The Ghost Ship Palantine and its Mad Dutch Woman Specter Continue to Haunt Waters Off Pelham

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All Hallows' Eve is upon us.  Today Historic Pelham presents the last in this annual series of Pelham ghost stories.  Today's is particularly horrific. . . .

The shrieks are undeniably horrifying.  They begin in the distance, difficult to hear over the rumbling surf crashing onto the shores of Pelham and Pelham Bay Park and pounding the rocks around Shore Park in Pelham Manor.  As the shrieks and screams intensify, usually there is a glow in the distance -- many say a greenish glow.  Those willing to remain at waters edge despite the unearthly shrieks and the terrifying, constantly-growing glow typically must strain to focus into the distance until, eventually, they can make out the profile of a large 18th century ship sailing on Long Island Sound enveloped in flames.  As the burning ship nears, the unearthly screams become louder until it is clear they are the demoniac screams of a mad woman in hellish agony.

Those who have seen the apparition report that the luminous, green, glowing ship is entirely afire, with flames even climbing the masts of the vessel.  In the midst of the flames can be seen the specter of a woman screaming and writhing in agony as the flames envelope her until the  burning deck seems to collapse beneath her and she disappears into the flames below, screaming preternaturally as she falls, while the burning ship sails into the distance and disappears.

Those who have witnessed the horrifying spectacle have witnessed "The Ghost Ship Palantine and its Mad Dutch Woman Specter" that plies the waters of Long Island Sound.  It can be seen from Hell Gate to Block Island and beyond.  Indeed, mariners and coastal dwellers have seen the apparition as far north as Boston and even beyond there.  The specter is so widely known and has been seen in our region for so many centuries that even famed American poet John Greenleaf Whittier wrote a poem about the terrible 18th century tragedy involving the Palatine and its apparition that sails Long Island Sound (quoted in full below).  

A simple search on the Web for Palatine ghost ship will turn up hundreds of fascinating resources that detail the well-founded history of the actual shipwreck on Block Island at the northeast entrance to Long Island Sound that led to the terrifying apparition that has been seen -- and reported -- by thousands since the mid-18th century.  The shipwreck of The Palatine led to investigations and even depositions intended to get to the bottom of the matter.  Nevertheless, several versions of the story since have evolved.

The most widely-told legend of The Palatine involves pirate "wreckers" on the shores of Block Island.  Eighteenth century "wreckers" used "false lights" to lure ships to rocky shores where the ships wrecked and, then, were plundered.  

In the mid-eighteenth century, so the story goes, The Palatine was carrying a shipload of Dutch immigrants from Holland to Philadelphia but was blown wildly off-course by a terrible gale.  As the gale intensified, the captain of the ship saw onshore lights on a small island indicating safe harbor shelter.  The captain sailed toward the lights only to sail into the trap set by pirate wreckers on Block Island.

The ship wrecked and many, many of the hopeful immigrants were drowned.  The wreckers climbed onto the wreckage and killed others as they plundered the wreckage.  One of the Dutch women witnessed the carnage from the hold and lost her mind from the butchery she witnessed and the fear that she would be next.  She secreted herself in a wrecked niche below and listened to the screams of her fellow immigrants until, finally, all grew silent.

As the storm intensified, the wreckers looted all they could from the wounded vessel.  Once the dastardly slaughter and thievery was completed, they set fire to the ship to destroy as much evidence as possible and slithered off the burning wreckage back to shore with their booty.

To the surprise of all, however, the rising torrents of tide and the massive waves raised by the gale lifted the burning wreckage from the rocks and washed it offshore, burning all the way.  As the wreckers watched the sight they began to hear in the distance, quite difficult to hear over the waves crashing onto the shores, undeniably horrifying shrieks.  Those shrieks and screams intensified and the glow of the burning ship shimmered on the frothing waters and lit the demonic faces of the wreckers straining to focus into the distance to watch the burning ship.  As the deck burned and the flames climbed the masts of the ships, the wreckers could see a single Dutch woman standing on the burning deck screaming demoniacally, in hellish agony, as she burned with the ship.  As the burning ship rolled into the distance on the massive waves, the burning deck collapsed and the mad Dutch woman disappeared into the flames below, her screams soon ending.

Tonight, as Trick-or-Treaters scurry about the dark streets of Pelham, those near Long Island Sound should pause a moment and stare across the distant waters.  Search for a greenish glow.  If you see it, watch closely.  You may join the ranks of thousands  of coastal-dwellers along the shores, and mariners sailing, Long Island Sound who have witnessed the ghost ship Palatine and its mad Dutch woman specter. . . . . 

"A WOMAN APPEARED ON DECK AMID THE CRACKLING

BLAZE."  An Artist's Depiction of the Mad Dutch Woman Specter

of the Ghost Ship Palatine.  Source:  Bridges, T. C., "Ghosts of the Sea"

in The Strand Magazine, Vol. XXXV, No. 205, pp. 62, 66 (Jan., 1908).

NOTE:  Click on Image to Enlarge.

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Today's story of The Ghost Ship Palatine and its Mad Dutch Woman Specter is one of at least three ghost ship stories that form part of Pelham's rich legends and lore.  The other two such ghost stories previously have been published as Historic Pelham articles.  See:

Bell, Blake A., Pelham's Ghosts, Goblins and Legends, The Pelham Weekly, Oct. 25, 2002, p. 1, col. 1 (article includes the story of "The Fire Ship of Long Island Sound").

Fri., Oct. 26, 2018:  The Ghostly Gunship that Sails Off the Shores of Pelham.

Tue., Oct. 30, 2018:  The Ghost Ship Palantine and its Mad Dutch Woman Specter Continue to Haunt Waters Off Pelham.

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"Lights Of Ghost Ship Reported Seen Again Off New England

BOSTON -- The lights of the ghost ship Palatine are being sighted again off the eastern seaboard. 

Harbor police at Boston received more than 100 calls in the last year from waterfront residents who insisted they had sighted a mysterious green glow out to sea. 

Patrol boats failed to find any trace of the eerie lights or what may have caused them, however.

