Long Lost Log of the Brig Glide

Occasionally a blog falls literally into my lap.  So it was with this account when a partial and very faded 19th-century sailing ship log was handed to me recently. But what would the tattered pages of the document reveal? An incredible amount as it happens including the ship, the owner, the crew, an astonishing account of a storm-tossed journey, and ultimately the story of the destruction of the Waterford ship on the Wexford shore

Walter and Evelyn Byrne presented me with the document on a recent visit to their pub in Ballyhack, where I was presenting the story of the paddle steamer era. The ship’s log was found in the attic of their pub, and although only a few tattered pages remained, the very faded writing allowed me to at least identify the ship and master.  The puzzle was under what circumstances did the log end up in the attic of the pub, why was it placed there, and by who, and what exactly could I find about this old sailing vessel from the 19th Century.  As it happens, a heck of a lot, thanks to the help of a number of friends. 

An entry in the faded and damaged log for the brig Glide, laying at Passage Monday Dec 23rd 1867
Brig Glide

The brig Glide was a Waterford-owned vessel.  According to Lloyds register of shipping in 1863[i] the ship was built of timber in Halifax Novia Scotia in 1837. The ship was just over 80 feet long, 20 wide, and 12 deep and her stated tonnage was 154 Tons.  The ship was only listed in Lloyds in 1863 and 1864. Then under the command of Captain T Black, the owner was listed as an L Freeman and her port of registry is Waterford.

The Log

Interpreting the remaining pages of the log is a bigger challenge.  A ship’s log is a record kept by a ship’s captain in which the vessel’s daily progress is recorded, the wind, weather, currents encountered, and anything of interest that occurs aboard during a voyage.[ii] Unfortunately the partial log is a very challenging read and I can only decipher parts of it due to the handwriting, the damage, and that it is written in very abridged writing to capture wind, weather, seas, and any incidents. Admittedly I am also curtailed by a lack of experience with reading these, this is my first. Reading historical fiction or biographies can’t quite compare.

On one page the following crew names are recorded; William Walsh, Thomas Riley, Thomas Deveraux, ? Bird, Charles Bird, Pat Furlong, Peter Regan, and John Colfer.  There is also a Patrick Furlong, perhaps the already-mentioned Pat?  A couple of other names were illegible.    (see the end for post-publication information that confirms that some of the crew were from the Slade area of Hook)

Journey to St Andrews

We can make out two full journeys of the vessel and a few partial details of others and the crew.  The first entry deals with a trip from Cardiff to St Andrew’s (I think this is Saint-Andrews, New Brunswick, Canada) under Captain Thomas Black (Thomas was born in Waterford in 1807).  The log commences on July 13th, 1866 when the weather is fair and the Light of Lundy has been sighted.  The journey was uneventful finally arriving at their destination on Sept 1st.  I can’t work out what the outgoing cargo was, but they had difficulties loading deals (timber boards) for the return trip, finally departing on Thurs 27th Sept.  Again the trip home seems uneventful but on Mon October 29th, 1886 the Coningbeg lightship was spotted.  This was rounded at noon and at 3.30 pm a pilot was picked up at Creaden Head, anchoring at Passage at 7 pm

Note a 30-day uneventful passage across the Atlantic, but look at the issue faced by the brig Form on more or less the same journey.

After this some pages are missing and the handwriting and style of the recording change and the name John Commins appears. There’s mention of a trip to Cardiff and Waterford, but the next full account is a trip from Waterford to Boulogne, France.  This trip was anything but routine or uneventful. 

A stormy passage

The Glide was fully loaded (again no mention of the cargo) and was prepared for sailing on Friday, Dec 20th, 1867.  On Sat 21st they departed downriver coming to an anchor at Passage East awaiting favourable winds.  On Sunday 22nd they sailed, rounded the Hook, and ran into a strong SE wind.  On Monday the weather was worsening, the Mine Head light was sighted, and they made the best of the wind to make it back to Passage East where they anchored at 5 pm that evening.  Christmas was spent at anchor, but apart from the weather, the log records nothing of the holiday, any gifts, special meal, or religious observation. I hope they enjoyed it, cause the drama was only beginning. 

On Sat Dec 28th they again sailed from Passage East but thereafter the log is empty of any entries until January 6th when they are sheltering off Falmouth and seem to be busy repairing their masts, rigging, and sails suggesting they have weathered a bad storm.  They remain there until Sat 11th Jan 1868 before getting underway, sighting the Eddystone Light.  On Sunday the 12th the Portland Light is sighted but the winds are increasing, the sail is taken in and there is mention of standing by the pumps if I am interpreting the writing correctly. 

On Tuesday 14th a strong gale is continuing and their second anchor is let go giving 60 fathoms of slack.  The crew is employed at “Sundrey jobs”.  No mention is made of the first anchor.  I can’t work out if that suggests the first one was lost in the events between the 28th Dec and the 6th Jan or that they were deploying the second one to assist the first.  On Wednesday 15th Jan 1868 they haul up the anchor and continued to the Downs where they again dropped anchor and remained until Monday 20th (They tried to move on 18th but had to drop anchor again.  The log ends with a simple entry on Monday, January 20th, 1868 – “Light winds from eastward at 4 am, got up one anchor and got the other short and at 8 am got underway.  At noon pilot came onboard”  Presumably they had arrived at Boulogne…almost a month after first departing Waterford.

The end of the Glide

So what happened to the Brig Glide after the French trip?  Well, I’m not sure, as there was only one record of her in local papers, sailing in ballast for Cardiff in Nov 1870.  ( I found the following after publication which lists the journeys for the first few months of 1871 which included Waterford, Welsh ports, Boulogne and Gursnesy. Also a crew list in this link.) However, I can tell you for sure about her last journey…which ended in disaster on the SW Wexford coast – a familiar refrain here on the blog.  The Waterford Chronicle of Wednesday 25th Feb 1874 recorded that the ship had left Cardiff laden with coal the previous week and on Friday 20th had run into fog just after sunset.  The fog was so dense nothing could be seen within a cable length of the vessel.  At some point the vessel grounded close to Kilmore Quay and broke up on rocks, the crew getting away safely. Another article states the location as Ballygrangans Bay to the east of Kilmore.

