13), esp. MA-24-27

lornajarrettblanchard December 22, 1839

-24-27 Blanchard estimated death toll.*
–3->5 schooner Henry
— 9 barque Lloyd
— 13 brig Pocahontas
–24-25 Howe. Awful Calamities. Press of J. Howe, 1840, pp. 13-17.
— ~3? schooner Henry [apparently 3; 9+12=21 and 9+13=22, for range of 21-22]
— 9 barque Lloyd
–12-13 schooner Pocahontas

Breakout of maritime fatalities by vessel name and place:
— 9 Barque Lloyd at Nantasket, MA. Howe. Awful Calamities. 1840, p. 14.
— 9 “ “ New England Weather. 1839 Storms. Dec.
— 9 “ “ Perley. Historic Storms… 1891, p. 232.
–12-13 Brig Pocahontas at Plum Island, MA. Howe. Awful Calamities. 1840, p. 15.
–12-13 “ “ Howland. Steamboat Disasters… 1843, 362.
— 13 “ “ New England Weather. 1839 Storms. Dec.
— 13 “ “ Perley. Historic Storms… 1891, p. 231.
— 11 “ Snow. Marine Mysteries…Disasters of New England. 1976, p. 207.
— 3->5 Schooner Henry (all) at Leeds Point, NJ. Howe. Awful Calamities. 1840, p. 13.

*Blanchard note on fatality range: We follow sources below (using 13 for loss of life on the Pocahontas and 9 for the Lloyd). None of the sources cited, nor other sources consulted, but not cited, indicate how many people comprised the crew of the schooner Henry, only that all were lost. In footnote number 3 below we indicate why we use from a minimum of three to at least five as an estimated crew size – thus our range of 24-27. We conjecture that Howe’s range of 24-25 lives lost includes an estimated 3 for the Henry, for he does not note other losses of life, and an estimate of 3 would explain his range of 24-25.

Narrative Information

Howe: “The Second Gale,

“Occurred on Sunday and Monday, the 22d and 23d of December. It was less severe than that of the 15th, although sufficiently violent to have obtained under other circumstances, the name of a terrible hurricane. The injury to shipping was considerable, and two at least of the most distressing shipwrecks we ever had occasion to record, took place. The following is a list of the disasters.

“Schooner Tremont, Ingraham, from New York, of and for Thomaston, went ashore on Hampton Beach, N. H. fifty rods South of Great Boar’s Head, on Sunday morning; the vessel and cargo lost, crew saved. Schooner Henry, of Somerset, capsized off Leeds’ Point, N. J. on Sunday, 22d, and went down with all her crew. Brig Julia McLinn, Palmer, from Porto Rico, for New York, put into Lewes, Del. On morning of 22d; soon after, lost both anchors, and in attempting to beat up to the Breakwater, run ashore and was lost; crew saved. Schooner Charles, went ashore at East Thomaston, on night of 21st, and broke in two. Schooner Equal, Snow, also went ashore at the same place, and much damaged. Schooner Charlotte, Farrar, of Kingston, from Baltimore for Boston, went ashore on Nantasket, on Sunday night; the crew saved, vessel had not gone to pieces. British schooner H. Davenport, which went ashore on Hospital Island, on the 15th, and was got off, dragged ashore again on the 22d, and it was supposed could not be got off till spring. But the most dreadful disasters are yet to be chronicled. We refer to the loss of the barque Lloyd, and brig Pocahontas,