The phenomenon is nothing new.  For two centuries seamen and landlubbers alike have been spotting the 'Palatine lights,' named for the lost vessel from which they are said to emanate.  Some even claim they have sighted the ship, sailing in flaming majesty on the horizon.

The legend started in 1752 when the Palatine was making a voyage from Holland to Philadelphia, carrying a cargo of immigrants.  Winter gales lashed the little ship and drove it far to the north off its course.

CREW MUTINIED

The crew mutinied.  They killed the captain, stole the possessions of the passengers, took all the food and water on board and left the ship in small boats. 

Winds blew the Palatine landward, into a cove of Block Island on Long Island Sound.  The island was the headquarters of a ruthless band of wreckers who had terrorized settlements along the entire coast in their quest for salvage.

The hardened wreckers softened at the sight of the starving immigrants.  They took them into their homes, fed them and cared for the sick.

According to tradition, a pretty Dutch girl. driven insane by the horrors of the shipboard ordeal, refused to leave the Palatine.

SHIP SET AFIRE

The Block Islanders grew impatient.  Another storm sprang up, and rather than have their prize carried out to sea by the gale, the wreckers set the ship afire.  The sea nevertheless still claimed the Palatine.

The wreckers and immigrants stood on the shore, watching the burning ship move out to sea while back across the water came the unearthly screams of the mad woman left aboard to burn. 

Legend has it that the Palatine, like the storied Flying Dutchman, is doomed to sail the seas forever, her masts blazing above the screams of the Dutch immigrant girl who went out with her on that last flaming voyage."

Source:  Lights Of Ghost Ship Reported Seen Again Off New England, OleanTimes Herald, May 5, 1951, p. 7, cols. 4-5. 

"GHOSTS of the SEA

HAS the reader ever heard the voice of the night-shrouded sea?  Has he heard the wild wail of the raging hurricane and the weird whispers of the ambrosial calm?  Has he seen ships creep out of the night when they blot out the stars with their darling silhouettes, or when the sea and sky are one save for the gray patches of froth left trailing in the wake of breaking seas; has he seen great gray sails ooze out of the fog, or ships stealing across the 'moon glade' athwart the glitter of silver cast upon the waters by the imperial votaress when the rays pierce the sails so that they become gauzy films?

If he knows these things, who shall blame him for not scoffing at the superstitions of those who go down to the sea in ships?  Will he not rather give an ear to the tales of strange things seen and believed by sailor-folk?

It is the writer's pleasure to waste time sailing the sea in a sound craft usually alone.  Upon one of these voyages having anchored upon the edge of Nore Sands, he awoke in the middle of the night to find himself enshrouded by a thick fog -- eerie enough the uninitiated reader will doubtless think.  Upon looking out at the black woolly wall of fog that surrounded him, he distinctly heard his own name hailed across the water.  No other craft was near.  This struck him as being so peculiar that he mentioned it to a friend when he arrived at one of the little anchorages, and the skipper of a barge, chancing to overhear, said:  'That's the ol' gentleman of the Nore!  Often on foggy nights ye may 'ear 'im a-yelling aht in a kind o' 'elpless way, but sometimes 'is language is something horful.  They say as 'e was a first mate wot dropped overboard and swam to the sands, where 'e walked about until the tide rose an' drownded 'im.'

Upon another occasion I was sailing along the coast of France, under the cliffs upon which stands Gris Nez lighthouse, which is about the most powerful light in the world.  It was a very dark night, and the revolving rays of the lighthouse kept flashing upon the sails of my boat, lighting them like a powerful searchlight, until proceeding along the course I got out of their range.  The strange effect had been forgotten only to be remembered in time to prevent me from becoming a firm believer in ghosts.  There out at sea a ghostly ship was sailing; she was rather too modern, perhaps, to be a real ghost, for every sail set like a glove; ghost ships were never particular in this respect -- indeed, she was one of those fine ships out of Glasgow which are the last words in sailing craft.

From apparently nowhere a ship had come -- a ship uncannily glowing with an unnatural light.  Her sails were surely cobwebs and her ropes were spider strongs.

Strange sights and sounds frequently come the way of seafarers.

The grovelling hissing sea, breaking through the night.  Its appearance is ghastly gray.  It comes from nowhere, it fades away soon after.  What could not the imagination weave it into?  Shape or sound of [illegible] chased by the Evil One, the dying wife with arms outstretched, or sound of mother's voice.  Moreover, such messages as sea sounds give have frequently come from the dead; the howl of the raging gale, or the murmur of the gentle breeze through the halyards have borne the departing message in words that were exactly those the lost one whispered last.

To the mind of one who knows the sea, it would seem strange that sailors are not more superstitious than they are, and there are certainly many reasonable excuses for their belief in such stories as that of the Flying Dutchman.  A patch of swirling vapor through the rigging of his ship upon a dark night.  Imagination does the rest; he has seen the Flying Dutchman.

Cornelius Vanderdecken, a Dutch navigator of long ago, was making a passage from Batavia.  For days and days he encountered heavy gales and baffling head winds while trying to round the Cape of Good Hope.  Struggle against the winds as he would, he lost as much on one tack as he gained upon the other.  Struggling vainly for nine hopeless weeks, he ultimately found himself in the same position as he was in at first, the ship having made no progress.  Vanderdecken in a fit of wrath, threw himself on his knees upon the deck and cursed the Deity, swearing that he would round the cape if it took him till the day of judgment.  Thereupon came a fair wind, he squared his yards and set off, but although his ship plowed through the seas he made no headway, for the Deity had taken him at his word and doomed him to sail the seas for ever.  Superstition has it that the appearance of the phantom ship leads to certain and swift misfortune.

Old sailors will tell of the ship of the Flying Dutchman bowling along in the very teeth of the wind, and of her overtaking their own ship which was beating to windward.  Some of them say they have seen her sail clean through their ship, the swirling films of her sails and rigging leaving a cold clammy feeling like the touch of death.

Cornwall in the old days was remarkable for its wreckers and its rock-bound coast was the scene of many evil deeds.  The Priest's Cove wrecker during his evil life lured many vessels to their doom upon the cruel shore by means of a false light hung round the neck of a hobbled horse.  To this day the good Cornish folk will tell you of the phantom of the wrecker seen when the winds howl and the seas rage high, carried clinging to a log of wood upon the crests of the breaking seas, and how it is sent crashing upon the rocks, where in the seething foam it disappears from sight.

