Wreck of the Steamship Ethie, The

DESCRIPTION: On December 10, 1919, the "Ethie"-- despite the skilled work of her crew -- encounters a terrible storm and runs aground around one o'clock in the morning. She "lay wrecked on the shore" but all are saved, "taken in by kind people and treated with care"
AUTHOR: Maude Roberts Simmonds?
EARLIEST DATE: 1920 (Greenleaf/Mansfield-BalladsAndSeaSongsOfNewfoundland)
KEYWORDS: travel sea ship shore storm wreck rescue
HISTORICAL REFERENCES:
Dec 11, 1919 - Wreck of the Ethie (in the early morning)
FOUND IN: Canada(Newf)
REFERENCES (8 citations):
Greenleaf/Mansfield-BalladsAndSeaSongsOfNewfoundland 138, "The Wreck of the Steamship Ethie" (1 text, 1 tune)
Doyle-OldTimeSongsAndPoetryOfNewfoundland, "The Wreck of the Steamship Ethie" (1 text, 1 tune): p. 59 in the 2nd edition, p. 88 in the 3rd
Blondahl-NewfoundlandersSing, pp. 86-87, "The Wreck of the Steamship Ethie" (1 text, 1 tune)
Guigné-ForgottenSongsOfTheNewfoundlandOutports, pp. 370-372, "The Wreck of the Ethie" (1 text, 1 tune)
England-HistoricNewfoundlandAndLabrador, p. 59, "Wreck of the Steamship Ethie" (1 text, 1 tune)
ADDITIONAL: Maura Hanrahan, _The Alphabet Fleet_, Flankers Press Ltd., 2007, pp. 189-190, "The Wreck of the Steamship Ethie" (1 text, followed by a 2004 piece on the same event which looks pretty awful)
Bruce Ricketts, _The SS Ethie and the Hero Dog: The Mystery is Solved_, Baico Publishing, 2005, (no page number but in the preface), "Wreck of the Steamship Ethie" (1 text)
Les Harding, _The Newfoundland Railway 1898-1969: A History_, McFarland & Company, 2008, pp. 202-203, "The Wreck of the Steamship Ethie" (1 text)
Roud #24242
CROSS-REFERENCES:
cf. "Come All ye Jolly Ice-Hunters" (theme)
NOTES [4710 words]: Elisabeth Bristol Greenleaf went to Sally's Cove as a volunteer teacher for Sir Wilfred Genfell's mission in the spring of 1920. Sally's Cove, near Bonne Bay on the west coast, is only two miles south from the wreck which occurred at Martin's Point.
For the account of her experiences with the song, consult R.D. Madison ed, Newfoundland Summers: the Ballad Collecting of Elisabeth Bristol Greenleaf (Westerly, RI: The Utter Co., 1982), pp. 11-14. Some of the words are included with paraphrases inserted. - SH
Greenleaf's account is included in Greenleaf/Mansfield-BalladsAndSeaSongsOfNewfoundland['s entry] for this song.
Northern Shipwrecks Database says "NF. Dog 'Hero' swam ashore w. line to begin rescue." Guigné-ForgottenSongsOfTheNewfoundlandOutports writes, "In the days following this dramatic event, tales circulated that a heroic Newfoundland dog named Wisher assisted with the rescue by towing the line to the vessel. Hanrahan gives an account dispelling this legend." - BS
This event apparently has become a part of Newfoundland folklore, with the site of the wreck being a minor tourist attraction; the locals sometimes stage a play about the wreck.
The Ethie was part of the "Alphabet Fleet" of the Reid-Newfoundland Railway, so-called because the ships were given names in alphabetical order, all associated with Scotland (O'Neill, p. 976. Ethie Castle is on the east coast northeast of Dundee). The initial order was for eight ships, Argyle, Bruce, Clyde, Dundee, Ethie, Fife, Glencoe, and Home (Penney, p. 67). Not all the ships were the same size, but the Argyle, Clyde, Dundee, Ethie, Fife, and Home were all said to be 155 foot sister ships (Bruce, p. 19). Although designed to be utility ferries, they were also intended to be comfortable passenger ships, although (because they mostly traveled relatively short distances) not very fast.
