A ship of the White Star Line is lost on its maiden voyage, carrying emigrants. Shane Hegarty tracks its progress
In a disaster that in some ways foreshadowed the Titanic, the sailing ship Tayleur struck rocks at Lambay Island, off the east coast of Dublin, and sank, 150 years ago last Wednesday. Some 360 people were lost; their remains still lie in unmarked graves dotted along the coast.
Edward J. Bourke's recently published book Bound for Australia is an exhaustive record of the disaster, reminding us of how folly is so closely stalked by tragedy. The Tayleur was built for the Gold Rush: with newspapers carrying daily reports of Australian gold strikes, the British government encouraged its subjects to leave for the colony and shipping lines engaged in a race to see who could get them there quickest. Black Ball Line's Marco Polo had recently completed the journey to Melbourne in a record time of 68 days. Of its 930 passengers, 51 children and two adults had died on route, making it a relatively successful passage.
The building of timber ships had steadily stripped the forests of Britain, and the Tayleur was one of a new generation of iron clippers. With masts 150 feet high and a weight of 1979 tonnes, she was the largest merchantman yet built in England. So novel was the idea of iron ships that nobody had figured out how to get accurate compass readings aboard one.
But this was an age of ignorance as much as it was progress. There were five classes aboard the ship, yet the menus made no provisions for fresh fruit and vegetables, nor for lime juice to ward off scurvy. Nor had much thought been given to sea trials. The Tayleur was an untested ship as she set out on her maiden voyage.
There remains confusion over how many were aboard her, with figures ranging from 450 to 670 and historians settling for an estimate of about 650. The majority were English, but there were also Scots, Scandinavians and Germans as well as 111 Irish setting out for a new life in Australia. They included a large group from the Co Antrim village of Broughshane, most of whom would be lost.
The Tayleur was undermanned. Its crew consisted of many Chinese, Portuguese, Spaniards and French with little experience of sailing and a weak grasp of the English language. The ship's commander, Captain Noble, had been seen as a capable hand, but struggled to keep control of the crew, several of whom were caught sleeping in the topsail.
The Tayleur left Liverpool on a Thursday, together with the smaller emigrant ship Indian Queen and a race was anticipated. Through Friday all went well despite the Tayleur making little progress against what one passenger described as "boisterous and contrary winds". However, by Saturday morning, the ship had become quite lost in thick weather and under the eccentricities of the compass. Observant passengers grew anxious at the sight of land dead ahead.
Captain Noble believed his position to be south of Wicklow Head. In fact, the ship was much further north, at Lambay Island, off Rush.
The deck soon became crowded with passengers, and the crew had little chance to hear or carry out orders. Attempts were made to avert danger, but the ship refused to obey the helm. Two anchors were dropped as a last resort, but snapped. A sudden gust of wind condemned the Tayleur to drift at ferocious speed into rocks off the eastern point of Lambay.
She struck them hard, turning broadside to land. Some passengers took their chance to jump overboard, though several drowned in the attempt. A rope was run between the deck and the rocks and several managed to escape by sliding down it. Unfortunately, most of the women on board refused this most physical method of escape and would not receive another chance after the rope snapped and the Tayleur gradually slipped beneath the waves. Only three of the 100 women on board survived, as did only three of the 50 children.
The scene was horrific. A rush through the hatchways led only to a crush. In the squall, heavy seas swamped through the ship's windows filling her rapidly. One woman offered financial rewards to men who would rescue her, but drowned nonetheless.
Those who had clambered to safety on the rocks watched as others were dashed against them.
Captain Noble was one of the last to leave the ship, casting off all his clothing except his shirt and making it to the rocks. The Tayleur disappeared beneath the waves, apart from its rigging, to which two men clung. The coastguards plucked one from there when they arrived at the scene, but the other spent a very nervous 14 hours hanging on while his rescuers waited for the storm to abate.
Bodies littered the water. For days afterwards victims were washed up along the shoreline between Malahide and Skerries. Lloyd's List mentioned that goods from the wreck were washed up as far away as the south coast of Scotland.
Almost a hundred victims are buried on Lambay where the wreck - 16 metres deep - has become an increasingly popular diving site. At least 86 of the survivors continued their journeys to Australia, where their stories filtered through the generations.
The anniversary of the disaster is being marked locally by an exhibition in Rush Yacht Club which runs until next Friday, accompanied by talks by H.F. Starkey, author of Iron Clipper Tayleur, and Edward J. Bourke.