The wide stretching sand-choked estuary of the Solway has many a ghost story and more than one phantom ship, ran into the Solway 

The 'Spectral Shallop' is the ghost of a ferry-boat which was wrecked by a rival ferryman while carrying a bridal party across the bay.  The ghostly boat is rowed by the skeleton of the cruel ferryman, and such ships as are so unlucky as to encounter this ghastly pilot are usually doomed to be wrecked upon the sands.

No money would tempt the Solway fishermen to go out to meet the two Danish sea-rovers whose ships, upon clear nights, are seen gliding up one of the narrow channels which thread the dried-out sands, the high-curved prows and rows of shields along the gunwale glittering in the moonlight.  These two piratical ships, it seems, ran into the Solway and dropped anchor there, when a sudden furious storm came up and the ships, which were heavily laden with plunder, sank at their moorings with all the villains which composed their crews.

Among the rocks upon the rugged coast of Kerry was found one winter morning, early in the eighteenth century, a large galleon, mastless and deserted.  The Kerry wreckers crowded aboard, and wild was their joy, for the ship was laden with ingots of silver from the Spanish Main.  They gradually filled their boats until the gunwales were almost down to the water's edge, and hastily they pulled to the shore in order that they might return for further ingots before the tide rose and floated the ship away.  Nearing the shore a huge tidal wave broke over the boats and ship, and when the wave had passed, the horrified women watching on shore saw no sign remaining of boats, men or ship.

Wild horses would not get a Kerry fisherman to visit the scene of the disaster upon the anniversary of the day the grim tragedy took place, for only bad luck has come to those who have seen the re-enactment of the affair, which Kerry folk believe takes place upon that day.

The Newhaven [sic] ghost ship signified her own doom.  A ship built at Newhaven in January, 1647, having sailed away upon her maiden voyage, was thought to have been lost at sea, when one evening in June, during a furious thunderstorm, the well-known ship was sighted sailing into the river mouth -- but straight into the eye of the wind -- until she neared the town, when slowly she faded from the sight of the people who crowded on shore to watch her.  The apparition was significant -- the ship was never heard of again.

The rocky coasts of New England are haunted by many ghost ships.  The Palatine is the best-known specter.  The coasters and fishermen of Long Island Sound will tell you that when a sight of her is gotten, disastrous and long-lasting storms will follow.  The Palatine, a Dutch trader, misled by false lights shown by wreckers, ran ashore upon Block Island in the year 1752.  The wreckers, when they had stripped the vessel, set her on fire in order to conceal their crime.  As the tide lifted her and carried her flaming out to sea, agonizing shrieks came from the blaze, and the figure of a woman who had hidden herself in the hold in fear of the wreckers stood out black amid the roaring blaze.  Then the deck fell in and ship and woman vanished.

The whaling in Nantucket, as you will remember, was in its palmy days carried on almost entirely by Quakers.  One Sunday evening a meeting was in progress, the simple service seemed as though it might pass, and the spirit moved none of the company.  The elder Friend was just about to offer his hand to his neighbor in the closing of the meeting, when a stranger rose and declared that the Lord's wrath was upon a certain whaling ship, and that he had seen her in a vision descending a huge wave from the hollow of which she never rose.  The meeting closed hurriedly, but the speaker could not be found, and the ship was never heard of.

Some of the best ghost stories are those which the writer has heard from the simple folk of the salt marshes.  It is hardly possible to describe these dreary districts, for when one has said they are flat, stretching for miles, and rather subject to mists, one has said pretty well all that is to be said -- the rest must be felt.  However, just as there is a call of the sea, so there is a call of the marshland.  You shall go into the saltern and feel its moist breath upon your cheek and the breath of its salty winds and the ozone of its calms.  You shall be lost in its vastness, and, threading its innumerable twisted narrow waterways, which lead to nowhere, ye shall tread its carpet of scentless flowers.  You shall go to its very edge where the sea comes oftenmost, and where the flowers decaying leave their rust-colored remains.  There you shall meet mud, and the cry of the curlew shall mock as you flounder it its filth.  The moon shall come up refracted by the mist into unrecognizable shape, which shall be blood color.  You shall be a gray shape, differing little from the common things that are there, for you shall be enshrouded by fog; nay, it shall sink into your very soul, until you are not flesh and bones, but a particle of fog yourself.  You shall listen to its silences; you shall be told things by them, and, strong man that you are, you shall be afraid.

Is it to be wondered at, then, that these simple Essex marsh-dwellers remember such tales as that of the young skipper, home from a long voyage, whose haste to embrace his wife, and the babe he had not yet seen, bid him to go the nearer way of the marshes?  The tale has it that in crossing a narrow gutway, near Pitsea, he sank in the mud.  So deeply did he sink that he could not extricate himself; the more he struggled the deeper he sank, and with the horror of knowing that the tide was rising and would come stealing up the creek, he shouted.  As the tide rose higher the louder were his screams.  The salterns near the Pitsea are lonely; the cries were heard only by a half-witted peat-cutter, who often in his less sane moments heard such screams and thought no more of the matter.  So the shrieks became gurgles, and by the time the tide had lifted the peat-cutter's punt they had ceased.

The older folk at this stage of the story assume a mysterious air, and with large-eyed glancings athwart their shoulders, will tell you that the skipper's shrieks are heard on starlit nights as the tide glides up that creek.  

So here are my ghost stories, and if I sometimes believe in them when I sail all alone on the midnight deep, you will not laugh at me."

Source:  GHOSTS of the SEA, The Mancelona Herald [Mancelona, MI], Dec. 19, 1912, Vol. 34, No. 18, p. 6, cols. 1-3.  

"Lights Of Ghost Ship Reported Seen Again Off New England

BOSTON -- The lights of the ghost ship Palatine are being sighted again off the eastern seaboard.

Harbor police at Boston received more than 100 calls in the last year from waterfront residents who insisted they had sighted a mysterious green glow out to sea.

Patrol boats failed to find any trace of the eerie lights or what may have caused them, however.