The Alphabet Fleet came out of one of the most elaborate and risky deals any government had ever undertaken -- the Newfoundland Railway. The first attempt at a railroad in Newfoundland had been authorized by the government in 1880 (Hiller/Neary, p. 128) and started in 1881; it was supposed to go from St. John's to Hall's Bay on the north coast, with a side line to Harbour Grace. It flopped, with only a tiny amount of line built in the Avalon Peninsula (Cadigan, pp. 141-142; Hanrahan, p. 9), and even that poorly built in an effort to control costs (Penney, p. 27; O'Flaherty, p. 140, says that the contract explicitly stated that it would "not [be] what is deemed... a first-class Railway"). In the 1890s, the idea of a subsidized railroad was revived, with the government making a complex offer to Robert G. Reid and his company involving both money and land being transferred in both directions over a period of fifty years; the new plan would also extend the railroad to Port aux Basques in the southwest (Cadigan, p. 151, 156-157; Bruce, p. 12). Reid would also receive a whole bunch of government bonds in lieu of cash (Bruce, p. 11; this would prove a real problem, because Newfoundland's debt would collapse).
Reid certainly had the credentials -- and the cash on hand -- for a major engineering project; born in 1842 in Scotland, the son of a linen mill owner, he had become famous for his railroad projects, especially his bridge work (Bruce, pp. 8-9), including the Grand Narrows bridge that is famous enough to have its own Wikipedia article. Bruce, p. 14, suggests he had as much economic power as the Newfoundland government, and Penney, p. 67, agrees that the deal, although it burdened Newfoundland badly, also got the government out of a temporary jam; in the end, Reid had to involve himself deeply in government, finding financing to keep Newfoundland afloat so that the project could continue; Harding, p. 73. (Things might have been even worse if Reid hadn't imposed an incredibly strict moral code on himself; Harding, p. 74.)
I won't even try to explain how this was supposed to work, or make money, since it failed to do so (in the twenty years from 1901-1921, the Reid Newfoundland Company is said to have lost six million dollars on the business; Harding, p. 96), and Prime Minister Whiteway, who proposed it, said, "We do not regard [the railway]... as an enterprise that will pay." Reid and the government would have many disputes over the years about how Reid would get his money back (DictNewLabrador, pp. 286-287; Chadwick, p. 96f., etc.) -- though the fault is perhaps to be shared equally; Reid had proposed an absurd deal (it would have given him control of one-sixth of the land in Newfoundland! -- Kearley, p. 58; as Harding, p. 77, says, the government was "giving one man title to a parcel of land equivalent to half the size of Belgium") and the government, desperate not to look bad, had hastened to accept (Hiller/Neary, p. 138).
A colonial office minute said that "The Railway... will not for years pay for the grease of the wheels"; Britain's Joseph Chamberlain commented that "Practically it seems that the ministry are going to sell the Colony to a contractor" (Chadwick, p. 83) -- which is about right. Because Newfoundland's population was so scattered, there were almost no destinations which would carry enough freight or passengers to make it worth maintaining the rails. Yet the government wanted not only a track from Harbour Grace to St. John's and from there down the Avalon Peninsula (the only run that was even faintly economically viable) but also the line across the island, plus side branches (the desire to hit as many outports as possible nearly doubled the length of the line, from about 300 miles for a direct route to about 600; Harding, p. 12; for some background on the branch lines, see the notes to "The Bonavist Line"). And it wanted to maintain steamboat service to other outports. The deal was so bad that Britain's colonial office, although they could not stop it because Newfoundland was self-governing, took the unusual step of publicly warning against the deal (Harding, p. 80) -- but Newfoundand's history of closed-door government meant that the deal went through.
