Category: Maritime history

  • Business in Great Waters

    The Britannic, painted white for her service as a troop ship during the Boer War.
    Source: Bertram Hayes, Hull Down (London, 1925).

    Edward John Smith, the future captain of the Titanic had been at sea for the better part of 15 years when he made the switch from the sailing ships of Andrew Gibson &Co, and joined the White Star Line. He had been seduced following a visit he made to the SS Britannic, but though he was quickly taken onto the new company’s books, he did not get his longed-for berth on that ship for a few years yet. At first he served from March 1880 to March 1882, as fourth and later third officer aboard a much smaller vessel the SS Celtic commanded by Captain Benjamin Gleadell. Though Smith had a master’s certificate, so too did many others in the White Star line and promotion to the coveted captaincy had to be earned. Steamships also demanded a different set of skills in an officer than a sailing ship and these had to be learnt. The steamers were passenger liners rather than cargo vessels. They carried mostly emigrants, but also many wealthy passengers, whose continued goodwill had to be cultivated, so good social skills needed to be honed. The first few years with White Star were in effect a second apprenticeship for Smith.

    He did advance pretty quickly as it turned out. After the Celtic, from March 1882 to March 1884, he served in the Pacific on the San Francisco-Yokohama-Hong Kong run, aboard the SS Coptic as its second officer under Captain William Kidley. Then from March 1884 to July 1885, he was second officer aboard his favourite ship the Britannic under the command of Captain Hamilton Perry, before becoming first officer from July 1885 to April 1887, aboard the SS Republic under Captain Peter Irving. These were all ships he would later command.

    He was by this time living permanently in Liverpool and apart from some cousins and nephews, most of his immediate family had also left the Potteries. His mother, half-sister, and brother-in-law now lived in Runcorn and Joseph Hancock would leave the sea in a few years and going into partnership he would set up as a ship’s stores dealer in Birkenhead.

    Eleanor Smith and their daughter Helen Melville Smith.

    Ted was also on the verge of his own settled family life for in January 1887 at Winwick parish Church near Warrington, Edward John Smith married a farmer’s daughter, Sarah Eleanor Pennington. They initially set up home nearby in Tuebrook, but soon moved to one of the wealthier parts of Liverpool to be nearer the docks. The couple seem to have maintained a good, loving relationship thereafter, despite Ted’s long periods at sea. Eleanor, as she preferred to be called, referred to her husband as ‘Ted’ or ‘Teddy’ and Smith spoke of his wife as ‘my only dear one.’

    Almost as a wedding present, from April to August 1887, Smith was given temporary command of the SS Republic before being transferred back as first officer on the Britannic, staying with the ship until February 1888. That month he applied for and gained his Extra Master Mariners certificate of competency, albeit on the second attempt, having failed the navigation section on his first try, while in August he added to his qualifications by joining the Royal Naval Reserve, undergoing the required training early the next year. As a lieutenant in the Reserve he and any ship under his command could be called upon to serve in times of war and provided that enough members of the crew were also in the Reserve his ships could fly the Blue Ensign of the RNR. As a result of these feathers in his cap, from April to May 1888, Smith took on his first permanent command, the now ageing SS Baltic and so became a fully-fledged White Star line captain.

    Smith went on to captain many more White Star ships over the next few years: the Adriatic; the Britannic; the Cufic; the Celtic, followed by Coptic in the Australian service; the Runic; and Germanic, the identical sister of the Britannic.

    Lieutenant E.J. Smith c.1895

    The 1890’s were a time of both sad and happier events in Ted Smith’s life. In 1893, his mother Catherine died in Runcorn whilst Smith was at sea, while in 1895 first his brother-in-law, William Harrington, died in the Potteries on 1 March, and on 1 May his half-brother and former captain, Joseph Hancock, collapsed and died of a heart attack in the street in Liverpool. On a happier note, it seems to have been in 1895, that Smith made a visit back to the Potteries for a school reunion in honour of his old schoolmaster Alfred Smith. Then in 1898, he and Eleanor had a baby girl, their only child, whom they named Helen Melville Smith. She like her mother later preferred to use her second name Melville, or ‘Mel’ for short. Though he was often away, Smith doted on his daughter, whom he called his ‘Gillie’ (‘girly’) or ‘Babs’ (‘baby’) sending her little notes from abroad when he was away and buying presents and organising parties for her on his brief periods ashore.