The phenomenon is nothing new.  For two centuries seamen and landlubbers alike have been spotting the 'Palatine lights' named for the lost vessel from which they are said to emanate.  Some even claim they have sighted the ship, sailing in flaming majesty on the horizon.

The legend started in 1752 when the Palatine was making a voyage from Holland to Philadelphia, carrying a cargo of immigrants.  Winter gales lashed the little ship and drove it far to the north off its course.

CREW MUTINIED

The crew mutinied.  They killed the captain, stole the possessions of the passengers, took all the food and water on board and left the ship in small boats.

Winds blew that Palatine landward, into a cove of Block Island on Long Island Sound.  The island was the headquarters of a ruthless band of wreckers who had terrorized settlements along the entire coast in their quest for salvage.  

The hardened wreckers softened at the sight of the starving immigrants.  They took them into their homes, fed them and cared for the sick.

According to tradition, a pretty Dutch girl, driven insane by the horrors of the shipboard ordeal, refused to leave the Palatine.

SHIP SET AFIRE

The Block Islanders grew impatient.  Another storm sprang up, and rather than have their prize carried out to sea by the gale, the wreckers set the ship afire.  The sea nevertheless still claimed the Palatine.

the wreckers and immigrants stood on the shore, watching the burning ship move out to sea while back across the water came the unearthly screams of the mad woman left aboard to burn.

Legend has it that the Palatine, like the storied Flying Dutchman, is doomed to sail the seas forever, her masts blazing above the screams of the Dutch immigrant girl who went out with her on that last flaming voyage."

Source:  Lights Of Ghost Ship Reported Seen Again Off New England, Olean Times Herald, May 5, 1951, p. 7, cols. 4-5.  

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Famed American poet John Greenleaf Whittier wrote a poem about the terrible incident in 1867.  It is quoted in full immediately below:

"The Palatine 

by John Greenleaf Whittier 

Leagues north, as fly the gull and auk, 
Point Judith watches with eye of hawk; 
Leagues south, thy beacon flames, Montauk! 

Lonely and wind-shorn, wood-forsaken, 
With never a tree for Spring to waken, 
For tryst of lovers or farewells taken, 

Circled by waters that never freeze, 
Beaten by billow and swept by breeze, 
Lieth the island of Manisees, 

Set at the mouth of the Sound to hold 
The coast lights up on its turret old, 
Yellow with moss and sea-fog mould. 

Dreary the land when gust and sleet 
At its doors and windows howl and beat, 
And Winter laughs at its fires of peat! 

But in summer time, when pool and pond, 
Held in the laps of valleys fond, 
Are blue as the glimpses of sea beyond; 

When the hills are sweet with the brier-rose, 
And, hid in the warm, soft dells, unclose 
Flowers the mainland rarely knows; 

When boats to their morning fishing go, 
And, held to the wind and slanting low, 
Whitening and darkening the small sails show,-- 

Then is that lonely island fair; 
And the pale health-seeker findeth there 
The wine of life in its pleasant air. 

No greener valleys the sun invite, 
On smoother beaches no sea-birds light, 
No blue waves shatter to foam more white! 

There, circling ever their narrow range, 
Quaint tradition and legend strange 
Live on unchallenged, and know no change. 

Old wives spinning their webs of tow, 
Or rocking weirdly to and fro 
In and out of the peat's dull glow, 

And old men mending their nets of twine, 
Talk together of dream and sign, 
Talk of the lost ship Palatine,-- 

The ship that, a hundred years before, 
Freighted deep with its goodly store, 
In the gales of the equinox went ashore. 

The eager islanders one by one 
Counted the shots of her signal gun, 
And heard the crash when she drove right on! 

Into the teeth of death she sped 
(May God forgive the hands that fed 
The false lights over the rocky Head!) 

O men and brothers! what sights were there! 
White upturned faces, hands stretched in prayer! 
Where waves had pity, could ye not spare? 

Down swooped the wreckers, like birds of prey 
Tearing the heart of the ship away, 
And the dead had never a word to say. 

And then, with ghastly shimmer and shine 
Over the rocks and the seething brine, 
They burned the wreck of the Palatine. 

In their cruel hearts, as they homeward sped, 
"The sea and the rocks are dumb," they said 
"There 'll be no reckoning with the dead." 

But the year went round, and when once more 
Along their foam-white curves of shore 
They heard the line-storm rave and roar, 

Behold! again, with shimmer and shine, 
Over the rocks and the seething brine, 
The flaming wreck of the Palatine! 

So, haply in fitter words than these, 
Mending their nets on their patient knees 
They tell the legend of Manisees. 

Nor looks nor tones a doubt betray; 
"It is known to us all," they quietly say; 
"We too have seen it in our day." 

Is there, then, no death for a word once spoken? 
Was never a deed but left its token 
Written on tables never broken? 

Do the elements subtle reflections give? 
Do pictures of all the ages live 
On Nature's infinite negative, 

Which, half in sport, in malice half, 
She shows at times, with shudder or laugh, 
Phantom and shadow in photograph? 

For still, on many a moonless night, 
From Kingston Head and from Montauk light 
The spectre kindles and burns in sight. 

Now low and dim, now clear and higher, 
Leaps up the terrible Ghost of Fire, 
Then, slowly sinking, the flames expire. 

And the wise Sound skippers, though skies be fine, 
Reef their sails when they see the sign 
Of the blazing wreck of the Palatine!"

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The Fate of the First Three-Masted Schooner Ever Built in a Pelham Shipyard

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On February 29, 1884, a local newspaper made a brief reference to the "first three masted schooner ever built on City Island" in the Town of Pelham.  Although the reference indicates that the schooner, christened the John K. Shaw, was built at Carll's shipyard in about 1869, it actually was built at the shipyard and delivered to its initial owner, A. S. Hatch, in 1872.  

I have written extensively about David Carll and Carll's Shipyard before.  See, e.g., Mon., Nov. 16, 2015:  David Carll's Shipyard in the Town of Pelham on City Island; Fri., Jun. 16, 2017:  Origins of Ship Repair and Shipbuilding on City Island in the Town of Pelham; Thu., Dec. 31, 2009:  Obituary of David Carll, Master Shipbuilder on City Island in the Town of Pelham.

