When thirty ships were wrecked, and upwards of seventy sailors perished

The north-east coast of England has often been the scene of fearful disasters of the most thrilling character to sea-men, causing extensive destruction to life and property. The gale, which burst over that coast on Friday 10 th February, 1871 , will long be remembered with melancholy interest by the inhabitants of Bridlington Quay. There were scenes gazed upon in the bay which thrilled the hearts of thousands, and many felt the solemnity of death as they had not done before. The previous day was one of those mild and genial days which betoken an early and pleasant spring; the sun shone out brightly, the air was soft and balmy – the aspect of all things was beautiful; such weather led about 400 vessels, which had been wind-bound in the northern ports, to put to sea. The wind was favourably, about north-west. On the Thursday afternoon and evening at the various places along the coast, many persons gathered to behold with delight the large fleet of laden vessels bound south.

All went well until about 3 o'clock on Friday morning, when the sky presented wild and un-mistakable evidence of a change of wind and weather. About 4 o'clock the change became more visible; the wind rose and veered about. Suddenly a tempestuous storm came, rapidly increasing in intensity to a hurricane, accompanied with blinding sleet and snow. The ships which had up to this time been gliding majestically along the coast with the fine weather and the wind free, were now on a lee-shore in the teeth of a gale from the south-east. At 6 o'clock the wind had got to east-south-east, still accompanied by sleet and snow. At day-break a number of ships were seen in the offing , and from their appearance it was well known that unless the weather shortly moderated many of those deeply-laden labouring vessels could not remain long out at sea; and this fact having become known, impressed all with a belief that some sad spectacles would be witnessed before the day was over. Crowds gathered near the sheltered beach and harbour to gaze upon the wildness of the sea, though the blinding fall of snow made it impossible to peer far to seaward. Shortly after seven o'clock the life-boat and rocket apparatus were got ready for any emergency.

It would be impossible for pen to do justice to the sad scenes of that day – many were heart-rending. Seamen perished on all sides, within sight and hearing of pitying crowds who were powerless to save them. The fury of he storm seemed to burst principally over Bridlington Bay , and the sea in that bay, so very beautiful in its placid serenity on a calm summer day, was lashed into fury and became terribly appalling.

The first vessel in distress was south country barge – she failed to make the harbour, and drove near the sea wall which fronts the Esplanade, where were assembled crowds very different from those who promenade here in the summer season. The crew of the vessel took to the rigging as the sea broke heavily over them. The rocket apparatus, in the hands of five skilled coastguardsmen, made an ineffectual attempt to rescue the drowning men, and then one of the life-boats put out and safely brought the crew to land. The scene was harrowing and heart rending in the extreme.

About 10 o'clock , 5 vessels ran for the beach, on the north side of the harbour, all of which came on shore near the Spa wall. The excitement which now prevailed was intense and almost indescribable – vessel after vessel, powerless against the wind, was driven on shore, the crews in a perishing condition. The snow was now falling heavily at intervals. A cry ran along the pier and sea wall – “the life-boats!” The life-boats, with their crews in them, were shortly on their way to the wrecked vessels, amidst the cheers and encouragement of the bystanders on shore.

Surely the following lines, written by a sailor on the coast of Sussex in a gale of wind, were applicable to this heart-rending scene, and to these acts of bravery by the life-boat crews:-

Har, the beachy shore resounding,
Angry waves the cliffs o'erflow;
See yon ship – her crew is drowning,
Perils in the tempest blow.

Life-boat! Life-boat! Brave the billows,
Mothers cry, “Our children save:”
Bert a hand, my hearty fellows,
Save them from a watery grave.

See her spars and canvas riven,
Pumps are choked – all hope is past!
Noble tars look up to heaven,
God can hear and help at last,

See the life-boat onward urges,
Pull, my hearties, pull away!
Blessings on you – cut the surges
Grasp the sailor in the spray.

The two life-boats lost no time in putting out, and after great and praiseworthy efforts on the part of the life-boatmen, the five crews were brought ashore; the small lie-boat was instrumental in saving three crews comprising about twenty men, and the other boats, two crews. A smack belonging to Colchester afterwards stranded at Sewerby, but went well up the beach, and her crew walked ashore when the tide ebbed. Near to her a collier brig (laden) struck and smashed her bottom; her cargo slipped out, and the shattered hull drove up the beach; her crew took to their own boat to endeavour to get to the shore, the coastguards went up to their armpits in water and grasped the drowning men in the boat, and brought them safely to the land amidst the cheers of the spectators who thronged the beach. There were two life-boats at Bridlington-Quay – the “National Society's” boat, and a small private boat presented by Count Batthyany. It was gratifying and yet affecting to see the poor fellows landed from the wrecks, in some instances bringing with them bags of clothes drenched through and through with salt water. As the men stepped out of the life-boats on the beach, they met by men, women and children, who warmly greeted them on their narrow escape from death – some of the noble women assisted the men to carry their bags from the beach to a place of shelter, where they received the hospitality and kindness of the inhabitants.