    The longest single command of Captain Smith’s career was that of the SS Majestic, from July 1895 to November 1902. He would take a break to command the Germanic from December 1902 to May 1903, whilst the Majestic underwent a refit, but then returned to his former command from May 1903 to June 1904. His time aboard the Majestic coincided with the outbreak of the Second Boer War in South Africa. Because of his rank in the Royal Naval Reserve, he could be called upon to serve in times of war and he now did so. Captain Smith twice took the Majestic to South Africa, transporting troops to the seat of war and bringing wounded men home. For his work during the war, Smith like all transport captains later received the Transport Medal, which he henceforth wore proudly on his uniform.

    During the years of his captaincy of the Majestic, Smith earned a fine reputation amongst both his crews and the passengers who regularly sailed the Atlantic. Despite the beard he now sported and grizzled looks, he was softly-spoken and easy going, though he was a noted stickler when it came to ship’s discipline and had been known to bark out an order that brought many an errant seaman back to his duty with a bump. Increasingly, more and more passengers chose to sail with Captain Smith rather than any other because of his affability and because he was an excellent host. Also, though he was known for pushing his ships hard through all weathers, thereby earning the nickname ‘the Storm King’, by the standards of the time he was considered to be an excellent sailor and a ‘safe captain’.

    Amongst his regular passengers, he now numbered British aristocrats such as the Duke of Sutherland and the Earl and Countess of Rothes and American millionaires such as John D. Rockefeller, George Widener, John Jacob Astor and J. Pierpont Morgan, the latter becoming a good personal friend, whom he visited with during his stopovers in the States. Such stellar passenger lists became so regular a feature on his ships that by 1900 Smith had become popularly known as ‘the millionaire’s captain’. Indeed, many of the first class passengers who later sailed aboard the Titanic had travelled with Captain Smith on more than one occasion.

    Smith with one of his dogs.

    Smith also met or knew many other famous people of the day as they crossed the Atlantic. Rudyard Kipling and his family travelled on the Majestic, as too did Henry Morton Stanley, the man who had ‘presumed’ so famously when he found Dr Livingstone in Africa. Other notable figures who sailed with Smith included the Joseph Chamberlain, the Secretary of State for the Colonies; the Fleet Street journalist W. T. Stead, who is said to have included Smith in several of his short stories. Another notable passenger, the American writer Kate Douglas-Wiggin, the author of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, described in her autobiography how during his earlier captaincy of the Britannic, Captain Smith had played the matchmaker and introduced her to her future husband.

    Because of such a wide acquaintance, Smith enjoyed a lively social life ashore, especially in New York visiting his friends such as Pierpont Morgan, Kate Douglas-Wiggin and her husband, attending fetes and parties and according to one newspaper report, he was also a regular at many of New York’s clubs and societies.

    On a personal level, Smith was noted as being well-read and extremely well informed on current events, which was hardly surprising given his wide and influential acquaintance. He was a smoker, preferring cigars, which he smoked through a holder and his daughter later recalled that she would only be let into the room if she promised to be good and not disturb the cloud of blue smoke that hung around her father’s head. Smith enjoyed a drink too, though never on duty. At home, he was extremely fond of his pet dogs and enjoyed many hours ashore out walking with them, though they seem to have been something of a nuisance to his wife whilst he was away at sea.

    Reference: G. J. Cooper, Titanic Captain. The Life of Edward John Smith (2011) pp. 56-108.

    Images: Author’s collection.

  • A Tale of Trafalgar

    A private of the Royal Marines
    Source: Wikimedia Commons

    In the pages of M. H. Miller’s interesting compilation, Leek: Fifty Years Ago, can be found the story of one Joseph Mottershead from Leek, who served as a Royal Marine aboard HMS Dreadnought at the battle of Trafalgar in 1805. Joseph was born in Leek in early 1778, the son of Josiah Mottershead and Ann nee Milner. He had an older brother named William and by account also had a sister. According to the story in Miller’s book, Joseph Mottershead had run away from home after falling out with his family and gone off secretly to enlist, joining a recruiting party on the Ashbourne Road. He was away from his family for the next 17 years and though Joseph wrote to them, the letters were few and far between.

