The Ordeal of the "Island Home"

T h e O r d e a l o f t h e " I s l a n d H o m e

A N i g h t " U n d e r " T u c k e r n u c k

SHORTLY AFTER 1:30 in the afternoon on February 4th, 1882, a northeast gale developed which, as the day wore on, became one of the worst storms for many years. From early morning the sky threatened snow and at this hour it began to fall, and as the wind increased, the snowfall had become a veritable blizzard. As night advanced the storm grew in its intensity. At 5:00 that afternoon the streets were filled with huge drifts and buildings were covered, with many shaking at the fury of the gale.

When the time for the boat's a rival that afternoon had come and gone, and no sign of the steamer Island Home could have possibly been discerned, it was believed that Captain Nathan Manter, her commander, had not left Woods Hole for the passage across the Sound. But there were others, more experienced in sea matters, who felt that, as the storm had not developed until long after the steamer's regular hour of departure, the Island Home had been caught by the unexpected swiftness of the storm's fury.

The gale continued during the night, and although the snowfall gradually ceased, the wind continued at full force. At daybreak anxious watchers climbed the old South Tower stairs to gain the lookout and train their spyglasses out to the reaches of the Sound. At 10:00 o'clock on that Sunday morning the watchmen in the Tower sighted the steamer broadside on, sweeping toward the breaking seas on Nantucket Bar. The present jetties had not been constructed at that time, and the long shoal or bar across the harbor mouth presented a wild scene.

Word went quickly through the town, and one of the Humane Society surfboats was taken down to Beachside, where Capt. John M. Winslow and his boat-crew waited. Before the boat could be launched a gust of wind lifted it from the cart and only quick action saved it from a jolting fall. But before the boat was shoved into the water the men noted that the steamer was still under its own power-that Captain Manter was carefully backing and filling, using his paddle wheels, so that he was being carried over the bar broadside on.

The seamanship of Captain Manter was never more evident. Unable to get the Island Home around to mind her helm, with the wind force out of the northeast, he came along the channel from the Bar toward Brant

Point almost broadside on, or "crab fashion," to use an expression. He had resolved to allow the bow of the steamer to strike the beach at the Point (where the channel ran close to the shore) and thus allow the stern to swing around and provide the opportunity to use his rudder. But he was not called upon to perform the feat as a favorable slant of the gale (governed by the low reaches of Coatue) enabled him to bring the steamer around and proceed around the Point and up to the wharf.

The appearance of the steamer gave full evidence of her experience during that long night. Her decks were a mass of ice; some 20 feet of the port gangway had been smashed in. The few passengers on board had gathered near the damaged side, pale and weary from the night in the storm, when the Island Home had managed to anchor under Tuckernuck Shoal and ride out the gale. Every one of the passengers, upon going ashore, declared their lives were saved because of the great skill and seamanship of Captain Manter. That gentleman stayed aboard his steamer, where, having donned dry clothes, he sat down for a warm breakfast, and with his pipe lighted told the representative of The Inquirer and Mirror the story of that night.

"We left Woods Hole around 1:30," he began, "and nearly up to Cape Poge had a fine snow, with the weather moderate, and I did not anticipate anything serious. The wind was east-northeast. We made all our buoys, but after leaving Tuckernuck Shoal buoy the snow increased and we could not see more than 10 feet ahead. The wind was now a gale, and after we ran our time to the bar and could see no buoy we tracked the bar to the eastward for 20 minutes—still no buoy, so we came about and ran 20 minutes to the westward. Still no sign of the buoy on the bar.

"As night was coming on and the wind increasing, I decided to anchor, putting out the small anchor with 15 fathoms of chain. I found out we were dragging so I increased the chain to 40 fathoms. The night was terrible and I was obliged to put out the large anchor. At 5:00 o'clock thismorningthe wind blew the strongest, and as I made my way along the upper deck it seemed as if the hurricane deck must blow off. We ripped open sacks of grain to get the bags and wrap them around the hawser to prevent its chafing.

"The boat rode like a duck. When dawn broke we made land close to us, which we first took to be the Cliff, but as the light increased we found we were close upon Tuckernuck, and could see the hotel. I realized the precarious situation. When the tide fell we began to strike bottom and I knew we had to act quickly. I had determined to beach her on the

THE ORDEAL OF THE '"ISLAND HOME 25 Island. After buoying the large anchor and slipping the cable, I then cut the hawser and let the small anchor go. At this moment, the wind began to favor us a little and I decided to make a run for the bar. Our cook, William Orpin, knows every inch of the ground up that way, and he brought her through the slues among the Swile Islands into five fathoms of water, when we headed for the bar.

"The seas were terrific, sweeping clean across the bow and running aft. Mr. Bucknam, our engineer, was at times almost ankle deep in the engine room. The old boat rolled fearfully, and when we reached the outer bar, lying in the trough of the sea, a wave, towering above the hurricane deck, struck her as she rose upon it-knocking that hole in her side and sweeping through to the outer saloon. I wouldn't have given two cents at that time for the boat and all on board. But we passed safely through it, with all hands safe, slight damage to the boat, and with anchors gone which can be recovered.

"It was as much worse than being in the ice as you can imagine. It was one of the wildest times I have known in my many years' life on the ocean. We backed and filled across the bar, and the rest you have seen. I forgot to say that the wheel-rope broke once, but we managed with some difficulty in getting it repaired."

The Clerk, Jared Norton, praised the passengers for their calmness during the ordeal, and paid a compliment to Captain Manter for his coolness and excellent judgement. Engineer Bucknam reported the steamer's engines in good order, with no damage. He repeated Captain Manter's statement that this was the most severe storm he ever knew and, like the Captain, would not have paid a very great sum for the boat as she approached the bar.

The Rev. Daniel Round, one of the passengers stated: "And you cannot say too much in praise of Captain Manter. He did all that could be done. Clerk Norton was all over the boat, looking to the comfort of the passengers, and helping when assistance was needed."

As for Captain Nathan Manter and the stout Island Home, his knowledge of the waters off Nantucket, and his faith in his steamer were a part of his life for over thirty years of his service aboard, combined to provide the confidence which sustained him during that night in a blizzard, in February, 1882.

E. A. S.