wrecks in 1874

The wind shows us how close to the edge we are

~ Serena ~ 1 Comment

(Joan Didion, Los Angeles Notebook, 1968)

The wreck of the Adgillus

The wreck of the Adgillus, a 415-ton wooden barque that foundered on 21st October 1874 en route from Liverpool to the west coast of Africa, lies 50 nautical miles NNW of Liverpool. [1]

Given that the usual shipping route to West Africa would be south out of Liverpool, why this seemingly unusual location?

Map highlighting the route from Liverpool to West Africa using dark yellow dots as reported by shipping in various locations: it shows that ships just did not round the northern tip of Ireland but proceeded due south in the Irish Sea and out into the Atlantic
The usual route for sailing ships heading from Liverpool to West Africa.
Map generated using data from the Climatological Database for the World’s Oceans 1750–1854 (CLIWOC, https://historicalclimatology.com/cliwoc) and from  https://www.openstreetmap.org/copyright

Here we explore the materiality of an encounter with the wind, through the loss of Adgillus in 1874. 

October 1874: Adgillus is in Queen’s Dock, Liverpool, loading a general cargo of salt, gunpowder, household ceramics and clay pipes [2] Bound for ‘Old Calabar’ (now Calabar, capital of Cross River State, Nigeria) this will be her second such voyage, and only her third altogether. There’s a story to be told in the trade of manufactured goods from Britain for palm oil from west Africa [3] but for this blog, at least, we’ll continue to follow the wind.

Built in 1873 by Oliver, Québec, under special survey, her sale notice describes this ‘beautiful new barque’ as 143 3/10 feet in length, diagonally iron strapped and entirely metal fastened, with double topsail yards, and patent pumps and windlass, “one of the best finished ships ever built in the colonies”. [4] It also notes she’s fast, sailing from Quebec loaded with grain in just 22 days.

Adgillus changes hands via shipbroker CW Kellock and Co, passing to new owners T Harrison & Co of Liverpool by the end of March 1874 [5] at a cost of £16 a ton. [6] Fitted out for another £1000, Adgillus completes her first voyage to Old Calabar, sailing from Liverpool April 5, arriving by July 18, and returning to Liverpool by 21 September the same year. [7]

It must have been a lucrative venture as her owners plan a second voyage for October 1874, though with a last minute change of Master, from a Mr Brett to a Mr A. Thompson. On the 20th, on 6am high tide and with a fresh SSW wind, Adgillus leaves Liverpool for the second time. [8]

Towed by a tug to the North-West Lightship, NW of Liverpool, the intention is to set the pilot ashore at Point Lynas, Anglesey, before continuing south to Calabar. [9]

Adgillus can be seen to the north of Liverpool (lower right of image, captioned NW Lightship) and to the south-east of the Isle of Man (to upper right of image).
Map showing the location of the North West Lighship, where Adgillus was left by a tug on the night of the 20th October 1874; Port Lynas, where the pilot was to be set ashore, and the the final location of the wreck of Adgillus. Under normal circumstances she would have proceeded south after landing the pilot
Map data from https://www.openstreetmap.org/copyright.

The weather for the preceding week has been good, and at 8am the wind is set fair for Adgillus’ passage at SW force 3. The predicted WNW force 5 wind would have been better, but has not materialised. Instead, something completely unexpected happens. As the Met Office weekly summary for October 18-24 1874 states: “even the readings at 6pm showed no indication of what was approaching.” [10]

A hurricane is coming, the worst storm to hit the British Isles since the great storm of January 1866 in which at Torbay alone 40 vessels and over 70 sailors were lost [11],  and Adgillus is about to sail right into it.

Adgillus is still in the vicinity of the North-West Lightship. Around midnight a strong and increasing breeze sets in, blowing from the northwest. Reducing the sails can’t stop the foresail blowing away at around 3am; at 4am the foretopmast-staysail is ripped away too, followed shortly by the mizzen staysail. [12]

The sea starts breaking over the vessel and by 8am a hurricane is blowing from the WSW: Adgillus is helpless with her lee (opposite the wind) side underwater, demonstrating how forcefully the wind is pushing her over. The crew manage to right her, but her patent pumps are now found to be full of water.