    The account had no doubt that Mottershead had ‘been in many a scrimmage’ from early in his career at sea, but Trafalgar would overshadow them all. By 1805, he was a serving Marine aboard HMS Dreadnought, a 98 gun second-rate ship under Captain Conn, part of Nelson’s force in full pursuit of Admiral Villeneuve’s Franco-Spanish fleet. Mottershead recalled how, ‘… when the combined fleets of France and Spain were signalled a great shout went up. On that day he [Mottershead] had nothing on but his shirt and trousers and said that he and seven others made a hasty breakfast out of one dish. Owing to the line of battle taken up by the fleet the Dreadnought was late in coming into action and so was not so hotly engaged as some of the ships, but, nevertheless, they captured one of the Spanish vessels.’

    This was the San Juan Nepomuceno, whose fire-eating captain had nailed the ship’s colours to the mast and refused to surrender, despite taking a pummelling from half a dozen circling British warships. As already noted Dreadnought joined the fray late and opened fire at two o’clock then fifteen minutes later boarded the Spaniard and forced her crew to surrender after their captain had been killed in action. Dreadnought then turned in pursuit of the Spanish flagship Principe de Asturias, firing several broadsides and mortally wounding the Spanish Admiral Gravina, but was unable to catch the enemy vessel which slipped away and succeeded in reaching Cadiz. Captain Conn consoled himself with his initial prize, the San Juan Nepomuceno being one of only four captured enemy ships to survive the great storm that followed on after the battle. 

    HMS Dreadnought suffered 7 crew killed and 26 wounded in the fighting, but Mottershead was lucky and seems to have come away unscathed. Not that his family back in Leek were to know that and when a Mr Beadnall was passing the Mottershead’s home near Belle Vue, he spotted Joe’s sister and asked her what ship her brother was serving on. On being told it was the Dreadnought, he informed her that the ship had been in a great sea battle and the British fleet had won. The news drove the family frantic with worry, wondering if Joe had been killed and it was not until several weeks later when they received a letter from him stating that he was safe and well, that their fears were finally allayed.

    Mottershead’s account of his career added a few more details of his time at sea. He had stated that his ship was once ice-bound for a long period and the men were put on short rations. When they finally got free and returned to Portsmouth, Mottershead said ‘they could almost see through each other’. He also recalled that he once saw a group of his comrades hung from the yardarm for breach of their duty. When these incidents happened, though, is not made clear.

    Joseph Mottershead was discharged from the Royal Marines in either 1814 or 1815. Servicemen of the period were usually provided with the fare back to the town where they had enlisted, but otherwise had to make their own arrangements to get back to their real home. His low-key return to Leek was recounted in Miller’s book.

    A replica Naval General Service Medal with the Trafalgar clasp.

    ‘One very wintery day about the year 1815, Gaunt’s work people had been paid for their work and were getting “a glass together” at the Cock in Derby street, when the coach from Derby drew up and a soldier got off and came into the house. He stood by the fire warming himself, and presently he asked “Is —— alive,” naming his father. One of the people, a woman of the name of Nixon, eyed him for a moment, then rapping her snuff-box and turning to one of the men (Mottershead’s brother) said, “By Jove, Will, it’s your Joe!” Yes! Joseph was come back and received a hearty welcome.’

    When the 1841 census was taken, Joe was still alive at 63 and living at Mill Street, Leek, his profession given as a ‘silk doubler’ employed in the town’s notable silk and lace industry. Two other names are listed at the same address, Hannah Mottershead aged 61 and 34 year old Sarah Mottershead. At first glance we might think Joseph had settled down to a married life, but the 1851 census lists Hannah as his ‘infirm’ sister and Sarah as his daughter, though if this is the case there is no indication of who her mother was. By this time Joe had retired and was listed as a ‘Greenwich Pensioner,’ reaping the albeit meagre rewards of his service at sea all those years before. He had also received further recognition for his service a couple of years before when he applied for and was awarded the Naval General Service Medal with the ‘Trafalgar’ clasp.

    Joseph Mottershead, North Staffordshire’s most notable Trafalgar veteran died on 4 December 1855 aged 77 years old and was buried four days later in St Edward’s Churchyard. His death and claim to fame was mentioned briefly in the pages of the Staffordshire Sentinel,  where it was noted, ‘He fought by the side of Nelson, at the Battle [of] Trafalgar.’

    Reference: M. H. Miller, Leek: Fifty Years Ago, pp.150-151. Staffordshire Sentinel, 8 December 1855, p.5.

