing for them, and would return. I then went to Mr Wilks, as the president of the Hythe Lifeboat Institution, and informed him of the state of affairs. Mr Wilks commissioned me to get what was necessary. I then went to Mr Lovick, who I find is the Shipwrecked Mariners Society's agent here, and I told him. Mr Lovick immediately went off to the men and I followed him later on with some clothing. On arriving at the Coastguards' Station I found that the poor men had departed before Mr Lovick's arrival. They had gone off without shoes or stockings, and had only some oilskins belonging to the coastguards. The men went along the shore towards Sandgate, where their wants were kindly attended to my Mr Steadman of the Fountain Inn, and send on in a fly to Folkestone. Soon after I heard the men had gone, I saw the Hythe lifeboat being taken to the shore to be launched to save the crew of the ship 'Benvenue' of Glasgow, with a crew of 32 and a general cargo bound for Sydney. The ship had struck about the same time as the schooner, and was lying off Wellington Terrace, Sandgate. About seven she sunk, but remained in an upright position, with the masts high up above the water, about 400 yards from the shore. The crew took to the rigging, and sheltered themselves in some of the sails on the lower yardarm of the mizzen mast. One of the men fell off into the water, but was drowned on nearing the shore. The Hythe lifeboat put off at Seabrook at about seven o'clock, but the attempt was unsuccessful, and it came ashore broadside on. The boat was then brought on to Hythe, when it was very successfully launched by means of the hauling-off line. The scene at this moment was very exciting [Ed. this meant 'moving']. It was pitiable to witness the farewells between husband, wife and children as the men started on their perilous voyage. One poor woman stood trembling and pleading with her husband not to go; but he pointed to the wreck and said, 'There's women and children aboard' and took his place in the boat. Another young wife, only married a short six months, and had only been quartered at the station a fortnight ago, was hysterical. Poor woman! She is now a widow. Her fears were but too truly realised. At about a quarter past nine, the lifeboat shot into the water amid the cheers of the crowd. When she got about 200 yards from the shore, a sail was hoisted, and shortly afterwards, to the horror of all, she was seen to capsize, throwing all her crew into the water. The names of the crew are as follows:
Brave men, all of them, ready to lay down their own lives to rescue others. There they are now struggling in the water, with the sea running mountains high. Will they all reach the shore alive, or are some to receive a watery grave? I had got as far as the Baths when I heard Tommy Stickells say 'She's capsized!' Back I went, and opposite Ormonde Terrace I saw a sight which I hope I may never see again - a dozen black heads just showing above the water and rapidly nearing the dreadful breakers. Elliott, Fielder, Oaten and Doolan all managed to get back into the lifeboat when she righted herself. The brave Hennessey, who had, a few hours before saved four lives, was now in danger of losing his own. His previous exertions were now telling upon him, and as he neared the shore he managed to grasp the lifeline and shouted 'If there is anybody aboard, save me for God's sake!'. He was then dragged in, and the boat, with its five occupants, got to shore safely. I saw nothing of this though, but have described it as Fielder told me. My attention was diverted to the others, who all reached the surf nearly simultaneously. Mustering up what little courage I possessed I prepared to do what I could for the poor men. Close beside me, in the waters, were Mr Evans of Seabrook, and Charlie Austen, and many others, all ready to seize the men as soon as they dared. Soon we got hold of one man and pulled him out of the surf; then we got hold of another and got him safely ashore. I then managed to seize hold of a third, but a wave came and knocked me down with the man on the top of me. I felt pretty helpless just then, with the water surging over me, but somebody pulled us ashore safely. I then had time to look about me. All along the beach, a few yards distant from each other, lay the rescued man, and Ambulance-Sergt Williams was very busy rendering assistance in the way of First Aid. Dr Hackney was also present later on. East, Kneale, and one or two others were pulled out in a very exhausted condition. Had they remained in the water a little longer, they would have succumbed. All had now been got ashore save one, poor Charles Fagg, whose wife I have already mentioned. I did not see him at all, but I am told that his cork belt came off him, that Smale and somebody else nearly got hold of him. If Smale had had a line round him he would have rescued the poor