It was a fantastically visionary idea, but economically ridiculous -- it gave Reid almost as much control over the island and the government had -- and it committed Newfoundland for fifty years! It also gave Reid a bunch of land that hadn't even been properly surveyed and which the government did not have title to, leading to many disputes over ownership (Penney, p. 69).
It perhaps should come as no surprise that the government official who brokered all this, A. B. Morine, was also an employee of Reid's (Hiller/Neary, p. 140; Harding, p. 81. For more on Morine, see also "The Sealer's Strike of 1902 (The Sealers Gained the Strike)"). His misdeeds would cause the government to collapse (Major, p. 288). There were actually two phases to Reid's offer, before and after a government fiscal/electoral crisis. The railroad, and Reid's role in it, became such a major issue that Newfoundland's political parties actually broke up and realigned over it (Noel, p. 27; Hiller/Neary, pp. 132-134). Chadwick's chapter on this is labeled "The (Almost) Great Train Robbery," which pretty well sums it up. Harding, pp. 82-83, says that Reid went all-in to support the government that had made the deal with him -- but if that had any effect at all, it was to turn the population even more against the conservatives; they suffered the worst electoral loss in Newfoundland history (32 of 36 seats went to the opposition). Ordinarily there would have been nothing the new government could have done about the deal, since it had been finalized, but Reid made a mistake -- when he went to seek loans, the bankers demanded that he convert his business into a limited liability corporation. So Reid incorporated -- and although he and his sons were the only shareholders, it meant that the organization building the railroad had changed, and Newfoundland was able to renegotiate. A little. (Harding, p. 83).
It seems to be agreed that, even after renegotiations, Newfoundland had granted out control over its economic destiny (Hanrahan, p. 11; Major, p. 287, says that the deal made Reid "an economic overlord, with all the potential for a government at the mercy of at (sic.) his wishes."). It was a constant source of political controversy and was a leading cause both of friction with Canada and of the eventual bankruptcy of the Newfoundland government during the Great Depression (Noel, pp. 154-155, etc.); their ineptness in deal-making simply astounds me.
When Newfoundland went bankrupt in 1933, it was estimated that 35% of the debt was due to the railroad (Hiller/Neary, p. 35; p. 197 implies that even that figure may be a little low), and indeed, Newfoundland had taken out its first foreign debt in the 1880s to pay for the project (Hiller/Neary, p. 135). The basic problem was that too much of Newfoundland was empty for a train to generate revenue, and the hilly country meant high fuel demands, plus there was a constant need to clear snow from the tracks (made worse by the foolish initial decision to build a narrow gauge rail; Kearley, p. 56; and to route the rail through very high hills; Lingard, p. 2; according to Harding, p. 11, it was the longest narrow gauge rail in the western hemisphere. P. 40 adds that one contractor had told the government that a narrow-gauge line would never be reliable, which was true, but the only result of the warning was that they didn't get the bid).
It is perhaps symbolically appropriate that the first engine ordered for the line sank on its way to Newfoundland (Harding, p. 43). All those problems in construction meant that the overall cost of moving a ton of freight was estimated at seven times that in most of North America (Penney, p. 72).
For more on the Newfoundland Railroad in general, see the notes to "The Bonavist Line," "Downey's Our Member," "The Loss of the Bruce," and "Drill, Ye Heroes, Drill!"
None of which has anything to do with the Ethie, except that it explains how she came to be where she was. Although most of the controversy was about the rail lines and how to manage and pay for them, the Reid company was also given a subsidy for the coastal steamers, with each trip having a specified subsidy (Harding, p. 139). There were eight primary steamship routes: Trepassy to Lamaline (i.e. along the eastern part of the south coast); Trinity Bay; Bonavista Bay; Notre Dame and Green Bays (north coast); Placentia to Port-aux-Basques (the western part of the south coast); Port au Port to Battle Harbour, Labrador (the west coast of Newfoundland, so this was presumably the Ethie's route); St. John's, Harbour Grace, Carbonear, and Labrador (the northeast); and the main connection to Canada, Port-aux-Basques to North Sydney, Nova Scotia (Cook, p. 19).
