1876 — Dec 30, freighter Circassian breaks-up in storm, off Mecox Beach, Long Isl. NY– 28

–28 Sheard. Lost Voyages: Two Centuries of Shipwrecks…Approaches to New York. 1998, p.84.
–28 Shinnecock Indian Nation. “Circassian Tragedy, December 30, 1876.”
–28 Simonds. The American Date Book. 1902, p. 101.
–28 USCG Historian’s Office. “This Day in Coast Guard History – Dec. 30.” MarineLink, 2009.
–28 U.S. Life-Saving Service. Annual Report of the Operations of…FY Ending June 30, 1877.

Narrative Information

Pelletreau: “The ship “Circassian” was stranded on the beach opposite Bridgehampton on December 30, 1876. The entire crew, among whom were a number of Shinnecock Indians, who were ex¬pert mariners, were rescued by the life savers. By a strange fatality, the greater number of these men thus snatched from death during a howling storm, came to a dreadful fate a day or two later. They returned to the vessel, in pleasant weather, to assist a wrecking crew. The ship was floated into deep water, and anchored near the bar. During the following night an¬other storm arose, and she was broken into pieces by pounding upon the bar, and all but three of the lately saved sailors perished miserably in the sea.” (Pelletreau. A History of Long Island. 1905, p. 25.)

Shinnecock Indian Nation: “On the Shinnecock Indian Reservation in Southampton stands a small granite memorial with 10 names etched on it. It is not in a public place, so the only people who see it are the residents of the reservation, who keep the weeds at bay and plant flowers to brighten the memorial. They have not forgotten the names of the 10, who died in the cold surf not far from the reservation on a bitter December day in 1876….

“The Shinnecock men listed on the memorial died aboard a freighter called the Circassian. The ship was en route from Liverpool, England, to New York Harbor, when it foundered in a storm on a sandbar at Mecox, east of the reservation. The ship’s holds contained more than 1,000 tons of such items as bricks, lime, bleach and rags, according to The Shinnecock Indians: A Culture History, published in 1983.

“The Circassian left England in early November with 36 men aboard and was soon in the teeth of a winter storm. En route across the Atlantic, the ship picked up the captain and crew of a boat it found foundering in heavy seas. It was not a good omen. Still hundreds of miles from New York, the freighter’s riggings were covered with layers of ice and the storm was worsening.

“Wind and sea raged as the ship neared Long Island. On the night of Dec. 11, the Circassian struck a sandbar. Flares shot into the dark sky as the freighter foundered a few hundred yards from shore, at the eastern edge of Mecox Bay, near the tiny farming hamlet of Bridgehampton.

“Soon, rescuers from a nearby lifesaving station discovered the ship. But as dawn broke, attempts by the rescuers to launch dories into the surf were rebuffed by huge, icy waves. After repeated attempts, a line was successfully fired to the freighter with a mortar. The line landed on the ship’s deck and was tied by the crew. Then, at mid-morning, as the storm subsided, rescuers reached the freighter in dories. After several hours, the crew was safely ashore. Now, the business of unloading the cargo and towing the ship off the sandbar began.

“A company brought in to unload the cargo hired a group of Shinnecocks, most of whom had served on whaling vessels and were eager for the work. The men agreed to stay aboard the Circassian until all the work was done and the ship was free of the sandbar. But then, on Dec. 29, another storm approached. According to the Shinnecock book, some men left the boat, including an Indian named Alfonso Eleazer, but the others were ordered by an official of the salvage company to stay aboard and ride out the storm. ‘There are stories handed down from generation to generation…that pistol threats had to be used to encourage the men to stay with the ship,’ according to the book. ‘No matter the reason, they stayed.’

“That night, the ship broke in half in a gale. Some men scrambled up the rigging to safety. Unable to reach the Circassian because of the storm, people on the beach could hear the Shinnecocks aboard the ship singing Christian hymns. By the morning of Dec. 30, the ship was in pieces, the men aboard tossed into the icy sea. Only four men made it to the beach alive.

“Of the 32 men who had stayed aboard, 28 died, including all 10 Shinnecocks….” (Shinnecock Indian Nation. “Circassian Tragedy, Dec 30, 1876,” reprinted from NY Newsday.)

USCG: “1876-The British ship Circassian was destroyed off Bridgehampton, Long Island, following a successful rescue of 49 persons on December 11 by the Life-Saving Service. During later salvage operations in a storm the ship drifted out of the sand, resulting in the loss of 28 of its salvage crew including 12 Shinnecock Indians.” (United States Coast Guard Historian’s Office. “This Day in Coast Guard History – Dec. 30.” MarineLink.)