fellow, but to get in those fearful breakers was a risky performance. Poor fellow! he soon had to give up the struggle for life, and threw up his arms and disappeared. It was a dreadful sight to see. It is a mercy, however, that more were not drowned. Had it been night-time, or had there not been so many ready and willing to help, very few would have survived. I don't know the names of all those who rendered help; I wish I did, but among them were B T Winnifrith, Rev Winnifrith, Collier, Ernest Wilks, Fred Brett (who saved Jack Kneale), Tommy Stickells, Dick Crump, George Vile, Jack Griffey sen. and Harry Griffey, Hamilton, Jim Carter, W Rowsell, F I Curtis, Harry Evenden, J P Shilston, Jack Griggs (who rushed in and saved his brother Bill, who was almost done for, and after that, dashed in again and brought out a coastguard), - there, it's no use, I can't mention them all. I am requested by Hennessey the coxswain, on behalf of the lifeboat crew, to thank all those kind ladies and gentlemen who so thoughtfully sent spirits to the lifeboat men and for taking them into their houses. Among these I must not forget Mrs and Miss Porter, who almost insisted upon him occupying a bed in their house, and Mrs Ashdown, 1 Marine Parade, and Mrs Pilbrow and others who took the men into their houses. It will not be out of place to record the valuable assistance rendered by Arthur Williams, and other members of the late ambulance class. It only testifies to the value of the St John Ambulance Society. Dan West was most conspicuous with his bottle of brandy, and I have personally to thank him for a 'swig'. I ought previously have mentioned that poor Fagg was a non-swimmer, and that he called out repeatedly after being thrown into the water 'I cannot swim!' and it seemed [...illegible] he gave himself up for lost from the start. As there was nothing further to be done, I went home, got a change of clothes and went to a Town Council meeting, but that I found was adjourned, as so few attended. That was not at all surprising, as everybody was full of the catastrophes. I then accompanied the Mayor and Mr Wilks to Sandgate, as I wanted to know how the poor sailors in the rigging were faring. First of all we visited the scene of the lifeboat accident. There lay the boat, high and dry on the beach, and here I met Sergt Jordan, who had been commissioned by Capt Murphy to offer the assistance of the troops at the School. Mr Wilks immediately accepted the offer, and later on a hundred men were pulling the lifeboat on to its carriage. The force of the wind at this moment was that of a hurricane, so that one could scarcely stand. We now made our way towards Sandgate. This was about midday. On arriving there, a most exciting scene was to be witnessed. There was the vessel, with the crew still in her rigging, with thousands of spectators on shore powerless to help. Just below the hospital, on the roadway, a field-piece belonging to the 52nd Battery, RA, was standing, with its muzzle pointing towards the wreck. They were about to send a line over to her by attaching it to an uncharged shell. Presently a loud report was heard, and the shot struck just between the main and mizzen masts; but alas, the sudden jerk snapped the line at the muzzle mouth. A second time this was tried but with a like result In the afternoon rockets were fired from the gun, but every time, the line broke. At last a [illegible...] with a similar result. Finding it useless, the gun was returned to the camp. Then the Folkestone rocket apparatus arrived, and they tried from the shore to throw a line over. The first went beyond the vessel, but it struck too far to the right. A second went right between the two hind masts and took the rope with it. A loud cheer broke from the crowd, but the line was found to be broken. Soon a man descended from the crosstrees with the object of getting hold of the rope, but he was signalled back by a flag from the shore. This gave the people hope, but it began to give way to despair as shot after shot failed, and the the night was fast coming on, and with the darkness it seemed as if the men would succumb to the cold and hunger and perish. I then suggested to Mr Jones that it would be a good plan to light a bonfire, to let the crew see they were not forgotten, and to cheer them up a little. Mr Jones threw heart and soul into the idea and lost no time in carrying it out. He soon got a collection of wood, and as the darkness came on the pile was in a blaze. Willing hands kept bringing more fuel, and conspicuous among them was Mr Tom Jeal who brought loads of faggots. If anything could be done, Mr Jones was ready to do it. His voice was heard to be directing on every side. Twice he risked his life at the first launch of the lifeboat by rendering assistance in the [illegible...] the rocket [illegible...] was now given up, and eager eyes scanned the horizon for a sight of the Dover tug or the Littlestone lifeboat - both of which were expected. I have since learned that the tug was unable to get out of the harbour, and that the the telegram for the Littlestone boat was not delivered until 4 o'clock, owing to the wires being broken. At half past six we were as far off from a rescue as ever. Yet the wind had considerably abated and its strength decreased hourly. At this time I heard some Folkestone fishermen say they would go and have a look at the Hythe lifeboat with a view to putting off. I followed them. When we got to the boathouse, it was found to be locked up. They asked me if the boat was in there. 