In a final attempt to save her, the crew discharge the cargo, but it’s no use and at 2pm she begins to founder. The crew rush to the longboat, now floating from the deck, and all but one make it on board: Antoine Natal, from Malacca, is caught in the rigging and goes down with the ship. [13]

By ‘drugging’ the long boat the crew manage to keep her bows on to the incoming waves and nine hours later, despite the ‘terrific’ sea, Captain Thompson, First Officer Richard Jones; Second Officer Thompson; Pilot William Parry; Carpenter David Robinson and the 12 remaining crew make it safely to Morecambe Bay Lightship. [14]

Though Adgillus has been lost, the master, officers and crew have been luckier than many at sea that night. The inquiry, held the following month, commends the captain and the loss is attributed solely to the ‘force of the gale’, or, as one of the witnesses put it in the usual language of the time, ‘stress of weather’. [15]

The inquiry into the loss gives the sinking position as ‘about 18 miles NW of Morecambe Bay Light Vessel’ (in 1991 recovery of her bell would confirm her position as 54.04722N 003.80764W). In the 14 hours wrestling with the storm the crew had been blown over 50 miles off course. [16]

Wind direction, force and speed are critical factors not only in explaining how shipwrecks occur, but where they end up – whether off course at sea, or forced ashore in a specific location on land (See our earlier blog Sea Adventure for the effects of the wind just north-west of the Wash on the opposite coast of England.)

For sailing vessels, the wind that filled the sails could transform into a terrifying mechanism of destruction at any moment, particularly at a time when weather forecasting was less accurate than it is now.

A dramatic seascape featuring a tall ship battling strong waves under a stormy sky, lit by a gap in the clouds above, but surrounded by dark clouds and a small boat which has also lost its sails in the troughs of the waves to the left.
A Ship on the High Seas Caught by a Squall, known as The Gust Willem van de Velde (II) c.1680 is a depiction of a British warship in distress in a gale, with a sail blown out, showing us the wind direction, and heeling under the onslaught. The small sailing vessel to left has also lost her sails. This painting by one of the major marine artists of the 17th century, illustrates the forces with which seamen had to contend during the Age of Sail: some are climbing the rigging at imminent peril of their lives.
© Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam SK-A-1848

The wind still powers Britain’s maritime interests, which have undergone a transformation – from harnessing the power of the wind as a dominant naval and trading power during the Age of Sail, to harnessing the power of the wind to become a leading player in the offshore renewable energy sector in this era of climate change.

This week’s guest article comes courtesy of the Marine Data Exchange Heritage Accelerator (MDEHA), led by Historic England and is the result of a collaboration between Lara Band, Marine Data Analyst (MDEHA), and Serena Cant, Maritime Research Specialist.

By redeploying marine development data into The Crown Estate’s Marine Data Exchange and Historic England’s Marine Historic Environment Record (MHER), MDEHA is making high‑quality heritage information available to support strategic planning for offshore wind and contribute to cleaner energy delivery. In this ongoing cycle of wind shaping both past losses and present and future energy needs, today’s harnessing of wind to mitigate climate‑driven change in turn generates new data that can help conserve sailing ships lost through earlier storms. This data can help to bring to life stories of losses at sea like this one, adding context to the remains that survive on the seabed. MDEHA forms part of the Offshore Wind Evidence and Change (OWEC) programme, led by The Crown Estate in partnership with the Department for Energy Security and Net Zero (DESNZ) and Department for Environment, Food & Rural Affairs (DEFRA).

