Thrice shipwrecked

Black and white photograph of an impression from a medieval seal, featuring a sailing ship enclosed in a roundel of Gothic text
Seal of Thomas Beaufort as Lord High Admiral, c.1416-26 depicting a single-masted clinker-built ship.
© The Trustees of the British Museum.
Shared under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercialShareAlike 4.0 International (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0) licence

Sometimes the research goose lays a golden egg that you just have to share straight away, and this is one of them.

A number of wrecks in the record involve historical personages one way or another: Henry VIII witnessed the loss of theMary Rose; Daniel Defoe recorded the wrecks of the Great Storm in 1703, and is one of our best sources for that storm, as well as writing Robinson Crusoe; in Mrs Mary Roberts and Charles Lightoller, we have relatively ‘ordinary’ people who acquired a degree of fame as prior survivors of the Titanic and later went on to be involved in other wrecks in English waters. Sometimes, too, there are accounts of celebrity survivors – a violin virtuoso and his celebrated Stradivarius, both of whom fortunately survived.

On this occasion we have an unexpected connection with a historical figure – though, when you pause to think about overseas trade in the Middle Ages, it shouldn’t really have come as a surprise.

A piece of research in the Calendar of Inquisitions Miscellaneous – summaries of Chancery documents for the 13th to 15th centuries – proved to be more interesting than anticipated. These are enquiries by royal officials known as escheators – who worked at local, usually county, level – into a wide variety of matters of life and death, hence their name, the Inquisitions Miscellaneous. They are now in the National Archives and were summarised – or calendared – in published volumes in the 20th century. Along with the Calendars of Patent Rolls (copies of letters patent, or open documents) and the Close Rolls (copies of letters close, or sealed) the Inquisitions Miscellaneous forms one of our principal sources of medieval wreck records.

One such document concerns a ship freighted with wine at La Rochelle for Nieuwpoort, Flanders (now in West-Vlaanderen province, Belgium) in 1400. This voyage was never intended to touch the English coast at all, but it did, ‘by the bad piloting and default of the master’ – in other words, it was significantly off course when it was wrecked at Shoreham-by-Sea. Wrecks of ships on the English Channel coasts while bound from Atlantic ports in France to the northern coast of France or Flanders are not at all uncommon, and nearly always driven by southerly or south-westerly winds onto the Sussex or Kent coastlines. [1]

In this case though, there is none of the usual ‘tempest’ or ‘stress of weather’ but an accusation of navigational incompetence: behind those words ‘bad piloting’ and ‘default’ we sense the exasperation of the merchants who were now involved in an administrative and legal headache.

As the documents show, this headache was caused by tracking down their goods in a foreign country: the wine was stolen by local men. Again, this isn’t an uncommon story throughout history – wine and spirits were attractive in their own right, and lucrative. We discover the names of some of these men – tuns of wine which had been unlawfully taken up and hidden, instead of being turned over to the merchants or the authorities, were located in the cellars of two men called Simon Benefeld and William Hulle. Simon Benefeld had dealings with a cloth trader named John atte Gate – who was part owner of a ship named La Nicholas of Shoreham. All three men were MPs – Benefeld and atte Gate successively representing New Shoreham, and Hulle Salisbury, so we start to gain a sense of the rising power and dominance of the mercantile classes in the 14th century but also a sense that they weren’t averse to a side hustle when opportunity arose. [2]

They led us to our man. In 1407 La Nicholas was freighted by a London mercer (dealer in cloth) with wool from Chichester for Calais – this is not a shipwreck, but it is important evidence for a close network woven between the mercantile classes of London and Sussex, and it was worth following the documentary trail for these connections.

The same London mercer was Mayor of the Staple of Calais through which wool was exported from England – La Nicholas fits entirely into this pattern of regulated trade at a time when Calais was under English control, so he was a significant figure on both sides of the Channel. Our mercer joined together with two other merchants, William Marchford and Thomas Aleyn, in 1413 to ship some more wool from Chichester to the Staple of Calais in three ships. It was a considerable quantity of wool, some 20 sarplers or 20 tons.Alas, these three ships were ‘submerged by a tempest near the coast by Shorham’, and the wool ‘driven ashore by the same town’. [3]

Our London mercer? None other than ‘Richard Whytington’, thrice Lord Mayor of London (appointed, then elected, both in 1397, again in 1406, and for the last time in 1419), and thrice finding his trade shipwrecked in this one incident. It isn’t often we find such a well-known figure behind a historical wreck incident. The pantomime based on the folk tale often tells us of the vicissitudes the young Dick Whittington experienced, but even as the real-life wealthy and established merchant it is clear that he also had his share of setbacks.