About noon the crews of the boats were greatly exhausted, and much work remained to be done, for numerous vessels were in difficulties, while others threatened every moment to be placed in imminent peril. One poor fellow in Count Batthyany's boat was so much exhausted that it was feared he would die, and he had to be conveyed home; his place was soon supplied however, by D. Purdon, the builder of the boat. The small boat proceeded to a brig which was stranded on the south beach and the crew managed to land their shivering brethren amidst the applause of the hundreds of spectators. It was then observed that a brig – the Delta of Whitby – was on shore to the south of the harbour; four of her crew launched a boat, and attempted to reach the shore, but unhappily it was swamped by a terrific billow, and all the poor fellows met with a watery grave. Upon examination, however, it was discovered that one single individual, the Captain, was yet clinging to the doomed vessel, and the crew of the life-boat determined, if within the scope of human power, to save the solitary mariner. Alas! that we should have to say this noble crew attempted too much. The little boat, propelled by its daring band, sped on past the pier to the southward, alternately rising on the crest of a mighty swelling wave, and then sinking deep down into the abyss of the greedy ocean; at length they reached to stern of the vessel in safety, where the poor fellow was hanging to the chains. Each heart in the bosoms of the on-lookers beat fast, and many a fervent prayer was offered up for the safe execution of the difficult but noble task. Having got the boat up close under `the stern of the vessel, Robinson, the coxswain, told the man to watch, and, directly after the next wave had passed, to drop into the boat. That next wave was the last for many of them. Rising with terrific force it pitched the boat high up and then plunged it down end foremost into the boiling waters. And thus all these brave fellows who had risked so much to save the life of their fellow men, were in a moment struggling for their own; the boat speedily righted, and three of her crew clung to the ropes at her sides. Happily the succeeding wave to the one which had wreaked such destruction washed the three into the boat again, but the remaining six of the nine who had so recently left the shore full of life and hope, were consigned to the depths of the raging sea within sight of their relatives and friends – nay, within view of their homes; the three who had got into the boat again managed to bring her ashore and were saved. The names of those lost were:- Purdon, and a young man named Clappison, in his employ, William Cobb, R. Atkin, J. Watson, and R. Pickering. The three saved were:- J. Robinson, R. Hopper and R. Bedlington. Of course the poor fellow on the brig was also lost. The six who perished were well known and highly respected in Bridlinton-Quay, and their melancholy death under such painful circumstances, naturally cast a deep gloom over the quiet town, and carried sorrow and distress to many a happy home.

The men who were at work on the pier and sea wall endeavouring to save life were in a great measure dispirited by what had now happened. It was, however, absolutely necessary to do everything that was possible to save other men from sharing the same fate, as several other vessels were on shore, and the crews perished. In the afternoon, the ‘Vivid,' Captain Vary, which left Scarbro' on Thursday afternoon, in attempting to enter the harbour, drifted to the south , and was run ashore – the crew being saved by the life-boat. Captain Vary, who, singular to relate, had sailed without mishap for upwards of thirty years, met with a disaster during this fearful gale, which, he says, exceeded in violence any during his experience. In the afternoon, a brig, afterwards ascertained from papers washed ashore, to be the ‘Produce,' of Folkstone, struck close to the north side of the pier – indeed within about thirty yards of it. Her boat was lowered, and two of her crew at once got in, but it was swamped before leaving the vessels side, and its occupants pitched into the sea – one of them immediately sank to rise no more, but the other one swam manfully round to the outer end of the pier, witnessed by crowds who, although almost within arms reach, could render him no assistance. After bravely breasting the waves for some time, he succumbed to the insuperable power of the elements, while those on shore were almost frantic at their helpless position. The other four men comprising the crew made for the rigging, where their piteous appeals for help that never came were heart rending to hear. The rocket apparatus was brought the pier, and several shots were fired without avail. The men could be distinctly seen on the deck and in the rigging, looking out wistfully for some means to save them from drowning, the sea frequently making a complete breach over the vessel and the poor fellows as they showed their signals of distress; and for three mortal, terrible, heart-searching hours did those four human beings frantically appeal and stretch out their benumbed hands to those standing in safety within a few trifling yards of them. God spare us such another sight. About 4 o'clock , as the tide rose, the vessel began to violently reel to and fro, and with one terrible lurch towards the shore she turned over, and those eyes which had strained so yearningly towards that land which they were never to reach, had become closed in death. (The figurehead of this vessel is publicly placed near the dwelling of Captain Burkinshaw, Hilderthorpe)

But the work of destruction and the loss of human life were not finished. About 5 o'clock , a man was seen on the fore yard of a schooner near the pier, with a light as the last signal for help to those who could render him no assistance. The piercing cries of the drowning crews were frequently heard amidst the howling of the storm, and in the darkness, which had now set in. Women and children shrieked; men strong and stalwart wept; others sighed, some were speechless, and many prayed as the rocket line from the sea wall was fired towards the ships; brave women grasped the line to assist to pull it in, to be again sent out, to save, if possible, the drowning men. One poor fellow was seen in the water, by the gas lights, on a piece of wreck, but no help could be rendered to him, and he, with the remainder of the crews, succumbed about 7.30pm – the waves were their winding sheet, and the sea-shore their temporary grave.

Deep anxiety was depicted on every countenance of that vast multitude as they stood upon the sea wall. There was an entire absence of distinction of rank, and political or religious differences; every one was anxious to rescue the men in danger. There was no question of sect or party in that vast crowd; but there was a feeling, in wish, in effort, the manifestation of the brotherhood of man.