A small trading brig entering the Bristol Avon, painted by Joseph Walter. 1838. Royal Museums Greenwich. Public Domain. Wikipedia. I’m afraid I could find no depiction of the Glide, but hopefully, this might give a sense of the scale and sail plan of the vessel.

John Power records that the Glide had 141 tons of coal aboard and had left Cardiff on the 15th Feb but put into Milford to shelter from a storm. She sailed again on the morning of the 20th, meeting the fog off the Wexford shoreline later that night.  Having grounded, the stern post was damaged and the ship made water, rising to about three feet in the hold.  The master tried to set more sail to run the ship ashore,  but she remained fast and they eventually lowered the ship’s boat and rowed ashore.  The piece which was drawn from a local newspaper report concludes that the master was at fault for not casting the lead, to determine the closeness to shore, a practice which would save many a ship in the area![iii] 

As May approaches so does the annual May Day Mile fundraiser for the Dunmore East RNLI. This year my brother Robert and I plan to row from Carrick On Suir to Cheekpoint in a two-day adventure in the punt. We reckon it’s about 25 miles and if you would like to support us, you can donate to this worthy cause here. Watch out for lots of updates, photos, videos,and blogs to capture the month here on T&T

Loughlin Freeman

The owner of the vessel was Loughlin Freeman. He was a merchant and businessman who as early as 1845 had written to the Freemans Journal and described his operations as being extensive including shipping and carrying river freight along both the Suir as far as Clonmel and the Barrow to Dublin.  At the time of the loss of the Glide, several reports mentioned that he was based in Barronstrand Street in Waterford and was also a Town Councillor.  In other accounts, he was described as “an honest and upright liberal in the customs house ward”. In his obituary (1887) he was described as one of the longest-serving TC’s – over 32 years and had also served on the Harbour Board.

Keyzer St and sometimes spelled Keiser St now. Photo via Michael O’Sullivan on the WHG facebook page. Cian Manning previously wrote of the Viking origins of the name

However, Slaters Commercial Directory of 1870 has his business address as Keyzer St, Waterford where he is listed under several entries including an agent for Ale and Porter, a ginger beer and soda manufacturer and a corn merchant. No mention of shipping interests, timber imports or indeed coal. More about h

Orientating our readers from outside Waterford of the location of Keyzer St from the OSI Historic map series. Cian Manning has guest blogged on the street name for us previously.

Now for Freeman to lose one ship in 1874 must have been tragic, but worse was to come.  For in August a sister vessel, the brigantine Alcedo,  left Waterford for Cardiff, where she was impounded by inspectors as she was found to be rotten. 

The reason was a politician named Samuel Plimsoll who first entered the House of Commons as a Liberal in 1868. In 1873 he published Our Seamen, which attacked old and decrepit vessels or “coffin ships,” unseaworthy and overloaded vessels, which were often heavily insured, in which owners risked their crews’ lives. Plimsoll initiated an investigation by a royal commission in 1873, and in 1876 the Merchant Shipping Act gave stringent powers of inspection to the Board of Trade and fixed the loading line (Plimsoll mark) for ships.

Alcedo incident

Unfortunately for Freeman, the Alcedo became a cause celebre and what followed was a series of court cases, newspaper reports, and even statements in the UK parliament where Plimsoll had helped to ensure that the matter of seafarers and their well-being was a topic of concern.   And although the wheels of justice turned slowly, turn they did.  In Waterford, in 1875 one of Freeman’s sons was escorted from the court after an outburst while his father was sentenced to prison for two months and fined £300.  Paradoxically, Freeman failed to live up to his name.

The story of the Alcedo is an interesting one and probably deserves its own blog, perhaps in the future.

The present Byrnes of Ballyhack and an image from he early 20th C probably looking from off one of the paddle steamers fully laden on deck with sheep
Byrnes attic

And why was there a partial ships log in an attic in Byrnes of Ballyhack?  My first thought was that it was left behind by some foreign ship’s master following a shipwreck or death.  Then I wondered if it had been part of the wreck sale, found in an item purchased from the ship at the time, however unlikely that the captain would have left it behind.  But when I shared the information with Walter Byrne, particularly the name of the ship’s master, John Commins, Walter was able to tell me that the family took over the pub in 1929 and that one of the previous owners was the Commins family. 

Thanks to Maria Doyle nee White I now know that John, listed as a Master Mariner, died at his home in Ballyhack on January 26th 1894 aged 73. He died after an illness of five days of pneumonia. His death was witnessed by his son John. Most likely John Commins left the log behind as part of his personal possessions. That’s our working theory – perhaps someone can let us know more.    

I’m indebted to Walter and Evelyn Byrne for the loan of the partial ships log for this piece and to the assistance of Cian Manning, marine artist Brian Cleare, Liam Ryan, Maria Doyle and Andy Kelly.

This story, and the research of it has brought me past the 200th ship I have found that was built or registered in Waterford. I also have a separate list of ships sunk in the harbour or coast of Waterford as well as Waterford ships lost elsewhere…the list now stands at 652.

Post Publication Gillian Finn supplied me with the following details and images on the Historical Wexford facebook page – Two of the crew Charles & brother Christopher Bird were from “Slade” Charles in particular sailed around globe. I work a Hook Peninsula Tree on Ancestry tracking all past inhabitants, I came across a crew record for the Glide.
I enclose it here, lists all the men who sailed on that voyage.

