THE FATAL LAUNCH OF THE EMMA. (Part 1)
I first came across the following story in Mrs G. Linnaeus Banks ‘The Manchester Man’ about 30 years ago. I don’t recall if at the time I thought it was a recounting of an actual event or fiction.
When my father died I came into possession of ‘Memorials of Bygone Manchester’ by Richard Wright Proctor, Palmer & Howe, 1880. Though I cannot remember a time when this book wasn’t in the family, in fact I suspect that it had been in the family since it was first published, after my attempts to destroy it when still unable to read I paid it little attention until I took possession in 2000.
Following is a copy of the article from Wright Proctors book that inspired me to research the incident, the results suggest that the death toll was higher than recorded at the time and also tragic as the launch was, it hid a much bigger tragedy.
I will publish the results of my research in future articles, research that revealed unexpected connections.
An aerial photo showing the approximate location of the site of the disaster, under the south end of Trinity Way Bridge crossing the Irwell from Manchester to Salford.
THE FATAL LAUNCH OF THE EMMA.
"She shone in the light of meridian day,
Each sail was set~ and each heart was gay.".
POPULAR SONG.
Friday, the twenty-ninth day of February, eighteen hundred and twenty-eight, being according to the calendar, Bissextile, or leap-year. We are hastily quitting our post in order to join a motley crowd that is hurrying along the street. There will not be much miscellaneous business transacted in Manchester to-day. The tonsors, especially, will have few beards to shave, save and except the barbs belonging to butchers or market people in general, inasmuch as the weavers, shoemakers, and fustian cutters are either making, like our juvenile self, a special holiday, or doing double duty to compensate for the loss of St. Monday (the tippler's favourite saint), who is too often sacrificed to listlessness and drinking. We are going to see a launch for the first time. The New Quay Company have announced their intention of floating a new flat-the Emma -with some ceremony, and with full rigging. As such a sight has never been witnessed near this town, public curiosity is naturally excited. The weather on the appointed day is clear and breezy, with occasional gleams of sunshine. We press forward with the throng, assured of witnessing an agreeable novelty. Desertion is common in the mills, warehouses, and other places of business. Thoughtless apprentices give themselves a field-day, regardless of the drill that awaits their return. When we arrive at the selected spot the vessel stands, full-rigged upon the stocks, and two or three hundred individuals are on board, the majority being young women, many of them decorated in their holiday attire. The spectacle is of the gayest description. Flags and small streamers are flying along the Quay, as likewise from the vessels in the river. The booming' of cannon announces the mirthful occasion; while the band of the ninth regiment, playing in the yard, adds to the general hilarity. At length the Emma is put in motion, the bottles are cracked upon her bows by the two daughters of Mr. William Brereton Grime, agent to the New Quay Company, and away she glides, saluted by lusty greetings. In another instant she strikes the opposite, or Salford bank, so near to our feet that we are fain to turn away our head. A narrow escape:-a boy (one James Haslam, of Broughton Road) standing near us upon the bank, is pressed by the crowd into the stream. When we look riverward again, the vessel lies upon her side, with the whole of her living burden struggling frantically in the water. A cry of consternation rises on the air, so wild and prolonged that it cannot possibly be forgotten: it leaves one of those vivid impressions which can never fade, even in this fading world.
The two young ladies who have played the most important parts at the christening of the Emma are quickly rescued and brought ashore. Several men hastily strip themselves and rush into the Irwell, each landing his prize with care, and re-diving without loss of time. One of those Good Samaritans, after saving three persons, perishes while wrestling with a fourth. During the whole afternoon this rescuing course is pursued, many lives being saved by the humane endeavours: while some, scrambling to the shore, get drawn out by friendly hands. Still, a melancholy number, less fortunate, cling together in the desperate selfishness of death, literally drowning each other. The bodies recovered on the Salford side are stretched feet to feet, upon the short grass of the nearest field, sufficient space intervening for the living to pass in order to recognise the dead. Ultimately twenty-two are thus arranged. As we pace the dreary aisle, our attention is arrested by a bonnie "yellow-haired laddie," looking very fair and touchingly beautiful in his last repose. At the New Quay sixteen bodies are lying; making the total number drowned, thirty-eight: including four or five drawn from the river by drags. In addition to these, four persons, insensible when taken from the water, are resuscitated. Intelligence of the disaster has been carried abroad, and disconsolate people are rushing to the spot, in the anticipation, or in the certainty, of evil. Night in due course shuts out the horrors of the day, and we return to our home more thoughtfully than we left it.
During several days succeeding the sad occurrence drags were assiduously used in the river, with the result already stated. At the customary inquests held over the sufferers (at the New Quay, and likewise at two taverns in Oldfield Lane), the inevitable verdict, "Accidentally Drowned," was returned in each case. Their graves would of course be more or less scattered, but a few of them have latterly been traced. Two boys and a young man were interred at Christ Church, Hulme, partly the same inscription marking the resting-place of each:-
Drowned on board the Emma, at the New Quay,
Drowned on board the
Emma, at the New Quay,
February 29th, 1828.
