On a dark tempestuous winter’s evening, the brig Glencoe was blown onto the rocks at Ballymacaw to the west of Dunmore East. As the winds howled and the seas crashed and washed over the ship her 13 man crew had little hope of survival but those on shore had seen this kind of incident before and plans were already underway to come to their aid.
The Glencoe was a brig of 275 ton from Sunderland, England. Under Captain J Keith she was en route from Glasgow to Calcutta with a mixed cargo including coal, bales of manufactured cotton, and beer. Having being caught out in a storm, her crew found themselves battling hopelessly against the natural elements.
She eventually grounded on rocks at what one newspaper described as under Mc Dougals farm. Six men based at the local Coastguard station along accompanied by four local volunteers rushed to the scene and under the command of Coastguard Chief Officer Charles French proceeded to try get lines aboard to the stricken crew. After several hours all 13 were safely brought ashore.
The brig was smashed to pieces on the rocks and the papers reported that the cargo was lost. However later in December 40 bales of cotton described as “with all faults” was auctioned off at Fallows Warehouse, Peter St (in what I understand was Liverpool) I’m sure the locals were burning the coal for some time to come, and as for the ale, no mention is made of this at all. I can only hope it was widely enjoyed along the coastline.
The newspapers mentioned several other casualties that same week in Waterford. A young boy (possibly an observer to the wreck of the Glencoe was lost and drowned off the rocks. Meanwhile, at Tramore, an empty lifeboat from the James Jenny was discovered on the beach. An unnamed barque was wrecked at Stradbally while another ship the Leisk enroute from Malaga to Glasgow grounded at Bunmahon but her crew and cargo of oranges were reported safe and well. The ship was lightly damaged and there were hopes that she would be got off.
A subsequent newspaper article explained that the Leisk was high and dry on the east end of Bunmahon beach. The cargo was safely stored in Mr Robinson’s warehouse in Waterford city and the vessel was likely to be refloated on the next spring tides. The damage was minor, the hull was ok with some damage to the rigging, cabin, and forecastle. The optimism of an easy salvage was misplaced however as it was March before she was finally refloated and towed to Waterford.
The Waterford Mail reported that the ship that was wrecked at Stradbally was a barque and that a crew of 13 were lost, although all bodies were reported to have washed ashore. It was speculated that the ship was bound for Dungarvan with a cargo of timber, but this was speculation. Meanwhile, in Dungarvan, the local schooner Spankaway under Captain O Neill with a cargo of ore from Bunmahon was blown ashore on Monday 7th in the storm after her anchor chains parted. Again there was little damage and she was expected to be refloated. Another incident was the schooner Shamrock of Youghal, which reported some minor damage due to the weather.
Following the successful rescue of the crew of the Glencoe Chief Officer French was awarded a Silver medal by the RNLI for his leadership. Despite searching I could find no mention of the names of any of the others who played such a crucial part. If you would like to know more of the work of the local RNLI and their rescues down the years, why not order a copy of David Carrolls wonderful new book at the following link
Some details of the Glencoe rescue are taken from Jeff Morris’ book The Story of the Dunmore East Lifeboat. The other information is taken from a look through the local papers of the era.
One of the most intriguing and enduring mysteries we have anywhere in Waterford harbour is the Forty Steps at Creaden Head. Carved into the cliff of this inhospitable headland the purpose and the creators of the stone steps have intrigued and perplexed many.
Creaden Head is located on the western side of Waterford harbour, 1 ½ mile NW of Dunmore East. The stone at the tip of the headland is from volcanic Old Red Sandstone, sometimes called puddingstone, a sand and pebble mixture that was forged in the furnace of the earth’s natural heat. It juts out into the harbour and stands as the most eastern tip of the county of Waterford and the province of Munster. Canon Power speculated that the name originated from a person, but someone unknown to us.[I] As the land is in private ownership, I have only ever seen the steps by water, the best way to my mind!
The steps were carved into the cliff face in a very steep area. It would have taken time, determination, and a lot of skill. It would also have had to be financed. Numerous theories have been put forward about the steps and I will share those that are known to me in no specific order.