One touch of nature makes the world a-kin.

During the long dreary night the revolving beacon on Flamro' Head cast forth its flickering light. The following lines briefly describe its use to the mariner:-

Brightly from the beacon streaming,
Comes a light across the sea;
Through the darkness ever gleaming,
Warning sailors constantly,
Lest they here might find their graves,
Underneath the treacherous waves.

Light of mercy! still shine brightly,
Guiding vessels on their way;
May the rays direct them rightly,
Safe into the welcome bay;
From all fear of danger free,
Riding in security.

Far out to sea, during the night, signals of distress were seen; and it is believed that two vessels, at least, went down near Flambro' Head. That night was one of the most dreadful which has ever been known on the north-east coast of England . It is impossible to state how many vessels were really lost, and lives sacrificed.

The large number of rescued seamen were all well cared for, and were accommodated at the different hotels in the town.

The scene in the quiet streets of Bridlington-Quay was almost as drear as that on the beach, filled as they were by groups of poor sailors who had lost their all, and who were making their way to the station, about to be forwarded to their homes by the Shipwrecked Mariners' Society, whose agent, Mr J.W. Postill, is deserving of commendation for his kindness and energy in despatching them.

Shortly after 9 o'clock the brig I.M.O.D., Captain Dodson, of Hartlepool, coal laden, from Hartlepool to London, came into the harbour with loss of cookhouse, boats, galley, chain plate, &c., and struck ground just between the piers; her decks had been swept by the sea, and the men were at the pumps.

During Friday night, many persons never left the pier or the beach. As the tide went down and the storm abated and as the grey streaks of light began to indicate the approaching day – the beach presented an harrowing spectacle, not soon to be forgotten. Parts of ships' hulls, entangled spars, beams, sails, wood, coals, anchors, chains, ropes, &c. What a stern of reality it was, and how painfully it told of the dread work which had been done.

Closer to the pier were the bottoms and ribs of two or three vessels, but of what build it is impossible to say. A little further on was the ‘Vivid,' of Scarbro', lying upon her side, not apparently much the worse;next were the remains of a schooner, with her after-part gone, and having the name “Margaret” painted on her yards; it was afterwards ascertained to be the ‘Margaret' of Ipswich, Captain and owner, William Howard – four of the crew of this vessel were taken off by the life-boat, but the Captain and a sailor, named William Mills, made for the ship's boat, and were drowned. Further on, beyond the ‘Margaret,' were a brig and a schooner, and so we might continue the mournful list. Along the beach were scattered boats stove in, heaps of spars, sails and tackle, while here and there was a sou'wester, a boot, a torn chart, a solitary oar – probably last wielded by one pulling for dear life itself – all of which were calculated to raise up deep and sad reflections in the breast of the gayest, as one thought of the short period – but few hours – which had elapsed since their owners were in health and strength.

The wrecks on the north side of the pier were almost as numerous as on the opposite side. As most of the vessels were colliers, immense quantities of coal were washed ashore, and the poorer inhabitants were zealously at work gathering them up.

During Friday night, six men had been washed ashore amongst the fragments of wreck. They were discovered and conveyed to an inn (or a coach house provided for that purpose), where their clothes were taken off, and they were carefully and delicately washed and laid side by side, preparatory to being put into their coffins. During Saturday, seven others were found, and by Sunday evening nineteen men and youths were laid side by side, still in death.

The following is a list of the vessels which were lost or stranded, with particulars, as far as could be ascertained, from various crews:- Vessels wrecked, all hands saved – South Country barge, with three hands; fishing yawl, belonging to Scarbro', six; ‘Spinney,' of Shields, six; ‘Agility,' of Shields, six; ‘Echo,' of Shilds, six; ‘Bedside,' of Shields, four; ‘Windsor,' of Shields, six; ‘yare,' of Lynn, five; ‘Worthy,' of Lynn, seven; ‘Peri,' of Lynn, five; ‘Friends' Increase,' of London, five; ‘Squirrel,' of Whitby, four; ‘Rebecca and Elizabeth,' of Lowestoft, six; ‘Urina,' of Worcester, five; ‘Vivid,' of Scarbro', four.

‘Margaret,' of Ipswich, master and one hand drowned, four saved; ‘William Maitland,' of Whitby, only Captain saved (by his life-belt); ‘Caroline,' of Yarmouth, Captain and Mate saved, the remainder lost; ‘Arrow,' of Sunderland, three hands drowned, two killed by the falling of the mast when the vessel struck, the Mate died on shore, three saved; ‘Produce,' of Lowestoft, all hands drowned; ‘Delta,' of Whitby, all hands drowned; ‘Lavinia,' of Seaham, all hands drowned; ‘Endeavour,' of Seaham, all hands drowned. Several other ships it is supposed went down at sea with all on board. At Bridlington-Quay, o the 1 st April, there were 28 letters of enquiry for missing men and youths, who no doubt had been

Bewilder'd in the dead of night,
Upon a dangerous shore;
Not knowing where to steer aright,
Had sunk to rise no more.

News of the wrecks in Bridlington Bay was sent by telegram to various parts of the coast; and during Saturday, Sunday and Monday, many strangers arrived in the town, some being the relatives of the deceased. This led to the identification of many of the men, but a large number were not identified.

