Immigrant Ships
Transcribers Guild

Maritime Articles from Ireland
1880 - 1899

Old Newspaper


Please note that these articles below are not in the exact format as they appear in the newspaper, but have the same content. They are in chronological order.
[1700-1819]    [1820]    [1830]    [1840 - 1844]    [1845 - 1846]    [1847 - 1849]    [1850]    [1860]    [1861]    [1862]    [1863]     [1864]    [1865]    [1866 - 69]    [1870]    [1900]

Daily Iowa State Press
Iowa City, Johnson, Iowa
Feb. 10, 1899

LITTLE IMMIGRANT'S SAD LOT
Little Alice Knearsey's story is a sad one. She is only 6 years old and
when she left her native land, Ireland, two weeks ago, her father, John, a
stalwart young Irishman seemed in the best of health. He had been on the police
force in Dublin and had risen to be a sergeant. Then he lost his position and
with Margaret, his wife, and his little Alice, he decided to come to this
country. Two other children were left with their grandparents. The first night
at sea a shriek went through the steerage of the Aurania. Ship's officers, crew
and the passengers found Knearsey insane, standing over his wife threatening to
kill her. Next morning the frightened child crept to the main deck and saw her
maniac father struggling in a straitjacket. Mother and daughter passed a
cheerless Christmas together. As the madman seemed better the next night the
straitjacket was partly removed. During the night the devoted wife crept from
her bed to see her husband. The delirium returned to him in a flash and Knearsey
attacked the woman. Three days later she again saw her husband, who was once
more violently insane. The shock wrecked the woman's nerves and that night the
ship's physician found her in convulsions. A few hours later she died. Mrs.
Knearsey was buried at sea, and little Alice, weeping and frightened, was taken
to the cabin. A collection was taken up for the child and she will be sent back
to Ireland.

Contributed by Cathy Joynt Labath



Daily Iowa State Press
Iowa City, Johnson, Iowa
March 24, 1899

A LIFE -SAVING SHOT History of the First Ever Fired Here for that Purpose
A twenty-four-pound shot, with a short chain attached, now lying on the
table of General Superintendent Kimball of the life-saving service, recalls a
noted occurrence long since forgotten to many people. The Washington Star says
that this ball is the first ever fired in the United States for the purpose of
saving life. After performing its noble service it lay for more than twenty
years at the bottom of the sea.

On December 26, 1849, the British ship Ayrshire sailed from Ireland, bound
for New York, with two hundred and two persons on board, mostly immigrants,
seeking homes and fortunes in the States. In those days transatlantic steamers
were not numerous, the first regular line, the Cunarders, having been
established only nine years before, and thousands of immigrants were transported
in sailing packets.

Six week later the Ayrshire was off the port of destination in a northeast
tempest, which rolled and pitched her about with great fury.
About midnight of January 12, 1850, she struck bottom with terrific force,
heeled over toward the beach and the sea began to sweep over her sides. Many of
her passengers were women and children, who were either crowded into one of the
small deck-houses, or lashed to the bulwarks and rigging to prevent their being
swept away. The night was dark and bitter cold, and despair reigned on board.
However, about two hours after she struck, the half-frantic company beheld
a flash of light inshore. Then they heard a sound as of a muffled cannon, and a
moment later a heavy iron ball came crashing on board. That was the ball above
referred to. Attached to it was a life-line.

A larger line was soon drawn to the ship by the sailor, and then came the
life-car-at that time a new untried device. It was a small iron boat, covered
over, so that it was very nearly alike on both sides and having in the top and
opening through which persons to the number of six could crawl and shut
themselves in.

To some of the more timid the remedy seemed almost as bad as the disease,
but all save one were taken to and without the smallest mishap. The person lost
was a Mr. Bell, whose sisters and her daughters had been place in the car, when
he insisted on accompanying them. As there was no room inside the car, he
undertook to cling to the outside of it, and as a matter of course, was washed
off and drowned.