I might start with a piece written by the column “Sean Suir” in the News & Star in 1949. “While camping in Woodstown my old pal and myself walked down those steps when the tide was very low. I often wondered who made them and why they were cut in such a point almost at, the steepest part of the cliff. If you have not seen them, do go and have a look at them. Seemingly no one in the locality could tell us anything about them. The first time I saw them was when brought by my parents for a cruise to Dunmore on the old ‘ Vandeleur,’ the once-famous river steamer.[ii] What I love about this is the notion that even in the era of the Paddle Steamers (1837-1905) the steps evoked speculation and intrigue.
One theory is that the steps were created when the Knights Templar operated a ferry between Creaden and their church at Templetown in Wexford, just over a mile across the harbour. The Templars were granted ferry and numerous other rights after the Norman conquest. According to Byrne[iii], they established a ferry crossing at the narrowest point (Passage East to Ballyhack). No mention is made of another crossing, and why they would want another crossing point a few miles away and in a wider and more dangerous location is beyond me.
A more incredible theory is that it was used as a means of taking African slaves ashore to be walked in chains (for exercise apparently) before being reloaded and sent to the America’s. The origin of this theory is that an old path close to the shore at Fornaght leading inland known as Bothar na mban Gorm , the road of the blue women. The name has created much speculation and wild theorising, but the notion of diverting northwards from off the customary slave route has no evidence that I am aware of. More importantly, It ignores the well-known practice of triangular trade that governed shipping at the time, and indeed the fundamentals of the theory are still in use to this day.
The late Noel McDonagh had a very interesting and to my mind plausible theory which linked this roadway with Creaden and the ancient burial site of the Giants Grave at Harristown. Noel’s research was unfortunately cut short by his untimely death but his theory, in brief, was that ancient people may have used the road and steps as part of a funeral rite as they placed the bones of their dead at the base of Creaden in a sea cave to enable their passage to the other world by water. Noel’s findings of flints and other evidence have turned the heads of everyone with an interest in the early settlement of Ireland.
One theory that I occasionally discussed with Noel was smuggling. Neither of us really thought smuggling at the location made any sense. Firstly it was within view of Duncannon which had a military presence since the medieval era. But it is also an inhospitable location. Tides can reach three knots on the Head during spring tides, and it is open to all wind directions except south-westerlies. To put it mildly, it is far from being an ideal location.
There is merit to the theory, however. Firstly smuggling was a well organised and lucrative trade in Ireland up to the mid 19th Century. My cousin James has guest blogged on it before. Creaden is out of the way, right beside the channel into the ports of Waterford and New Ross. More importantly, such steps have an established association with smuggling in other areas including west Cork.
My view of smuggling was that it would involve a ship coming into the head to unload. Not feasible on this site in my view. But what if it anchored above the head, and a number of smaller boats worked to bring the goods ashore, where willing hands passed the goods up onto the headland and distributed them inland. Not just feasible, but practical. It may have also served the purpose of offering a diversion to the revenue coastwatchers, another site amongst many to be watched and the spreading of resources. And it’s a theory supported by one of Ireland’s foremost archaeologists Connie Kelleher. Connie specialises in underwater archaeology for the National Monuments Service. She spoke about it in Waterford some years back in a talk organised by the cousin. Connie has a new book out called The Alliance of Pirates: Ireland and Atlantic piracy in the early seventeenth century, which I have promised myself for Christmas. I’m sure Creaden and Waterford will get a substantial mention.
Another theory about the steps was that they were used by pilots for boarding sailing vessels coming into the ports. See for example Michael Fewer’s account from Rambling Down the Suir[iv]. Most likely this was the era of the hobblers, prior to the formation of the harbour commissioners in Waterford (1816) who appointed their own official pilots and a pilot boat. However, it’s also known that the hobblers operated for many years after this and that they operated from the area. I would think it would be highly unlikely they went to the bother of cutting steps into the cliff, but very likely they used the steps when tide and weather allowed.
There is one idea I have myself that I have yet to properly research. That is the use of stone on Creaden by millstone makers and which has been researched by Niall Colfer (son of the renowned late Billy Colfer) Colfer estimated that almost 300 millstones were quarried from the site and he describes it as “…the most intense example of millstone quarrying located in Ireland as part of…[his]… research.”[v] Is it possible the workmen employed in such an operation used the steps as a point of access at certain times. They would certainly have had the skill. The quarry stands a long way from the steps and there is no evidence that I have seen of any millstone quarrying in their vicinity, but as I say more research is merited.