The Coastguard men, under Tyrrell, the chief boatman, were indefatigable in their exertions from 8.30am until night on Friday. During the day two of them rushed into the surf to catch a boat, and just got hold of it as the last poor fellow in it was washed out – their names were Gandon and Bishop. Mr Tyrrell gallantly got on board a vessel, and went up to the foretop to rescue a poor fellow, but found him frozen to death, and in descending, the deck had been stove in, and he fell into the hold, and thus sustained severe personal injury.

One of the bodies found was identified as James Watson, one of the life-boat crew. He had been three or four times in the little boat and had missed only one voyage in the series she went through. He had gone home to put on some dry clothes, and had no sooner done this than he was back at his post. He has left a widow to mourn his loss. Atkinson and Pickering were also married men, and have left several children. Clappison and Cobb were unmarried. Cobb had just finished an apprenticeship at sea, and was on a visit to his parents at Bridlington.

Nothing has been found to give a clue to the names of the four unknown vessels, broken up or foundered. A wheel cover, bearing the words, ‘Harmonia of Hamburg,' was washed ashore, but it is supposed to have been swept off the deck of some steamer. Amongst the articles picked up from the beach was a piece of wood, probably broken off and forecastle of one of the ill-fated vessels, and on which were boldly and beautifully carved the words “Swear not at all.” Immense crowds of people were brought by rail from various towns and stayed over-night; numbers kept moving about the sands, and in the evening the platform at the station was crowded with strangers as they waited for the late trains.

An inquest was held on Saturday night on the eleven bodies recovered during the day from the south side – all being strangers except Purdon. An adjourned inquest was held the Monday following before Mr J.M. Jennings, coroner, upon twelve bodies, viz.: ten strangers and James Watson and R. Atkin, life-boatmen. G. Richardson, Esq., Chief Lord, was foreman of the jury. The last body recovered had on it a medal, marked S.M.S. No 13, 884. Police-constable Wallington stated that he found two bodies at Auburn – both young men from 20 to 25. A Society medal was on the eldest, No 29,008; on the other, a paper Frimebury , Kent , written upon it. On one of the bodies found at Fraisthorpe was a solid gold ring, and a pocket book containing four sovereigns; this property was taken charge of by Mr T. Rounding. One of the bodies was eventually identified as Anthony Hindson, of Seaham. William Court of Folkestone, identified Captain Fisher, 44 years, master of the ‘Produce,' of Folkestone. This witness had a brother who was mate on board the same vessel, but could not identify him as being one of the bodies found. After hearing the evidence, the jury returned a verdict on the ten strangers of “found drowned.” In the case of Watson and Atkin, the following verdict was returned:- “Deceased sacrificed their lives in attempting to save a shipwrecked crew.”

THE FUNERALS OF THE DROWNED MEN

On Tuesday afternoon, the 14 th February, the quiet churchyard of Bridlington received twenty-three of the drowned sailors. Up to that period, twenty-five bodies had been recovered, including three life-boatmen; and the whole of these, with the exception of the latter`, were laid in the back premises of the “Albion Inn,” as being the nearest public-house in the parish of Hilderthorpe. The task of preparing so many corpses for interment was by no means an easy one, especially in the limited space at disposal, and tried to the utmost the kindly efforts of the willing workers, who displayed no sign of weariness or fatigue over their peculiarly melancholy duties. During the last day or two many strangers had arrived in the town; some were relatives of the deceased.

The first sight which struck the visitor on entering the yard behind the “ Albion ,” at Hilderthorpe, was the drenched clothes which had been removed from the bodies of the unfortunate seamen, hanging upon a line of rails. Many of these were scarcely deserving the name of clothes, so tattered and totally were they destroyed, whilst most of them were thoroughly saturated with salt water and covered with sand. These tokens of the direful tragedy which had been so recently enacted on our rugged coast, brought forcibly and vividly to mind a painfully accurate yet true perception of the great and unrestrainable workings of the mighty ocean. How insignificant the efforts of men compared with its ungovernable strength.

The scenes attending the shipwrecks had been terribly heartrending in themselves, but this mute gathering of its victims, the fruits of its dread work, was the one drop added to the already bitter cup. We had looked upon the dreadful havoc wrought among the shipping – we had viewed those valuable vessels reduced to tinder almost in the twinkling of an eye, and their cargoes scattered abroad – but all this was merely so much pecuniary loss to individuals, which might ere long be replaced. Here, however, in this inanimate group, which the sea in the midst of all its foaming and writhing had at length consented to give up to us – in this silent assembly, placidly serene in death, whose composed countenances seemed to remind us that there was a Power even above the ocean itself; in them was the representation of that loss to us which all the world could not replace nor wealth repurchase. Many of these departed ones were utter strangers to those present – of many the places of their origin was not even known – and yet great strong men, who had braved many a storm, made no secret of their grief as they gently and carefully arranged these, their brothers of the sea, for the last sad obsequies. The plain black coffins had been completed – an undertaking which had taxed the energies of all concerned – and now the bodies were arranged in tiers in the outhouse referred to. Most of the drowned men were strong muscular looking men, and the majority apparently below the middle age.