'Yes,' said I, for I had heard in the afternoon that she had been brought back from Hythe. 'Well, ain't there nobody in charge?' I replied that they had better see Mr Jones, and he would take the responsibility of them breaking the place open. We went back towards the fire and luckily, happened to meet Mr G S Wilks. I explained to him that the men were anxious to put off to the wreck. He at first argued that it was not possible to launch the boat, but finally agreed to their putting off, provided they chose their own crew. He then asked me to get the keys of the lifeboat house from the Sandgate Coastguards' station, which I gladly did, in quick time, thanks to Mr Elliott's fly. By the time we reached the boathouse, a dense crowd had collected around it, clamouring to get in, but no one was permitted to get in but those chosen by Leadtner [?], the Folkestone fisherman who was to be in charge of the lifeboat crew. The scene was exciting in the extreme. A cry of 'Folkestone fishermen wanted to man the lifeboat' was raised, and as they came in one by one, hearty cheers were given them. 'Here's another, here's another,' was shouted. Only Folkestone fishermen were allowed in, except Sadler, the 2nd cox. If a hundred volunteers had been wanted they would easily have got them. One man in particular went on finely because he was made to give up his cork jacket. In twenty minutes the boat was hauled out by the crowd of soldiers and civilians, and it appeared as if the boat would have been the water in a few minutes, but the utmost difficulty was experienced in getting her over the faggots on to the beach. Two hours passed, weary, weary hours: it seemed an eternity. The hero, Hennessey, had since arrived on the scene, and was now in charge of the boat. Brave Tom Watson had also clambered aboard and demanded to go, but he was induced to leave her; but more of this anon. Just about that time, Wright Griggs attempted to swim off to the vessel with a line round him, but he was restrained. However, he was allowed to go out in the lifeboat. A little after nine, with a ringing cheer, the Meyer de Rothschild, for the third time that day, shot into the water, with a crew of fifteen men. The sea was then much calmer and the moon was shining brightly. For an instant [illegible...] as they saw her rise and fall over one or two breakers. All fears were soon at rest, however, and cheer after cheer broke from the multitude. Up went a rocket from the shore, as a signal that the boat was safely launched. Five minutes later, and she was alongside the mizzen-mast and with anchor dropped. The one by one 27 men slid easily down the rope into the lifeboat, when they had brandy given the,. All were in very fair condition, and in good spirits, with the exception of one boy who was benumbed. Hennessey tells me that most of them were capable of helping themselves. Before the lifeboat arrived, the men had prepared themselves for the night as comfortably as possible, and had given up all thought of a rescue until daylight again appeared. Those who were drowned were the captain (who had just gone below when the vessel sank), 2 sailors, and 2 apprentices - that is, 5 out of a crew of 32. The crew were soon landed at Folkestone harbour, and were accommodated with beds at the Queens Hotel, in front of which a dense crowd had gathered. About twenty minutes after the lifeboat left the vessel, the Dover tug reached her, but of course the men were then all safely on their way to Folkestone. How I longed to see them land at Folkestone: to see them welcomed ashore by the thousands of people; and to grasp the hands of the men who had been 16 hours in the rigging, but I was tired, and returned home in company with Mr Wilks sen. who had been telegraphing here and there all day for assistance, and had done his utmost to save the men. Mr Wilks spoke in high terms of Watson's bravery. He told me that Watson came to him at seven in the evening and offered to get a crew together to go out, not knowing what was being done at Seabrook. Mr Wilks said he very much regretted that Watson was not permitted to make one of the crew again, and I am sure his regret was genuine.
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