And of course, there’s likely to be other theories that I have not heard, or have yet to unearth. But that’s the joy of research. It’s an ever-evolving story.
Any feedback can be added to the comments on the blog or by email to email@example.com
As any blog regular will know, the lifeboats and their actions are a feature of so many of the stories on Tides and Tales. So it is with great anticipation that we look forward to the forthcoming Dauntless Courage, a history of the Dunmore East Lifeboat Station in the coming weeks. And even more so, as it is one of our own, a regular guest blogger on the page, David Carroll who is the author. Some further details below.
Radio presenter Damien Tiernan will lead an online panel discussion (Wednesday 25 November at 8 pm) with ‘Dauntless Courage’ author David Carroll and Dunmore East RNLI volunteer crew members.
WLR FM radio presenter, former South East correspondent for RTE and author of ‘Souls of the Sea’ Damien Tiernan will lead the panel discussion with the author of ‘Dauntless Courage’ David Carroll who will also be joined by Dunmore East RNLI volunteer crew members Brendan Dunne and Neville Murphy. The launch is coinciding with the 50th anniversary of the Glenmalure Tragedy which is featured in the book.
‘Dauntless Courage’: Celebrating the History of the Dunmore East RNLI, their crews and the Maritime Heritage of the Local Community. All proceeds from the book will be going to the local Dunmore East Lifeboat Fundraising Branch to support the saving of lives on our seas.
After several years researching and writing of the book, the public unveiling will take place online with an in-depth panel discussion of the research involved in writing the book, the characters behind the lifejackets, the many acts of courage that took place far from shore, and a look at the local community that was so often the backbone of every crew that took to sea to save those whose lives were in peril.
The online event will take place on Wednesday 25 November at 8 pm for approximately forty minutes, with a live Q&A session for attendees afterwards. Registration for the event can be made by clicking here
David Carroll, author of Dauntless Courage said: ‘What has really struck me about writing this book has been the amazing goodwill and generosity of so many people who have helped to make this book possible, especially all the interesting and historic photographs and paintings that we have been given access to for inclusion in the book’.
Damian Tiernan, WLR FM radio presenter said: ‘I am honoured and delighted to be hosting this discussion, I have a long association with members of the RNLI in Dunmore and I worked closely with them over the years. The publication is a wonderful record of all that has happened complete with superb pen portraits and descriptions of events and superbly written and produced’.
I must admit I am really looking forward to the book. I’m hoping that if time allows David may do a guest blog featuring one of the rescues that the lifeboat and her crew were involved with in the coming weeks. You can preorder the book now. All proceeds go to the local Dunmore East Lifeboat Fundraising Branch to support the saving of lives on our seas. If you have any questions or need further information on the book you can email firstname.lastname@example.org
On Saturday night, 12th Nov 1955 a collision in the River Mersey involving three ships saw one ship sink, 9 crewmen struggle for an hour without lifejackets in freezing water and a dramatic rescue which included three young seamen from the village of Cheekpoint Co Waterford.
The Cheekpoint men were my father, Bob Doherty, my uncle John and Jimmy (O’Dea) Doherty. They were departing Liverpool as seamen aboard the MV Ocean Coast in dense fog. The ship was carrying general cargo and bound for Falmouth. The three were just out of their teens, but already seasoned sailors.
The first official communication on the night was at 22:10 when the Ocean Coast sent out the following message “Queens Channel, Q15 Buoy, River Mersey. There has been a collision between two unknown ships. I am anchored and sending a lifeboat over. Strong ebb tide running. One of the ships in the collision has sunk”
My father’s ship, MV Ocean Coast, was a twin-screw motor cargo vessel 250 ft in length and a 38ft beam and 1,790 tons dead weight. She was built for short sea route trips by Leith shipyard for the Coast Lines shipping company and was launched on 31st July 1935. During the war years, she had served as a supply vessel to Gibraltar and North Africa. She also played her part in the D Day landings servicing Omaha beach carrying petrol. My father was in short pants at that stage, snaring rabbits to supplement the meager supplies at home in the village, and dreaming of going to sea like his father.
