To the Memory of the Late Captain Kennedy

DESCRIPTION: "Slowly today we wend our way To a grave in Belvedere Behind the corpse of a hero bold." The singer tells of Kennedy's voyages, and describes his heroism when the Viking caught fire.
AUTHOR: unknown
EARLIEST DATE: 1936 (King, The Viking's Last Cruise)
KEYWORDS: ship fire rescue
HISTORICAL REFERENCES:
1931 - Explosion destroys the sealer "Viking"
FOUND IN:
REFERENCES (1 citation):
Ryan/Small-HaulinRopeAndGaff, p. 105, "To the Memory of the Late Captain Kennedy" (1 text)
Roud #V44703
NOTES [2110 words]: The Viking, the ship in this song, is also mentioned in "Captains and Ships," "Success to the Hardy Sealers," "Success to Every Man," and "A Noble Fleet of Sealers." She was built in Arendal, Norway in 1881 (Clarke, p. 291; FelthamSteamers, p. 153; O'Neill, p. 968). Fritjof Nansen used her for an arctic expedition in 1882. She became a sealer in 1904, and served under William Bartlett (related to Robert Bartlett of "Captain Bob Bartlett") for the first 22 of those years (FelthamSteamers, pp. 153-154).
Several sailors who sailed in her called her ill-designed to be a sealer; Wilfred Andrews recalled, "Now, the worst ship was the old Viking. The hatches were above us where we slept between decks. And when we were lying on our bunks the seal pelts used to fall on our bunks sometimes" (Ryan-Last, p. 112). Clarence Bartlett also said he "didn't like the Viking" -- and when he was offered a berth on her, he gave it to someone else instead (Ryan-Last, p. 134) and so avoided the disaster in this song. She is also said to have been underpowered (Ryan-Last, p. 367). Oliver James said she was "just like a big schooner" (Ryan-Last, p. 410), which hints that she was maneuverable but slow.
As a sealer, her results were steady but unspectacular, averaging barely more than 10,000 seals per year (FelthamNortheast, p. 95). This was somewhat less than half what the best sealers managed; admittedly she was small, and couldn't hold more than about 20,000 seals (FelthamSteamers, p. 156), but it's clear that she was rarely notable for success. On the other hand, that probably made her more than usually available for unusual duties such as the one which led to her end.
Whence this song. In 1930, a fellow named Varick Frissell decided to make what we would now probably call a sealing docu-drama, originally titled "White Thunder" but eventually released as "The Viking." O'Flaherty, p. 365, describes it as "a hokey love story with astounding scenes of moving ice floes and sealers jumping among them, scenes perhaps unequalled in film history." This followed an earlier (silent) documentary, "The Great Arctic Seal Hunt" (Ryan-Ice, p. 320 n. 23). In the initial filming, Frissell worked on the Ungava, with Robert Bartlett (for whom see "Captain Bob Bartlett") playing the Captain (somewhat incompetently, based on the jokes the crew made about his inability to remember his lines). It was definitely a scripted production; they even brought snow-making equipment and wind machines to the ice! (Ryan-Last, p. 275), and encouraged the men to engage in stunts and spectacular behaviors (Ryan-Last, p. 410). O'Neill, p. 968, reports that Charles Starrett, later known for an astounding number of cowboy films, had the lead role (credited as "Luke Oarum" by imdb.com), and that it was "the first American sound feature shot on location outside the United States," and the first sound feature shot in Canada. Unfortunately, O'Neill, p. 969, also tells us the "acting is pathetic."
However, after the film crew brought their material home, it was decided that more footage was needed. So the film crew went out again in 1931, this time in the Viking, with Abram Kean Jr., the nephew (so Ryan-Last, p. 101; others say son) of the famous Abram Kean (for whom see "Captain Abram Kean") in charge of the ship and Alfred Kean the first mate (FelthamNortheast, p. 96). (Bartlett, it should be stressed, had been on the earlier trip as an actor, not the man in charge.) Clarke, p. 291, gives Abram Kean Jr's dates as 1887-1958.
They set out on March 9, 1931 -- the very last ship of the sealing fleet to leave (FelthamSteamers, p. 157). It reached the ice on March 14 (Mowat/Blackwood, p 80)
It was a tough voyage from the start; the season was stormy, and the ship started to take on water, so they had to make a stop for repairs before they even went to the ice (Keir, pp. 338-339; one account of the problems is on p. 413 of Ryan-Last, which has many accounts of the Viking disaster although most are so disorderly as to be unhelpful).
Apparently one of the film crew's ideas to improve the drama was to cause an explosion to set icebergs rolling and grinding. Sealers often carried gunpowder, in case they got stuck in the ice, and they were incredibly casual about fire (England, pp. 17-18). But, because the filmmakers wanted their fancy effect, it is said that there was extra powder aboard on this trip (Candow, p. 92); some think they had thermite as well (O'Flaherty, p 365). When the Viking was in the vicinity of the Horse Islands off Newfoundland's north coast (FelthamNortheast, in the map on p. x), on March 15, 1931, it blew up. Some reports claim there were two explosions (Keir, p. 339; Mowat/Blackwood, p. 81, suggests that the ship's first movement had been a collision with the ice caused by a change of wind, with the explosion following shortly, perhaps because sparks flew).
