Disaster on Lough Foyle: Tragedy recalled more than 150 years later

The Derry Boat and seasonal work

By September 1865, the steamboat service between Derry and Glasgow – known as the Scotch Boat – had been in operation for 45 years. The service between the two cities would continue uninterrupted until 1966 but Saturday, September 16,1865, would go down in the folklore of the city and in neighbouring Donegal as one of the darkest days in its 146 year history. An earlier tragedy on the Glasgow to Derry route 17 years previously, when The Londonderry returned to Derry port with 72 people dead in her hold, achieved notoriety and infamy as the greatest disaster in the history of the crossing – but the calamity of September 1865 would run it close.

Derry and Donegal folk in the 19th and 20th centuries were well acquainted with the term ‘Scotch Boat’ or ‘Derry Boat’. The moniker applied to the small ships that worked the route between the Foyle and the Clyde, carrying people, goods and livestock. According to Roisin Kelly in The Derry Boat, the first Derry to Glasgow steamboat sailed in 1820 and this new service was “immediately popular with passengers, and particularly the seasonal workers travelling to the harvests in lowland Scotland.”

For seasonal workers from Donegal – particularly West Donegal and Inishowen – Derry was the port of choice for transportation to Scotland. The sheer numbers of seasonal workers departing from Derry was immense, particularly in the years following the Great Famine. Roisin Kelly reveals: “All able-bodied men from Gweedore and Cloughaneely were reported to be working in Scotland in 1858.” Kelly also states that there were as many as 100,000 seasonal agricultural workers in England by the 1860s – largely as a result of a shortage of local farm labour there because of Britain’s burgeoning industrialisation.

Earnings from seasonal work in the Laggan (east Donegal) and Scotland often amounted to more than a third of a West Donegal family’s annual income. In September 1865, a seasonal worker could make the journey to Scotland from a selection of new iron steamships, including Thistle, Rose, Shamrock, Myrtle and Garland, for the fare of just three shillings. There were three departures from Derry every week – on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday – as advertised in the Derry Journal and Londonderry Sentinel.

Competition was intense among the steam packet companies operating the route. Certainly, towards the end of the 19th century, there was evidence of fierce competition among the companies to attract passengers – they were even known to berth in the Rosses in an effort to target the West Donegal harvesters. Health and safety seems not to have been foremost in the policy of these companies – UCD professor, Cormac Ó Gráda, noted: “Their ships, hardly more than a few hundred tons weight, sometimes carried as many as a thousand or fifteen hundred passengers on a single journey.”

It was this casual indifference to the wellbeing of passengers that may have contributed to disaster on the Foyle on Saturday, September 16, 1865.

A noteable date

That Saturday had a late-summer feel to it. Folk working in the fields and going about their business along the banks of the Foyle enjoyed the warm sun and noted the stillness of the water. There was nothing to denote that Saturday as different to any other that summer and autumn. But unconnected events on Lough Foyle and 150 miles south in Dublin would mark September 16, 1865, as a date that would be long remembered.

In Dublin, and elsewhere, the Government finally cracked down on the Fenian movement. Several of the leaders, including the legendary O’Donovan Rossa, were arrested that morning accused of plotting a Fenian rising. Had Sky News existed in 1865, that sensational development would have been broadcast as ‘Breaking News!’ It was a number of days before the news filtered north but by late afternoon there was only one topic of conversation in Derry city and along the east bank of the Inishowen peninsula – reports of an unprecedented shipping collision on the Foyle resulting in a serious loss of life.

At 2:15pm – 15 minutes behind schedule – the 192-ton Garland steamed out of Derry quay, bound for the English port of Morecambe. The ship was the property of the Glasgow and Derry Steamboat Company. Captain Robert Fennick skippered the vessel, with a crew of 20 on board, in addition to just six passengers and general cargo. The Garland cleared Culmore Point and eased into the open waters of Lough Foyle; by 3:20pm she was just off Quigley’s Point having completed the first few miles of the 200 mile-plus sailing to Morecambe.

