Saving Ship "Liverpool Packet" in 1881

8

Captain Patterson's Account The English ship Liverpool Packet, bound from

Liverpool to Boston, with 200 immigrants aboard, was caught in a March blizzard in 1861, and narrowly escaped disaster on Nantucket's south shore. The story of how the ship was saved by daring mariners from this island is best described by the leading figure in that rescue — the famous Nantucket pilot, Captain David

Patterson. This account, written in his own hand, is as follows: ON THE 19th DAY of March, 1861, there was a fearful snowstorm and gale of wind during the night. As I owned a small fishing vessel that was out during the storm I went up into the South Tower early the next morning to see if I could see anything" of her. The snow had stopped and with my spyglass I at last saw my vessel laying all right at anchor off the south shore of the island — the schooner Key West.

At the same time I saw a large vessel about twelve miles to the south, wholly dismasted, and lying at anchor, with a signal of distress flying on the stump of her mainmast.

The snow was very deep, so that no team could get through it, and it was about four miles from town to where any boats used for fishing along the shore were hauled up on the beach. It was fixed in my mind to go to the south shore, haul my dory off and board my little fishing schooner, the Key West, then go to the dismasted ship.

I left the town, picked up two boys on my way, and started for the shore. It was a difficult walk, the snow being deeper than I ever saw before, and when we reached the shore we were pretty well tuckered out. We rested awhile and picked out a dory fitted with a sail and hauled her down to the surf.

When we got to the surf we found it very rough. I asked the boys if they were afraid to try it. "No," says both, "we are ready to go with you anywhere." "Well," says I, "if you are ready and willing to go we will try it, but it is pretty rough for a dory and no one here to help us if we get filled. Remember, you are volunteers, and each must look out for himself in case of accident."

The dory was got down where we wanted her and the boys took their places. I then told them to keep their eyes on me, and when I told them to pull they must pull all they knew — but to keep their places. After some fifteen minutes following the dory along the beach and keeping her straight (as every sea slewed

her half around) I thought I saw a chance coming. When a third heavy sea ran up I gave the word "pull!" The boys did their work well and in less than a minute we were in back of the breakers all right, and with not a drop of water in the dory.

We set our sail and were soon on board the K e y W e s t — dry but awfully used up with wallowing through the snow. The wreck could not be seen from the schooner's masthead. There wa s a n o t h er f is h i n g s c h o o ner l a y in g a t a n c h o r n e a r t he K e y W e s t — a western fisherman. I, of course, knew that the steamer in Nantucket harbor must be under way, coming out by this time, which, of course, was hurrying me up. The other schooner had seen our dory coming out from the shore and, of course, smelled a mouse (if not a rat). We held on a short time, but the other schooner got under way and stood to the eastward. The wreck bore about south of where we lay.

When the other schooner had sailed about a mile or so southeast, we got under way and steered to the southeast, too, but it was no use — they kept men at masthead — and very soon it was "hard up" and they kept her off south. They had seen the wreck's jib-boom sticking up above the horizon, and of course there was nothing for us to do but keep our schooner off too.

We soon raised the hull of the wreck, but the other schooner had reached her about 15 minutes before us. They got a line to the ship and held onto her. We came to anchor near the ship. I took a boat and with half a dozen men boarded the wreck.

When I came alongside the captain of the other schooner looked over the rail and said: "You can't come aboard — we've got all the help we need." We paid no attention to him. I told my men to follow me, leaving one man in the boat. When we climbed aboard I called for the ship's captain. The mate came forward and told me we couldn't see him as he was sick. I told him I must see the captain as I had a letter from the agent of the Board of Underwriters at Nantucket, with orders to deliver it to the captain and no one else.

The mate then took me below to the captain in his cabin, and I handed him the letter. The captain of the other fishing schooner went with us. The ship's captain gave the letter to his wife, who was seated by him, and she read it to him. He then said to me, "the letter states you have been sent out to render any aid that I may require, but the captain of this other schooner tells me he has the capacity to save the passengers and crew."

I said: "I have the ability to save your passengers and crew as well as your ship and cargo. Besides, I am a branch pilot and you are on my pilot ground." I showed him my commission. "How do you propose saving my vessel and cargo?" he asked. "The people ashore know that I planned to reach you," I

10

HISTORIC NANTUCKET

replied. "I left a man in the tower to watch for my signal, and the minute I display it the word will be passed to the steamboat and she will leave immediately and come out to us." "And you claim to be a branch pilot?" he asked. "Yes, and you may call any of my men from the Key West to vouch for me." "No—no," he replied. "Few men would make such a claim if it was not true. Take charge of my ship as its pilot and set your signals for the steamer to take us in tow."

I turned to the captain of the other schooner and said: "You now understand that I have charge of this ship. I am not going to rob you of your rights in being first to get aboard, or of the rights of your men. But I am now in charge of the ship and you and your crew are subject to my orders."

The man realized that I was in a leading position and finally agreed to these terms. My first order to him was to regain his own schooner and set two large flags from his mainmast on the same halyard — the signal I had arranged for the man in the South Tower. As the weather had remained clear I knew the watcher would see the signal and report to the steamboat people.

All hands aboard the disabled ship were heartened to learn of my plan. The hours passed slowly, but I knew the steamer was on her way out to us, and assured them of the fact. When the sidewheeler Massachusetts hove into sight I had taken down the ship's signal of distress. In answer to her hail I requested that they get a hawser on board and start towing us to the eastward. ' In piloting the steamer and her tow I set a course as follows: East until we made the Old Man Shoal, then around to the south of it, to head up between Pochick and Bass Rip; thence north to Great Point Rip. Once around Great Point the steamer followed her regular course and finally arrived at Edgartown, where we anchored with a heavy kedge anchor, the ship having lost her other anchors during her hazardous hours in Nantucket shoals.

In Edgartown I sent word ashore to the Marine Underwriters' agent that I wanted a big anchor sent out as the weather did not look good and night had already begun to fall. About two o'clock in the morning a lighter came up alongside with the anchor, which we soon bent on with a chain cable. It was well we did as an easterly gale developed and that anchor kept us from going ashore.

The Liverpool Packet was libeled by the Nantucket Steamboat Company claiming salvage, but after a few days she was bonded. A few days later orders arrived to have the ship towed to Boston, and I served as pilot until we arrived safely at that port. In adjusting the claims before a referee the following settlement was agreed upon: Steamboat Company $3,000 Schr. Key West 2,750 Schr. Connecticut 2,500 Total $7,000