It need scarcely be said that some truly sorrowful scenes took place in that otherwise quiet and unpretentious looking outhouse – in that first and last meeting upon this earth between the living and the dead. By far the most distressing was that of a mother on recognising the dead body of her son, 19 years of age. So poignant was her grief, and so piteously did she call upon her “darling boy,” that some of those present had to forcibly but kindly restrain her motherly grief, and remove her from the presence of the dead. There were few of those present who did not fully comprehend the catastrophe, and on the news of his death being transmitted to his parents, his father became seriously ill, and had not then recovered.

The names of those identified were as follows:-

Captain Anthony Hindson, of the ‘Lavinia,' of Seaham; Captain Flisher, of the ‘Produce,' of Folkestone; Captain Howard, of the ‘Margaret,' of Ipswich; Captain William Calvert, of the ‘Delta,' of Whitby; Simon Butterwick (his first voyage), seaman, and Richard Lindup, apprentice on the same vessel; Martin Burke, Hatlepool, mate of the ‘William Maitland;' a seaman named Thompson; and a coloured man belonging to the ‘Produce.'

Papers belonging to the ‘Teresitz,' of Harwich, were washed on shore. It is supposed this crew was the unknown schooner that was wrecked and crew drowned under the sea wall. An indenture was picked up – the contracting parties being “James Hodgman, of Whitby , and John Gourley.” A pair of trousers, marked on the waistband, “J. Hurley, 30,” and a child's blue dress, were also picked up.

The vessels in the harbour had their colour half-mast high.

What mean the colours half-mast high?
Say, have we lost a brother tar?
“The living know that they must die;”
“There's no discharge in this dread was.”

What mean the colours half-mast high?
The soul has left its shiv'ring clay:
Come, Brother Seaman, heave a sigh,
And mourn a sailor's dying day.

What mean the colours half-mast high?
A shipmate into port is driven:
His soul is gone beyond the sky,
And doom'd to hell, or raised to Heaven.

How oft the colours half-mast high?
Proclaim the ravages of death!
Haste, Sailor, haste, to Jesus fly,
And on “His breast” resign thy breath.

Ere long the colours half-mast high,
Will tell the fleet my soul has fled:
Lord save, Oh! save me when I die,
And messmates say “Alas, he's dead!”

And when the colours half-mast high,
Shall draw the crew around my bier,
Redeem'd by Christ in Heaven I'll cry,
“O'er grave and death I triumph here.”

Then raise your colours half-mast high,
In every ship across the main;
And tell the world “I mound, I fly,”
And shout the Lamb who once was slain.

Hand-bills were issued by the Lord of the Manor, calling upon all tradesmen to close their places of business during the time of the funerals. This was scarcely necessary, however, for never perhaps did any body of people display a more genuine and spontaneous desire to mitigate the effects and assuage the sorrow attending the catastrophe – indeed, it may be said that when the sad calamity visited the town there was virtually a suspension of business; everybody was engrossed in the one thought of serving the cause. Among no section of the community, probably, does that deep and universal feeling of sympathy with distress exist in more eminent a degree than among our seafaring population. The secret of this will doubtless be found in the fact that all are constantly brought, either directly or indirectly, into contact with the hardships and perils which beset a seaman's life, while many of them can look to some vacant seats in their households rendered void by the fury of the sea. Thus while inured to these dangers and privations, our seamen become physically harder than their fellow men, but yet endowed with that fine sensitiveness and manly sympathy which can appreciate and feel for the sufferings of others. Brave and daring to recklessness, yet kind and gently as a child – ignoring, almost spurning, all that is refined or effeminate, they are endowed with noble impulsive emotions to which refined society is a total stranger. In them we seem to have the exemplification of Tennyson's words –

True hearts are more then coronets.

What better proof have we of this than in the fact that six of the strong robust inhabitants of this unpretending little town laid down their lives to save their fellow men – “Sacrificed their lives in attempting to save a shipwrecked crew.” What an enviable, what a soul-inspiring epitaph to decorate their early graves. If their loss brought grief and sadness, theirs was a deed to which the future generation of Bridlington may well refer with honest pride – they have added laurels to their crown of glory more precious by far then that achieved by the conquests of Kings. May the thought that they fell in the performance of so self-denying, heroic a duty, bring consolation to the bereaved – to the orphan and the widow!

The hour appointed for the funeral procession to start was two o'clock , but long before that time every shop had been closed, and every window had its drawn blind. The day was fine and agreeable, the sun shone forth at intervals, and altogether bore a striking contrast to the weather of the previous week. Photographs of the deceased strangers had been taken with a view to identification. The coffins containing the corpses of those who were not natives of the place were conveyed to their last resting-place upon rolleys, in consequence of their great number, and the distance to the Parish Church at Bridlington. Many thousands of people assembled in the vicinity, whose mournful and subdued demeanour bespoke the melancholy event which was about to take place. All the arrangements having been completed, and the procession formed at the top of King-street, it stayed a moment to enable a photograph to be taken, and then the solemn funeral cortege moved slowly off in the following order:-

PROCESSION

Chief Lord of the Manor (George Richardson, Esq.)
And H. Frost, Esq.
Mr Tyrell, Chief Officer of the Coastguards.
Mr Brambles, Lloyds Agent.
Mr Porrett, Agent of the National Life-boat Institution.
Mr Postill, Agent of the Shipwrecked Mariner's Society.
Medical Gentlemen, and Ministers of all demominations.
Tradesmen of the town.
Committee and Members of the Sailors' Working Men's Club.
Mr C. Dales, Sailors' Missionary of the Port of Hull Society.
The Members of Bridlington Amicable Society.
James Watson's body, carried by Life-boat men; coffin covered with the Union Jack. Cabs and relatives
The Members of the Ancient Order of Foresters.