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Coming in the opposite direction, en route from Glasgow, was the Falcon – the property of Alexander A. Laird & Co. of Glasgow. The Derry-bound 264 ton steamer had departed Glasgow at 10:30pm the previous evening and was in the final leg its journey. The Falcon had a crew of 21 hands under the command of Captain Richard Hudson. On board were 250 passengers – the vast majority of them seasonal workers from Inishowen and West Donegal returning from the Scottish harvest. The Falcon also carried a cargo of sheep and merchandise. As the Falcon entered the Foyle, Hugh O’Donnell – a certified pilot and mate of the vessel – took over from the captain, who retired to the cabin for his dinner. Able seaman Edward Anderson, who had been at the wheel from when the Falcon left Portrush, continued to steer the familiar course for Derry – under the supervision of O’Donnell.

Few people along the shore paid much heed to the two steamers – there was nothing out of the ordinary in two boats meeting on the Foyle. The Falcon was seen to manoeuvre around a schooner at, or little above, Whitecastle Light, and then resume her course. The Garland by now was passing Quigley’s Point. What happened next was absolutely extraordinary. Much to the consternation of the Donegal reapers on board the Falcon and those watching from the shore, the two steamers seemed to plough through the water – directly at each other. Despite last minute efforts to avoid contact, the Garland struck the Falcon a violent blow on the port bow, cutting her almost to the water’s edge. The Garland – the smaller of the two ships – was also smashed at the bow and part of her bulwarks was carried away.

As the two vessels seperated and cleared each other, it became apparent that a number of the reapers were in the water. As many as 20 of them would lose their lives. An editorial in the next edition of the Derry Journal posed the question on all lips: “How is it that, in Lough Foyle, with plenty of sea room and to spare, with the water smooth as glass, the sun shining its brightest, two steamers came into collision and that lives are lost and property destroyed?”

It was indeed a mystery – one that would trigger a Board of Trade inquiry. But that would come later. It was not yet 3:30pm on Saturday, September 1865, and in the no-longer glass-smooth waters of the Foyle, utter chaos reigned.

The Collision

Confusion prevailed among the Donegal reapers on the deck of the Falcon when it became apparent that a collision was unavoidable. According to witnesses, the passengers rushed to the aft, or rear, of the ship. The two ships were mid-channel at its deepest spot when the impact occurred – for non-swimmers it might as well have been mid-Atlantic. It was said locally that when the ships struck each other “the sound could be heard for miles around.”

Two men were killed instantly by the collision – farmer John McDaid and deck boy William George Patterson. John McDaid, from Turk – some four miles from Buncrana – had left his home less than a week earlier to purchase sheep in Glasgow. He was 47 years old and left behind a widow and five children – the eldest of which was ten years of age.

Francis Duffy, a cattle drover and a passenger on board the Falcon, was one of those who rushed to the back of the boat and found himself flung overboard with many others into the sea. Duffy was one of the lucky ones, managing to keep himself afloat by clinging onto two oars, and he was later picked up by a boat. From the shore, one witness reported seeing what he initially believed to be eggboxes in the water, but what he saw was drowning men.

In a blind panic following the collision and certain that the Falcon was going to flounder mid-channel, a substantial number of passengers had crowded into two lifeboats and attempted to cut away the ropes. It appears only one side was severed with the result that as many as 40 or 50 men fell into the sea. Some reports suggest that this occurred when the stricken Falcon was going ashore at full speed – she beached about half-a-mile below Quigley’s Point two or three minutes later.

Crew on the Garland lowered a boat to go to the assistance of the men in the water. Charles Robertson, an able seaman on the Morecambe-bound steamer, testified that he took a boat and, with another man “picked up four men alive and two dead.”

From the shore at Quigley’s Point, George Reaper – a coastguard official who would later play an heroic role in the recovery operation – did not see the collision but heard the impact. Reaper moved fast, racing to the shore and launched a boat but it was already too late for those thrown into the sea. By the time Reaper reached mid channel, there were no bodies in the water – just caps floating on the surface.

Also quick to react was Thomas Aiton, a boatman at Quigley’s Point. Aiton was in the process of launching his boat – bound for Moville – when the collision took place: “I took no particular notice of the vessels until they ran into each other. I saw the steam blowing off the Garland when the vessels were about a ship’s length from each other.”

Aiton made haste towards the two vessels: “I noticed the Falcon immediately afterwards running ashore. A man jumped off the Falcon steamer intending to get into my boat, but he fell into the sea, and I picked him up and afterwards took him ashore.” The captain of the Falcon, Hudson, shouted at Aiton to “keep out of the way” but, according to Aiton, the panicked passengers were imploring him to take them off the badly damaged steamer.