Soon after the storm was over the bulk of the wreck began to settle in the
sand and was finally covered. There it lay for twenty-three years, till a heavy
gale set up a strong current along the shore that dug away the sand and once
more exposed the skeleton of the wreck. A party of wreckers were soon on board,
and in searching the cabin, they came across the old mortar ball.

There was no doubt of its identity, and it was returned to the
companionship of the little mortar which had sent it whizzing seaward on its
errand of humanity more than twenty years before. Since the recovery of the
ball, it and the mortar have been on exhibition at all the great interstate and
international exhibitions.


Contributed by Cathy Joynt Labath


Source - The Cork Examiner, 27 May 1881 -

ARREST AT QUEENSTOWN.--A man named John Synnott,
who was en route for New York, per the National
steamer Helvetia, which touched at Queenstown
yesterday from Liverpool, was arrested and brought on
shore to Queenstown, by Head Constable Fogarty,
charged with fnetery at Dublin. The prisoner had a
passage ticket in the name of Samuel Anderson. He was
taken before Mr R Starkie, RM, and remanded pending
inquiries.

Contributed by Dennis Ahern



SHIP WRECK FIFTY YEARS AGO

We have been requested to publish the following
letter, recently received by a citizen of this city
from a friend residing in Pennsylvania, describing a
ship wreck in which both were actors, which happened
fifty years ago: Lancaster, Pa., December 21, ‘82

My Dear Friend --
I just feel as though I would like to talk with you
for a little while, although you and I have not met
but once or twice in the last fifty years. But I
suppose you remember a party of immigrants leaving
Havre, a seaport in LaBelle, France, a little over
fifty years ago, on board the ship Pennsylvania, and
as we were wafted out of the harbor with a fair wind
and tide, and how all things went well with us,
barring the settlement that had to be made with old
Neptune? But as all things must have an end so it was
with sea-sickness. As we thought then we had a good
time, and we had. Do you remember, one day a
Frenchman, who was on board, was walking from the
cook-house, with a large wooden dish of dumplings
(knepf) that he had baked, and as the ship gave a
sudden lurch to one side, he fell and spilled his
dumplings on the deck, you and I, and several other of
the little chubby Dutch boys eat them up and thought
they were good.

There are many other incidents that happened, but the grand one that I want to call your attention to was the Sunday morning of December 2d, 1832, when our ship struck the sand bank, as we were laying as we thought secure in our berths, and when she struck what a terror seized the ship’s company, as she rebounded as it were to gather fresh strength until she finally stuck fast; and then the able-bodied men were ordered out on deck to assist the crew to throw overboard the water casks, etc., and cut away the masts to lighten the ship to get her off the sand. All the while the old men, women and children were in the hold in midnight darkness, and as we hard the tramping of the men on deck, the rattling of the chains, the commands of the officers, and the blows of the axes, it was a time that can never be forgotten. I remember well then the hatch was opened and we saw daylight, and the little black man came down the stairs and opened the lower hold and there was the water nearly to the floor of our cabin, and he ran up
the stairs and report what he saw. We were
immediately ordered on deck. It would not take long
to obey that order but before we could get up the last
one, I had to wade in water, and when we reached the
deck were met with the waves breaking over the ship,
each little family set down in little groups expecting
that every wave would wash them overboard. Then they
hoisted the boats over, but how soon they were swamped
and our means of escape cut off. Rafts were hastily
constructed, and ropes given each one to lash
themselves to the frail rafts, in the event the ship
went to pieces.

But He who rules the might deep says to the waves, “be
still” had decreed otherwise, and thus we lay all that
long day, and as night approached and the gloom
thickened around us, wet, hungry and in despair. I
well remember of a lad asking his mother -- “Oh! mama,
das salts ist bitter,” (Oh, mama, the salt is
bitter), his teeth chattering together. There is no
use talking, prayer is the last resort when danger is
nigh. It don’t matter how hard, or how unbelieving
the human race becomes, when danger threatens they are
ready to ask God to have mercy upon them, and if you
can remember as I do you can call up the forms of some
of the sailors as they fell upon their knees with
their hands stretched heavenward crying to God for
help, the tears chasing each other down their bronzed
and weather-beaten faces.