Schooners are a class of sailing vessels that have fore-and-aft sails on two or more masts. The most common type has two masts, the foremast being shorter than the main.  Although other schooners had been built at Carll's Shipyard prior to construction of the John K. Shaw in 1872, it would appear that the earlier ones were the more common two-masted version of the vessel, if the brief newspaper reference published in 1884 is to be believed.  

The newspaper reference is fascinating because it revealed the fate of the three-masted schooner John K. Shaw.  It stated:

"About fifteen years ago, the first three masted schooner ever built on City Island, the John K. Shaw, was built at Carll's shipyard. During these fifteen years, the vessel never met with any serious mishaps until Friday last, when she was wrecked off Woodlands on the New Jersey Coast."

Source:  PELHAM AND CITY ISLAND, The Chronicle [Mount Vernon, NY], Feb. 29, 1884, Vol. XV, No. 754, p. 3, col. 4.  

The tragic wreck of the John K. Shaw off the Woodlands on the New Jersey coast with the loss of its entire crew of Manasquan, New Jersey men on about Friday, February 22, 1884 captured national attention.  Many believe the schooner was involved in a rare instance of a maritime "hit and run" and was sunk by a vessel that fled the scene after a terrible collision. 

The 158-foot, 379 ton schooner John K. Shaw left Newport News between 12:00 noon and 1:00 p.m. on Thursday, February 21.  The vessel carried nearly nineteen tons of iron ingots on its deck as well as Captain Lucien Osborn and his crew of six men from the borough of Manasquan in Monmouth County, New Jersey.  Three days later on the afternoon of February 24, observers near Deal Beach, New Jersey spotted the spars of a wreck in the waters off the beach.  The pilot of a local tugboat named the Maggie Moran traveled out to the wreck.  He found the afterpart of the deck afloat, and took off a bell having the name "John K. Shaw" on it.  For a time thereafter, other parts of the wreck washed ashore (or were brought ashore) and were identified as belonging to the John K. Shaw.  

There was no certain proof as to how the schooner was lost.  However, the appearance of the remnants of the wreck suggested that a terrible collision had occurred.  The broken planks on one side of the deck suggested that a collision sank the vessel.  No other vessel (or remnants of any vessel) were on the scene.

Within a short time, the owners of the John K. Shaw began an investigation.  Soon they learned that a steamship named the Newport was bound from New York to Havana on the evening of Saturday, February 23, 1884 and that, while off Deal Beach, had a collision with an unidentified three-masted schooner.  The owners of the John K. Shaw filed a maritime action in libel against the owners of the Newport in the United States District Court for the Southern District of New York.   The libelants (i.e., plaintiffs) alleged that the steamship Newport collided with and sank their vessel and sought $21,062 in damages (about $735,000 in today's dollars).

The owners of the Newport admitted that their steamship collided with an unknown three-masted schooner off the coast of Deal Beach.  They alleged, however, that the schooner was not the John K. Shaw and the collision was a "slight one, her starboard bow grazing the schooner's starboard quarter without injury to either vessel."  

The Court dismissed the action, holding that the libelants had failed to establish that the steamship Newport had collided with the John K. Shaw.  That did not, however, end the matter.  The owners appealed, but were unsuccessful.  See The Newport, 36 F. 910 (2d Cir. 1888).  Instead, the owners of the John K. Shaw and the insurer of the ship's cargo subsequently filed a lawsuit against the Master of the steamship Newport at the time of the collision.  That case made it to the United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit where the Court ruled that because the owners of the Newport were parties to the first lawsuit, they could not re-litigate the question of whether the Master of the steamship Newport was responsible.  The insurer that was not a party to the earlier lawsuit, however, was permitted to proceed.  See Bailey v. Sundberg, 1 F. 101 (2nd Cir. 1892).  

The location of the remnants of the John K. Shaw is well known.  Indeed, the vessel seems to have been run down and virtually split in half with the two halves settling near each other in two adjacent locations off the New Jersey shore.  The two locations of the wreckage of the vessel have become popular with recreational divers in the last few years.    

Though proceedings continued in the related litigations involving the owners and the insurer of the John K. Shaw for years, the mystery remained.  Indeed, the mystery of what happened to the John K. Shaw more than 134 years ago remains unsolved to this day.  The mystery of who sank the first three-masted schooner ever built in the little Town of Pelham likely will never be solved.

"View of City Island" by Frederick Rondel, 1872. Oil on Canvas

Painting, 20.25 inches x 30 inches. This Painting Depicts the Marine

Railway at David Carll's Shipyard in 1872, the Year the John K.

Shaw was Built at the Shipyard.  NOTE: Click on Image to Enlarge.

*          *          *          *          *

"PELHAM AND CITY ISLAND. 

Mr. George O. Hawes is erecting a neat cottage at Bartow, for a gentleman of New York City. 

A pound party was held at Grace Church parsonage on Monday evening last. It was a very social and pleasant affair. 

Mr. Dudley R. Horton will occupy the handsome dwelling adjoining the M. E. Church, owned by Mr. Horton Sr., this spring. 

The pigeon match at Secord's Bartow, on Washingtons Birthday, between Will. Pell and Ben. May, for $25 a side, was won by Pell killing eight straight birds. 

Mr. Hawes the carpenter and builder, is at work rebuilding the summer residence of Mr. Wm. Belden. We understand the alterations are to be very extensive. 

Through the persistancy [sic] of the Board of Town Officers, City Island bridge has been temporarily repaired, so that it is at least safe. Cannot something be done to put the road between City Island and Bartow in a passable condition? 

The talk about that scheme to build a horse railroad from City Island to Bartow is all gas. Such an enterprise would doubtless be a grand thing for City Island but a good macadamized road between the two points would be quite as advantageous as a horse railroad. 

Mr. J. F. Horton, representing the Hell Gate pilots, before the Committee on Commerce and Navigation of the Assembly, on Tuesday of last week, made such forcible arguments against the bill to further reduce the fees of pilots, that the committee reported unanimously adverse to the bill. 

About fifteen years ago, the first three masted schooner ever built on City Island, the John K. Shaw, was built at Carll's shipyard. During these fifteen years, the vessel never met with any serious mishaps until Friday last, when she was wrecked off Woodlands on the New Jersey Coast. 