“The Lloyd, Mountfort, of Portland, from Havana for Boston, went ashore on Nantasket, about noon of the 23d, in very thick weather and a heavy sea on; her fore and mainmasts were gone, and only part of the mizzenmast was standing. Six of the crew immediately got out the long-boat, and attempted to get on shore, but the surf at once filled the boat, and every man was swept to his grave in the billows. Another of the crew, named George Stott, got out the small boat, and finally succeeded by aid of the boat, and then an oar, in getting so near the shore, that the inhabitants dragged him from the foaming breakers. Capt. Mountfort, and the two remaining hands then lashed themselves in the mizzen rigging; the sea was all the while making a clear breach over the trembling hull. Soon the two men were broken from their lashings, and hurried overboard; they buffeted the surges a moment, and sunk forever. Capt. Mountfort still remained lashed to the rigging, the last survivor on board; but he could live only a short time in that fearful position. The boat of the Charlotte, manned by the crew who had themselves just suffered the horrors of shipwreck, stood ready on the beach to seize the first opportunity to get on board. It came, and by dint of the greatest exertion, they succeeded in boarding the barque and bringing Capt. Mountfort ashore. He had been washed from his lashings several times, and bruised by his contact with the ragged deck, and was insensible when he was taken off. He was immediately taken into one of the huts of the Humane Society, and every effort made to restore life, but all in vain. He was sixty years of age; the oldest shipmaster out of Portland, and left a wife and three daughters to mourn over the loss they have experienced. The whole community will join them in that mourning, as Capt. Mountfort was very much respected. His body was taken to the village of Hull. Here, as at Gloucester, Ipswich, Nahant, and other places, the generous conduct of the hardy fellows who boarded the wreck, is above all praise. The roll of the Lloyd was as follows:

Daniel Mountfort, of Portland, Me. Master;
Frederick C. Huntress, of Parsonville, Me., mate;
Henry Dodd, of Boston, seaman;
William Guilford, of Limington, Me.;
George Stott, of Baltimore, (who was saved);
William Birch, of do. [Baltimore];
William Leslie, of New York;
Henry Peck, and John Stewart, no residence given.

“The Brig Pocahontas, James G. Cook, master; sailed from Cadiz for Newburyport, the latter part of October. On Monday morning, the 23d instant, Capt. Brown at the hotel on Plum Island near Newburyport, discovered a dismasted wreck ashore on a sand bar, about half a mile east of the hotel. The bar, or reef, lies about 150 yards from the beach, and is, we suppose, what is usually called the South Breakers. By the papers, trunks, and fragments of the vessel strewed on the beach, she was immediately known to be the Pocahontas. At this time but three men were to be seen on board; two were clinging to the bowsprit; and one was lashed to the taffrail almost or quite naked, and apparently, dead. The weather was very thick, so that no signals could be made to alarm the town, and before intelligence could be conveyed thither, only one man was left on the bowsprit, his companion, and the man on the taffrail having been washed overboard. The sea was all the while breaking so furiously over the fated brig, that at the distance of 150 yards, with the aid of glasses, it could not be told whether the poor fellow on the bowsprit was an old acquaintance or not. Through the feathery spray he could just be seen for a moment, and then a mountain wave would roll quite over him. Yet in this dreadful condition he hoped and tenaciously clung to life….Once he lost his hold! ‘Twas a fearful struggle, but he regained it, and there amidst the stormy surges he hung till noon. No one could relieve him; a boat could not live an instant, and about noon the wretched man was swept away and lost among the angry waters.

“The place where the brig struck is the most dangerous spot on the island, as between it and the shore is a wide space of water deep enough to float the largest vessels. Had she been a quarter of a mile on either side, she would have run on a dry smooth beach. It appears that she must have anchored sometime in the course of the night, and being too near the shore for good holding ground, dragged from her anchors and went stern on to the reef where she thumped until her stern was stove in, and the fearful breach which the sea made continued to tear her in pieces, until nothing but the skeleton of what was once a noble vessel remained.

“When she came into the bay, and whether those on board knew her position during the gale; whether the majority of them were swept off together, or one by one, being overpowered by the intensity of the cold and the violence of the sea, will never be known, as not one of the twelve or thirteen souls on board is left to tell the sad tale.

“The Pocahontas sailed from Cadiz in September; was run into by a Spanish ship, and compelled to put back, discharge, and repair; she sailed again in the latter part of October. As most, if not all of her original crew left her during this time, and no list of the crew is found among the papers which have come on shore; the names only of the captain, (James G. Cook,) and chief mate (Albert Cook, son of Elias Cook of Elias Cook of Newburyport), are known. She had at least nine hands before the mast. She was 271 tons burthen, built in 1830, was owned by Capt. J. N. Cushing, and the vessel was insured in Boston; cargo not insured.