The collision, it would subsequently emerge, was between a fully laden Swedish motor oil tanker SS Juno and the SS Bannprince which was operated by S William Coe of Liverpool. The Bannprince was crewed by Northern Ireland men. Like the Ocean Coast, the Bannprince had served with a volunteer crew during the war, helping to evacuate some of the 337,130 Allied troops from Dunkirk between May and June 1940. Following this, she was taken over for “Unspecified special government services” and was one of the first ships to land at Sword beach during the D Day landings with much needed medical supplies.
The Bannprincewas outward bound that fateful night, fully laden with coal for Colerain. The first the crew knew of difficulties was when the ship’s horn sounded three shrill blasts moments before there was an almighty crash and the ship heeled over. She would sink in ten minutes and most of the crew of 9 had no time to get a life jacket. Her lifeboats were submerged. In the freezing Mersey, the crew did what they could to stay together and help those that couldn’t swim.
It was almost an hour between collision and the calls from the lifeboat of the Ocean Coastwere heard in the water. At this point, most of the sailors were close to exhaustion and had drifted apart. My fathers lifeboat rescued six and a lifeboat from a sister ship Southern Coast picked up the remaining 3 men including the captain and the only crew man to lose his life, second engineer James Ferris of Limavady, Derry.
They put the six survivors aboard the New Brighton lifeboat and returned to the Ocean Coast to continue their voyage. On the 3rd April 1957 my father along with 5 other crew men (including Jimmy) received a certificate from the Liverpool Shipwreck and Humane Society in recognition of their efforts. The Captain received a silver cigarette box and the chief officer a parchment.
My father went to sea as a teenager like so many other men of his generation. Himself, Jimmy and Uncle John are now gone to their rest, and with them their best stories. He never actually spoke at home of this rescue and it took a bit of time to actually research it. But then again, it was just after the horrors of the second world war, and events like this were trivial in comparison. Jimmy O’Dea did have a yarn about it, however. According to his telling when they approached the men in the water my father, who was an excellent swimmer, had to jump overboard to help some of the weakened men out of the water. Jimmy O Dea and the other rescuers were returning to their ship when they noticed my father wasn’t aboard. They turned back, rowing now with a vengeance only to find my father swinging off a buoy shouting “where the hell were ye then shipmates???” Fact or fiction we’ll never know, but my father would have loved it, the bigger the laugh the better, even at his own expense.
This excerpt from the story is only one along with 22 others which feature in my new book about the life and times of so many ships, seafarers, and their families connected to Waterford harbour which is available now from bookshops, online, or directly. More details by email to email@example.com or at this link
I remember hearing many years back an account of the body snatchers who resurrected a lady in Kilkenny. The story went that a wealthy lady from Ballinlaw on the River Barrow died and was buried in Slieverue. It was a time when even the dead could not rest in the country and later that night, the dreaded grave robbers arrived. They broke into the limestone tomb within which she lay. As they uncovered her burial shroud a diamond ring glittered in their torchlight. As her fingers had swollen prior to her death, her husband could not bear to have her rings removed.
Now although they wanted her whole body, greed got in their way. Try as they might they could not remove them, as they squabbled, jostled, and pushed each other aside. Finally, as one held out the wedding finger on the tomb, another brought down a shovel. With a crack, the finger was parted and the ring flew onto the ground. The thieves dived on it and started squabbling again. When they finally stood up from the ground, they found the corpse sitting up in the tomb. The elderly lady, pale and gaunt, was groaning and looking from one to the other with bloodshot eyes. As they fled the graveyard she rose from her tomb returning to her home, minus her finger and her wedding ring. She lived for several more months to come.
The account was only one of many of course which relates to a very macabre era in Irish history. It was the era of the Grave robbers, the body snatchers, the “sack ‘em up men” or the Resurrectionists. The last term seems to be a rather grand title for what was a deplorable activity; the desecration of a grave and the removal of a corpse for monetary gain. The trade-in corpses, however, was largely based on the need for medical students and those interested in furthering medical research to have access to bodies for dissection.
