The Burning of the Blue Jacket
A story told in honour of Thomas Crampton. This is his account of survival.

Burning of the ship Blue Jacket
State Library of Victoria

The sailor watched carefully as bale after bale of wool was hoisted on board the clipper ship Blue Jacket and stowed in the forward hold. He had recently been signed on for the return trip to London but the condition of the wool was causing him some anxiety. The wool was too damp, containing too much natural lanolin oil, and he knew that this may cause it to catch fire. The tightly compacted bales would undergo a process called "self heating" which would lead to spontaneous combustion, a condition that could cause the bales to smolder for weeks below decks without being detected. He had been on a ship where this had happened and, fearing for the safety of the vessel and for his life, absolutely refused to go aboard. His fellow sailors, leaning over the ship's rail, jeered at him and laughed, calling him a milksop and suggesting that he was anxious about the voyage around Cape Horn. Our sailor was resolute, however, and did not make the journey, a decision that in all likelihood saved his life. In The Star newspaper for February 8th 1869 this ominous entry was recorded "The ship Blue Jacket completed her loading on Saturday morning [ February 6th 1869]. The shipping of the last bale of wool was celebrated with the usual honours. The ship will probably clear the customs to-morrow, and will sail on Thursday."

Meanwhile the passengers, having travelled to Lyttelton by train from Christchurch,  were boarding the vessel and settling into their cabins in preparation for the long voyage to the Home Country. Mrs Carson and family, Mr and Mrs Faulkner with three children, young Miss Sarah Sheffield and 31 year old Thomas Crampton, formerly of County Wicklow in Ireland. Thomas had emigrated to Lyttelton back in 1863 with his mother, brothers and sisters after their father had died of typhoid fever in 1862. Ireland had nothing to keep the family there and New Zealand seemed to be the place to be as Alicia, the eldest daughter, had emigrated five years earlier in 1858. Thomas had met and fallen in love with Ellen Dunckley whilst she had been on a holiday to visit to her uncle George Douglas in Amberley and now, by the Blue Jacket, he was travelling to Ireland to marry her and bring her back to New Zealand.

On Saturday, February 13th, 1869, the Blue Jacket slipped her moorings and was towed out into the stream. By 11am that morning, near the harbour entrance, the Harbour Pilot had left the ship and a strong breeze carried her eastward into the Pacific Ocean. Over the next two weeks Blue Jacket travelled eastward before a series of strong breezes, experiencing the occasional squall with rain and hail. The weather became colder and colder as she dipped further down into southern latitudes to pass around Cape Horn before heading north again into the Atlantic Ocean. By Tuesday March 2nd the vessel, nearing Cape Horn, reached 54 degrees south latitude where it was colder than Thomas had ever encountered on his voyage to New Zealand all those years ago across the great Southern Ocean. It was a "very nice day" however and Thomas must have been feeling particularly good and thinking of Ellen as he recorded in his diary Vive l'Amore [Live the Love]. Just over one week later his thoughts would have been completely the opposite, wondering perhaps if he would ever see land again let alone be reunited with his beloved Ellen.

As Blue Jacket rounded Cape Horn the passengers were able to sight several other ships making this most hazardous of all sea passages.  During these days the weather changed almost hourly, alternating between showers, rough seas and inexplicable calms. On Saturday March 6th, a particularly rough day, they sighted the islands of Tierra del Fuego, which make up the southern end of the South America continent, and changing course north by east into the Atlantic the Blue Jacket rounded Cape Horn within sight of Staten Island at its very south-eastern extremity. As he had done all the way across the Pacific from New Zealand the captain, known as "Bully" White, pushed his ship to its limit. He was undeniably a hard sailor who delighted in the speed of a vessel under his command and who was known never to take in sail until he was absolutely compelled to do so. On March 9th, Thomas records a steady wind blowing from almost directly ahead and that they were heading into a fog. The next day, Wednesday March 10th 1869, the entry, although obliterated somewhat by the effects of water, was more chilling - At 1:30pm...ship burnt....unable to. It is interesting to note that several different dates have been recorded for the commencement of the fire that destroyed Blue Jacket. The book White Wings mentions that the fire started on March 7th while the record of the event in The Times of London records that the fire was first noted at 1:00pm on Tuesday March 9th. Thomas Crampton, however, who was on board and experienced the event, records that it happened on Wednesday March 10th at 1:30 in the afternoon. One must accept Thomas' record of these events unless, of course, he had neglected to take into account the effects of crossing the international date line which would seem to be the case from the dates in his diary.

Once smoke from the fire had been noticed rising from the forehatch, the hatch cover was immediately removed and an immense column of smoke sped skyward. Removing the hatch would most likely have been a mistake, letting in quantities of fresh air to feed the fire. At once both passengers and crew got to work operating the ship's fire engines and a bucket brigade was formed with the available fire buckets on board. Two hours of continuous effort seemed to have an effect on the fire following which an attempt was made to remove the smoldering bales to throw them overboard. This caused the fire to take hold and flames were seen to issue from the starboard wing of the ship after which the forehatch was immediately closed and covered with tarpaulins and wet sails while fire hoses were played through any gaps into the fore-hold. As far as the hoses could reach they succeeded in extinguishing the flames however as these were put out other flames were noticed and it soon became obvious that the coals stored in the fore-peak [for use in the cooking stove and fresh water condenser] were on fire. Based on this realisation, all prospect of preserving the ship was abandoned and the ship's boats were swung out and got ready with food and water and other provisions. At 10:00pm on that day the Blue Jacket was abandoned in the vicinity of the Falkland Islands. As part of her cargo she carried approximately �48,000 of gold bullion from New Zealand and it is reported that much of this was taken on board the lifeboats before they left the burning ship.