On Wednesday morning last, about seven o'clock, Andrew Anderson, a sailor on board the schooner J. H. Leeds, fell from the masthead to the deck when the vessel was nearing [illegible] and was instantly killed. The schooner put in at City Island and Coroner Tice held an inquest, when a verdict of accidental death was rendered. Anderson was a Swede, about 32 years old, and was unmarried. 

On Saturday last, John Cochran and Hugh Ryan went out in the bay to get some drift wood. After they had gotten their wood and towed it where they wanted it, they rowed around the Island to the cove, and just before landing, their skiff was capsized. Cochran swam ashore, but before Ryan could be rescued he came very near drowning. He was carried to his home in an insensible condition and it was nearly an hour before he was recusitated [sic]. 

The last will of Samuel P. Billar, an oysterman of this place, was a short time ago, admitted to probate by the Surrogate without opposition. It provided that his estate, about $30,000, should be enjoyed by his two children and widow as long as she remained single. In case of her re-marriage, the estate should be divided into thirds and each given their share. Application was recently made to the Surrogat to decide whether she was entitled to the personal estate, the executor having some doubts on the legal construction of the will. The Surrogate has decided that she is so entitled."

Source:  PELHAM AND CITY ISLAND, The Chronicle [Mount Vernon, NY], Feb. 29, 1884, Vol. XV, No. 754, p. 3, col. 4.  

"NO TIDINGS OF THE CREW.

The tug Maggie Moran, the schooner C. Hawsahan, and the revenue steamer Grant, all reported yesterday having passed a wreck off Woodlands, N. J.  The wreck provides to have been the three-masted schooner John K. Shaw, which left Newport News for New-Haven on Feb. 20.  Two of her spars and a portion of her stern were sticking above water.  The Moran's crew wrenched off a small brass bell, which bore the name of the schooner, and which established her identity.  Nothing whatever has been heard of her crew.  they were six men, under the command of Capt. Lucien Osborn.  The vessel was valued at about $12,000, and is said to have been uninsured.

A. S. Hatch & Co., of the Chesapeake and Ohio Railway, were part owners of the lost vessel, and Capt. Osborn owned a share of her.  Mr. H. P. Havens, of No. 107 South-street, the agent of the vessel, received a letter on Saturday from the wife of Capt. Osborn asking if he had yet arrived in port.  She resides at Manasquan, N.J.  It is feared that the whole crew have perished, for if they had been rescued so near this port some tidings of the fact would have reached the agent.  The cargo consisted of about 350 tons of coal and 150 tons of pig-iron.  The vessel was built at City Island in 1872 and measured 379 tons.  Her agent thinks that perhaps she was run down by some steamer."

Source:  NO TIDINGS OF THE CREW, N.Y. Times, Feb. 26, 1884.  

"Wreckage on the Jersey Coast.

LONG BRANCH, March 3. -- The search continues for the bodies of the crew of the schooner John K. Shaw, which was sunk off Woodsland several days ago.  The sunken vessel now lies bottom up, and is supposed to be intact.  Parts of another vessel were washed ashore yesterday at Asbury Park.  The body which washed ashore near Bear island yesterday was buried to-day alongside of the other victims of the British bark Elmina.  The life saving crews will keep up the watch for bodies of the Shaw's crew.  The wife of Captain Osborn has offered a reward for the recovery of her husband's body."

Source:  Wreckage on the Jersey Coast, The Evening Bulletin [Maysville, KY], Mar. 3, 1884, p. 4, col. 1 (Note:  Subscription required to access via this link).

"The Newport.1 
[Footnote 1 reads:  "1 Reported by Edward G. Benedict, Esq., of the New York bar."]

Hatch and others v. The Newport. 

(District Court, S. D. New York. September 17, 1886.) 

Collision — Steamer And Schooner — Identity Of Colliding Vessel — Circumstantial Evidence—Witnesses Discredited—Costs Not Given. Libelants' three-masted schooner the S., which sailed on the twenty-first of February, 1884, from Newport News for New Haven, was sunk off the New Jersey coast, and all on board perished. The appearance of the wreck, discovered on the 24th, indicated collision as the cause of the loss. The steamer Newport, on the evening of the 23d, was in collision in the same neighborhood with a three-masted schooner. Libelants, claiming that the vessel struck by the Newport was the schooner S., and that she was sunk by the steamer's fault, brought this suit against the steam-ship for their loss. Held, on the evidence, some of the libelants' witnesses being discredited, that libelants had not established the identity of the Newport with the vessel that had sunk the S., and that the libel should be dismissed; but, considering the libelants' misfortune and probable case, without costs. 

In Admiralty. 
L. E. Chittenden and Geo. A. Black, for libelants. 
Goodrich, Deady & Goodrich, and R. D. Benedict, for claimants. 

Brown, J. In February, 1884, the libelants' three-masted schooner John K. Shaw, while on a voyage from Newport News to New Haven, and when some four or five miles off the Jersey coast, and about opposite Deal beach, was sunk, and all on board perished. She left Newport News between 12 and 1 o'clock P.M. of Thursday the 21st. In the afternoon of the 24th the spars of a wreck were seen projecting above water off Deal beach. The pilot of the tug-boat Maggie Moran, upon going near, found the afterpart of the deck afloat, and [Page 658 / Page 659] took off a bell having the name John K. Shaw upon it. Other parts of the wreck which came ashore, or were brought ashore afterwards, were identified as belonging to the John K. Shaw. 

There is no certain proof how the schooner was lost. She was deeply loaded, and had 19 tons of iron on deck. The wind on the night of the 23d was high from N.W., blowing about 50 miles per hour, with a considerable lumpy sea; and the weather during the afternoon previous was snowy. But the schooner is proved to have been staunch and sound, and her captain an experienced and capable officer, well acquainted with the coast; and the appearance of the wreck, from the breaking of the planks on the sides of the deck, indicated collision as the cause of the loss. 