U.S. Life-Saving Service: “The first and most signal wreck of the year was that of the British ship Circassian, which happened at a point off shore about twenty rods west from Station No. 10, District No. 3, Bridgehampton, Long Island, between December 11 and 30, 1876. It is one of the saddest disasters in the annals of shipwrecks.

“An account of the occurrence is here incorporated as given by a member of the board appointed to investigate the circumstances….

“The Circassian was a large, full rigged iron ship, 280 feet long, of 1,741 tons burden, about 20 years old, valued at $145,000, and laden with a small general cargo, estimated to be worth $45,000. Her history was somewhat remarkable. She had been formerly a steamer, owned in England, and during the war had been captured as a blockade-runner and sold to parties at the North. A short time afterward she went ashore on Sable Island, and was got off by the Columbian Wrecking Company, under the charge of Capt. John Lewis, who finally lost his life upon her. She was subsequently purchased by a New York firm, and placed on the New Orleans route. Upon a voyage to New York, she again went ashore, this time at Squan, New Jersey, in December, 1869. Being gotten off, she was laid up in dock about three years, and finally bought by a Liverpool house, and converted into a sailing-ship. Her final wreck took place upon her first voyage since her alteration. She was then bound from Liverpool to New York with a crew of 37 persons, including her commander, Capt. Richard Williams, together with 12 passengers whom she had taken from a wreck at sea.

“On December 11th, at ten minutes to eleven o’clock at night, owing, as her captain stated, to an error of the compass, she ran upon a bar about 400 yards from the shore, where she stranded; her size and her great draught of water, which was 19 ¾ feet, causing her to ground at this considerable distance. The night was dark; a northeast gale was blowing, with a thick snow-storm and heavy sea.

“The ship was immediately discovered by the patrol of Station No. 10 (Capt. Baldwin Cook, keeper), and the crew of the station promptly assembled. To have launched the boat in the heavy seas, which in that vicinity roll in numerous combing breakers from the outer bar to the beach, would have been fool-hardy. It was equally impossible to reach the ship at that time with the shot-line; her distance from shore, the resistance of the gale to the line, and the darkness, which would have prevented the men firing the mortar from seeing by the bowing of the line what allowance to make for the force of the wind in aiming, and also prevented the people on board from discovering the line if it fell over the rigging, being all elements of failure. It was, therefore, necessary to wait till dawn before commencing operations, when the life-saving crew would have the double advantage of light and a lower tide. The gear meanwhile was gotten in readiness for action, and the crews of the contiguous stations, Nos. 9 and 11, were summoned from a distance of several miles on either hand.

“At day-break the falling tide enabled the mortar to be planted lower on the beach and nearer the vessel, which also in the meantime had been driven considerably nearer to the shore by the force of the sea; and, at the third fire, the ball fell plumply upon the deck and connection was made with hawser and hauling-lines for the use of the life-car.

“The sea had now, however, subsided to such an extent that it was judged that more expeditious work could be done with the surf-boat, which was accordingly launched, and in seven trips the entire number of persons on board the vessel, forty-nine in all, were safely brought on shore.

“During the night there was the usual difficulty in prevailing upon those on board the ship not to attempt to land in their own boats—an attempt which would certainly have resulted disastrously. It was prevented, however, and the deliverance of all on board was accomplished without casualty.

“The Coast Wrecking Company, of New York, were now engaged to save the vessel and cargo, and at once commenced operations under the general direction of Captain Perrin, an agent of the company, and the local agent, Captain Charles A. Pierson, of Bridgehampton. Captain John Lewis, of New York, had immediate charge of the work on board the vessel, assisted by three engineers from New York, and twelve men, ten of whom were members of an Indian tribe, now whalers and wreckers, resident at the neighboring village of Shinnecock. Beside these sixteen persons there were on board the ship sixteen of her regular company, including the master and officers, making a total of thirty-two in all. Captain Luther D. Burnett, of Southampton, owing to his great experience as a surfman, had been employed by the wrecking company to take charge of the boats employed in lightening the ship by removing her cargo.

“The ship lay across the bar with her head to the southeast. This transverse position, as events proved, was dangerous. Being of iron, very heavy, of great length, and lying thus substantially athwart a ridge, principally supported amidships, with her ends comparatively off the bottom in the deeper water, she had a constant tendency to sag and break in two. The object of the wrecking company was, of course, to work her off as speedily as possible into the open sea. In such cases the method usually adopted is to sink heavy anchors to seaward of the ship, the latter being held thereto by immense hawsers, and a perpetual strain being kept by the capstan upon these hawsers, the vessel, aided by the heavy swell and the rising tides, which tend to move and lift her, is gradually pulled toward the ocean. This course had been pursued with the Circassian, and within a fortnight she had been moved 98 yards upon the bar. She now lay a total distance from the shore of 308 yards at low tide.