A young woman named Eliza Bradshaw, aged twenty, and upon the eve of marriage, was buried at St. John's, Byrom Street.
The hero in humble life to whom we have alluded as saving three persons and perishing while struggling with a fourth, was Richard Walker, a dyer, aged twenty-six, residing in York Street, Salford. Another, equally heroic, was John (or William) Mouncey, joiner, of Duke Street, Salford; who leaped into the water when he saw the Emma turn upon her side, and after saving several lives, was drawn under by the drowning victims. When rescued, he was totally unconscious, but by the timely and judicious application of restoratives he was resuscitated-being one of four thus snatched from the grave by the philanthropic exertions of Dr. James Phillips Kay (afterwards Sir J. P. Kay-Shuttleworth), Mr. Kinder Wood, and Mr. Joseph Jordan; assisted by many active sympathisers" surgical and otherwise.
The means thus successfully applied failed in other cases; but no probable expedient was left untried. Where brandy, constant friction, and the hot bath proved useless, it is recorded that an incision was made in the windpipe, thus enabling the lungs to be inflated by bellows. As a last resource, the blood of a man, or of a dog, was transfused into the veins of the patient.
The New Quay Company publicly acknowledged the promptitude with which assistance of every kind was rendered on that occasion, especially by the military, and by numerous members of the medical profession. Further, the Company thanked Mr. Huitson Dearman, master dyer, for rescuing several persons from perilous situations, and Mr. Richard Fogg, clerk at the Old Quay, for aiding the escape of about thirty individuals. Many other names received honourable mention in the published reports of the period, which must perforce be omitted, howsoever reluctantly, from this condensed narrative.
In connection with the disastrous launch there was yet one other hero, whose name deserves preservation, but it has eluded our search. He was a fishmonger, keeping a standing at the front of the Salford Town Hall. In the fervour of the critical moment, he threw all his clothing upon the bank of the river, devoting his best energies to the saving of life. After some hours of successful labour he returned to his clothes, or rather to the spot where he had left them, but nowhere could they be found, some unnatural thief having purloined them! The over-exertion and exposure to the cold brought on a severe illness, which ended fatally within the lapse of a few months. Many persons yet living were admiring observers of that fishmonger's strenuous exertions, and they will doubtless share the general regret that his deserts were so ill-requited.
Relief Fund
A fund was quickly raised by subscription for the relief of bereaved families, and for the reward of intrepid aiders. About fifty individuals subsequently sought remuneration for real or pretended service rendered upon that mournful occasion. As usual, the least meritorious would probably be the loudest claimants; while some of the most deserving found, as already shown, their only recompense in the grave.
After this careful summary of the martyrs of the wreck, a few lines seem due to the more fortunate sponsors. Pleasing is the fact that the two ladies who christened the vessel (with bottles of good Rhine wine, or with water clear, as the case might be), are still living within a few green miles of the city. The younger of the sisters has hitherto passed through life in domestic retirement; and the “even tenour of her way" has not been chequered by public events which could weaken the remembrance of the deep tragedy of her youth. On a few special occasions the elder of the twain has emerged from the home circle into the light of the world. Many instances of her public spirit and benevolence have been recorded in print.
Returning to the launch of the luckless Emma, and reverting to the vessel itself, the latest tidings impress us with the belief that she was ultimately transferred from the Irwell to a Cheshire river, the Weaver, thereon to close her mercantile career in the salt trade.
Two or three local minstrels of minor note have lamented this catastrophe in easy, measured rhyme; but as the verses are scarcely worthy of the event their obscurity need not be disturbed.
Appended is an authentic summary of the sufferers.
The list has been carefully corroborated in order to ensure correctness.
Bodies at the New Quay, sixteen. Removed from the field to the Britannia Tavern, Ordsall Lane, sixteen. Removed from the field to the King's Arms, Oldfield Lane, six. Total number drowned, thirty-eight Resuscitated, four.
A few lines of pleasant information recently derived from a friendly correspondent already named will form a suitable addenda to this narrative. "My friend the fiddler" writes Mr. David Kelly, "remembers a good deal about the wreck of the Emma. Just prior to that 'fatal launch' he and some more jolly carters, on their way to Stretford, stopped at the Dog and Partridge (Tattersall's) to wet their whistles-their 'custom always of the afternoon' - and morning too. This operation was performed so generously that he ceased for a time to be an accurate judge of distances, and allowed his cart-wheel to pass over his toes, and in consequence was paying occasional visits to the Oldfield Lane doctor; and there met with many who had been injured in one way or another at the wreck. He also remembers the fishmonger who took so active a part in rescuing the drowning people. He recollects the man and his stall, which was in the open space called Bexley Square; but he cannot call to mind the man's name."
Since that eventful twenty-ninth of February, eighteen hundred and twenty eight, we can seldom follow the winding course of the Irwell-a river somewhat famous in verse, in incident, in story-without remembering the Emma and her Fatal Launch.
No comments:
Post a Comment