The steamer Newport, bound from New York to Havana, when about opposite Deal beach, and at about 7 P.M. on the evening of the 23d, had a collision with a three-masted schooner. The libel charged that this schooner was the John K. Shaw, and that she was sunk by the steamer's fault, and claims $21,062 damages. The answer avers that the schooner with which the steamer collided was not the John K. Shaw, but some other schooner unknown to the claimants; and that the steamer's collision was a slight one, her starboard bow grazing the schooner's starboard quarter without injury to either vessel. 

Assuming that the John K. Shaw was sunk by a collision, the principal question in the case is whether the identity of these collisions has been satisfactorily established; in other words, whether, during the 24 hours preceding the afternoon of the 24th, when the wreck of the Shaw was first discovered, there were two collisions in that vicinity, or but one. 

As there is no direct proof identifying the John K. Shaw as the schooner with which the steamer collided, the evidence on the libelants' part is necessarily circumstantial only. The chief circumstances relied on to show that the schooners were one and the same are the following: (1) Both were three-masted schooners bound up the coast; (2) the John K. Shaw, from the time she left Newport News, might easily have been off Deal beach at the time of the Newport's collision, since only an average speed of four and one-half miles would have been requisite to bring her there at 7 P.M. of the 23d; (3) the site of the wreck when discovered in the afternoon of the 24th, was not far—certainly not over two or three miles—from the admitted place of the Newport's collision, and the latter place is but approximately fixed by estimates only; (4) one witness, the mess-boy of the Newport, testifies that he saw the schooner list and sink a few minutes after the collision, and when from a quarter to a half mile distant; and two others of her seamen, who watched the schooner from the steamer's port side, though they do not swear to seeing the schooner sink or capsize, think she must have sunk, because she vanished or disappeared suddenly when a half mile or thereabouts distant; (5) [Page 660 / Page 661] there was no other known wreck of a schooner at that time and place; (6) if the two schooners were not the same, then there were two collisions at about the same time and place, and hence two other colliding vessels to be accounted for; but there is no evidence of any other collision,—no other was reported, and no other vessel colliding with the Newport is proved. The Newport has not shown what other vessel it was, if any other, that collided with her or with the John K. Shaw. 

These circumstances present a pretty strong prima facie presumption and probability that it was the John K. Shaw with which the Newport collided. But the most important circumstance of all, if true, is that the schooner that collided with the Newport sank shortly after. If that could be deemed proved, it would have great weight in discrediting the opposing testimony; for, if another three-masted schooner had been sunk and lost there on the 23d, that fact would in all probability have become known and reported; although this, even, would not be certain, since it might be a schooner returning from a long voyage, and her wreck might have wholly disappeared. But one of the weakest parts of the libelants' testimony is the alleged sinking of the schooner with which the Newport collided. If, on the other hand, that schooner did not sink at the time, or is not known to have sunk; and, still more, if the direction and the kind of the colliding blow were not such as were likely to cause a schooner to sink; and if the schooner, after passing the steamer, showed no signs of sinking, and gave no signal for assistance, though means of doing so were at hand,—then the other circumstances relied on by the libelants are obviously wholly inconclusive. 

Careful consideration of the particulars, as regards each of the circumstances relied on by the libelants, has satisfied me not only that they are insufficient to establish their case by a preponderance of proof; but that, notwithstanding my first impressions to the contrary, the probabilities, upon the facts and circumstances proved by the claimants, are that, however the John K. Shaw may have been sunk, it was not through the Newport, but that the schooner colliding with the latter was another vessel. I shall state some of the chief reasons only for this conclusion, without going into all the details of the testimony. 

(1) There is no satisfactory proof that the schooner that collided with the Newport was substantially injured. The weight of direct proof, and the probabilities of the case, are to the contrary. The mess-boy is not supported by Murphy, who stood by him watching the schooner. The latter says she sailed away into the darkness, as usual, apparently uninjured. The testimony of the other two seamen for the libelants, that they thought she sank, is based upon her disappearing suddenly some five or ten minutes after the collision, and a half mile or so distant, whereas they thought she should have been seen longer; but their credibility and good judgment are cer- [Page 660 / 661] tainly not sustained by their further testimony that a schooner on that night could be seen, as the one says, seven miles, the other twenty miles, off. Four other witnesses who were watching the schooner from a better post of observation say that she gradually disappeared, sailing away, as usual, into the darkness, without apparent injury. The night was dark, being still clouded and thick to the south and east from the previous snow, but clearing to the westward. 

(2) Most of the witnesses say that the schooner, before the collision, was sailing close-hauled, and therefore heading about N. by E.; that her sails at the collision were shaking from an apparent luff to avoid the Newport; and all say that after raking past the steamer she sailed away, or filled away, upon her previous course, until she disappeared from sight. This would not be natural or probable if she had been seriously injured as to sink within 10 or 15 minutes after the collision. 

(3) The schooner gave no call for help, nor signal of any kind indicating disaster or need of assistance. As she passed the steamer, several of the witnesses heard something said from the quarter deck. Two witnesses say it was in substance, 'Where in h—l are you going;' an exclamation certainly not indicative of serious injury or impending disaster. After she had passed, a light like that of a lantern was seen on board; but it was not swung, nor was any other signal for help displayed. It is scarcely credible that the vessel should have filled away on her course, and exhibited no signal for help, if so damaged as to sink shortly after. 

(4) The libel alleges that the colliding blow was given on the schooner's starboard bow, forward of the foremast,—the lookout of the steamer so testifies; and, if this had been true, doubtless the schooner would have been cut in two or capsized. But all of the other witnesses of the collision disprove the lookout's account in this respect. The blow was clearly a glancing blow upon the schooner's starboard quarter, given when the schooner, having luffed somewhat, was heading either N. or a little W. of N., while the steamer was heading about S. 1-2 W.; and the schooner's quarter raked along the steamer's side, as shown by the mark on the latter, for some 50 or 60 feet, beginning about 25 feet from the steamer's stem. Such a blow was not one that would necessarily do much damage to either vessel. It did none to the steamer, and the subsequent conduct of the schooner would indicate that none was done to her. If so, that furnishes all the explanation called for to account for the absence of proof of the name of the schooner collided with. The collision, in this view, was not one that required reporting, and accordingly was not reported; and hence the schooner was unknown. The steamer, for the same reason, made no official report of her collision, as she would have done had it been accompanied by damage. 