Having won the contract, dubious for Newfoundland as it was, the Reid company at least did its part of the job fairly well, building the railroad efficiently, making improvements in St. John's (including paving some streets), and setting up group of steamers to connect the outports to each other and to the railroads, replacing an older government steamer service (Hanrahan, p. 8). These were the aforementioned Alphabet Fleet -- a set of vessels which could not pay for themselves that were paid for with the subsidy plus land that Reid would use for the railroad then partially hand back (Hanrahan, p. 10. Are you lost yet? I am....)
The Ethie's captain, Edward English, had served as a merchant officer in World War I, although he was relatively new to the Ethie. Still, he was said to be respected by both his men and the ship's owners (Ricketts, p. 2, which also has a photo of him).
The Ethie had been built in 1900 (Hanrahan, p. 4; Galgay/McCarthy imply she was a few years older; Ricketts, p. 2, says she went into service in 1901); she was a coal-powered steamer of 440 tons (Galgay/McCarthy, p. 71), and was considered a reliable boat. (Reliable enough that the owners apparently didn't even insure her! -- Hanrahan, p. 50.) Nonetheless, there were apparently some who said her propeller was too small (Ricketts, p. 2, who adds that she was not expected to serve much longer). At the time of her wreck, she was on a trip along the western coast of Newfoundland -- earlier in her career, she had sailed in Trinity Bay (Penney/Kennedy, p. 94), but much of her career had been spent running between the island's western outports, which mostly had few or no other connections with the outside world. The last trip of her career was entirely typical: she was sailing south down the coast.
Her exact itinerary on the last trip is a little uncertain. Galgay/McCarthy, p. 71, say she left Parson's Pond around 4:00 p.m. then headed for Cow Head. But she may have skipped one or the other stop. Cow Head's harbor was too small for the Ethie, so her habit was to stop outside while the residents ran out to her in dories (Hanrahan, p. 152), which means that on this particular run, given the storm, she may not have stopped. Ricketts, p. 7, says she definitely did not stop. In any case, she was on her way south from Cow Head by about 7:45.
Fans of the Stan Rogers song "The Mary Ellen Carter" may be interested in knowing that there is a Three Mile Rock between Parson's Pond and Cow Head.
Her next destination was supposed to be Bonne Bay, a few dozen miles to the south. Even if her crew had wanted to stop somewhere else, they didn't have much choice; there was no safe harbor in which to weather a storm between Parson's Pond and Bonne Bay (Ricketts, p. 11). Captain English and First Officer John Gullage were aware, before they left Cow Head, that the weather was worsening -- Gullage reported the barometer falling fast, and said later that it was the worst storm he had ever seen on Newfoundland's west coast (Hanrahan, p. 153, although Greenleaf/Mansfield-BalladsAndSeaSongsOfNewfoundland, who talked to him, quote him on p. 279 as saying the weather was fine when they started down the coast from Port Saunders). But both officers thought they could reach Bonne Bay before the storm became too bad, and with Christmas approaching, everyone wanted to get to their destination with their Christmas merchandise (Galgay/McCarthy, p. 72). In any case, what else could they do? So they set out on the evening of December 10, 1919.
The storm proved worse than anyone anticipated, covering the ship with so much ice that she became badly top-heavy (Ricketts, pp. 12-13; the newspaper account on p. 15 of Connors says "the deck [was] iced almost to the level of the rails"; the ship was "practically submerged the greater portion of the time" and everything on the deck destroyed); the ice even lined the interior of the ship, and the heat was out. At the same time, a northwest wind came up which was stronger than the ship's engines could fight (Galgay/McCarthy, p. 73; Ricketts, p. 3, says that, on this particular trip, she had a load of cheap Newfoundland coal that didn't burn very well. Also, there were just two stokers, according to Ricketts, p. 17; the list on p. 180 of Hanrahan lists three firemen but only two trimmers, who put the coal in position. This was probably the result of attempts at cost-cutting -- the Reid company found Newfoundland a very bad bargain; they let their railroads run down in the World War I era and by 1920 was telling the government that they could no longer afford to run the system; Penney, p. 102. Losses in this period exceeded a million dollars a year -- which was a lot in 1920).