The truth was no-one quite knew how many people were missing – the figure 60 was mentioned. The Derry Journal struggled to get reliable figures: “The drowned are reapers. How many no-one knows and that is accounted for by the fact that there is no-one to claim the poor fellows, as they are chiefly from the far parts of the County Donegal. There will be great alarm and trouble through that county today, as the poor people are likely to imagine that, when their friends do not turn up, they are among the lost. It is hoped that the reports as to the number drowned are exaggerated.”

That sense of chaos would continue for several days. Friends of those missing had no way of knowing if they had been on board the Falcon or if they were still working in the harvest fields of Scotland. Awful scenes were witnessed on the quays when the survivors arrived: “It was melancholy to witness the poor harvesters when they arrived on the quay at Derry – father searching for son, and brother searching for brother – and it was heartrending to witness their anguish when they ascertained that some relative of theirs had been drowned,” reported the Northern Whig.

Immediate Aftermath

News of the collision spread rapidly and large numbers assembled at Derry Quay anxious for news. Initial reports even suggested that both steamers had gone down with the loss of all hands and it was not until Sunday morning, when both ships were tied up at the Quays, that the details finally began to emerge.

The damage to the Falcon was immense, leading many to comment that had she been in a heavy sea – say off the coast – the consequences would have been even worse. It had only been possible to later limp the Falcon into Derry by removing her cargo.

Panic reigned on the quays and along the Inishowen shoreline. From Moville came reports that friends of missing reapers were desperately making enquiries there but to no avail.

The Belfast Newsletter reported: “The two vessels which came into collision belong to rival companies, but there is no ground for saying that the catastrophe has any connection with this fact, as both companies are doing a good trade, and a perfectly good feeling exists between them.”

But on Derry’s quays and in places like Quigley’s Point and Whitecastle, among those used to watching dozens of ships come and go into Derry port on a daily basis and among the relatives and friends of the missing harvesters, that version of events was already being questioned.

Revovery

On board the Dauntless, Quigley’s Point boatmen Thomas Aiton, John Crossan, Patrick Faulkner and John Faulkner assisted in searching for the dead – accompanied by RIC Constables Bond and Gibson. Also engaged in the grisly recovery operation were Quigley’s Point boats the Shamrock and the Catherine. On board the Shamrock were John Bradley, Matthew Bradley, Hugh Bradley and William McLaughlin, accompanied by Sub-Constable Murray of the RIC. On the Catherine were John McLaughlin, William Sharkey and Philip Crossan.

Three days after the collision, the boatmen dragged the Foyle with fishing lines with hooks and grapnells attached, recovering three bodies. In total, 15 bodies would be recovered at Quigley’s Point thanks to the efforts of local fishermen.

Slowly the names of the dead began to emerge. In addition to the aforementioned John McDaid, Turk, Buncrana and William George Patterson, the following were listed as drowned:

1. James McCauley, Kilmacrennan, Co. Donegal

2. Thomas Coll, Gweedore, Co. Donegal

3. James O’Donnell, Tonduff, Buncrana, Co. Donegal

4. Michael Boyce, Kilmacrennan, Co. Donegal

5. John McCready, Milford, Co. Donegal

6. Patrick Doherty, Tullydish, Buncrana, Co. Donegal

7. Charles Devlin, Newtownstewart, County Tyrone

8. Henry Hamilton, Ballyar, Ramelton, Co. Donegal

9. Bernard Bradley, Illies, Buncrana, Co. Donegal

10. James Coll, Gweedore, Co. Donegal

11. Hugh Boyle, Calhame, Annagry, Co. Donegal

12. Con Boyle, Calhame, Annagry, Co. Donegal

13. James McLaughlin, Illies, Buncrana, Co. Donegal

14. Unknown militiaman

15. Unknown militiaman

The two unidentified militiamen were later interred in Carrickmaquigley graveyard. It was later reported that one of the militiamen was a man by the name of O’Donnell, from markings found on his clothing.

A couple of the bodies had remained unidentified for some time, prompting a description to be published in the local newspapers: “A man about 30 or thereabouts, five feet five in height, fair-hair, pock pitted, and red whiskers meeting under the chin. His clothes are of grey frieze or flannel, trousers mended with moleskin on both legs. Eight pounds were found on his person by Constable Byrne, Carrowkeel. He is supposed to be Hugh Boyle, of Calhame, near Annagry.”