“The wreck took place on Monday. During the week several bodies were recovered. On Saturday the remains of Capt. Cook were interred, and on the following Monday, the funeral of Mr. Cook, the first officer, and seven of the crew whose bodies had been found, took place from the Federal Street church. The house was filled with an immense concourse of people, not less probably than 2500 in number….” (Howe: Awful Calamities. Press of J. Howe, 1840, pp. 13-17.)

Perley: “The second severe snow storm of this month [December] began on Sunday, the twenty-second, and the next morning the wind was fiercely blowing from the northeast. The storm continued all through the day, and snow fell in such quantities that railroads in Massachusetts were blocked, and great damage was done on both land and sea, many vessels being driven ashore and more or less damaged. The storm reached as far south as Baltimore, where snow began to fall as early as Saturday.

“The northern portion of Plum Island was so flooded that the keeper of the lighthouse could not get to it. The water flowed quite across the island, in a number of places, making deep ravines, and causing many acres of grassland to be covered with sand. The hotel, which was then conducted by Capt. N. Brown, was entirely surrounded by water and the turnpike road and the bridge were flooded. Sand-hills twenty feet high were carried off and others equally large were formed. The whole eastern shore of the island was washed away several rods in width [one rod equals 5.5 yards].

“The storm was indelibly impressed upon the minds of the people of Newburyport by the wreck at Plum Island of the brig Pocahontas, Capt. James G. Cook, master, bound from Cadiz [Spain] to Newburyport, it having sailed from Cadiz in the latter part of October. She had set sail first in September, but, being run into by a Spanish ship, was so much damaged that she had to return for repairs. The crew consisted of the officers and nine hands before the mast. The brig measured two hundred and seventy-one tons, and had been built in 1830. Her masts had been carried away by the terrible wind, and she had probably been anchored in the evening, but in the darkness and the blinding snow, the mariners did not know that they were so near the sandy beach. The anchor dragged, and stern first she was driven on the reef, where she thumped until the stern was stove in, the noble vessel at length being torn to pieces. It had been driven upon a reef about one hundred and fifty yards from the beach, at a point half a mile east from the hotel, which was the most dangerous place on the island. Soon after daylight on Monday morning, Captain Brown, the keeper of the hotel, discovered the vessel, and news of the disaster was quickly conveyed to Newburyport. A few minutes later amidst the roar of the storm the cry rang through the streets that a wreck was on Plum Island. A number of humane men from the lower part of the town donned their thickest and heaviest boots, and quickly hastened over the marshes to the sandy island, which was trembling under the tremendous roll of the maddened waves.

“The deck of the brig was slippery, the ropes stiff and glazed, and the cries and shrieks of its human burden were drowned by the cruel winds and the roar of the ocean. Tons of water were rushing down the hatchways. When the vessel was first noticed, three men were seen upon it, one of them being lashed to the taffrail, and nearly or quite naked, apparently dead, and two were clinging to the bowsprit. In a short time and before the intelligence of the wreck had reached the town, only one man, who was clinging to the bowsprit, remained, and mountainous waves were rolling over him. Still he clung with a desperate grip. To his rescue, a number of hardy young men, veritable sons of Neptune, insisted upon going through the tremendous sea with Captain Brown’s little skiff, the vessel being too far away to throw a life-saving line to it, — and even if it had not been, the man was evidently too much exhausted to avail himself of such means of escape. They hauled the boat over the beach for three-fourths of a mile, but finding it impossible for any common boat to live one moment in that terrible surf, they very reluctantly abandoned their plan. The ill-fated man maintained his position on the vessel for several hours, growing so weak that at one time he lost his hold, but luckily regained it. Still the unpitying storm heat on. The men could only look at each other through the falling snow, from land to sea, from sea to land, and each realized how impotent they all were. Just before noon, the mariner was a second time swept by the heavy sea from the bowsprit, which also immediately followed him, and this time he as seen no more. A few minutes later the wreck was washed in and cast upon the beach. A man was found lashed to the vessel and he was still breathing, but so exhausted that he simply drew a few breaths, and then all was over. The sea had beaten over him so fiercely and continually that his clothes were almost washed off from him. Whether the majority of the crew perished by the cold and exposure or were washed from the vessel by the waves will never be known, as not one of the thirteen souls on board survived to tell the tale.