It was clear that the ship was going to be wrecked before it could reach Bonne Bay. When morning broke on December 11, they were only about a mile from the west coast of Newfoundland, and being blown steadily toward it (Galgay/McCarthy, p. 74). The only option the crew had was to decide *where* they would go ashore. Purser Walter Young, who was a local and probably knew the coast better than the officers from elsewhere (Hanrahan, p. 153), suggested that they make for Martin's Point, where there might be enough shelter to get the passengers ashore safely. Captain English agreed, and they managed to keep the ship off the rocks long enough for her to be wrecked near their chosen point. Captain English left Young and Gullage to put the boat on the rocks while he told the passengers what was happening (Galgay/McCarthy, p. 75). The idea was apparently to head for the shore at maximum speed, timing everything so that they would ride a high wave over the reefs and come to rest on the beach (Ricketts, p. 14).
Unfortunately, the Ethie hit a submerged rock before she could reach the shore. It tore her sides open, and ruined most of her bridge; clearly it was the end of the ship (Hanrahan, p. 155). And although she was firmly lodged, the seas hitting the port side were so heavy that there was fear that she would capsize and those aboard her be killed (Ricketts, p. 21). The storm was too strong for the ship's boat, which was smashed when they put it in the water (Galgay/McCarthy, pp. 75-76; the account on p. 15 of Connors implies it was smashed even before they let it down). But the people on shore -- just two families lived in the vicinity, according to Hanrahan, p. 154 -- could see what was happening. (One of them briefly thought the ship was an iceberg, it was so covered with ice! -- Hanrahan, p. 155.) Reuben Decker was out hauling firewood with his dog Wisher as the Ethie headed for shore, but he didn't see much of what happened (Ricketts, p. 15. Greenleaf/Mansfield-BalladsAndSeaSongsOfNewfoundland, p. 278, say that Decker was the only man who lived in the area, but the correct statement seems to be that he was the only man who was actually outside at the time).
Somehow, though, they established a line to shore. There seems to be disagreement about this; Hanrahan, p. 156, say the men on the shore tied a rope to a buoy and threw it out to sea, where the crew eventually snagged it, but Galgay/McCarthy, p. 76, and Ricketts, pp. 22-23, claim Captain English was able to float a rope to shore on a buoy. It didn't work very well, but it came close enough to shore that the locals could reach it and pull it ashore. The dog Wisher is said to have bitten the rope a few times; Wisher did not haul it to land (Ricketts, p. 37). Walter Young, the man who had suggested beaching at Martin's Point, was the first to come ashore, so that he could help handle the tricky bosun's chair (Ricketts, p. 23).
However the rope was sent, using that rope, all 92 people on the Ethie (that's the number in Ricketts, p. 33 etc., and others; Hanrahan says 96; Ricketts, p. 59, says that others claimed 72 or 54) were able to reach shore in a bo'sun's chair. (There was also a dory somewhere along the way, according to witnesses cited in Hanrahan, p. 156; it's not clear what it was doing, but I'm guessing it held up the rope.)
First Officer Gullage and Captain English were the last to leave, around mid-afternoon. It's probably fortunate that there weren't many more people aboard, the rope was starting to fray, and Gullage and English had worried somewhat about whether it would carry their weight (Ricketts, pp. 28-29).
That left the problem of accommodating ninety-odd people in a settlement with just two homes. As Ricketts says on p. 33, "On December 11, 1919, the population of Martin's Point, Newfoundland grew from 8 to 100." The locals had put in food for the winter, but suddenly they had to share that out. And no one outside Martin's Cove even knew where the Ethie was -- the storm had cut the local telegraph (Hanrahan, p. 157), and in Newfoundland, the sea is the way you get around, not roads! Bonne Bay was 18 miles away; it took two days to get word out and three for transportation to arrive (Ricketts, p. 33). Apparently people actually went back to the Ethie to pick up some cargo (Hanrahan, p. 158). When the storm ended, a local named Roberts was able to take the passengers to another town, Woody Point, in groups of fifteen or so. It was a tough few days, but everyone made it through -- and became famous.