Footnotes:

[1] See Adgillus    https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/heritage-gateway/results/record/0d636742-8028-4a8c-8b7c-e1f9aaf2d338/0429bdbb-9d14-445a-ad43-e20dbeb8b636

[2] Ibid.; Liverpool Shipping Telegraph and Daily Commercial Advertiser, 11 November 1874, p4

[3] Samuel, I. 2026. ‘The Oil Economies of Pre-colonial West Africa: Palm Oil and the Industrial Revolution (1800-1891)’ https://www.africanhistoryextra.com/p/the-oil-economies-of-pre-colonial

[4] Liverpool Journal of Commerce, 27 December 1873, p8

[5] Liverpool Journal of Commerce 21 March 1874, p7; Shipping and Mercantile Gazette, 26 March 1874, p4

[6] Lancaster Gazette, 14 November 1874, p2

[7] Liverpool Journal of Commerce, 7 April 1874, p5; Liverpool Shipping Telegraph and Daily Commercial Advertiser, 18 July 1874, p4; Daily Telegraph & Courier (London), 22 September 1874, p6

[8] Lancaster Gazette, 14 November 1874, p2;  Liverpool Shipping Telegraph and Daily Commercial Advertiser, 20 October 1874, p1; Meteorological Office Daily Weather Reports 1st July – 31st December 1874, 20 October https://digital.nmla.metoffice.gov.uk/IO_f5bd9ddb-b885-4edb-ae77-7c5890960bb7/

[9] Lancaster Gazette, 14 November 1874, p2

[10] Meteorological Office Daily Weather Reports 1st July – 31st December 1874, Summary of weather in western Europe from Oct 18th to Oct 24th 1874 https://digital.nmla.metoffice.gov.uk/IO_f5bd9ddb-b885-4edb-ae77-7c5890960bb7/

[11] Daily Telegraph & Courier (London), 22 October 1874, p3; ‘The wrecks in Torbay during the gales of the 10th and 11th January, 1866’ The Lifeboat: Journal of the National Life-boat Institution Vol VI, No 61 2 July 1866, p191. Of these wrecks 41 are noted in the records of Historic England.

[12] Lancaster Gazette, 14 November 1874, p2

[13] ibid.; Hull Daily News, 31 October 1874, p7

[14] ibid.

[15] London Evening Standard, 13 November 1874, p2

[16] ibid; Lancaster Gazette, 14 November 1874; estimate of 50 miles off course based on data from the Lancaster Gazette and the record for Adgillus held by Historic England (see note 1)

The Cordelia, a West Country smack embayed in the Bristol Channel (1874)

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Historical black and white photograph of a coastal harbour looking down from the top of the cliff to the water below, centred on a sailing ship leaving harbour. Beyond the harbour in the background can be seen encircling hills and cliffs sheltering the harbour from the open sea beyond.
Ilfracombe Harbour, Devon. Elevated view looking west across the harbour and Lantern Hill towards the buildings of Ilfracombe. Photograph taken 1850 – 1920
Source: Historic England Archive (ref: OP07458). https://historicengland.org.uk/education/schools-resources/educational-images/the-harbour-ilfracombe-10092

For this blog we welcome my colleague Tanja Watson, Maritime Research Specialist, Historic England, who introduces us to the loss of the Cordelia in the Bristol Channel in 1874 and the specific wreck process of embayment on a lee shore.

Tanja writes:

The hazards of the Bristol Channel

Today’s blog explores the hazards faced by sailing vessels in the Bristol Channel. Sailing smacks such as the Cordelia were a common feature of 19th-century coastal commerce in Britain, particularly in the Bristol Channel. These vessels were typically small, single-masted, and fore-and-aft rigged – designed to be sturdy and versatile for both fishing and the transport of goods. Some larger smacks were ketch-rigged, while smaller ones retained the traditional gaff cutter rig.

These smacks, though modest in size, represented a type of vessel essential for the local economy. They could navigate the Channel’s strong currents, unusually large tidal ranges (12-14 metres) [1], and frequently unpredictable weather with small crews, achieving average speeds of 4 to 7 knots (nautical miles per hour), depending on wind conditions.The Bristol Channel is known for having one of the highest tidal ranges in the world, second only to the Bay of Fundy in Canada. [2] It has a complex, irregular coastline, creating conditions in which vessels can easily become embayed or trapped in a bay or coastal recess.