“Under the circumstances, it would have been prudent to have kept a line stretched from the ship to the shore, thus retaining communication with the life-saving station for use in case of emergency. This, however, the agents of the wrecking company, upon repeated solicitations, steadily refused to do. It appears that the crew of twelve wreckers, including the ten Shinnecock Indians, had been engaged to remain on board the vessel until she floated off the bar. The coming easterly storm, with its accompanying high tides, was relied upon to aid in effecting the release of the ship, and the principal motive for refusing to allow a line to be run from the ship to the shore was the apprehension that the crew, fearing danger, might avail themselves of this means to leave the vessel during the storm, when their services would be most needed. Absolute dependence was placed upon the great strength of the ship to enable her to withstand the gale, and it was this miscalculation of her resistant power which led to the catastrophe.

“As early as the 26th of December an easterly storm was prevailing and the weather was very threatening. By the 29th, the storm had so increased that the lighters engaged in removing the cargo were unable to work with safety, and at ten o’clock in the morning the last cargo-gang, led by Capt. Luther D. Burnett, came ashore. This was the latest communication had with the vessel.

“It was expected that the ship would float at high water that night, and be taken to sea under canvas. During the day, however, the gale increased in violence, with snow and sleet, and the sea had become tremendous. By four o’clock in the afternoon the immense bulk of the ship was seen from the shore rolling and pounding heavily on the bar. It was also seen that the hawsers, bent to heavy anchors to seaward, had been slacked. This denoted that the hope of getting her out to sea at that particular time had been abandoned, and also that those on board were becoming apprehensive, and desired that she should be driven in toward the beach, where their peril would have been lessened. The slackening of her cables, however, had no effect, and it was seen later that she had settled in the water. This appearance was probably the result of her having already broken her hull, and explains why she did not move when her hawsers were eased.

“Darkness came on without any abatement of the tempest, and the ship continued to labor heavily. It was not, however, till seven o’clock that she made any signal of distress. Notwithstanding the general confidence in her stoutness, alarm for her safety began soon to prevail. The crews of the next stations, Nos. 9 and 11, were at once sent for, and Capt. Baldwin Cook and his men, of station No. 10, hastened to prepare for the forlorn attempt at rescue.

“Ordinarily, the beach presents the aspect of a broad, interminable avenue of sand, with the ocean on one hand, and a low line of hummocks and mounds, crowned with coarse grass, upon the other. Upon that night it presented an almost unprecedented spectacle. The broad space, usually bare, was flooded in the darkness by a furious sea, which momentarily broke all over it, with prodigious uproar and confusion, reaching in places as far as the beach hills, and pouring through their clefts or sluice-ways. So overswept was the beach with this seething water, that the keeper and his men could with difficulty find a place upon which to plant the mortar for an attempt to fire a shot-line to the wreck. The spot finally fixed upon was almost under the beach-hills, 72 yards farther back than the position chosen for the mortar upon the occasion of the original stranding of the Circassian. The vessel being at a distance of 308 yards, at low tide, as stated, the mortar was now 380 yards from her. Although the effort was resolutely and persistently made, it is evident that no shot-line could possibly have reached her at such a distance in the teeth of the hurricane which prevailed. If it had, it would have been useless at this time, her decks being now completely swept by the surges, her crew already up in the fore- rigging for safety, and no one in a position to haul upon a line from shore. No other means of reaching the wreck was possible. In the tremendous sea then burling thousands of tons of water each moment upon the beach, no life-boat, even if unbroken by the weight of the surf, could have been propelled from shore.

A red Coston light was burnt by the crew of the station to let the men in the fore-rigging of the wreck know that their peril was understood, and a large fire of driftwood was built upon shore, abreast of the ship, under the sand hills. The preparations for firing the mortar, which meanwhile actively continued, were much impeded at first by the difficulty of finding a place where the sea did not reach, and then by the wet, flying sand which covered the shot-line in spite of every effort to protect it. To keep the shot-line dry, free, and unsnarled, is necessary for its efficient flight toward a wreck. It was now almost immediately soaked by the rain and spray, clogged by the drifting sand, and frozen. By eight o’clock, however, the gun was in readiness. In the meantime the mainmast had fallen, carrying with it the mizzen topmast. This was a sinister occurrence. It denoted the beginning of the breaking up of the vessel.