The best known bit of folklore about the wreck is that there was a dog that was the key to getting the rope to shore and the passengers to land. Eventually the tale became that it was a Newfoundland named Wisher, but it took a while for all these details to become well-known -- e.g. O'Neill, p. 976, repeats the story, while declaring that the dog was a mongrel, not a Newfoundland. Andrieux, p. 91, is even less critical; it not only accepts that the dog was a Newfoundland but that it "immortalized the breed." But another version of the story says that the hero dog was not Wisher but Captain English's own dog, carried with the captain on the Ethie. This story came from the English family (Ricketts, pp. 62-63), but not until long after English must have been dead. There is a photo of English with a dog, but the fact that English had a dog doesn't make it the hero dog.
The dog Wisher did exist (Ricketts, p. 15, says that Wisher was a Collie-and-who-knows-what mix, not a Newfoundland), and it was at the beach -- and it did nothing but get in the way. There is no mention of it in the December 17, 1919 Evening Herald account reprinted on p. 15 of Connors. Clarke, p. 429, says only that the story is now "discounted." Cassie Brown attributes the story about the dog to one of the Ethie's coalmen (Ricketts, p. 61). The first officer of the Ethie John Gullage, was adamant for his entire life that there was no dog (Ricketts, p. 65). Even the play that the locals sometimes stage about the wreck includes the line "There was no dog!" (Ricketts, p. 36).
So how did the story spread? Hanrahan, pp. 159-160, believes the story started as a practical joke, and the dog's owner took advantage of it to make some money. A medical missionary named Sir Willard Grenfell (the one who sent Greenleaf on her travels, and a famous name in Newfoundland) -- was responsible for propagating the tale, perhaps in order to raise money -- and of course breeders of Newfoundland dogs also were happy to cash in, even though Wisher wasn't a member of that breed! (Hanrahan, pp. 160-161).
Ricketts, pp. 37-39, has a different spin. The first newsman to produce a story was an AP stringer named A. L. Bartlett, who put in all the human interest details he could -- a baby in a mail bag (genuine) and a dog (bogus). As Ricketts comments on p. 38, the reason the story was picked up from the AP wire by various newspapers was "Dogs, babies, shipwrecks and heroes." The Philadelphia Human Society got all excited and, instead of doing something useful like neutering stray dogs, raised money to get a jeweled collar for the useless mutt Wisher. It officially declared the mutt to be a "HERO." The collar still exists, and looks absolutely ridiculous (Ricketts has photos on pp. 40-41).
All this even though no one in Philadelphia knew how big a Newfoundland dog was, and Wisher wasn't a Newfoundland anyway. The associated medal also got the date of the wreck wrong (Ricketts, p. 40). In 1920, some nut case traveled to Martin's Point and bought Wisher from Decker -- who had no idea this silliness was going on -- for the exorbitant price of $30, which Decker happily accepted; "After all, Decker had never understood why his dog was being treated like a hero and if someone wanted to pay him hard cold cash for that dog there would be no argument from him!" (Ricketts, pp. 43-44). Ricketts speculates further that the buyer, William Orum, didn't even know what a Newfoundland was, so he didn't realize the Wisher was not a Newfie dog but a part-collie mutt.
Orum -- who apparently had a hard time convincing people that Wisher was a HERO -- later went back to Decker and bought the HERO collar also. Later, Orum dumped Wisher and got an actual Newfoundland; as Ricketts sarcastically notes, "At least the collar now fit" (Ricketts, p. 44). In 1922, Orum gave up and sold the whole show to another nut willing to try to make a living off a dog that wasn't even the dog that hadn't actually done anything. (You think that's bad? A poet named E. J. Pratt later wrote a poem "Carlo" that retold the tale that hadn't actually happened that wasn't actually about the dog that wasn't even the dog that didn't do it anyway. Oy. If you want to suffer even more than you have in reading this entry, you can find "Carlo" on pp. 141-143 of Harding).