Next followed the most distressing sight – six rolleys bearing 22 Captains and Seamen, the coffins being covered with Union Jacks and other colours.

Next the Cabs with relatives and friends.

The procession proceeded along Prospect-street, and on toward Bridlington. At each step the dense concourse of people increased until at length it swelled into what appeared an endless living stream. All were downcast and sad, and many weather-beaten cheek was wet with tears. Ever and anon a face bathed in tears would peep from the side of a drawn blind of the windows on the line of route. None attempted to conceal their grief – old grey-haired men and women declared that they had never before seen such a sigh and hoped they would never live to see another. Gradually, the procession approached the place of its destination, and as it entered the streets of Bridlington, locomotion was almost stopped by the dense mass of people. Passing under the arch-way of the old Baylegate the gates of the Parish Church were reached, and the crowd respectfully stood aside to allow the procession to pass in. it is doubtful whether such an immense gathering, and for such a purpose, was ever before witnessed within the stately cathedral-like Parish Church . The work of removing the coffins into the Church was one of some difficulty, but there were plenty of willing hands to assist; and they were at last ranged upon forms at each side of the entrance. The Vicar (Rev. Fred. H. Barnes), and his Curates, performed the solemn service of the Church. The usual lessons and prayers having been read, the procession re-traced its steps. The Dead March from the organ was being played to good effect, while many were moved to tears. The spot selected for the internment was in the piece of ground given by Captain Beauvais, and in this a large grave had been formed at the north-east corner, near the rails, for the reception of nineteen of the coffins, while three of the Captains were buried separately in one grave, and Watson in another. The coffins having at length been ranged in two rows, three in height, the service proceeded. Probably never was the true import of those potent words – “In the midst of life we are in death,” more fully realized than when uttered by the venerable Vicar, standing upon that heap of newly-riven earth, and looking down into that large cavity which contained all that was mortal of so many human beings suddenly cut off in the midst of health, and strength, and hope.

The scenes at the graves were truly appalling and beyond description – fathers, mothers, brothers, and other relatives taking a last long farewell of their loved ones, and expressing their grief with piteous cries, wails and tears. The mother from a distance again created a painful scene as the body of her boy was deposited in the chasm – “my darling boy,” “my darling boy,” was reiterated again and again by that affectionate and broken-hearted mother. It is said that some present would have faced death itself, if by so doing they could have given her back her darling boy. At last the solemn burial service was finished, - weeping friends and many other persons lingered a short time around the graves. The earth soon covered the sleeping forms. The assembly gradually dispersed, and the shades of night rapidly set in, to cover a spot which will mark the terrible effects of the fearful gale in Brildington Bay , on February 10 th , 1871 , when the life-boat capsized, and 6 of her crew were drowned; more than 30 ships were wrecked, and upwards of 70 sailors lost their lives.

A word of praise is due to all who took part in carrying out the arrangements, and to the kindness and hospitality evinced by all classes of the community. The people at Bridlington and Bridlington-Quay did all in their power to save the crews from the wrecks, and to comfort those who were left behind sorrowing for their late beloved husbands, fathers, sons and brothers.

The widow of James Watson (one of the men drowned by the upsetting of the life-boat) was unable to bear the shock of her bereavement; she became a raving maniac and had to be removed to the lunatic asylum. She died in a few days, and now sleeps with her husband in one grave at Bridlington.

It fell to the lot of Mr Sharrah, who witnessed this sad storm to convey articles taken from the drowned men to several of their widows and mothers in the north. The scenes witnessed when he laid upon the table the things he had brought, can only be imagined – language fails to describe them. A subscription list was opened at Bridlington, which was liberally responded to in various parts of the country, to reward the brave life-boat crews, and to alleviate in some measure the bereaved widows and orphans.

Previous engagements prevented Mr Sharrah from remaining at Bridlington to hold religious services and comfort, as far as possible, the broken-hearted widows. The committee of the Port of Hull Society at once instructed Mr C. Dales to do this important work; and while God was speaking in the tempest to the hearts and consciences of the inhabitants, he held a number of appropriate services in the various places of worship in the town. It is scarcely necessary to state that the various ministers of the town improved this calamity. The sermon by the Rev. J. Dickinson, F.R.S.L., was published by request and has had a large circulation.

A widow of one of the drowned men who was afterwards found on the beach, sent the following letter as an expression of gratitude. The letter tells its own story.