When the captain deserted us and put off in the small
boat, I seem to see the little thing on the crest of a
large wave and then sink in the trough of the sea.
The mate came back and then quickly left for help.
With what gladness we hailed daylight on the morning
of the 3d and found the wind had gone down, and soon
after a vessel came in sight. Then they killed the
hog which was left from the captain’s stores and
roasted it, but how they did it is a mystery to me to
this day, and distributed it in pieces among the
famished people. The piece I got though raw was good.

Then the work of taking us off the wreck was commenced
by the black sailor who stood in the bow of the ship,
hold us under the arms and drop us into the arms of
another sailor who stood in the bow of the small boat,
who stowed us away and took us to the brig, where we
were put to bed and fed on gruel, small quantities at
a time. How quickly all this was done? And none too
soon, for we were hardly off before the wreck split
open from stem to stern and sank, and that was the
last seen of what had been our home on the mighty days
so long.

Do you mind when we drew near the wharf at Charleston,
S.C., and how the shores were lined with people who
had heard of the wreck. We were then into carriages
and taken to a large building which had been built be
some gentleman for charity and being unfurnished we
slept on beds made up on the floor the first night,
but the next day bedsteads were brought, and we were
fed and clothed with the greatest kindness. I
remember a small gentleman who came with a large
basket of ginger cakes, (they were the old fashioned
kind, thick and good) and gave each one four of them
with a silver coin; and the children of the rich
brought fire-crackers to amuse us little Dutch boys,
how we stick them in the sand and touched them off. I
mind this for when I got down on all fours to see why
mine did not go off and to blow it, it went off and
burned my eyebrows and lashes off and filled my eyes
with sand. After being thus cared for we were started
for Philadelphia, Pa., our original destination, and
on reaching the Deleware we were froze up for six day,
making a delay of as many days to make the trip, and
finally landed, beggars in a strange land.

You are the only man I have since met who was on that
wreck, outside of my own family. I trust you will not
think I have done wrong in thus reminding you of the
days of long ago. -- S. H.

=====
Mary Saggio
Ozaukee County Coordinator
WIGenWeb Project

Contributed by Mary Saggio


Source - The Cork Examiner, 30 May 1881 -

A VESSELL ASHORE
A Lloyd's telegram from St. John's stated that the John
Murray British ship from Liverpool was ashore and
cannot be saved.

Contributed by Dennis Ahern>


Source - The Cork Examiner 21 June 1899 -

MARINE ENGINEERS.
At the Board of Trade examination, held this week by
Mr C O Weeks, Mr. John Randall passed very creditably
for 1st Class Engineers. Mr Randall, who was coached
by Mr Tod, Pembroke Terrace, Cardiff, is the youngest
son of the late Captain John R Randall, of this city.

Contributed by Dennis Ahern



source - The Cork Examiner, 9 November 1888 -
SHIPPING CASUALTY--The s.s. Westphalia, 720 tons,
Captain Kennedy, from Rotterdam, in ballast, bound for
Cardiff, put into Queenstown yesterday morning with
loss of her funnel. The steamer sailed from Rotterdam
on the 2nd inst, and from the outset fell in with extremely
bad weather, and on Sunday night, when off the Start,
the wind at the time blowing a south east gale and a
terrific sea running the mishap occurred. The vessel
rolled to a perilous extent, and when a tremendous sea
broke over her, striking the funnel and knocking it over
the side, the master and crew were alarmed for their
safety. The vessel, however, behaved well, and the
damage received during the gale, in addition to the loss
of the funnel, was not very much. On Monday, the
weather somewhat abated, and the vessel had to be
handled with care. The effort to make Cardiff in the
strong east wind was fruitless, and Captain Kennedy
was at last forced to bear up for Queenstown for
shelter.



Contributed by Dennis Ahern




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