The sale of the dog was effectively the end of the Ethie's part in the story, although Ricketts devotes pp. 49-57 to the further tale of the fake dog, the ridiculous collar, and the life of Dinty Kane, the drunk who tried to take advantage of both.
Bruce, pp. 22-23, sums up "An apocryphal story about a Newfoundland dog who swam out to the wreck to help rescue the Ethie's passengers and crew soon did wonders for the breed's reputation for spontaneous heroism in the service of mankind."
There is one bit of folklore that about the wreck is true, though. It was widely reported that one baby girl had to be transferred to shore in a mail bag (Hanrahan, pp. 156-157). This is true, and, happily, he kid made it; Ricketts, p. 24, says that the baby and her mother were the first passengers sent ashore. And the girl eventually donated the mailbag to a museum (Hanrahan, p. 159) -- indeed, the baby, Hilda Batten, later Hilda Menchions, was still alive in 2005 (Ricketts, p. 60). Clarke, p, 430, says that she eventually gave the bag to Gros Morne National Park, site of some Ethie artifacts.
Although the dog story is declared "all lies" by those who were there (Hanrahan, p. 159), most of the rest of the tale in the song is right.
The captain and first officer, despite their mistake in setting out on that night, were commended for their valor and skill getting all ashore.
Galgay and McCarthy conclude their account by saying that the wreck of the Ethie is the best-known of all the disasters on the west coast of Newfoundland (p. 78). I would guess that this is due in part to the fact that all were saved and in part to the fact that it happened so close to Christmas.
Until recently, Roud lumped this song with "Come All ye Jolly Ice-Hunters" (Roud #6345) -- a song with which it shares some elements, but this song is based on an incident almost a century more recent. Spencer, pp. 130-131, notes a story in one of Elisabeth Bristol Greenleaf's writings in which she recalled taking her turn singing during a collecting session -- and discovered that several survivors of the Ethie were present at the time. The account in Spencer (written by I. Sheldon Posen) also includes a substantial portion of her text.
In addition to Ricketts, there is another book about this event, "The Wreck of the Ethie" by Hilary Hyland, but it's fiction and appears to be aimed at children. The purpose seems to be to glorify the dog rather than describe what actually happened. I haven't read it; it sounds deadly. The cover drawing shows a Newfoundland dog. Oy.
Portions of the Ethie wreck can still be seen in the waters around Martin's Point; Ricketts, p. 2, and Clarke, p. 430, show her as she looked when intact, and on pp. 29-31 shows photos of her as the wreck decayed: she very early lost everything above the main except the funnel (the upper works was apparently lost within a day of her wreck; Ricketts, p. 34), but as late as 1930 funnel and hull were still there and looking mostly intact. By 1956 the hull was smashed and resting on the shore. By 2000, parts of the boiler were still visible in the sea, but she was mostly gone. Galgay/McCarthy, p. 73, O'Neill, p. 941, Andrieux, p. 92, and Hanrahan, p. 98, also have photos of the Ethie in her better days; Connors, p. 16, has one of her in dry dock.
A full list of the Ethie's crew can be found on p. 180 of Hanrahan.
The Ethie wreck wasn't the last to hit the Alphabet Fleet in December 1919. On December 25, the Dundee went aground on Noggin Island. Happily, there were no deaths as a result of that wreck, either (Harding, p. 141). See also "The Loss of the Bruce," for the wreck of the latter ship. For a song about another ship in the fleet, see "The Smokeroom on the Kyle." - RBW
BibliographyLast updated in version 6.6
File: Doy59

Go to the Ballad Search form
Go to the Ballad Index Song List

Go to the Ballad Index Instructions
Go to the Ballad Index Bibliography or Discography

The Ballad Index Copyright 2024 by Robert B. Waltz and David G. Engle.