Historically dissection was largely carried out on animals and monkeys in an effort to understand human physiology. The research by William Harvey into the circulatory system was benefited by the dissection of his sister and father. In 1752 the murder act enshrined in law the replacement of dissection to gibbeting of murders. However, the activity of robbing the dead was common in Dublin from at least 1732. There were several scandals at the Edinburgh Medical school from its founding in 1726
Resurrectionism increased as a new area of medicine emerged, pathology. As physicians began to struggle with the causes of illness and the impact of various diseases on the human body, it was no longer enough to simply extrapolate from the bodies of murders or soldiers who were more likely to be fit and well when they died. What was needed was a variety of corpses of all ages and causes of deaths. It also increased as medicine became a popular profession and with it an increase in the number of medical schools.
But there were other reasons to mine human bodies. There was a roaring trade in human teeth for transplanting into gums. After the battle of Waterloo so many teeth were scavenged from the mouths of the dead, that they flooded to market and became known as “Waterloo teeth”[iii] Another target was body fat! Used in candle making…and in Irish terms, there seems to have been a folk-based superstition. This held that a thief who used a candle made from the fat of the person would be invisible if this was used to light an intrusion and robbery of their home.
The incidence of Irish resurrectionism was further encouraged by the English market and exports, from Dublin, at least, seem to have been common. The trade was noted from the late 18th Century and apparently increased after the introduction of faster and more reliable steamship crossings in the 1820s [vi] Monetary gain was, of course, the principal driver. In 1831 three Irish corpses were sold in London for £38. Almost a year’s wage. Criminals got in on the act and it is estimated that there were 50 professional resurrection men operating in Dublin alone at its height.[vii]
It seems they came there from all over the country including the Barony of Forth & Bargy in Wexford. “Peter Dempsey, a deputy supervisor of roads, died and was duly waked by his friends, but the night of his internment the body was removed from the grave, and all traces of it lost, notwithstanding a most determined chase from South Wexford to Dublin by the relatives of the deceased”. All to no avail, however.
In Waterford, the dead were unsafe too as this piece from the Waterford Mail of 1833 highlights. What was described as “two medical gentlemen” were spotted “driving into town [Waterford city] a peculiar kind of vehicle, long after midnight on Tuesday morning, some suspicions about the resurrect of the body were excited, and a search being accordingly instituted” The body of an old woman named Johanna Power who had been buried outside the city (no graveyard is mentioned but in another article Drumcannon close to Tramore is the given graveyard) were discovered “…entombed within a sack, on the upper floor of a store in Michael-street…” Investigations were instigated and somehow a rumour spread throughout the city that a local firm names Messrs. Kenney were involved. As a consequence “…A large mob rushed down towards the cross accordingly, about noon, on Thursday, and broke the shop windows of these gentlemen… and it was evident that the rioters would have proceeded to attack more violent nature, but for the timely presence of the Mayor and constables.” Johanna’s corpse we learn was reinterred with a much larger crowd of mourners than before.
But for all these efforts the trade continued until the grisly business reached what was perhaps its logical conclusion. For if it was ok to rob the dead out of the ground, would it not be a logical step to actually kill to provide for the trade. The names Burke and Hare will be well known to many as they were responsible for the murder of 16 individuals in the streets of Edinburgh for sale to the anatomist Robert Knox. Their capture and the subsequent hanging of Burke (followed somewhat ironically by dissection) after his companion Hare gave evidence against him led indirectly to the 1832 Anatomy Act which finally outlawed the practice, although it was slow to stop. From that point forward it was illegal to rob a corpse. The bodies of the executed, those that died in the workhouse or by their own hand were available for science
All that remains now are the folk memories, and I will conclude with one of the more interesting; the corpse that hung the man. My brother-in-law Maurice told me this again only recently. As he had heard it, a thief landed by boat at Cheekpoint and walked to Faithlegg Graveyard. There he unearthed a recently deceased body. Wrapping it in canvas, he tied both ends with a rope, using this on his shoulder to carry the body back to the village. As he came down the chapel road he decided to rest at the bottom of the Bridge Hill before the steep climb. He placed the body on the wall of the bridge. The body slipped and fell off the opposite side. As the rope was still around his shoulder, this slipped too, got caught around his neck and the weight of the corpse strangled him.
Jim Doherty in his wonderful book, the House Next Door, tells the same tale. Although in that telling, the bridge was at Mooneys Grove, by the bumps in the road. And there is a very fine account from Passage East too.
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