Courtesy of Gillian Finn
Courtesy of Gillian Finn

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[i] Accessed from https://archive.org/details/HECROS1864/page/n369/mode/2up?q=Glide

[ii] James A Dunnage.  Shipping Terms and Phrases.(1925) Pitman Press, London. See p52

[iii] John Power. A Maritime History of County Wexford. (2011)  Olinda Publications.  Kilmore Quay. See p169-70

Tragic end to the PS City of Bristol

The City of Bristol departed the quay of Waterford in November 1840 for her home port of Bristol in a gale of wind. Anxious to keep to schedule the vessel would sail into one of the worst storms that season. She would later run aground, break up and all but two of the twenty-seven souls aboard would die.

PS City of Bristol – photo accessed from http://www.brecon-scuba.org/page.php?id=283

The City of Bristol (1828) was a familiar ship in the coastal trade of Ireland. She was a paddle steamer, built of timber, 209 tons, 144ft long and 35ft wide including her paddle wheels. She was two-masted, schooner rigged, and had main, quarter, and forecastle decks. Built by the War Office Steam Packet Co, in Bristol she was owned and operated locally by a consortium of local merchants. However, at the time she was lost the ship was in the ownership of the Bristol General Steam Navigation Co and had just undergone an extensive refit. The vessel was a regular into Irish ports including Cork and Waterford but especially Dublin it seems – where she was known to carry troops to and from the island, and also convicts amongst the more usual freight.

A contemporary advert highlighting the regularity with steam brought to sailings, and also perhaps some of the pressure that Captain Stacey may have felt in meeting his schedule. Sourced from Waterford Mail – Wednesday 11 November 1840; page 3

On Tuesday 17th November the steamer departed Waterford’s quay for her home port of Bristol. The vessel had become a regular on a route that had a long history between the ports of Bristol and Waterford. At 10 am she was observed outbound at Passage East.  Her Captain, John Stacey who had only taken charge of the vessel in the previous six weeks. Stacey however was described as knowing the route well, having served man and boy on it, first on sailing ships and later steam. Rounding the Hook he decided to return, following what was described as “…a frightful sea…” He anchored in Duncannon Bay, where he awaited the abatement of the storm, setting off again at 11 pm that same night.

Aboard the City of Bristol was an estimated 21 crew and possibly 6 deck passengers. Of the passengers little is known, most it seems were stockmen (John Sullivan is the only name of the stockmen recorded it seems), along to care for the livestock aboard. The ship’s manifest included; 575 barrels of Oats, 113 barrels of Barley, 2 tierces (casks) of lard, 120 flitches of bacon (a side of a pig ), 280 live pigs stored in pens on deck, and 15 head of cattle housed in the forehold.

As she crossed to the Pembroke coast later in the afternoon of the 18th of November the storm once more rose in strength from the SE and in near zero visibility due to snow Captain Stacey decided to seek shelter behind what he believed to be Worm’s Head to the east of Swansea. With only glimpses of land and features, Stacey was in a very difficult navigational position. After 6pm land was sighted, however, Stacey was mistaken in his calculations. He was actually at Burry Holmes a few miles to the north (perhaps as little as 2!), and instead of finding a safe anchorage where they could have weathered the storm, breakers were spotted. The captain reacted swiftly trying to get the ships head to the wind and this was partly successful, but she grounded by the stern and when she turned broadside to the waves, all hopes of getting off were lost.

They had grounded in Rhosilly Bay, close to the village of Llangennith and although the cries could be heard from the shoreline, the locals were powerless to help. The crew could do nothing in the savage seas to launch a boat for fear of being washed off the deck. As the tide rose and the seas with it, there was little they could do except lash themselves to the rigging and hope for rescue.  Broadside to the pounding waves she was battered and beaten and finally at highwater sometime close to midnight, the ship broke in three parts and all aboard were tossed into the surf.

Location of the wreck in the Bristol Channel (Or the Severn Sea as it was also referred to at the time occasionally)
Stacey had planned to make Worms Head where he was assured of a safe anchorage to weather the storm, however he was north of it, close to the village of Llangennith

Perhaps miraculously, three of the crew made it alive to shore, but only two survived. An unnamed man was dragged from the waves but never regained consciousness. Seaman William Poole was saved when a timber beam he grabbed in the water carried him in. He suffered three broken ribs and could barely walk when he floated ashore. He was clutched from the sand by locals who were standing by. The ship’s carpenter, Thomas Anstice managed to swim the distance and walked out of the surf towards a fire that was blazing as a beacon on the beach. Both men would later give evidence at a local inquest and helped to identify the bodies of those of their crewmates who were fortunate to be given back by the sea. 72 pigs and 4 cattle also made the shoreline and walked off the beach to safety.  Here’s a list of the crew that died which includes a photo of Captain Staceys grave.

Meanwhile in Bristol, there was little by way of anxiety about the late arrival of the City of Bristol, where it was assumed that the vessel was sheltering from the violent storms. But by the second morning (Thursday) fears were mounting and a large crowd had gathered in the ports Cumberland Basin where the packet boats normally arrived. The first news came via County of Pembroke on her run from Tenby and further information arrived by other ships and post. The city was devastated by the loss, 13 of the crew were from the village of Pill, described by some as the nursery of Bristol seafarers.

Cumberland Basin in 1850s by ET Dolby. Sourced from https://bristolcitydocks.co.uk/cumberland-basin/

In the coming days, the full horror was realised and later a public subscription was established to try to help the widows and orphans who were left without an income. When the account was published in May of the following year £900 had been raised for the families and it allowed a payout of £15 to the widows involved and £14 to each of the 34 orphaned children.

Locally, the Waterford Mail gave widespread coverage of the loss but it did include some details pertaining to the city. For example about Captain Stacey, who in some quarters was held liable for the loss, there was the following:

“Captain Stacey, the master of the unfortunate vessel, had been known here for forty years, during which time he had been in sailing vessels and subsequently in steam packets between this port and Bristol. Intelligent, zealous, active in the onerous and responsible situations that he most creditably filled for many years, was held in high consideration by his various employers ; while in the walks of private life and social intercourse he was most highly esteemed and respected, and few could depart more deeply regretted a numerous circle of friends than Capt. John Stacey. His melancholy fate is indeed the subject of general, public, universal sympathy and regret.”