The gaps in the medieval record are significant – we essentially have nearly as many records for medieval shipwrecks as there are years between 1066 and 1540. Oh no, they aren’t evenly distributed at all: there isn’t anything like a even match of one wreck per year but instead we have several missing years and great variability around the numbers of wrecks recorded. The wrecks around 1413 are a case in point: we have no records for 1410-11, two for 1412, one other besides Whittington’s wrecks for 1413, none for 1414, one each for 1415 and 1416; seven in 1417, with three for 1418 and a decline towards one each for 1419 and 1420. It isn’t a case of more tempests in a particular year, but instead issues of record creation and record survival. Wealthy merchants like Richard Whittington were simply more likely to leave a documentary trail.

Oh yes, we now have 3 more records for the year 1413, to add to the one we already had, and Richard Whittington is behind them!

An historical black and white engraving of Sir Richard Whittington, depicting an older man with a beard wearing a hat and fur coat, holding a cat, with a border frame and the legend 'Sr Rich. Whittington' at the bottom
Sir Richard (‘Dick’) Whittington, after unknown artist, early 19th century engraving
NPG D240668
 © National Portrait Gallery, London




Footnotes

[1] Calendar of Inquisitions Miscellaneous, Vol. 7, 1399-1422 No.172

[2] History of Parliament Online, Simon Benefeld and John atte Gate

[3] Calendar of Patent Rolls, Henry V, Vol. 1. 1413-1416, p149; History of Parliament Online, William Marchford

Diary of the Second World War – February 1944

LCI(S)511

Historic black and white photo of landing craft profiled in port view, showing a long, low craft and men clustered astern (to right of image)
LCI(S) 507 at sea (FL 9821) Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205120809

In early 1944 Britain was watching and waiting. ‘Lorries and tanks kept rumbling towards the south coast, so we knew something was going to happen,’ in the words of Corporal Cant, based at RAF Ford, Sussex, describing the later spring of 1944. ‘Nobody said anything about it. But more and more of them were building up. We saw, and we knew, but we didn’t know when, and we didn’t talk about it.’

There is something of that sense of anticipation in the wreck highlighted for February 1944, LCI(S)511, Landing Craft Infantry (Small) 511, on the Channel coast facing a France that soon would be the focus of a liberation effort by just such craft. With the benefit of historical hindsight, we can say ‘soon’, but at the time it must have felt that ‘soon’ would never come: scenes such as the one below, in the countdown to D-Day, were months away.

Historic black and white photograph of several landing craft roped together in harbour, with men in military uniform gathered on their decks
Commandos of 1st Special Service Brigade aboard LCI (S) (Landing Craft Infantry (Small)) at Warsash, Southampton, 3 June 1944. (H 39041) Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205359405

All anyone could do was watch, wait, and play their part: and only those ‘in the know’ had an overview of what was happening behind the scenes. An initial joint plan, i.e. a combined Allied plan, was issued on 1 February for the invasion, with the naval outline plan following later that month. [2]

The Landing Craft Infantry (Small), LCI(S) for short, were built 1942-3 with bullet-proof armour plating over a wooden hull structure designed by the Fairmile Marine boatbuilding company, which specialised in motor boats (the company grew out of motor manufacture). The ‘Fairmile H’ design of the LCI(S) was produced in kit form and outsourced to other small boatbuilding firms for assembly, such as Leo Robinson at Oulton Broad, Suffolk, who built LCI(S)511 and LCI(S)533. [Explore Robinson’s yard in this historic image.] Others were built on Oulton Broad by Collins and Brook Marine, and production was dispersed countrywide, both because of the small scales of the yards and for security reasons. At 110 tons, 105 feet long x 22 feet wide, they were intended to carry a complement of around 100 men (descriptions vary from 96 to 102 troops). [3]

At the same time operational bases came into being in the run-up to D-Day. From 1942 the Southwick Ship Canal on the Sussex coast between Shoreham-by-Sea and Portslade became a Combined Operations Landing Craft Base, known as the ‘stone frigate’ HMS Lizard. HMS Lizard was further developed in 1943 and by January 1944 was ‘very busy’ with both large and small landing craft. Lizard‘s vessels and personnel are known to have participated in exercises over February 1944. [4]

The former river channel of the Adur was canalised to provide a harbour free from the natural silt deposit processes that were otherwise threatening to clog up the harbour mouth. It runs parallel to the seashore, with the river and harbour mouth further west, and sloping shingle beaches on the seaward side.

Modern colour photo taken from the viewpoint of the shingle bank in the foreground and to right which encloses the canal from the sea, looking to both arms of the canal east and west, under a heavy greyish sky.
Shoreham Harbour, seen from the eastern arm, looking towards the western arm (Southwick Ship Canal). To the right of the photograph is the outlet to the sea.
© Paul Gillett, CC BY-SA 2.0 https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/2360037

As a ship canal for both smaller and larger vessels, landing craft could be virtually hidden in plain sight, and as a USAAF air photo from April 1944 in Historic England’s collections shows, it would all appear quite innocuous, with existing buildings requisitioned to form the base, and a natural gathering place for craft.

The advantages of this location as a base were a natural seaward defence with an easily controlled harbour mouth, and on the shoreward side are sloping shingle beaches, ideal for rehearsing landings.