  • Down to the Sea in Ships

    Commander Edward John Smith in his summer uniform in later life. The grand old skipper of the White Star line had come up the hard way from ship’s boy to senior captain.

    Edward John Smith, the future captain of the ill-fated White Star liner RMS Titanic, was born at 86 Well Street, Hanley on 27 January 1850. He was the only child of pottery presser Edward Smith and Catherine, formerly Hancock nee Marsh, who had two surviving children from her previous marriage. The Smiths started out as an ordinary working-class family like most of their neighbours, but their fortunes improved somewhat when Catherine Smith opened up the family home as a small grocer’s store. As a result, young Ted Smith as he was known to family and friends, enjoyed a relatively good education at the Etruria British School. Shortly after his father’s death in 1864, he finished his schooling and for a few years worked as a steam hammer operator at the Etruria Forge. He thus seemed set for an ordinary working life in the area like his ancestors before him, but he was already feeling the pull of the sea thanks to his half-brother Joseph Hancock.

    Joseph was Catherine Smith’s eldest child, seventeen years older than Ted, who in the same year that his younger half-brother was born had gone to sea and gradually worked his way up through the merchant ranks. There had been long voyages and adventures galore, but dangers too such as in 1856, when whilst he was serving as a mate on the barque Hymen, the ship had been captured by pirates off the coast of Morocco. Joseph and his crew mates had been taken ashore and held as prisoners for nearly three weeks until the Royal Navy launched a raid on the pirate camp and freed the men. This hair-raising experience did not dent Joseph’s love of his career, though, nor hinder his rise to command his own vessel and by the time young Smith was 17 years old, Joseph was the captain of the trading ship Senator Weber. Ted was keen to follow Joseph into the service, so to prevent him from running away and serving with strangers, Joseph agreed to take Smith aboard his own vessel as ship’s boy. Ted quit his job at the forge and in February 1867 with a group of friends he travelled to Liverpool, where he was signed on as an apprentice to the shipping company of Andrew Gibson and Co.

    Joseph’s vessel, the Senator Weber was a 1,297 ton sailing ship then being loaded across the Mersey at Birkenhead’s West Float Dock and Ted was to be one of the crew of 26 men and boys. There were three ships boys, another of them, Thomas Foster, also came from Hanley, so perhaps Ted was not the only boy that Joseph had inspired.

    This first voyage was a long one to Hong Kong, a round-the-world voyage via the Cape of Good Hope and Cape Horn. The Suez Canal would not be open for two years, so there was a long haul around Africa, past India and up through the South China Sea, braving all that nature would send their way. It, therefore, took five months to reach Hong Kong. There was a ship’s log for the voyage but there are no entries in it until the Senator Weber reached Hong Kong. Then, there are numerous entries noting desertions and bad behaviour amongst the crew. Amongst the small knot of persistent troublemakers was one named Edward Smith. This was not our Ted Smith, but an able seaman with the same name, a 20 year old man from Scarborough who annoyed Joseph so much that he eventually flogged him and then had him jailed for six weeks, by the end of which time the Senator Weber had sailed on leaving him behind.

    The ship stayed in the general region for some time, possibly transporting goods short distances to earn extra revenue prior to their departure. This final leave-taking, though, suffered a delay as on the evening of 8 September 1867, a typhoon of several hours duration struck Hong Kong and did some serious damage to many of the ships moored in the harbour. The Senator Weber was one of these, being thrown together in a jumble with several other ships and suffering considerable damage as a result. The repairs required some time to carry out. Once she was back in a reasonable state, though, the Senator Weber set off on its long journey back home.

    They did not retrace their journey out and instead followed the trades, sailing east to San Francisco, pausing only when a sickly passenger Henry K. Jones died mid-Pacific and was buried at sea. At San Francisco 14 men including Thomas Foster from Hanley deserted and had to be replaced. At this point, Ted was unofficially promoted to 3rd mate, probably to help existing 3rd mate to get the new crew in line. From San Francisco, the ship sailed south to Callao, the principal port of Peru. Then on to the nearby Chincha Isles, to fill its hold with guano which was its final cargo. The ship then made its way around Cape Horn and a couple of months later returned to Europe, docking in Antwerp where the crew went their separate ways. Joseph and Ted then returned to the Potteries for a few months. According to one childhood friend, ‘After that first voyage Ted returned home to thrill the youth of the town with his stories of having sailed to America, of his experience in California, where the ship on which he made his first voyage touched. And with his mind firmly made up to spend the rest of his days on the ocean.’