Waterford Mail – Wednesday 25 November 1840; page 2

Of the cargo:

…300 brls of oats, 2 trs of lard and 100 pigs, belonged to Mr. Finnucane, of Ballybricken, and we believe, very little has been saved of the property. Mr. Fennelly, a bacon merchant in Clonmel, lost 50 bales of bacon ; Mr. Murphy, of Clonmel. 100 sacks of oats; and Mr. Cooney, 100 sacks of oats.

Waterford Mail – Wednesday 25 November 1840; page 2

of the passengers, we learn that “among those who perished was a lad named Thomas Henderson, the son of honest parents, in the clothes trade in Patrick Street. Apparently, Thomas was travelling to London to purchase second-hand clothing for the family business.” Slaters Commercial Directory of Ireland (1846 ed) lists Thomas Henderson as running a Clothes Dealer business at 29 Patrick St. He is one of numerous such outlets on this street. The property is now Ryans’s Shoe Repairs (and collectibles!) The Mail also mentions “… a young man of the name of Walsh, who lately came here from Liverpool, and was returning by way of Bristol, also perished” No details are given about the only female passenger aboard but apparently there were two others who were aboard the City of Bristol, but who at the last minute stepped off the vessel and she sailed without them. Both ladies were unnamed and no other details emerged as far as I can tell – they would have got a book deal out of the same fortune in this day and age.

Today’s piece is taken from reportage at the time from an article in The Wexford Independent, 25th November 1840, The Waterford Mail, cited above and George Harries – Early Bristol Paddle Steamer Shipwrecks, 1993, The Longdunn Press, Bristol and Tom Bennett, Shipwrecks Around Wales Vol 1, 1987 Happy Fish Press, Newport, Wales. I’d like to thank Frank Cheevers who originally shared the story with me on Facebook

Broken down Container Ship towed into Waterford  Harbour

The Cyprian container vessel CT Rotterdam (Ex BG Rotterdam I believe) encountered engine problems whilst off the Tuskar Rock on the southeast coast of Wexford yesterday afternoon (October 19th). The vessel had been en route to Port of Rotterdam, having sailed from Dublin Port laden with a cargo of containers.

Yesterday evening the ship which was drifting towards the Wexford coast was intercepted and taken in tow by the Irish (Cork-owned I think) tug  Ocean Challenger and by early morning on the 20th was off Dunmore East.

Route of the Ocean Challanger – note she was heading out almost immediately that the tow job was complete
Details on the tug
A familiar location, if an uncommon view

A pilot was put aboard and with the assistance of a local tug, the Tramontane, operated by South East Tug Services, the vessel was guided up river to the Port of Waterford’s Belview Port Container Terminal facility. 

From speaking to some of the dockmen it seems that there were concerns that the ship might prove a nuisance if the repairs took too long, but she finally returned to sea on Thursday 27th October, sailing in the darkness on an evening tide. I managed to track her in the English Channel the next morning

Friday 28/10/2022 – 11.55am

THE LAST VOYAGE OF THE MUIRCHÚ

Today marks the 75th anniversary of the loss of a very important vessel in Irish maritime heritage and history, the Muirchú and page regular David Carrol has agreed to share the story of the ship and her final voyage with us.

Having been laid-up since late 1946, the Public Armed Ship Muirchú steamed from Rushbooke Dockyard near Cobh out of Cork Harbour on Wednesday, May 7th 1947, and a short time later she was given a farewell salute of twelve sirens from two naval corvettes. The officers of the corvettes lined the bridges as the Muirchú returned the last salute.

This event was not without a certain sense of irony. The recently formed Naval Service had purchased these two former Flower-class corvettes from the Royal Navy, along with a third corvette. These were named Macha, Maev, and Cliona. The famous and historic Muirchú was now deemed surplus to our naval defence requirements and was put up for sale by the Government. The Hammond Lane Foundry of Dublin bought the vessel for scrap.

Irish Press, March 18th, 1947

Daire Brunicardi in his book ‘‘The Sea Hound: The Story of a Small Irish Ship’, described the condition of the Muirchú on her final voyage:

“She was a sorry sight, her drab grey paintwork streaked with rust, dirt and rubbish around her decks from her long lay-up prior to disposal. She presented a sad contrast to those who remembered her before the war, when her sides were painted smart black, picked out with a thin white line, her black funnel gleaming, all the profusion of her brass work polished like gold.”

The final voyage from Cobh to Dublin was to be another dramatic one just like many of the ones it had encountered in a varied and adventurous career since the vessel had been first launched in 1908. The Muirchú had a crew of ten with Captain WJ Kelly of Dún Laoghaire in command. Also on board were three passengers. Two representatives from the Hammond Lane Foundry made the voyage and the other passenger, making a foreboding total of thirteen persons on board, was Brian Inglis a journalist with the Irish Times, who had been asked by his editor, the legendary RM Smyllie, to record and write about the historic last voyage.

‘SPLENDID NEW FISHERY CRUISER BUILT FOR THE DEPARTMENT’ was the headline from the Irish Independent of Monday, May 18th,1908, and the newspaper went on the describe the impressive launching ceremony, witnessed by a large crowd, on the previous Saturday morning of a twin-screw fishery research and protection cruiser built in the Dublin Dockyard and named Helga ΙΙ. Dublin Dockyard had won the contract to build the new vessel for the Fisheries Branch of the Department of Agriculture and Technical Instruction in open competition with famous Clyde shipbuilders. Helga ΙΙ was 155ft. in length and as the newspaper reported:

“The steamer is modelled on fine lines indicative of speed and sea-worthiness. Her laboratory is fitted up in the most modern style with every requisite for research work. The appointments, fittings, and furniture of the various rooms have been carried out in handsome style.”