12 Olive-street, Hartlepool , April 25 th , 1871

I am at a loss to express as I really would my gratitude to Mrs Saggs and the kind people of Bridlington-Quay, for their kindness and assistance under my present trying circumstances. My dear departed husband was one of the crew of the brig, ‘Delta,' of Whitby , which vessel was lost and all her crew, near Bridlington-Quay, on the 10 th February last. On April 12 th Mrs Saggs telegraphed to Hartlepool , to say a body had been found, and that the Fishermen and Shipwrecked Mariners' Society medal bag was marked ‘T. Jameson, of Hartlepool .' Mrs Saggs' brother immediately informed me, and very kindly replied for me, describing my inability to perform the journey, also my circumstances, desiring Mrs Saggs to see the body of my dear husband interred, which was very kindly attended to on the 13 th inst.; and to my grateful surprise, I received on the 14 th inst., by post order from Mrs Saggs, contributed by other friends and herself, the sum of £1 11s 6d; also by rail, carriage paid, the following articles, which were found on the neck and in the pockets:- medal bag, medal, knife, tobacco pouch and a sixpence; also a kind letter with particulars of the funeral, &c; and on the following day another kind letter enclosing a few more shillings in postage stamps. A space in your valuable paper will give me the desired of returning my sincere thanks to all friends for the above-named kindness, and will also oblige

Your humble servant

L. JAMESON

In the churchyard at Bridlington a monument has been erected by public subscription, and placed near to where the bodies are interred, so as to perpetuate to future generations this melancholy story. The monument consists of four sides. The south side contains the names of those who lost their lives in the ‘Harbinger,' while nobly endeavouring to save those whose rest here, viz:- Robert Puckering, John Clappison, Richard Atkin, James Watson, David Purdon and William Cobb. On the east side is inscribed as follows:- “In lasting memory of a great company of seamen who perished in the fearful gale which swept over Bridlington Bay , on February 10 th , 1871 . The waves of the sea are mighty and rage horribly, but the Lord who dwelleth on high is mightier.” On the north side are the names of the vessels, viz:- ‘The Arrow,' of Sunderland; ‘Caroline,' of Whitby; ‘John', Whitstable; ‘Lavinia,' Seaham; ‘Delta,' Whitby; ‘Margaret', Ipswich; ‘Produce', Folkestone; ‘Terestz', Harwich; ‘William Maitland,' Whitby; and an unknown English schooner, were wrecked on the 10 th of February 1871, with loss of life, in Bridlington Bay. Thirteen other vessels were lost in the bay in the same gale.' On the west-side, “Forty-three bodies of those who on that day lost their lives lie in this churchyard, near this monument.”

Since the terrible storm a new life-boat, the ‘Sea Gull,' has been given to Bridlington-Quay; and Captain Burkinshaw ad Mr P. Anderson have invented and patented a reversible life-boat, which will float on either side with the same capacity and buoyancy. If all our passenger, steam, and sailing ships carried these reversible boats, we should hear of but few of those fearful losses of hundreds of lives at sea, for want of boats to live in the gale, and to convey the passengers from the sinking vessel.

This affecting narrative suggests many important lessons. After the storm, a minister asked one of the life-boat men if cork jackets and life preservers were not provided for the six men who were drowned from the life-boat, to prevent them from sinking in case of being thrown into the sea. The man in reply said, “that there were jackets, but that they had been neglected, and were not fit for use when wanted on the morning of the gale.” How brave to venture without the life-belts, but how sad the result!

Reader! Thou art sailing over the sea of time toward the shores of eternity; and the day is coming when thy frail barque will be overtaken by the storm of sickness, and thy body will sink in the waves of death! But how about they soul? Christ only can safely guide thee over the heaving sea of life. He only can keep thee from sinking beneath the dark surgin waves of sin. He only can enable thee to plant thy feet upon the eternal shore. Embrace Him, and thou wilt realize the truth of God's words – “When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee.”

The following lines were composed by Mr J. Horsley, of Darlington , shortly after the gale:-

The moon shone forth with a soft silver light,
On the deep blue sea, and the stars were bright,
The beautiful ship, and the gay gallant barque,
Sailed safely along by the dim tidal mark;
While the watch paced the deck, with a keen piercing eye,
Saluting his friends as each sail glided by,
But soon overhead, dark clouds gathered fast,
And shrill through the clouds blew the wint'ry blast;
The Petrel shrieked out as the tempest rose high,
And thunder-bolts rolled through the fierce riven sky.
Then the sailor-boy prayed for a speedy return,
Of the first streaks of light, and the long-coming morn;
But as they came forth, came the fierce boiling foam,
And the mariner sighed for his loved ones at home;
For the angry sea, and the wild frantic wave,
Threatened every man with a watery grave;
And they struggled for life as the waves swept the deck,
While topsails and gallant yards cumbered the wreck.
Now, far on the cliffs of that rock-bound shore,
Thousands were seen, as for help they implore,
For the winds and the waves in madness hurl on,
Until ships and their crews for ever are gone;
And others lie stranded, as fierce blows the gale,
While the stout hearts of brave men are seeming to fail;
And the death-cry of gallant men, battling for life,
Bring sighs from the shore in that deadly strife,
But the Life-boat! the Life-boat! with her gallant crew,
Is mounting the waves and cutting them through;
And many a sailor comes safely to land,
By courage and daring of that noble land,
Again they contend with the white-crested wave
And haste to the rescue, poor wrecked ones to save –
A cry, loud and high, o'er the fierce wind is heard,
The men of the Life-boat are all overboard,
Then tears over weather-beaten faces flowed fast,
And wives see their own ‘mid the wild waters cast,
And sorrow is felt where hope shone so bright,
While wrecked ones are lost for ever from sight;
And dear ones at home will truly bewail,
The losses sustained through that terrible gale,
For high on the beach lies the cold pallid form
Of many a sailor just lost in the storm.
The mother is seen bending over her boy,
Bewailing the loss of her tenderest joy;
While others are there for strangers to mourn, -
No mother to watch where their bodies are bourne, -
Bur Sharrah, the sailor's friend, prayerfully tries,
To point the bereaved to a home in the skies,
And tells them of Jesus, the sailor's best friend,
Whom he trusts there to meet when life's voyage shall end.
Then pity the orphan boy, give him your aid;
Help the bereaved ones, and with joy you'll be paid;
For the Good One, who watches the tear and the sigh,
With blessings tenfold your life will supply.

