LOSS OF THE AVALANCHE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 1049, 7 November 1877, Page 3

LOSS OF THE AVALANCHE.

NAMES OF THE PASSENGERS AND CREW. English papers received by the San Francisco mail contain detailed accounts of the disastrous collision between the ships Avalanche and Forest, with the evidence at the inquest, and the names of the crew and passengers of the Avalanche. The following is the full list of the passengers on board the latter vessel: — Chief cabin—F. W. Wanton, Mrs F, Cooper, Jane E. Cooper, Mr Neale, Henry Wilkins, Mary Ann Wilkins, Mary M. Wilkins, Helen Wilkins, Alfred Wilkins, William Wilkins, Emily Wilkins, Albert Wilkins, Miss M. Watt, Mrs Shield, Miss Taylor, Mrs Wychodil, W. E, Snow, F. C. Simmons, A. Montgomerie, J. 0. Cook, W. H. Bennett, J. M. Richards, Miss Foote, Dr Tanner, Mr Tanner, Cecil E. Walker. Second cabin —Annie Spreadbow, Mary Spreadbow, Alex. Kelly, 0. H. Prickman, J. 0. Chamberlane, Eliza A. Chamberlane, John T. Chamberlane, George Chamberlane, W. J. Whittaker, John Munter, John R. Munter, L. D. Kirby, J. Graham, J. T. Somerville, George Kerr, James Wilston, Mrs Wilston. Steerage passengers —Fred. Lee, Matilda Lee, Edith Lee, Annie Lee, Mary Lee, Esther Lee, G. F. Smith, W. Edmundson, J. A. Blyth, C. Lysaght, C. Carly, Max Wcrtheim, John Bishop, A. Hornutewicz, Charles Stock, Louis Petersen, N. A. Kenworthy, J. Maxwell, 81.B 1 . Laws. The following are the names of the crew; E. Williams, master ; W. Bowling, mate ; L Tuberville, second mate ; J. C. Sherringou, third mate ; J. H. Jamieson, carpenter ; L Allen, steward; Robert Dndeen, cook; fames Norin, boatswain; William Miller, LB., T. G. Mills, A. 8., Michael Carrol, A. 8., f. P. McCarthy, A. 8., John Smith, A. 8., James Hamilton, A. 8., Andrew Bennett, A. 8., A. J. White, A. 8., James Dyman, A. 8.,

Samuel White, A. 8., W. J. Medhurst, A. 8., Thomas Borman, A. 8., F. T. Combes, 0.5.., A. H. Craddock, 0.5.; 0. J. Jasen, engineer ; W. A. Woodward, assistant-steward; W. C. Mason, assistant-steward; T. Donaldson, sailmaker ; Peter Petersen, second cook ; Sidney Kenworthy, butcher ; H. J. Smith, second steward.

There were also live apprentices on board the Avalanche, named L. A. Alexander, D. MeAllum, W. Or. G. Priest, N. Pearce, and H. A. Moriarty.

The following is a list of the places to which the passengers on board the Avalanche belonged : London—ll. F. Neale, J. C. Cooke, W. E. Bennett, E. E. Walker, A. Sproadboro, Mary Spreadboro, C. 11. Prickman, W. J. Whittaker L. D. Kirby, Q-. T. Q,. Smith, Charles Lysaght, Charles Carey, A. Hermulweiz, Charles Stock, J. Maxwell, and F. Laws. Glasgow —A. Kelly. Liverpool—Mr and Mrs A. Edmunsun. Bowdon—Mrs F. Cooper and Miss J. E. Cooper. Tunbridge Wells —F. W. Wanton. Leytonstone—W. 0. Snow. Chertsey— F. 0. Simmons. Carrickfergus —A. Montgomerie. Ledbury—Dr Tanner and his son, Tottenham—J. 0. Chamberlayne and his family, including Mr Bobin, Brockley—J. Minter and J. K. Minter. Derby—J. Graham. Sligo—J. T. Somerville and G. Kerr. Sowerby Bridge—Mr and Mrs J. Wilson. Cobham Mr Fred Lee and his family. Wigan—J. A, Blythe. Germany—Max Wertheim and Mrs Whychodil. Bromley Louisa Petersen. Ealing—N. A. Kenworthy. Wellington— Henry Wilkins and family. Wanganui—Miss M. Watt, Mrs Shield, Miss Taylor, J, M. Richards, and Miss Foot. J. C. Sherrington (third mate), J. P. M'Carthy (able seaman), and T. G. Mills (able seaman), of the Avalanche, were landed at Portland this morning, and are the only three men saved from the Avalanche. The master (Lockhart), mate, steward, and six seamen of the ship Forest were also landed at Portland. Of the live dead bodies washed ashore at Portland, one was identified as J. 11. Jamieson (carpenter), the others as seamen belonging to the Forest.