“The alarm and anxiety of the old captains and seamen on shore was now increased by an extraordinary circumstance. The mortar was just shotted and the line ready for the first fire, when the wind, which had been blowing furiously from the east-southeast all day, suddenly chopped around to the west-southwest, and became almost a tornado. So abrupt a change, with such an increase of fury in a gale, is almost unprecedented. It blew with such dreadful violence that it was nearly impossible to look to windward on account of the flying sand. A terrific cross sea at once ensued. The water swelled up in great heaps, and swept the decks of the wreck from every side. The surf flooded the beach still higher, cutting away the beach-hills, and at intervals tearing new gullies through them. Added to all was a streaming torrent of rain. The bitter cold, the darkness, the frightful roar and commotion, the incessant hail of wet sand, the wind blowing so that men were thrown down by it, the general elemental pell-mell, made the scene indescribable.

“The effect of this sudden change in the direction of the gale was to force the gun from the position which had been obtained for it with so much difficulty. In firing toward a wreck, allowance must be made for the yawing of the shot-line by the wind, and the position, somewhat to the eastward of the ship, which had been chosen on this consideration, had now to be taken up to the westward. Considerable time was consumed in the effort to find a suitable place for the mortar, and there was also trouble to get the match-rope to burn. At length, however, the obstacles were surmounted and several shots were fired in succession toward the vessel. It was necessary that the humane effort should be made, but as already remarked, it was impossible that any shot carrying a line could have reached her at such a distance and in such a gale, and equally impossible, even if it had reached her, that it could have been taken advantage of by the wretched men clinging to the fore-rigging with the furious mob of waters rioting over the hull below them. In fact one of the survivors expressly declared, ‘It would have been impossible for us to have used the line even if it had reached us.’

“Beyond the futile endeavor to reach the wreck by a shot-line, nothing further was or could be attempted. The only hope was that the wreck might hold together till daylight, when it was barely possible that something might be done to effect a rescue. The night was passed by those on shore in watching the vessel. What appeared to them, as some have said, the longest night ever known, must have seemed a miserable eternity to the hapless men upon the wreck. The storm never abated its violence. At midnight the tide fell. Lights were seen upon the deck, and the hull was apparently whole, but cleared of everything by the sea. At two o’clock (Saturday, December 30), it was descried by the glass that the men had left the foremast, and had taken to the mizzen rigging. At half past three the vast black hulk was seen to have broken in two; her forepart settling down outside, and her stern inside, the bar. The glass showed that the mizzen-mast was still erect, and the rigging was full of men. At times, through the roar of the tempest, their cries were heard by those on shore. At four o’clock, the mizzen-mast, which was of iron, began to careen to port with its living, load. For half an hour the powerless watchers on the beach saw it gradually dipping toward the sea. At half past four it reached the monstrous water, into which it settled slowly, with the men that clung to the shrouds.

“It is to the credit of the life-saving crews that the dreadful catastrophe did not paralyze what further exertion was possible. Nothing was more unlikely than that any person could reach the shore from the wreck in that raging sea; but, in view of such a possibility, Capt. H. E. Hunting, the superintendent of the district, had organized a lantern squad of 18 or 20 men to search the surf about 40 yards apart, and immediately upon the disappearance of the mast, they scattered up the beach, with their lanterns, to the eastward. The set, or current, was running with great velocity outside the breakers to the east, which lessened the chances of any person reaching the shore. Suddenly, however, those in the rear heard a shout on ahead. A group of the life-saving men was approaching through the darkness with their lanterns, supporting four drooping figures, which they had hauled from the surf. These were the only survivors. The remaining 28 had perished.

“The persons rescued were the first and second officers of the ship, the carpenter, and a seaman in the employ of the wrecking company. It appears that the two first named had obtained possession of a cylindrical piece of cork, 5 feet long and 11 inches in diameter, fitted it with straps and beckets, and arranged between themselves to cling to it for their last chance of life. When the mast dipped into the sea, they had sprung together as far forward as possible. They were at once immersed in the raging flood, and presently came to the surface clinging to the buoy. In a moment the seaman employed by the wrecking company clutched hold of the buoy, and then the carpenter, coming up near them, was seized and helped to a place beside them. Their salvation now was mainly owing to the perfect coolness, judgment, and resolution of the first officer of the ship, under whose management the escape was accomplished. This brave and steady man, under such circumstances, actually schooled his comrades in the course they were to pursue, and took command of their strange craft, as composedly as though he were assuming charge of the staunchest sea-boat. Under his direction the four men, side by side, locked legs with each other. This quadruple intertwining of their lower limbs bound them together, and served to steady the buoy to whose ropes they clung. They were now one mass in quaternion, tossed to and fro in the immense wash of the sea. Every other instant, in the thick darkness, they were flooded by the surge. At these times, under their gallant captain’s word of command, they held their breaths and gripped the buoy-ropes hard, till their momentary release from the wave.