(5) There is no certain proof that the Shaw was sunk by collision. [Page 661 / Page 662] The breaking of the sides of her deck might have occurred in foundering, and from the great weight of iron on deck. So far as the appearances indicate a collision, however, they would indicate a different kind of collision from that with the Newport, viz., a collision on the port side, instead of one on the starboard side; and in the waist, cutting her in two, instead of a glancing blow along the starboard quarter. The wreck of the Shaw showed the taffrail mainly in place, and the rail and stanchions for a considerable distance still standing on the starboard quarter much further than along the port quarter. A sideling blow from the Newport on the schooner's starboard quarter could only have caused her to sink from crushing in that part of her; and it is hardly conceivable that a blow sufficient to crush in her quarter could have left her rail and stanchions standing; and the Shaw's wreck indicated a blow, if any, upon the opposite side. 

(6) A moment or two before the collision, the steamer's wheel was hard a-starboard, and her engines were stopped for five minutes. Her previous speed, aided by the wind, was about 15 knots. Under her starboard wheel she swung to port till she headed due north, when she went ahead under one bell at 'half speed,' being about nine knots. In swinging round to due north she would have gone due east from the meridian of the collision at least a third of a mile. She continued going north about 10 or 15 minutes, without seeing any signs of the schooner, and then swung around again to the southward, and continued on her course. As the schooner was probably going at the rate of six to seven knots, if she continued on her course without injury she would not have been overtaken by the steamer, on this return of about two miles to the northward, after the five-minutes stop of her engines. But, if the schooner had been seriously damaged, she would not have been likely to continue under full sail to the northward; and she would probably have been seen, or at least some boats or signals for help would probably have come into view, since there was clearly ample time, while the schooner was in sight, and before the steamer had got headed to the northward, to have launched her small boats. 

(7) The weight of testimony leaves no doubt that on board the Newport there was not, at the time, any belief or thought that the schooner had been sunk or materially injured; and such is the entry in her log. All the circumstances point to this belief on their part; and the testimony of one or two of the discharged seamen to the contrary is not sustained. Every probability is otherwise. 

(8) It is not wholly insignificant that out of the seven witnesses that looked down upon the deck of the schooner as she passed the steamer, illuminated to some extent by the steamer's lights, not one noticed any deck cargo; while the Shaw's large deck-load of iron must have been easily distinguishable. 

(9) The evidence all tends to show that the place of the Newport's collision was some two or three miles from the place where the wreck [Page 662 / Page 663] of the Shaw was found the next afternoon. This conclusion depends, to some extent, on estimates; but by no means wholly so. The place of the wreck is fixed, by its bearings from the stations Nos. 5 and 6, as less than five miles off Deal beach. The officer at station No. 5 testified at the trial that it bore from his station S. E. He afterwards made affidavit that he should have said E. S. E.; and as it bore E. by N. from station No. 6, the former would make the wreck less than three miles from shore; the latter, four and a half miles. 

All the witnesses from the Newport, however, as well as three for the libelant, estimate the place of the collision as from seven to eight miles off shore. The master went out further than usual to avoid the many coasters that had gathered near shore during the thick and snowy weather previous. It is scarcely probable that all on board should have misjudged the distance from shore in the same way, by making it one-third greater than it was. 

The distance and course run by the steamer after passing Sandy Hook and Scotland lightship, and the bearing of the Highland lights, after the Newport had got headed north, confirm the estimates given by the witnesses of their distance from shore at nearly seven miles. Upon heading north, the Highland lights, as the pilot testifies, bore 'about N. N. W.;' the two lights being in range and showing as one. The master says that the Scotland lightship at the same time bore N. by W. westerly. By passing from half a mile to a mile to the eastward of the latter at 5:50 and running 40 minutes S. by E., and then 10 minutes S. 1/2 W., as the master testifies she did run, the steamer would have reached, at 6:40 P.M., when the engine was stopped, about 12£ miles from the Scotland light-ship, and would be bearing, when headed to the northward, within half a point of S. S. E. from the Highland lights, which the pilot says bore 'about N. N. W.;' and this would also bring the Scotland light-ship N. by W. westerly, as the master testifies. This would make the steamer about seven miles from shore. The mate's statement that the Highland lights bore N. N. W. from the steamer after she got headed south again, I consider a mistake, as it is not reconcilable with anything else in the case, nor with the libelants' theory. 

The witnesses upon whom the libelants rely for proof that the schooner struck by the Newport was seen to sink, not only testify under somewhat suspicious influences, but the force of their testimony is greatly weakened by the manifest mistakes and improbabilities that attend it. One of the witnesses, Anderson, who says the schooner disappeared suddenly when about half a mile distant, also says 'it was a clear night at the time;' that the steamer was 'under full speed;' that it was moonlight; and that without moonlight the schooner could not be seen a half mile off, but thinks it could have been seen a quarter of a mile. Now, the proof is certain that the steamer was not then under full speed, but that her engines were either stopped or going slow; that it was not then a clear night; and, [Page 663 / Page 664] as the moon fulled on the evening of February 11th, there was no moon above the horizon at 7 P.M. of the 23d. From this it is manifest that not only can no value be attached to the witness' inference that the schooner sank when half a mile off because she suddenly disappeared, but the false circumstances stated discredit him altogether. There are other circumstances that compel me to withhold confidence from the statements of the other witnesses that testify that they saw the schooner sink. 

These circumstances altogether are sufficient, as it seems to me, to explain and to outweigh the apparent probabilities against the Newport at first presented. Her narrative is not attended, so far as I can perceive, by any serious inconsistencies, or by any difficulties or improbabilities. I cannot regard the case of the libelants, therefore, as established by any such preponderance of proof as to warrant a decree against the Newport, and the libel must be dismissed. The Grace Girdler, 7 Wall. 196; The Albert Mason, 2 Fed. Rep. 821; S. C. 8 Fed. Rep. 768; The City of Chester, 18 Fed. Rep. 603. But, considering the misfortune of the libelants, and their apparent probable case, the dismissal may be without costs."

Source:  The Newport, 28 F. 658 (S.D.N.Y., 1886) (Federal Reporter).

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