Captain Williams was one of the oldest and most experienced officers in the service of Messrs Shaw, Savill, and Co. He was highly respected by all classes of society with which his position brought him in contact; and the circumstances of his death are made the more painful by the fact that lie was to have been married on his arrival at New Zealand. STATEMENTS OF SURVIVORS. Captain Lockhart, of the Forest, of Windsor, Nova Scotia, gives the following narrative of the collision ;—Wo left London on Sunday, September 9th, bound for Sandy Hook, in ballast, and with a crew of twentyone, all told. On Tuesday night it was very dark and squally, with frequent showers of rain. At nine o’clock we were on the starboard tack, heading about S.S.E., going at the rate of about 3£ knots an hour under small reef upper topsails and whole lower topsails, with foresails and foretopmast sails. It was blowing very hard and therefore I put her under easy canvas. The look-out reported a light on our lee bow. I looked with a night-glass, and saw a green light on a vessel on the port tack. I examined my own lights, and found them very bright, and in their proper places. The second officer said : “That ship is very near, captain;” and I replied, “ I am afraid there is no look out.” I told the man at the wheel to luff, and he did so, and the vessel then paid off, whereupon the other ship and ourselves came into collision, our port bow striking her amidships. The other vessel was of iron. She sank in about two minutes. As soon as I recovered myself I instructed my officers to see what water was in the hold. They reported that it was nearly up to the deck beams. I immediately ordered our three boats to be lowered. Two of them lowered off forward, and the first mate and some of the crew got in. I called to him to come, as one boat was partly full of water, and could not keep alongside. I went and saw the other boat lowered, and then got into the weather boat with the mate. We pulled away and looked round, but found no soul. It was awful weather. In about an hour’s time we lost sight of the ship Forest. We stayed in the boat all night, and strove to save ourselves. With great exertions w-e got towards Portland, where the fishermen came to our rescue, at about ten miles from where the vessel went down. The number in our boat was twelve, nine of my crew and three from the other vessel. I told the rest of my crew before I left the vessel to get into the other boats. I can’t say whether they did. I heard no cries nor anything from the other vessel. I don’t know how the three men got into our boat. They were there before I got iu. I carried no intoxicating liquor on board my vessel, which was a teetotal ship. This is my first accident for sixteen years. The sea was terrific, and I was afraid to get near the Forest. I lost sight of her when a rain shower came on. She must have sunk during the shower. The tonnage of my ship was 1442 tons register. She carried, when laden, about 2200 tons and 000 tons of ballast.

Another survivor, John Sherrington, says—- “ I was third officer of the Avalanche, of Southampton, 1154 tons register. I sailed on Saturday last from the East India Dock with a crew of thirty-four hands, all told, and about fifty passengers, bound for Wellington, Now Zealand, At Sheerness, on Sunday, we ran into a barque. No great injury was done to our vessel, but the barque’s jibboom was carried away, and she put back to Gravesend, I was sitting in my bunk at nine o’clock last night. Wo had a Channel pilot on board named Broadriok, who was on deck at the time. I heard the pilot sing out ‘ Hard up - ’ and immediately afterwards ‘ Fort your helm!’ from two voices. I recognised one as the pilot’s, but did not know the other. I turned out of my bunk, and heard the second mate say to the first mate ‘ Bowling, Bowling! come on deck ; I think there will be another smash ’’ I went on deck, and saw the jibboom of the other ship strike against our mainmast, snapping the jibboom in two. I rushed past the mainmast, and fell down the quarter hatchway on to the top of some passengers who crowded Underneath. I then stumbled across the other hatch leading to the lower hold. I felt a gust of wind coming up and rushed for the deck, again telling tbo passengers if they wanted to save their lives to go on deck immediately. As I was going up the gangwayladder the ship smashed into us again. I rushed on to the poop, followed by several passengers, and saw the captain standing by the break of the poop. I told him the ship was sinking, and that ho had better catch hold of some of the loose gear of the other vessel. When next she came down upon us I caught hold of a chain hanging loose from the strange ship, and she carried me with her. I saw another person holding on to the gear.

I rushed to the port side of the forecastle at the head of the ship Forest, and saw the Avalanche going down, stern first. I threw loose ropes into the water for the drowning. I then went down on to the main deck, and saw the crew rushing about in all directions. Having discovered our second mate, who came up to me, I went aft to the wheel, and found it hard astarboard, and immediately put it hard aport. I next assisted in launching the boats. The second mate got into one and I into another, with members of the Forest’s crew, I sang out and asked if any body else was coming, when lines were thrown over, and four or five scrambled into the boat. The mate then sang out for Captain Lockhart to come, and after some delay he came and shoved off, and soon after we saw another boat, but quickly lost sight of her again. A tremendous sea was running all night. We were battling with the wares ten hours, and this morning were picked up by Portland boats. I did not see the Forest go down, but watched her for two hours. Only myself and two of our crew are saved. As soon as we got clear of the ship I saw the people running about, and saw blue lights and rockets fired. The vessel struck four times, and went down in about four minutes. I knew the Avalanche was sinking as I felt the air coming up. Captain Williams was about thirty-three, and this was his fourth voyage. THE RESCUE OF THE SURVIVORS. About six o’clock on the morning after the disaster some fishermen on the Chessil Beach saw a boat bottom upwards, and on going to it also found the body of a man washed on shore. Presently they discovered three other bodies, and at eight o’clock a boat laden with people was sighted about two miles distant. It being impossible for the castaways to land, owing to the heavy sea, a Portland fishing boat was launched, and at the risk of their lives her crew proceeded to render assistance. They soon learnt what had occurred, and that only twelve persons out of more than 100 survived. As it was impossible to receive the whole of them on board the fishing boat, signals were made to shore for another, which came out at very great risk. Happily the two boats succeeded in taking the twelve on board, but even then the danger was not over, as tire sea was breaking with tremendous fury on the beach, and, with any other craft than that used by the Portland fishermen, it would have been impossible to have effected a landing in safety. As it was, the men had to wait a considerable time, and then, taking advantage of a wave a little less violent than the others, succeeded in getting on to the shore, up which the boat was pulled by the people assembled on the beach. The shipwrecked men, after their rescue, were carefully treated, and subsequently transferred to the Sailors’ Homo at Weymouth, where they received every attention. The exposure to which they hud been subjected was beginning to tell very fast upon them, and the captain of the Forest was in a very weak state at the inquest.