The new fishery cruiser replaced an earlier vessel called ‘Helga’. Such was the interest in her design that Canada ordered two ships to be built to the same specifications by Dublin Dockyard. These were HMCS Galiano and HMCS Malaspina.

Helga ΙΙ in 1908
Image courtesy of Cormac Lowth

Helga ΙΙ remained under the control of the Department of Agriculture and Technical Instruction until she was commandeered by the Admiralty in March 1915. She was now described officially as His Majesty’s Yacht Helga, an armed steam yacht. At this time the ‘ΙΙ’ was dropped from her name. She served as an anti-submarine patrol vessel as well as undertaking armed escort duty in the Irish Sea.

In Ireland, Helga is infamously best known for her part played in the 1916 Easter Rising. On Wednesday, April 26th,1916, according to an extract from her log, the ship proceeded up the Liffey and stopped near the Custom House. Twenty-four rounds were directed at Liberty Hall, headquarters of the Irish Citizen Army, which had been abandoned since the beginning of the Rising. It has been reported that her 12-pound artillery guns had to stop firing as the elevation necessary to fire over the railway bridge meant that her shells were endangering the Viceregal Lodge in Phoenix Park.

Liberty Hall in the aftermath of the 1916 Easter Rising.
Image courtesy of Cormac Lowth.

In April 1918, the Helga was credited with sinking a submarine in the Irish Sea. While no record of the sinking could be confirmed at the time, for the remainder of her career, she carried a star on her funnel as an indicator of this event.

Later in the same year, on October 10th,1918, in the final weeks of the First World War, the City of Dublin Steam Packet Company steamship RMS Leinster was torpedoed near the Kish Bank and sunk by German submarine UB-123. Current research shows that 569 lives were lost, resulting in the greatest ever loss of life in the Irish Sea and the highest ever death toll on an Irish-owned ship. Helga was fuelling in Kingstown (now Dún Laoghaire) at the time. She rescued ninety of the passengers.

Helga after being commandeered by the Admiralty in 1915
Image courtesy of Cormac Lowth.

Helga was released from the Admiralty in March 1919 and returned to fisheries work. She was later used to transport the British auxiliary troops known as Black and Tans around the coast when many of the roads in Ireland were rendered impassable by Irish forces in the War of Independence.

When the Civil War broke out in 1922, the Helga came under the control of the Irish Army authorities and acted as a supply and landing ship to the Government soldiers as they fought the Anti-Treaty forces in Munster.

Helga was handed over to the Irish Free State in August 1923 and was renamed Muirchú, an Irish name that means ‘Sea Hound’. She became one of the first ships in the newly established Coastal and Marine Service, Ireland’s first Navy. However, between February 29th and March 31st, 1924, all officers of the Coastal and Marine Service were either demobilised or transferred to the army. The first Irish Navy had lasted only ten months and twenty-seven days. Muirchú was returned to the Department of Agriculture and Fisheries to carry out her duties of fishery protection, a task that she had originally been commissioned for and had carried out.

Sadly, from 1924 to 1938, there was little interest in maritime affairs in Ireland. The sole official representative of the Irish Free State, on the seas, was the unarmed Muirchú, a situation that was not helping its task of detaining illegal fishing vessels. Permission was sought and granted from the Admiralty in 1936 to carry a gun on the ship.

In 1938 Great Britain handed back the Treaty Ports and control of Irish waters, to the Irish Free State. When the Second World War was declared, Ireland established the Marine and Coastwatching Service and on December 12th,1939 Muirchú was taken over by this Service from the Department of Agriculture and Fisheries. The former Royal Navy base at Haulbowline, near Cobh, was reactivated to act as a headquarters for this Service. By 1941 the Marine Service consisted of ten craft. Six of these were motor torpedo boats (MTBs) purchased from Great Britain and another four assorted vessels, one of which was Muirchú. Daire Brunicardi described her new role:

“Muirchú, for the second time in her life, was painted the drab grey of a naval ship. The conversion work was carried out in the same yard as before, but whereas the previous time she was becoming a very small unit in the mightiest navy the world had ever seen, now she was to be flagship of what probably the world’s smallest.”

 The tasks of the Marine Service during the ‘Emergency’, as World War ΙΙ was called in Ireland, included mine laying in Cork and Waterford Harbours, regulation of merchant shipping, upkeep of navigational aids and fishery protection.

During all these years, the Muirchú was widely known in the fishing waters off counties Waterford and Wexford as she valiantly attempted to apprehend the many foreign fishing trawlers who fished illegally inside Ireland’s three-mile fishery limit.  When an illegal boat was apprehended, a court case to prosecute the skipper and confiscate the catch and gear would take place. Looking back on old local newspapers, one can read several accounts of these proceedings. The Muirchú’s master was obliged to attend. Prosecutions were not always successful as some newspaper reports recorded- the offending fishing skipper getting off on some technical issue.  It is recalled that when Breton skippers from France were being prosecuted at Waterford District Court, Major Wilfred Lloyd, Harbour Master at Dunmore East had to be engaged to act as interpreter.   All the while, with the Muirchú being tied up in Waterford or elsewhere for the court proceedings, the rest of the foreign fishing fleet would fish away with impunity.  Rather unfairly, Muirchú became a vessel that was often the butt of jokes and unkind comments made by politicians and its main nemesis was the satirical magazine ‘Dublin Opinion’, which constantly lampooned it.

Dublin Opinion Magazine 1934.

 Quidnunc writing in the Irish Times on May 12th, 1947 put the matter into some perspective:

“As a fishery protection vessel between the wars there was some justification for laughing at her, as she had not the speed to be really effective at her rather ignominious task of chasing foreign fishing pirates. But during the war, on her anti-mine patrols, she did a first-class job, at a time when the loss of a single ship’s cargo might have meant the difference between frugality and really want.”