“The people were deeply affected at knowing that young Captain Cook, toil-worn as he was, after beating about on a storm coast for several days, should be wrecked, and perish within sight of the smoke ascending from his own hearthfire. The bodies of several of the unfortunate men washed ashore and were taken up on the beach at some distance from the wreck, the small boat belonging to the brig lying near them indicating that they had attempted to reach the shore in it, probably about daylight. In all, there were recovered the bodies of the captain, first mate, who was Albert Coo, also of Newburyport, and seven others of the crew , who were strangers. Captain Cook’s funeral was on Saturday, and after several days had passed, it having become almost certain that no more bodies would be found, the other eight corpses, with the American flag thrown over each of them, were borne into the broad aisle of the South Church in Newburyport, while the bells were being tolled. Amid a concourse of twenty-five hundred persons, solemn prayer was offered over the remains of these human waifs, untimely thrown upon our shores, and then they were borne at the head of a procession numbering several hundred persons, to the cemetery, while the bells were again solemnly tolled, and flags hung at half-mast from the vessels in the harbor.

“At Nantasket Beach, on Monday, at about noon, the bark Lloyd of Portland, Maine, bound from Havana to Boston, and commanded by Captain Mountfort, with masts gone, went on shore. The weather was still very thick, and a heavy sea was running, the surf being so high that no boat could put out to its assistance. Four of the crew lashed themselves to the rigging. The six other persons on the vessel succeeded in getting out and launching a boat, into which they got, but the mighty waves upset it, and they were drowned. Finally the vessel was dashed to pieces, and all on board perished, with the exception of George Scott, an Englishman, who floated on an oar within reach of the people on the beach, and they pulled him out of the water when he was nearly exhausted. Captain Mountfort, who had lashed himself to the rigging, was brought ashore in a boat belonging to a vessel that was lying near, which also suffered from the storm, after three perilous efforts had been made to reach him, and was immediately taken into one of the huts of the Humane Society, every effort to resuscitate his insensible body being made, but in vain. He was the oldest shipmaster that then sailed out of Portland, and was much respected.

Snow: “The second of the triple hurricanes [1st was Dec 15] hit the coast on Sunday, December 22. During the gale, the brig Pocohantas crashed against Plum Island several miles north of the place where the ship Deposit had hit in the hurricane of the week before…Eleven aboard the Pocohantas were lost…” (Marine Mysteries and Dramatic Disasters of New England. 1976, p. 207.)

Sources

Howe. Awful Calamities: or, The Shipwrecks of December, 1839… (Third Edition). Boston: Press of J. Howe, 1840. Accessed 10-15-2021 at: https://www.google.com/books/edition/Awful_Calamities_Or_The_Shipwrecks_of_De/j2NTAAAAYAAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1&dq=

Howland, Southworth Allen. Steamboat Disasters and Railroad Accidents in the United States (Revised and Improved). Worcester: Warren Lazell. 1843.

Penobscot Marine Museum Education. Life At Sea. Accessed 10-17-2021 at: https://penobscotmarinemuseum.org/pbho-1/life-at-sea/crew

Perley, Sidney. Historic Storms of New England. Salem, MA: The Salem Press Publishing and Printing Co., 1891. Google digital preview accessed 10-26-2017 at: https://books.google.com/books?id=Z2kAAAAAMAAJ&printsec=frontcover#v=onepage&q&f=false
Reprint published Commonwealth Editions of Beverly, MA in 2001.

Snow, E. R. Marine Mysteries and Dramatic Disasters of New England. NY: Dodd, Mead, 1976.