Modern colour photograph on a sunny day taken from a path at the top of the beach (left of image), looking down towards the beach running to the east, (centre of image) broken up by boulder breakwaters at intervals. To the right is a calm blue sea.
Beach and breakwater looking east towards Portslade in 2008.
© John Lucas CC BY-SA 2.0 https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/1012841

The day after the Allies issued their joint plan on 1 February 1944, LCI(S)511 was beached at Portslade, Sussex, to become a total loss. [5] What happened there? There seems to have been nothing particularly unusual about the weather that day, with local readings recording a force 4 (‘moderate breeze’) at south-westerly and temperatures mild, between 49-53 degrees Fahrenheit, which would be recorded as 9-11 degrees Celsius today. [6]

We know of at least 74 other vessels that were lost in force 4 conditions in English waters since records of weather conditions at the time of loss began in the mid-19th century. They tend to have two broad characteristics: either something else happened to them, such as springing a leak, running aground or involvement in a collision, i.e. factors which are not weather-dependent and can be overwhelming in themselves; or they were small vessels, fishing smacks, yachts, cutters, barges, and so on, which could be quite disproportionately affected by weather conditions, depending on wind direction and their activity or lading at the time.

Records appear to be quite brief, but it is possible to read between the lines a little. The key word is that LCI(S)511 was beached. There are only two reasons for beaching vessels, i.e. to deliberately put them ashore: the first, and more benign, reason, is that they can be effectively ‘parked’, as sailing colliers once did to deliver their coal on the Sussex coast, or fishing boats can still be seen today drawn up on the foreshore in many places – and, of course, beaching was what landing craft were designed to do!

As we have seen, much of the Sussex coast, as at Portslade, comprises a gently sloping shingle shoreline, ideal for beaching vessels, and this history of safe landing grounds was what fitted Portslade and Shoreham on either side of the Adur to be a landing craft base.

However, beaching on the foreshore can leave the craft so drawn up very vulnerable if a storm subsequently ensues. In other words, they can be safely beached, then lost after beaching, but this seems unlikely in the weather conditions reported for 2 February 1944. With the beach ideal for the landing craft’s function, the design of the vessel suited for that purpose, and the base so close by, and operational and repair support therefore easily accessible, it seems surprising that LCI(S)511 became a total loss, in the brief and bald facts available to us.

So possibly something happened to LCI(S)511 that caused her to be beached, rather than being beached in the natural course of exercises, say. We turn now to the less benign reason for beaching vessels, which tends to happen on the nearest shore in extremis, for example having sprung a leak, taken on water, following a collision, or to avoid running onto a significant hazard nearby. In other words, something has happened to force the ship to run ashore to avoid sinking at sea.

It therefore seems plausible that something happened to LCI(S)511 at sea, possibly taking on water for some reason, or perhaps a collision, after which it proved impossible to get her into the shelter of the ship canal basin. Such an event would be natural on exercises: naval exercises ‘gone wrong’ in some way have historically caused several wrecks that are well-documented in the record, and a prior contributory factor which forced the vessel ashore seems the most plausible reason for the ensuing total loss that was reported.

The date of loss does not tally with the major exercises that were undertaken in the run-up to D-Day, but as we know that HMS Lizard was involved in exercises in February 1944, it seems reasonable to surmise that there were smaller-scale and more localised exercises that fed into major rehearsals as preparations for the invasion gathered pace.

Thus LCI(S)511 has the potential to combine both broad characteristics of vessels lost in force 4 conditions: a hint of a prior background cause, not influenced by the weather, that forced her to be beached, and the relatively small size of the vessel more vulnerable to mild weather conditions once already damaged.

Epilogue: LCI(S)508 was, until recently, seen as Valeur among the houseboat community of Shoreham-by-Sea on the Adur, not far from where LCI(S)511 met her end. For more on her story, explore footnote [7].

Footnotes

[1] Cant, R, 2012 unpublished oral history reminiscence, recorded and documented by Serena Cant

[2] Naval Historical Branch (nd) Operation Neptune: The Normandy Invasion: D Day 6 June 1944 (Ministry of Defence: published online)

[3] Slee, G 2000- Combined Operations (published online); naval-history.net (nd) Royal Navy Vessels Lost at Sea, 1939-45 – by type: Amphibious Warfare Vessels (published online), based on HMSO British Vessels Lost at Sea 1914-18 and 1939-45 (London: HMSO) known as BVLS; Navypedia (nd) LCI(S) type small infantry landing craft (LCI(S)501) (1943) (published online); Wikipedia (nd) Fairmile H landing craft (published online)

[4] Royal Navy Research Archive (nd) HMS Lizard: Combined Operations Landing Craft Base (published online)

[5] BVLS, Section III, p56

[6] Met Office 1944 Daily Weather Report February 1944, 2 February 1944 (online)

[7] Spitfires of the Sea (nd) Shoreham Survivors (published online); O’Sullivan, T 2021 ‘Tales from the Riverbank’, Beach News: the magazine of Shoreham Beach Residents’ Association, Summer 2021 issue (online)