Muirchú off the Coningbeg Lightship. A fine painting, courtesy of maritime artist Brian Cleare

Just a week short of being forty-years old, the early part of the Muirchú’s voyage from Cobh to Dublin was uneventful. It was raining but the sea was calm. The thirteen persons onboard could reflect on the remarkable fact that they were on a vessel, whose lifetime, 1908-1947, coincided with the most important period in Irish history. It had been present at the birth of a new state and was Ireland’s first fishery-patrol and research ship. Many dramatic events occurred during its lifetime and the Muirchú /Helga was there for many of them.  It had been involved in two World Wars, a Rebellion, a War of Independence, and a Civil War. To this day, Helga’s shelling of Liberty Hall is mentioned in every account of the 1916 Rising.

The Irish Times eye-witness report by Brian Inglis from May 9th, 1947 continues the story:

“It was not until shortly before dawn that the engineers found difficulty in keeping up steam and Captain Kelly discovered that ship was not answering well to the wheel. Investigation showed the forecastle was flooded. At first this was attributed to a smashed porthole.

When the combined efforts of all the pumps failed to keep the water in check it was obvious that the leak was far more serious. The bunkers were flooded and soon afterwards the forward bulkhead gave way and water poured into the stokehold.

There was no radio on board, and despite the risk, the engineers and firemen stuck to their jobs until we came within hailing distance of some trawlers fishing nearby.

The captain ran up the distress signal and as soon as it was acknowledged gave the order to abandon ship. It was then 9.30am.

By this time a heavy sea was running, and it took us all our strength to swing the lifeboat out on the davits. The Muirchú was wallowing broadside to the swell. The boat was on the weatherside and we had no steam to turn so we had to trust luck.

As we were being lowered the stem falls came away, leaving the lifeboat hanging almost vertically by the bows with eight of clinging to it.  The next wave lifted her just long enough for us to cast off, but every time we pushed away from Muirchú a wave would dash back against her hull.

The oars which we tried to fend ourselves off were old and rotten, and one was snapped in two before we scrabbed our way around the stem and round on her lee.

As we pulled away from the Muirchú we realised for the first time how far she had gone, listing heavily to starboard and down by her bows, looking as she might plunge at any moment. For a time, we feared for the safety of the five men left on board, but their dinghy was on the leeward side and they were able to lower themselves into the sea with less difficulty.

Getting on board the trawler, Ellesmere, was unexpectedly easy. They threw us a rope, pulled us alongside and hauled us bodily over the bulwarks. The dinghy crew followed.

There we were uninjured except for a few cuts and bruises, putting away mugs of scalding tea.

The Ellesmere finished her trawl and was just starting back for Milford Haven when she saw our distress flag, so less than an hour after the abandonment she cut loose our lifeboat and dinghy and started for base.

So, we did not see the Muirchú go down. Two hours was that any of the crew gave her, but I would not be certain. Ships have a queer obstinate streak in them.”

The Muirchú had foundered and sank about five kilometers SE from the Saltee Islands off the Wexford coast, a stretch of water that it would have known intimately from her days as a fishing protection and naval vessel. (See chart). The Cork Examiner of May 9th, 1947 reported that a distress call, later canceled, was made to Dunmore East Lifeboat but as Muirchú did not have a radio, this does not sound plausible. What was more important was that everyone had been safely rescued and landed in Milford Haven.

The wreck of the Muirchú lies about 5 km SE of the Saltee Islands.
Position: Latitude: 52˚04, 142’N Longitude: 06 ˚ 35, 113W

Again, there was certain irony as the Muirchú crew were rescued by the same British trawler that it had arrested off Sheep’s Head, County Cork in 1940.
Irish Times Journalist Brian Inglis, who was one of the rescued, writing under the pseudonym of Quidnunc on May 12th,1947, described the Welsh fishermen:

“The crew of the trawler Ellesmere, who picked us up, were a most genial crowd, from their captain, a good-humoured Welshman, inevitably called Jones, to equally inevitable Irishman, Gerald Flaherty, from the Aran Islands. They were much amused at their last haul; looking over at the sinking Muirchú, the Ellesmere’s engineer remarked: “To think of all the times she’s chased us, and now we are picking up her ——- crew.”

Built in Govan on the Clyde in 1903, Steam Trawler ‘Ellesmere’, H767 was registered in Hull in the same year. In 1947, it was owned by the Crescent Trawling Company and the skipper was Fred Jones of Hakin, Milford Haven, West Wales. Image: Courtesy of Tracy Collins, Milford Haven Library, and Information Centre.

The national newspapers on May 9th, 1947 also carried reports that the Wexford schooner Antelope, which was damaged by heavy seas while bound from Waterford to Dublin with 200 tons of wheat, was taken in tow to Rosslare by the Dublin schooner Invermore, confirming the severe weather conditions that prevailed on that fateful day.

The Irish Times of May 9th, 1947 reported the names of all those on the Muirchú on its final voyage:

“There was a pair of fathers and sons among the crew of ten and three passengers on board Muirchú. Captain WJ Kelly in command with his son, James Kelly, chief engineer, both of Dun Laoghaire; and W Roche, bosun, and his son, G Roche, fireman, both of Dublin. The others in the crew were: TA Knott, of Drimnagh, second engineer, HM Taylor, of Ayr, mate; C Plummer, G Lemasney and P Scannell, all able seamen from Cobh; a second fireman, P O’Toole also of Cobh. There were three passengers, Messrs. DJ Flavin, manager of Hammond Lane Metal Company, a subsidiary of Hammond Lane Foundry; J Hodgins and Brian Inglis.”