The combination of tides, winds, and coastal geography in the Channel can quickly limit a vessel’s manoeuvrability and push it towards a lee shore – a stretch of shoreline lying downwind of the ship, where wind and waves drive it steadily closer to land. The term lee denotes the side of a vessel sheltered from the wind, as opposed to the windward side, which faces into it, and thus a ship being driven onto a lee shore is being driven by the wind onto the shore.

The loss of the Cordelia

On 30th November 1874, the Barnstaple-registered Cordelia set off from Ilfracombe Harbour for what should have been a routine voyage up the Bristol Channel to Newport on the River Usk, to collect a cargo of Welsh coal. This West Country smack, built around 1855 and with a tonnage of 32 register tons, was crewed by two men and a boy (the captain’s son). [3]

Map of the Bristol Channel, featuring its coastal towns such as Cardiff, Swansea, and Newport, with an inset map showing the location of Bristol and London.
Map of the Bristol Channel, England/Wales. Combination of CIA World Factbook map and Demis Map Server (http://www2.demis.nl/worldmap/mapper.asp) data with additional annotations and modifications by the ChrisO – Public Domain

At first, conditions seemed favourable, with a light north-north-westerly breeze. But as the Cordelia passed the hamlet of Watermouth, just two miles east of Ilfracombe, the wind veered sharply to the north-east, catching the crew off guard. Several attempts to tack failed, and the decision was eventually made to return to port. Nearing Beacon Point, however, the wind shifted once more – this time to the north-west – before dropping away altogether. Unballasted and at the mercy of the tidal currents, the ship began to drift helplessly toward the rocky shoreline.

Contemporary newspapers describe the unfolding crisis:

‘[The Cordelia] proceeded some distance, but the wind having shifted, they let her drift back with the tide. Late in the day she was observed from the shore to be off Lantern Hill. After this, with a turn of the wind, she again went up Channel, but not far, for she was next seen in Hele Bay, and from this spot appeared unable to get clear, being ‘embayed.’ . . .

‘The course taken appears to have been too close in—too short a cut in fact was attempted. The Cordelia struck on Beacon Point, and there stopped. It was seen that nothing more could be done, and that it must be abandoned. A very heavy sea was running, but the men providentially were able to effect their escape in Stephen Brown’s boat.

‘When the fact of the smack having gone ashore became known at the quay—it was between seven and eight o’clock when it struck—the three gigs, the Try, the Tiger, and Brilliant, were at once manned and pulled out to the point, but they could give no assistance, as they were unable to tow the vessel off the rocks; indeed they could not get within any reasonable distance because of the heavy swell which was continually breaking around her.

‘[The Cordelia] soon fell over on her side, and held that position for a while, one of her lights being seen after the crew had landed. In about an hour’s time, the light had disappeared, and nothing was afterwards visible in the black darkness from the pier.’ [4]

Aerial view of a coastal town with the sea to the left of image, showcasing a mixture of residential buildings, hills, and rocky shoreline with agricultural land in the background.
Aerial view of Ilfracombe
© Chris, contributor to geograph.org.uk CC-BY-SA 2.0

An account from another newspaper:

‘Floating like a bladder on the water, there being no ballast in her, she was quickly carried by the flowing tide and ground sea on to the west of Beacon Rock [Point], when, seeing there was no hope of saving her the crew got into the boat, and shortly afterwards the timbers of the smack were floating about like an upset box of matches. Had the smack been in ballast there is every probability that the disaster would not have occurred. It is not at all unusual for vessels to run between Ilfracombe and the Welsh coast without ballast, and it is to be hoped owners will now see the folly of this penny wise and pound foolish economy.’ [5]

(At this period coal was sufficiently profitable that it did not require trading for an exchange cargo, so it was common for ships to run ‘light’ (without cargo and ‘in ballast’) to collect a cargo of coal. The lack of ballast is almost unheard of in the wreck record.)