The passengers, along with some of the crew, left the burning vessel with Captain White in the ships cutter - a vessel some 25 feet long with rigging for two masts - while the balance of the ships company left by two lifeboats. During the next six or so days the cutter and the lifeboats remained in company with each other, as instructed by the captain, but on the third day the cutter lost sight of the lifeboats and, although the captain launched rockets and undertook searches of the surrounding sea, nothing was seen of the other vessels. While the cutter was adrift those on board endured appalling hardships. High seas washed over the small boat and a strong westerly gale knocked the cutter about while making conditions very cold for those on board. A passenger travelling in the cutter of the Blue Jacket records his experiences in the book White Wings: The last we saw of the Blue Jacket was a bright spec on the horizon on the evening of the second day. The third day it was decided to appoint some person to fill the disagreeable duty of serving out the rations. Mr Williams, chief officer, accepted the responsibility, and fulfilling the task with unflinching courage....... A small silver cup was used for serving out the water, and had marks cut in it to measure the daily allowance - two small tablespoons full. One tin of preserved meat or soup was shared daily among the 39 people in the boat. The biscuit was all spoiled by the seawater....... The most pitiful sight of all was the children vainly crying out for a drop of water. To add to our troubles, three of our crew were dying, and one was delirious. On the ninth day a sail was seen bearing down on us, and help came. It proved a difficult task getting us out of the boat, as we had lost the use of our limbs and could not help ourselves. After the rescue we still suffered frightfully, our hands and feet breaking out with large boils and blisters.

Throughout the time the survivors were adrift, severe controls were placed on the cutters food and water supplies ensuring that almost all of those on board survived. High seas washed over the cutter continuously, drenching everyone on board through to the skin meaning that the damp conditions and very cold temperatures added to the hardship already suffered by those on board. The cutter lost sight of both lifeboats during the daytime of March 11th and, despite sending up rockets and searching for some time, they were unable to locate either vessel. Sailing on alone passengers and crew must have thought that all hope had been lost but help was closer than they realised. In the early morning of March 16th a sail was spotted which, on coming closer, was identified as the German barque Pyrmont sailing from Iquique in northern Chile, bound for Falmouth in England. All on the cutter had been sitting in the same place for so long they had all but seized up and needed, in many cases, to be lifted bodily into the barque. While in the ships cutter, Thomas Crampton suffered severe frost bite of the feet and his hair turned prematurely white. On March 19th, Thomas writes "All laid up with sore feet & stiff" and for the next several days makes mention of his very sore feet which is, no doubt, from the effects of his frostbite. Others, we must assume, suffered in the same way as all who boarded the Pyrmont were very scantily clad owing to the haste with which they left the Blue Jacket.

The Captain and crew of the Pyrmont looked after the castaways extremely well, however the barque was not provisioned to cope with such a sudden enlargement to her complement and food and water supplies began to dwindle rapidly. On April 1st, just as the supplies of fresh water on board were running out, the ship Yorkshire, an immigrant ship bound for Melbourne, hove into sight and was soon alongside. When her commander, Captain Anderson, learned of the plight of those on board the Pyrmont he readily agreed to supply whatever provisions he could spare. Food and 600 gallons of water were transferred to the Pyrmont and she continued on her slow way north to Falmouth, which port she reached on May 17th 1869. From England Thomas carried on  to Ireland, was reunited with his sweetheart, married her and began to plan their return to New Zealand, a journey they made on board the new immigrant vessel Zealandia, built that year for the New Zealand trade and on her maiden voyage.

Of the two missing lifeboats, one was never seen again while the other, in command of Mr Webber, the Third Officer, was picked up by the ship Antonio Vincent bound for Valparaiso in Chile from Swansea, under the command of Captain McAuliffe. The Antonio Vincent took the survivors to Stanley in the Falkland Islands but they were not initially treated with the compassion appropriate to their physical condition. During their twenty-one days adrift at sea the survivors suffered terrible privations and to save themselves from starvation and thirst killed the ship's dog that was on board and drank its blood. Growing more and more desperate for water the men in this lifeboat had broken open the boxes and sucked on the gold ingots in the same manner that men suck on pebbles in an attempt to slake their thirst. On seeing the blood and the loose gold bars in the lifeboat, Captain McAuliffe became convinced that murder had taken place and the survivors had decided to plunder the gold at whatever cost. Even though they were in a weak and very emaciated condition, he had the survivors clapped in irons and fed on subsistence rations. After reaching the Falkland Islands the doctor there ordered them to be released and subsequent investigation determined that the men were innocent of the assumed charges. Shortly after this the survivors from the lifeboat and their gold bullion were on their way back to England on board Her Majesty's ship Megaera where they were treated with the utmost kindness and civility.

Copyright Denise & Peter 2007

Reference:
The Daily Southern Cross July 5th 1869
White Wings by Sir Henry Brett
The Writing of Thomas Crampton
New Zealand Bound