“In the refluence [flowing back] of the surge, his order bade them relax their hold a little for rest and breath. There was but a bare chance for life, but these maneuvers economized their strength and breath, till, swept eastward by the current and forward by the surf, the moment came which flung them into the shoaling breakers. Then under his last shout of command, in the furious welter of the surf and undertow, they gave all their reserved force to the desperate plunge ahead for the beach, and in the midst of their convulsive struggle, half on their feet and half dragged down by the wave, the men of the life-saving service rushed in upon them, and tore them from the sea. They were almost drowned, but they were saved.

“In the common judgment of all present, old captains and seamen, this escape was little less than miraculous. There was hardly one chance in a thousand of its accomplishment, and it was unquestionably owing to the marvelous discretion and stout-heartedness of the first officer. The men were all terribly worn by their struggle. None of them could stand. The carpenter was nearly dead, and could not have been carried a mile without perishing. Fortunately, the station was near, and the four survivors were brought to it and put into warm beds near the stove as quickly as possible. The medicine-chest was at once brought into requisition, and with the aid of mustard-plasters, brandy, coffee, dry clothes, and active chafing and rubbing, the sufferers were revived. It was not till noon the next day that the carpenter was considered out of danger.

“The corpses of the twenty-eight persons lost were washed ashore within a fortnight afterward on Montauk Beach, and were buried by the town of East Hampton, except the ten Shinnecock Indians, who were brought off and buried by the Southampton people, and the bodies of Captain Lewis and the three engineers, which were taken to New York by the friends of the deceased.

“The only persons upon the beach the night of the catastrophe were Capt. Charles A. Pierson; Capt. Jeremiah Ludlow and Capt. James R. Huntting, both retired shipmasters residing at Bridgehampton; Capt. Luther Burnett, and five of his cargo gang; Dr. Benjamin Babcock; Capt. H. B. Huntting, the superintendent of the third life-saving district; the keeper and crew of station No. 10; six men from station No. 9; and one man from station No. 11; making a total of twenty-five in all.

“The statement of this melancholy disaster, which has been prepared with care and is supported by the testimony of the principal witnesses present, shows that the uttermost possible service was rendered by the officers and crews of the life-saving stations. It will be observed that at the outset they brought ashore in safety every person on board the vessel. The undue reliance of the persons in charge of the ship upon her power to withstand the force of the seas which broke her spine, and which led them, in the face of warnings of a storm of more than ordinary violence, to refuse to maintain connection with the shore, was undoubtedly the cause of the loss of life which followed. A line drawn between the vessel and the beach would have enabled the life-saving crews to have effected a rescue at any time prior to the breaking in of the hull, which forced the hapless wreckers and mariners to mount to the rigging. It is evident that from that moment no earthly power could aid them.” (U.S. Life-Saving Service. Annual Rpt. of the Operations of…FY Ending June 30, 1877. Pp. 13-20.)

Sources

Pelletreau, William S. A History of Long Island From Its Earliest Settlement to the Present Time, Vol. 2. New York: Lewis Publishing Co., 1905. Digitized by Google. Accessed 7-3-2022 at: https://books.google.com/books?id=Y4c-AAAAYAAJ&printsec=frontcover#v=onepage&q&f=false

Sheard, Bradley. Lost Voyages: Two Centuries of Shipwrecks in the Approaches to New York. NY: Aqua Quest Publications, Inc., 1998.

Shinnecock Indian Nation. “Circassian Tragedy, December 30, 1876,” (reprinted from New York Newsday). Accessed at: http://www.shinnecocknation.com/circassian.asp

United States Coast Guard Historian’s Office. “This Day in Coast Guard History – Dec. 30.” MarineLink, 12-29-2009. Accessed 7-3-2022 at: https://www.marinelink.com/news/this-day-in-coast-guard-history-dec-30332889

United States Life-Saving Service. Annual Report of the Operations of the United States Life-Saving Service for the Fiscal Year Ending June 30, 1877. Wash.: GPO, 1877. Google Digitized. Accessed 7-3-2022 at: http://books.google.com/books?id=mCyH0mLHbpAC&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_v2_summary_r&cad=0#v=onepage&q&f=true