    After Christmas and New Year at home, Ted went to Cardiff in February 1869 to join the Senator Weber for a second voyage to the far side of the world, but this time to Japan, which had only opened its ports to foreigners in 1854. Ted served as 3rd mate for this voyage which was even longer, the ship being away for 19 months, which is surprising as the Suez Canal was now open and there is little indication of where the ship went. Its final destination, though, were the Lobos de Afuera islands, another group of guano islands off the coast of Peru. Guano seems to have been a real money spinner for Andrew Gibson and Co. and it is also interesting to note that the future ‘Millionaire’s Captain’ of the glamorous White Star Line began his career aboard ships transporting ossified bird dung.

    The Sailor’s Home, Liverpool.

    After this voyage, Ted Smith set out on his own as an able seaman aboard a couple of other ships, the Amoy and the Madge Wildfire, sailing to North America. By now he had started lodging at the Sailors Home in Liverpool with occasional trips home to the Potteries. He and Joseph were in Well Street for the 1871 census, but this is the last time either were listed on a local census return.

    In 1871, Ted Smith applied for his 2nd mate’s certificate of competency which he gained after sitting and passing the required exams and over the next two years he served in that capacity aboard the ships Record, Agra and N. Mosher. As a 2nd mate he still served as a seaman, but as a sort of qualified foreman he had his own cabin at the rear of the ship and was in charge of the starboard watch looking after the ropes on the starboard and rear of the ship. In 1873, he passed his exams for 1st mate giving him charge of the port watch in charge of the port ropes and the bow of the ship. As mate, he no longer worked in the rigging, he was instead the captain’s executive officer – he saw that the skipper’s orders were carried out. In this capacity he served for three voyages on the ship Arzilla, under Captain C. E. Durkee. Then in 1875, at the age of 25, Smith sat and passed his master’s certificate of competency. This enabled him to command his own ship. To commemorate his success, he was presented with a loving cup dedicated to ‘Captain E. J. Smith’, the first time he had ever been called by this title. He had to wait for a year though, before he got a ship of his own.

    A ship of his own. Smith appears in the papers as the captain of the Lizzie Fennell.

    Smith’s first command was the 1040 ton sailing ship Lizzie Fennell, which he took on a ten month trip to Callao in Peru, again returning with a cargo of guano. The voyage does not seem to have been troubled by the mass desertions suffered by the Senator Weber, though there were some deaths. An Italian crewman died off the coast of Chile and three Scandinavians all drowned off Peru in October 1876, but details of how and why they died are lacking as no ship’s log has survived.

    For the next three years, Captain Smith and the crew of the Lizzie Fennell led a seemingly blameless existence transporting cotton and other assorted goods between Britain, Canada and the United States. In later life Smith seems to have had fond memories of his time aboard the Lizzie Fennell, during which time he made a number of valued acquaintances whom he still remembered many years later. But he was not blind to the fact that there were great changes happening in the shipping world where steamers were becoming more popular and profitable, and that a whole new (and much more comfortable) career could be carved out on the big passenger liners. The transatlantic passenger steamers run out of Liverpool by the prestigious White Star line had caught his attention. On seeing the White Star ship SS Britannic in dock, Smith commented to his nephew J. W. S. Harrington, who was serving in his crew, that he would happily accept a junior position to serve on such a fine vessel. A few days later Smith managed to get a tour of the Britannic, which made his mind up for him. Quitting his job as the captain of the Lizzie Fennell, he left the employ of Andrew Gibson and Co. and applied to and joined the White Star line as a junior officer determined once more to make his way to the top.

    It would take years to achieve of course, but Smith was agreeable, highly intelligent, hard-working and blessed with the ability to succeed, and he would indeed rise to the peak of his career and make his fortune with White Star. However, it was also a fateful move that led ultimately to a cold, tragic night in April 1912 off the Grand Banks of Nova Scotia, when at the helm of the company’s new big ship he ventured into an ice field and sailed into history.

    G. J. Cooper, Titanic Captain, the Life of Edward John Smith (Stroud, 2011), pp.9-55; Allen’s Indian Mail, 4 November 1867, p.890.

    All images, author’s collection