Fortunately, Captain Thomas Vound and his crew were rescued from their night-time ordeal by lifeboatman Richard Souch in the Olive Branch shortly before the vessel struck at about 9pm. All their belongings were lost. [6]

One week earlier, storms had struck the nearby Hele Bay with considerable force, and had this incident occurred then, their chances of survival would have been far slimmer, as pointed out by the newspapers.

Services interrupted

Cordelia’s owner, John Tucker Bament (1840–1876), a local coal merchant in Ilfracombe [7], lost his entire investment that night. He had just paid for Cordelia’s refitting with new sails and repairs in preparation for the winter season. However, he had decided not to, or could not afford to, pay for either the ballast she should have carried, or the insurance of the vessel. It is possible Bament supplied coal to Ilfracombe or Barnstaple, or the newly opened Barnstaple and Ilfracombe Railway, which had begun operation just four months earlier (20 July 1874). [8]

Historic sepia photograph showing a train travelling along to right with a noticeable head of steam, with a station and buildings in centre background, set in a rural landscape of rolling hills beyond.
Picture postcard of Ilfracombe railway station around 1900.
public domain image

(The strong links between maritime and rail transport have recently been covered in this blog in a three-part special by my colleague Serena Cant, see Railways 200: a maritime perspective.)

In the master’s own words

Further slight variations on these reports were published in contemporary newspapers, including the captain’s report, which was published five days after the event:

‘CORDELIA – Report of Thomas Vound, Master of the smack CORDELIA, of Barnstaple, 32 tons, from Ilfracombe for Newport: On Monday, the 30th November, at1 P.M., tide half ebb, weather fine, wind N.N.W., light breeze, the ship was about half a mile N.E. of Capston[e] Hill [Ilfracombe]. We proceeded as far as Watermouth, when the wind shifted to the N.E., with a fresh breeze. The vessel missed stays on several occasions. Bore up for Ilfracombe at 7 P.M. Reached as far as Beacon Point, the wind then shifted to N.W., with a light breeze. Heavy ground sea on. The vessel drifted ashore at 8 P.M. on Beacon Point on the rocks, and immediately began to fill with water, the water being over the cabin sheets. The vessel began to break up when I left her, about 8 30 P.M. – Ilfracombe, Dec. 1.’ [9]

And so we conclude with an insight into the processes of wreck, with specific reference to the combinations of wind, tide and sea state: a local vessel lost on her local shores, compounded by an unusual and locally-adopted cost-cutting measure, which ultimately cost her owner more money.

Footnotes:

[1] Generally cited as mean spring range12.2m to 12.3m at Avonmouth but reaches 14m in the Severn Estuary specifically: Associated British Ports (nd) ‘Bristol Channel Tides’ ABP South Wales; HM Government, Department of Energy and Climate Change, 2010: Severn Tidal Power: Feasibility Study Conclusions and Summary Report gov.uk

[2] Gao, C and Adcock, T 2017 ‘On the Tidal Resonance of the Bristol Channel’ International Journal of Offshore and Polar Engineering 27(2): 177-183 https://users.ox.ac.uk/~spet1235/ijope-27-2-p177-as19-Gao.pdf

[3] Shipping and Mercantile Gazette, 05 December 1874, p10

[4] Ilfracombe Chronicle, 05 December 1874, p9

[5] Western Morning News, 02 December 1874, p3

[6] Moore, J (nd) On the Hele Shipwrecks. https://johnhmoore.co.uk/hele/shipwrecks.htm; Western Times, 04 December 1874, pp7–8; Lloyd’s List, 03 December 1874, p8

[7] Find a Grave: John Tucker Bament (1840–1876). https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/227351890/john-tucker-bament; North Devon Advertiser, 04 December 1874, p4

[8] Spong, G, ‘Combe Rail’, Ilfracombe Branch Project. http://www.combe-rail.org.uk/history/#:~:text=The%20Ilfracombe%2DBarnstaple%20line%20was

[9] Shipping and Mercantile Gazette, 05 December 1874, p10