“The other is a small boy, about fifteen or sixteen years of age, rather stoutly built, brownish hair, and is clothed in a suit of Irish frieze. There was no money found on him whatsoever.”

Friends and relatives of the missing flocked to Quigley’s Point, hoping to recover the remains of their loved ones. The Derry Journal reported the scenes there as “heartrending” and was extremely criticial of both The Glasgow and Derry Steamboat Company and Alexander A. Laird & Co. of Glasgow: “It is a matter of frequent remark that the parties who should have a lively interest in the recovery of the dead bodies do not do something in the matter. We think the steamboat companies are entitled to aid the fishermen in their praiseworthy exertions.”

Indeed, there was considerable anger at the steamboat companies. In 1937, John Steele, from Three Trees, Quigley’s Point, would recall the collision as it was remembered in east Inishowen. His version cut straight to the chase and provided a motive for the tragedy: “There was ill-feeling between the captains and when they met in Lough Foyle they set their ships straight for each other and rammed each other.”

Michael McGhee, from nearby Drung, also recalled the incident as handed down in the area. His version collaborated that of John Steele as regards the bad blood between the captains of the two vessels. Understandably, many people were incensed when they learned that the accident could have been avoided and McGhee went on to make a sensational claim: “About 200 men marched to Derry with hooks for cutting corn in their hands and would have slain the Garland crew only they put to sea.”

This author has been unable to back up that claim with anything other than folklore memory of the event as recalled in contributions to the Schools' Manuscript Collection, collected by the Irish Folklore Commission in 1937.

At the inquests, the stories of the deceased slowly emerged. There were some poignant scenes. Bernard Bradley, from the Illies, outside Buncrana, had departed to Scotland six weeks earlier and had been identified by this brother Neal.

At the inquest of James Coll – a married man with two sons – his elderly father Hugh identified his remains with heartbreaking simplicity: “The deceased is my son; he went to Scotland about six weeks ago; I did not see my boy since, ‘til I saw his dead body yesterday.”

Inishowen had been hit hard – five of the 17 men confirmed as dead hailed from the peninsula, all of them from the Buncrana area.

On the Friday after the collision, the Strabane steam-tug captured a large basking shark in the Foyle, between Strabane and Derry – no doubt causing further horror among those with relatives still missing.

A fortnight after the collision, the Derry Journal reported: “No more bodies have been recovered nor is it expected that any more will be got. It is believed, however, that some are still in the Lough. Several persons are reported missing yet.”

Blame Game

At the subsequent Marine Department Board of Trade Inquiry, several passengers on board the Falcon would categorically state that they first saw the Garland when she was several miles off – in other words, poor visibility was simply not a factor on either ship.

Edward Anderson, at the wheel of the Falcon under the supervision of Hugh O’Donnell, knew the waters well, having sailed in and out of Derry Port for almost a decade. Anderson would confirm that it was customary for the mate – in this case O’Donnell – to take charge in the Foyle while the captain took charge going into Glasgow. There was no doubting O’Donnell’s vast experience as a pilot on the Foyle, which stretched back two decades to 1845. Anderson was in no doubt as to where the blame lay: “The Garland came straight into us.”

Alexander Aiton, boatswain and second mate of the Garland, was at the wheel from when the Garland left Derry over an hour earlier, and was also vastly experienced – he had been steering in and out of Derry port for five years. Aiton laid the blame squarely with the Falcon: “Those on board the Falcon could easily see the position of the Garland. If the Falcon had kept its course the collision could have been avoided.” His crewmate, Able Seaman Charles Robertson, would recall watching the Falcon “coming up the river, and crossing from the starboard bow to port bow. When our captain saw this he said, ‘My God, what is he going to do? Is the man mad?’”

Hugh O’Donnell, in his evidence, would make a similar claim – but on behalf of the Falcon: “I was not quite sure what side the Garland intended to take . . . all at once the Garland opened to us in her port helm. Twenty vessels like the Garland could have passed abreast to the south of the Falcon when she was struck.”

Patrick Gibson, a Sub-Constable in the Royal Irish Constabularly stationed at Quigley’s Point, was on the road at Cabry and testified, significantly, that he saw the Garland blowing off steam – or slowing – about a minute before the collision.