The wreck of the Muirchú lies in the vicinity of two other Irish vessels that were victims of World War ΙΙ, during late 1940. The SS Ardmore was on passage from Cork to Fishguard in South Wales on November 12th, 1940, but never reached her destination. She had a full cargo of livestock on board, mainly cattle and pigs. A total of twenty-four lives were lost. Her wreck was discovered in 1998 by a group of local divers, off the Great Saltee Island in 183 ft of water. The hull bore evidence of a massive explosion and it is believed that the ship may have hit a magnetic mine. The Irish Lights tender Isolda, while carrying Christmas supplies and relief crews to the Barrels and Coningbeg lightships, was bombed and sunk near the Saltee Islands by a German aircraft on December 19th, 1940, resulting in six deaths.

The following news item appeared in the Irish Press on Friday, January 23rd , 1948:

Result of Inquiry on Muirchú Loss
A finding of the Inquiry into loss of the SS Muirchú on May 8 while proceeding from Cork Harbour to Dublin where she was to be broken up, is that a porthole failed to withstand the impact of the sea and as a result the forecastle became flooded and the bulkhead gave way under pressure. The Muirchú was designed for specific purposes with unusually large portholes very close to the waterline. The vessel had undergone repair before sailing from Cork and had a certificate of seaworthiness. The lights and sound signals were functioning satisfactorily, and the life-saving appliance requirements were fully complied with. The Inquiry held by Capt. H Freyne, Nautical Officer of the Department, on the direction of the Minister for Industry and Commerce, did not disclose any ground for further investigation.

A porthole from the wreck of the Muirchú salvaged by Stephen J Free and presented to ‘Peg’s Bar’, Ballygarrett, near Gorey, where it is on display. Image courtesy of David Doran, ‘Peg’s Bar’.

Many songs and verses have been written about the Muirchú through the years. Much of it has been somewhat uncomplimentary, but one thing that everyone agrees upon is that it had a stubborn streak and was determined not to end her days in a scrapyard. She decided to go to a watery grave instead. James N Healy was a well-known Cork actor, writer, and theatre producer and he wrote a very long ballad about the Muirchú. The last four lines go as follows:

“The good old Muirchú, me boys,
Will never be a slave,
For off the coast of Wexford,
She found a sailor’s grave.”

Footnote: Brian Inglis, having served with the RAF during World War ΙΙ, rejoined the Irish Times and worked as a journalist in the late 1940s. He moved to London in 1953 and became a very famous journalist, prolific writer, and television presenter. He was editor of the Spectator from 1959 to 62. He died in 1993, aged 76 years.

References:
‘The Sea Hound: The Story of a Small Irish Ship’, by Daire Brunicardi, in addition to contemporaneous and other newspaper reports were the main source of information for this article. Included are the following:
Irish Independent May 18th, 1908, May 9th, 1947
Irish Times May 9th ,1947, May 12th, 1947, June 27th, 2014
Cork Examiner May 9th, 1947
Irish Press March 18th, 1947, May 9th, 1947, January 23rd, 1948
Evening Echo March 3rd, 4th, and 5th, 1975 – a series of articles entitled: ‘Birth and Growth of Irish Naval Service’, by Denis Reading.
Wexford People August 11th, 2020
Other sources:
http://www.llangibby.eclipse.co.uk/milfordtrawlers/
https://www.wrecksite.eu/ Report No. 137289
https://coastmonkey.ie/
http://www.irishships.com/helga_11_muirchu.html

Further Reading:
‘The Sea Hound: The Story of a Small Irish Ship’, by Daire Brunicardi, Collins Press, 2001.

Many thanks to Dr Pat McCarthy and Cormac Lowth for their assistance with this article.

Hook Lighthouse gets a makeover

Last month we explored the loss of the American Sailing Ship Columbus, lost on the Hook Peninsula in 1852. The ship was wrecked on the jagged rocks, thanks in no small part to the mistaken belief that the Hook Head lighthouse was actually Tuskar Lighthouse, about 30miles to the east. That error would cause the loss of the ship and 14 passengers and crew. The Master of the Columbus Captain Robert McCerren would later express his opinion that some distinguishing marks to highlight the differences between both lighthouses, which were then both white, might have averted the tragedy.

Columbus under Captain McCerren was sailing in southerly gales and thick weather and as a consequence, the Master could not get a fix on his actual location. On January 6th, 1852 he spotted a lighthouse, and thinking it was the Tuskar he sailed north expecting to find the Irish Sea opening out before him, but instead found Ballyteige Bay!

Ballyteige Bay accessed from https://www.southwexfordcoast.com/monitoring-in-ballyteige-bay/

Discussing the matter with Pete Goulding of Pete’s Irish Lighthouses renown recently, he reminded me that normally complaints were made about the lack of visibility of lighthouses at daytime.  As Pete explained, “…the lights were frequently obscured because they were sited at too high an elevation when they were often shrouded in mist or low cloud – Wicklow Head, Inishmore, Cape Clear, the Bailey at Howth – to name four – all had to be replaced lower down.”

The lighthouses of Hook and Tuskar were both painted white, but had different shapes and showed different lights, but unfortunately for Captain McCerren with the fleeting glimpse he got, perhaps it confirmed what he expected to see, not what the reality was. 

Hook at the time of the tragedy. George Victor Du Noyer sketch.

Although after the wreck the Harbour Commissioners held several meetings in Waterford to discuss the event by the Harbour Commissioners, the matter of the lighthouse error did not seem to arise.  Captain McCerren’s account of the wreck was widely circulated, however, prompting a letter from a Welsh Master Mariner, John Moore of Swansea to the local papers.  The Waterford Chronicle (Saturday 31 January 1852) published his letter in full and at the outset, he reproached any who dared blame the captain for the tragedy “…The vessel, it appears, made the land a few miles to the Northward of where it was expected, or should have done (not to be wondered at after being thirteen days without an observation); and, consequently, mistook the Hook for Tuskar.  From this circumstance, parties, as usual, seem inclined to throw the blame on the unfortunate Captain, who has been a heavy loser by the fatal occurrence.  However, those persons show their utter ignorance of nautical affairs, as it happens that sea is not their business, whether he erred or not in that particular…”

It seems that the RNLI also agreed on the matter of distinguishing the lighthouses.  In a report issued into wrecks and lifesaving operations for 1852 a very detailed account of the Columbus is given and the matter of the confusion, notwithstanding the differences in design and location that some might think apparent, is shown much sympathy.