AWFUL WRECK AT FLAMBRO' HEAD

Identification and burial of the crew

The ‘Galway Lass' was built in 1839, being registered at 198 tons; she was classed in 1873 for four years A.E. I, and re-surveyed on the 8 th May, 1875 , in the same class. She sailed from Sunderland early on Thursday morning, the 14 th , with a cargo of coals for Dieppe . The crew consisted of eight, all told.

The whole of the unfortunate men, with the exception of two, belonged to Lewes and Ringmer respectively. Captain Grimsey had been at Newhaven for some thirty years and was known to be a most steady and respectable man. He leaves a widow and four daughters, two of them are grown up, to mourn his sad loss. Penn leaves a wife and two very young children, and Hart was a married man with one child. From intelligence we have received, we learn that when the sad intelligence reached Newhaven, the utmost stranger to the place, or mere casual observer, could not fail to have noticed by truly outward appearances that something out of the way, as affecting the town and port, had happened. The ships in the harbour hoisted their flags half-mast high to mark the event, whilst at a great number of houses the blinds were partially drawn. The vessel belonged to Mr Robert Hillman, of Lewes, and we must no omit noticing that he came to Newhaven to tender his personal sympathy to the bereaved, and offered to pay all the expenses attendant on the conveyance of the bodies from Bridlington to Newhaven, which would have been very heavy, but the relatives did not wish that expense be incurred. Upon Captain C.S. Knight devolved the duty of breaking the news to the poor men's widows and relatives, and the effect it had on them can be better imagines than described. Gently as it was told to them, the shock to them, as doubtless to the inhabitants generally, was, as it were, like the falling of a thunderbolt amongst them, so much so indeed, that Captain Knight states that great as has been his experience in such affecting matters, he never witnessed such distressing scenes as on that occasion. The body of the captain was the first recovered, and was found in Silex Bay ; those of the cook and seamen were found at the South Sea landing, and the mate was found about thirty yards north of “old Fall,” opposite to Mrs Woodcock's farm. The whole of the bodies, with the exception of the last named, were found by Flambro' fishermen, this one being found by Mrs Woodcock's foreman.

An inquest was held at the Dog and Duck Inn (where the bodies had been taken) on Saturday afternoon, but was adjourned until Monday, when, after hearing the testimony of the salvors, a verdict of “found drowned” was returned.

The internment took place at the Parish Church , Flambro', on Sunday afternoon and was such a solemn and imposing spectacle as the inhabitants of Flambro' will not soon forget. The coffins which were furnished by Mr Chew and had been in the Club-room of the Dog and Duck, were brought into the street, and placed in rotation, when that well-known hymn “Pass a few swiftly fleeting years,” was sung with deep emotion. The coffins were then carried shoulder height to their last resting place. The Captain first, two of his sons next, side by side; and the remainder following. Mr Campleman led the mournful procession singing “When o'er the deep.” There was an immense concourse of spectators, not half of whom could gain admission to the church. The Captain and his two sons were placed in one grave, side by side, and the remainder in an adjoining grave. Captain Grimsey's daughter and nephew were present.

FLAMBRO' LIGHTHOUSE

On Flambro' Head where sea birds often fly,
A famous lighthouse lifts its head on high;
This building was for a good purpose reared,
Numbers of drooping hearts it oft hath cheered.

Had not the lights on Flambro' Head been seen,
Many happy lives would now have widows been,
And children too, who are with tender fathers blest,
Might have been destitute and much distressed.

This house erected on the ocean side,
In darker seasons doth the sailor guide,
For miles along the coast, its light doth spread,
Which saves vast numbers from a watery bed.

Poor mariners amidst the gloom of night,
By this they learn to steer their vessels right –
To escape the dangers of the boisterous sea,
And gain the haven where they wish to be.

If seamen need a lighthouse, so do I,
Whilst sailing to my rest beyond the sky;
I trust through faith and humble prayer,
To shun the rocks of pride, and whirlpools of despair.

The tempest rages and the night is dark,
What will become of my poor little bark,
Shall I be lost, and never reach the shore,
And sink beneath the waves to rise no more?

No; Christ's my lighthouse! He my back shall guide
Whilst I am anchored on the other side;
How shall I shout when all the storm are o'er,
And I am landed on yon peaceful shore.
I'll tell to all in yon bright happy clime,
How I was borne across the sea of time.