Another licensed pilot, Daniel McCarron, was also operating on the Foyle that day on board the brig Fly, bound for Derry. A vastly experienced pilot, McCarron had been a pilot on the lough since 1848, and would state that the Garland passed the Fly “seemingly at full speed”. “I think, with ordinary precaution, the collision would have been avoided,” was McCarron’s damning assesement.

The Derry Journal was still at a complete loss to explain to its readers how the incident could have happened: “Nobody ever heard of such a collision. Nobody ever heard of two vessels running literally at each other before. For how, in the name of common sense, could the two steamers come into collision except by the purest carlessness on the part of some person or persons?”

The sworn testament of both captains was therefore eagerly awaited.

The two captains

Captain Robert Fennick – master of the Garland – was first up: “When I first observed the Falcon steamer she was coming up the Lough. I was in the proper track for steamers going down the Lough, keeping to the south side, and was then between Quigley’s Point and Whitecastle. I had slowed and ported (to the left) my helm (wheel) to pass a schooner which was standing to the northward. I kept the helm to port and proceeded slow. The Falcon was approaching on the port bow of the Garland; she was distant about a quarter of a mile. She then starboarded (to the right) her helm, and appeared as if she intended to cross the Garland. I then ordered our engines to be stopped and reversed. The Falcon came out right ahead at full speed, when she ported her helm, but not in time to avoid a collision.”

Captain Richard Hudson, master of the Falcon, was not in a position to counter Fennick’s version. By his own account he was in his cabin having dinner and didn’t make it onto deck until after the collision. His testimony seemed to confirm that the substantial loss of life occurred not as a direct result of the impact between the two boats but while the Falcon was making for the shore:

“Seeing our vessel was going down by the head, I stopped the engine and ordered her to go at full speed ahead to run her ashore and to prevent her sinking in deep water. Fortunately the shore was close by, and in two minutes the steamer ran in the mud on the Ennishowen side of the Lough.”

“At this time the passengers were rushing aft in great fright. I was told that one of my hands was overboard, and ordered a boat to be lowered. There was no-one in the water that I saw, except one man who had jumped overboard to a skiff that came from the shore, which he reached. I could not see aft, as the passengers were crowded on the quarter-deck. Some of the crew informed me that the passengers had crowded into one of the quarter-boats, and that the tackle had given way and thrown them into the sea, and some were drowned.”

Guilty

The Board of Inquiry investigation moved quickly and was published on Saturday, October 21, 1865. Captain Richard Hudson, master of the Falcon, was suspended for three months and the mate, Hugh O’Donnell, was deprieved of his certificate for two years. The Court laid the principal responsibility for the negligence which caused the collision at O’Donnell’s door but “deplored” the fact that Hudson was: “below at his dinner, in a narrow channel only a quarter of a mile broad, were vessels of all descriptions might be expected to pass his steamer bound in opposite directions. This inattention to his duty the Court considers most reprehensible, and is of the opinion that the collision might have been avoided had he been on the deck, and taken the necessary precautions.”

The inquiry found that O’Donnell was seriously at fault by keeping to the wrong side – the south instead of the north – in coming up the lough. The Court absolved the master and crew of the Garland of all blame, ruling that Captain Robert Fennick had done all in his power to avoid a collision.

No reference was made in court to reapers marching on Derry seeking revenge for their lost colleagues. Ironically, considering the verdict of the Board of Inquiry, the target of their ire would have been misplaced anyway. In fairness to the harvesters, it is understandable that they would deem the Garland as the guilty party as all but one of the deceased came from the Falcon – which almost sank as a result of the accident.

A final tally was never made of the numbers drowned – it is thought that as many as 30 may have actually lost their lives.

The tragedy lived on in folklore and song among residents of the Foyle shore. In Quigley’s Point this verse survives:

The Coastguards their civility

We’ll mind for ever more

They did assist to watch for the dead

Their praise is over due

Their fishing tackle they laid aside

And drags they did provide

In search for those poor harvest men

That were lost beneath the tide.

An infamous day

In 1966, when the last Scotch Boat departed Derry for Glasgow, the service was regarded as something of a Derry institution which dated back almost 150 years. But there was few darker chapters in its history than that fine September afternoon in 1865 when the Garland and the Falcon met on the Foyle and dispatched those unfortunate Donegal harvesters to a watery grave.