Glasgow And Ships Of The Clyde

Sad tale of the sea, when the "Mary" sank in 1872

Monday 19th October 1872

SAD TALE OF THE SEA

Our obituary this week contains a notice of the death at sea of George Irvine, a native of Saltcoats. He was one of the crew of the ill fated steamship ?MARY?, lost in the Bay of Biscay, and details of which were given last week. The following is an account given by one of the engineers, Mr McCormick, in which occurs a touching reference to Irvine:-

We left Kensingtown on Monday the 19th of October. There was a nice soft breeze blowing and everything seemed to favour us. We were going out to the West Indies, and the ?MARY? was intended to trade among the islands. We were bound, however, in the first place for Madeira, where a number of passengers were to be taken on board. Tuesday was a good day; but on Tuesday night the sky looked cloudy, and it was blowing a good breeze before morning. On Wednesday all went well during the day, for, although the force of the wind had some what increased, it could not be said that it was a very bad day. I have been out many a time in much worse weather and met with no harm.

I thought that the vessel did not seem very firm, and when a sea would strike her heavily I could see the plates ?lift?. The ?MARY? is built of iron, and has an iron deck. I do not think she was meant to stand heavy weather. Perhaps that was one reason why the captain did not keep more out to sea.

At four o?clock on Wednesday afternoon the watch was called, and all hands were on deck. We were going ahead under easy steam, and I was in the engine house at the time, which was on deck. I saw a big sea coming, and as it struck the vessel I heard a crack, just like what would be made if two pieces of boiler plate were to be driven against each other. I ran out of the engine house and saw that the vessel had parted at the fore paddle beam. She broke clean across, from the bulwarks down to the keel.

Along with the others I made for the boats - the smaller of the two was unloosened and we were doing the same with the lifeboat when all at once the steamer made a sudden plunge forward, and went down below us, leaving the boats floating. There was no time to put anything on board in the shape of provisions or water, for I do not think that at the very outside it could have been more than three minutes from the time I heard the crack till the steamer had disappeared below the water.

I had nothing on at the time but the thin clothes in which I worked. Something had struck the lifeboat as the steamer went down and there was a hole in the bottom, but we did not know that at the time and although the boat filled with water it floated. The captain and several others (I am not sure how many) were in the lifeboat with me, but about four minutes after the accident the boat was upset, and we were all thrown out. When it righted we did not all get in again. We were capsized three times, but I got a piece of wood that was floating about and lashed it to the thwarts which prevented the boat going over again.

The captain called out to keep together and we would soon be picked up and when the other boat with the first and second mates and three others on board came alongside he jumped into it to assist them and try to get them to remain by us.

I noticed it has been said that the captain tried to swim towards the other boat and sank, but that is not the case. I am quite positive that I saw him in the other boat but he did not appear as if he had any authority there. I distinctly saw him sitting in the bottom of the boat, not on the thwarts. We called out to the mate to stay beside us, but he paid no attention. I heard others who were floating about on pieces of wood asking the same, but he never went near them. He steered away in another direction. I think it was awfully heartless in him to leave us as he did.

There were now five of us in the boat namely - Daniel Morrison, Seaman; Robert Foster, fireman; George Irvine, cook; a young man whose name I do not know; and myself.

About five o?clock on Thursday morning the young man I have referred to became delirious, and was singing in a loud voice ?When Johny comes marching home? not ten minutes before he died. He lived about fourteen hours from the time the ship went down.

In the course of the afternoon George Irvine, the cook, became ill. He was very dull, and said to me once or twice, ?oh! Dougie, what will my poor old mother do if I?m at?en awa?? I always told him to cheer up, it would be all right soon but he just shook his head. Dan Morrison told him to slap his hands about and keep moving, and we endeavoured to make him do so. Then Irvine asked me in a whisper if I would pray with him, and we both prayed. He was quite sensible, but I saw death looking out of his eyes. He then asked me once more to pray; he folded his hands as if to pray also, and then sank quietly down and when I raised him up I saw he was quite dead.

This made the rest of us very disheartened. I felt a strong desire to sleep, but Dan Morrison would not let me, and told me it was death if I allowed it to overcome me. Once I did drop asleep for a few minutes and dreamed I was down in the stoke hole before the furnace looking if there was enough of water in the boilers.

I noticed that when the others were wakened up after they had been dozing they all remarked they had dreamed of being in a warm room before a good fire. You will remember that we were all this time sitting up to the middle in water, and the sea washing over us. The gunwale of the boat was flush with the surface of the water. It was just the cork that kept Robert up.

It was a dreary dreary night that followed this, for Foster and myself, as our two comrades were dead beside us; but I think it was worse when I saw that Dan was beginning to get delirious too. That was about three o?clock on Friday morning. He had been dozing, and when wakened up he asked ?Where?s the cook?? I said, ?He is below?. He said, ?Rouse him up, for I want some warm coffee?. I said to him, ?He can never be roused again? and then he seemed to remember how matters stood, for he asked, ?How long are we to be kept here?? I told him that it would not be long for we could see that the steamer which ultimately rescued us was hovering about till daylight would break. He then said ?I?m off to bed?, and jumped overboard. He had sense to catch hold of the oar which was held out, and we pulled him onboard again. He fell forward several times into the water that was in the boat, but Foster and I always lifted him up. I slapped his breast and he said that that was nice. But I was awful weak and could scarcely keep up. Dan said he was going to bed and jumped into the water. He made little effort to help himself this time, but Foster and I managed to pull him in and place him on one of the seats. He was always wanting to lie down, and several times did so and was about drowned. He was talking a lot of nonsense and all of a sudden he stood up and said, ?I?m off to bed my lads?, and sprang out. He was caught on a wave and carried quite out of our reach and we could do nothing to save him. That was about six o?clock on Friday morning, and two hours after that the boat from the Horseguards picked us up.

On board the steamer we were very kindly treated. I wish I could tell you how kind the captain was to us, but words almost fail me. I may say that Foster had taken a drink of the salt water just before the last time that poor Dan jumped over, and he was beginning to look queer too, but he soon got better. We first got a little brandy, then some warm coffee and toast, and the men took off our wet clothes rubbed our benumbed limbs, rolled us up in warm blankets and laid us on a pile of cushions in the cabin.

We landed at Falmouth on Saturday. We have lost everything.

Scribe Tango