The Institution demanded some resolution to the potential for confusion.  A distance of 30 miles between lighthouses after a transatlantic journey it reasoned was nothing.  It argued that the lighthouses should be given some distinguishing character – suggesting that the painting of either with vertical or horizontal bands of black and white or indeed any other manner that the Ballast Board could think of.  Indeed the issue had, it is claimed in the report, long been pointed out to the Ballast Board.

Pete Goulding did find another historical reference.  In the Naval Magazine and Nautical Chronicle of 1849 confusion with lighthouse identification appears to be a regular matter of concern. Mr. R Hoskyn (Richard I would imagine who later wrote the Sailing Directions for the Coast of Ireland) writes and offers an experience to add to the cause.  It concerns a West Indiaman sailing vessel which in hazy weather conditions, mistook Hook for the Tuskar and sailed into Ballyteige Bay in exactly the same manner as the Columbus.  A local fisherman received a reward of £5 for acting as a pilot and directing the vessel back to safer waters.

Source: Naval Magazine and Nautical Chronicle of 1849. Clipping courtesy of Pete Goulding

It was 1859 before the matter was finally dealt with, and in the wisdom of the Board, Hook was chosen for a makeover.  As Pete Goulding remarked to me “Took them seven years but that was pretty quick for the procrastinators supreme”

Hook Head Lighthouse with its three red bands. Image courtesy of Liam Ryan.

In autumn 1859 the following notice appeared in a wide range of newspapers both in Ireland and abroad.  (I’m posting it here if full, as I think the details are worth having. Apologies to those who like a snappy version)

BALLAST OFFICE. DUBLIN. Sept. 29, 1859.
Notice to mariners.
IRELAND—SOUTH COAST.
HOOK TOWER LIGHTHOUSE.
The Port of Dublin Corporation hereby give NOTICE, that on (or shortly before) the 1st day of December, 1859. the HOOK TOWER LIGHTHOUSE, on the East side of the entrance to WATERFORD HARBOUR, will, In order to render it a better day mark, be coloured with RED BELTS, and its top also will be coloured RED.
Specification given of position and appearance of this Tower by Mr Halpin, Superintendent of Lighthouses.
Hook Tower Lighthouse is on the outer end of Hook Point, in Lat. 52 deg. 7 min 25 sec N., and long. 6 deg. 35 min. 53 sec. W. The building. 110 feet in height from its base to top of its dome, is cylindrical from the bottom to the lower gallery on which the fog bells are set. The main shaft of the tower will be marked with three horizontal RED BELTS, each 10 feet in height and spaced 9 feet apart; and the lantern dome also will be coloured RED. The remainder of the tower will be coloured WHITE.
The painting of these three red belts will be proceeded with at the same time. The work will commenced at the South-West side of the tower, and will continued from this point around until completed, when the lantern dome will coloured.
Bells are tolled during foggy weather.
CAUTION.—The entrance to Waterford Harbour is marked on its Eastern side by the Hook Tower Lighthouse, a single conspicuous tower. Tramore Bay. the next bay to the westward, is marked by TWO TOWERS on BROWNSTOWN HEAD. its Eastern point, distant 6½ sea miles from the Hook Point; and by THREE TOWERS on Great Newtown Head, its Western point. Mariners are cautioned to avoid the dangerous indraft of the latter bay.
By Order, WILLIAM LEES, Secretary.

Since publication, I re-read Liam Ryans’s account in On the Hook Parish annual 2021 pp 22-23 and came upon an interesting story about the painting of the lighthouse. Liam had found an article in the Munster Express written in Jan 1875 raising concerns about the rag order of the tower. Describing it as posing a great danger due to the neglect of the paintwork, it seems that the weather had washed the tower to its natural dark mortar hue which can only be spotted on the brightest of days…the colour was then described as “dunduckedy”

But even with three red bands, the Sailing Directions for the Coast of Ireland 1877 – still cautioned about mistaking the Hook for Tuskar. Hook would later lose its 3 red bands for 2 black ones and three white ones. The date that is generally agreed for this is 1933.  Sadly I can’t find any notice of this, however, (snappy readers might rejoice) but it is on the Irish Lights literature, Pete Goulding agrees, and so does my go to guy for all things historical around the Hook, Liam Ryan.

I am not certain why they thought the change was necessary. But since the publication of this story, I had the good fortune to be loaned a copy of the late John Young’s A Maritime and General History of Dungarvan. On page 35 John describes in terrific detail the loss of the Cirilo Amoros at Stradbally in February 1926 and he wrote that the crew of the steamer which had no sightings for several days got a glimpse of the Hook and thought it was a lighthouse on the Welsh coast. On that basis they steamed onto the Waterford coast to the east of Stradbally. Perhaps this influenced the matter?

Now it’s only a historical footnote, but relevant nonetheless to the fate of the Columbus.  What if Tuskar was never built!? Would it have helped our Captain McCerren that fateful January afternoon in 1852? You see in December 1811 the Waterford Chamber of Commerce (at that time the maritime matters of Waterford were managed jointly within this body) wrote to the Ballast Board stating that the Saltee Islands would be a better position for, the then proposed, Tuskar lighthouse.  The Ballast Board disagreed however and Tuskar was built and became operational in 1815.

If you would like to know more about lighthouse makeovers, Pete Goulding has a blog on the topic.

My thanks to the time, expertise and generosity of Pete Goulding and Liam Ryan for this blog post. I can honestly say I would not have been able to bring it together without their assistance. All errors and omissions are my own. For my regulars who want to know the last piece of this story – the blaming of the Dunmore East pilots and the fallout – a story I have researched but might hold off for a while yet before publishing.