One sailor, Clarence Bartlett, later claimed that there was a plot to blow her up (Ryan-Last, pp. 134-135), but this was a memory from half a century later, and there is no way he could have known anyway. Winsor, p. 89, thinks that some flares had been damaged, and someone carried them off and they exploded. Smith, p. 106, wonders about an overturned oil lamp (possible) or a loose electrical wire (on a fifty-year-old sealing ship? Not likely). But it's all speculation.
There is disagreement about the number of men lost. FelthamSteamers, pp. 158-159, Candow, p. 92, and Winsor, p. 89, say 28 men; Looker, p. 47, says 58; Ryan-Ice, p. 450 [a contemporary report], Ryan/Drake, p. 28, Greene, p. 65, and Andrieux, p. 105, say 24; Keir, p. 341, believes 30 men were lost; Tarver, p. 168, and Smith, p. 108, claim that 27 were killed; Clarke, p. 292, says "just short of thirty." FelthamNortheast, pp. 102-103, says that 28 men were killed -- but his list includes only 27 names. (Two of them, both sealers, might have been Bob Bartlett's relatives; both Bartletts were from Conception Bay, and one was actually from Bob Bartlett's home town of Brigus.) It is agreed that the dead including all but one of the film crew, as well as several boys who had stowed away; most of the survivors had to make their way across the ice pans to land (Looker, p. 47). Only one body was ever found (FelthamSteamers, p. 158).
FelthamNortheast, p. 99, says there were 128 survivors, but Candow, p. 92, claims there were 147 on board (a figure also quoted by Andrieux, p. 105, Green, p. 65, and Smith, p. 105; O'Flaherty, p. 365, claims a regular crew of 147 plus two stowaways and Frissell's crew of four; Clarke, p. 291, says "about 150"; Smith observes that this was fewer than she usually took seaing), which means that Candow would allow only 119 survivors.
According to Andrieux, p. 105, it was the first sealing disaster which was covered on the radio.
Captain William Kennedy -- the subject of this piece -- was the ship's navigator (O'Neill, p. 968); it was common for sealers to have a sealing captain (in this case, Kean) who knew the ice but was not fully qualified as an ocean-going captain, and a navigator who was a qualified ship's master but didn't know sealing. (The law required all ships to have a "captain" who could navigate, but that didn't mean the sealing captain paid him any attention; qualified masters were often treated as pests. This had been the case with the Newfoundland at the time of her disaster, e.g. -- see the notes to "The Newfoundland Disaster (I)" -- and was true in this case also; Mowat/Blackwood, p 80. Interesting that both those ships that Keans as captains.) Kennedy was quite a young man to be a qualified master -- just 29, according to Mowat/Blackwood, p 80.
Kennedy and one of the film bigwigs, Harry Sargeant, plus Clayton King (also mentioned in the song), were separated from the main party of survivors and spent a day and a half floating before the Sagona found them (Winsor, p. 89, says 65 hours, or two and a half days; he says they were 22 miles from where the ship sank). Kennedy died of a fractured skull and pneumonia before the rescue (Looker, p. 47); King (another Brigus man, who was the ship's wireless operator; Ryan-Last, p. 415) had a fractured leg and facial burns; Sargent also had facial burns (FelthamNortheast, p. 101). King would later have to have his legs amputated because he had been so badly frozen (FelthamNortheast, p. 105); NewfoundlandStories, pp. 11-13, says that surgeries took place nine and ten days after the disaster. "He had spent 65 long, agonizing hours on the ice without food, water, warmth or medical attention. He was found to be suffering from 'gas gangrene of both legs, extending to the middle of the thighs.' In the left there was a compound fracture of the tibia and the fibula. In addition to this, he had a severe injury in the left eye.... He also had severe contusions and abrasions on his shoulders."
Alfred Kean, the first mate of the Viking, who had his leg broken in three places in the explosion, recounted, "Jacob Kean in the Sagona left St. John's Sunday night and just before dark, Tuesday evening, picked up Clayton King, Captain Kennedy, and Sargent. They got driven away at a tangent from the disaster area. They must have gotten in the tide and drove out around the cape but we didn't.... Captain Kennedy died off Cape Bonavista and Fred Best [who had been with Kean] died in the summer" (FelthamNortheast, p. 99). According to Ernest Spracklin, an eyewitness who gave the longest account in Ryan-Last (pp. 412-416), "Captain Kennedy, the navigator, died in one of the boats on the way back to St. John's."
The survivors were mostly rescued by the Sagona and the Beothic II (FelthamNortheast, pp. 100-101, etc.). Clarke, p. 292, says the Foundation, Franklyn, and Eagle also were involved. The cause of the disaster was never really determined; the man who was in charge of the explosives was one of the dead (FelthamNortheast, pp. 104-105).
Note that this text (probably a poem rather than a song) was published by Clayton King in his account of the disaster.
Candow, p. 92, says there was no compensation for the victims, because the law didn't cover this sort of accident. (Plus Newfoundland was bankrupt and would soon lose its elected government; according to O'Flaherty, p. 365, news of the disaster interrupted the legislature as they wrestled with their fiscal problems.) On the other hand, survivor George Adams said that "[Richard] Squires was prime minister. He came to see us, shook hands with us, and gave us $50 each. We were lucky to get that, but, still, we lost all our belongings, our clothes, and everything we had. We had nothing left" (Ryan-Last, p. 105). Survivor Ernest Spracklin says that it was more of a merchandise credit -- they could buy $50 in supplies from the Royal Stores. On paper, that meant a profit for the men -- no one carried $50 worth of stuff to the ice; indeed, few sealers made that sort of money -- but it of course meant that they didn't get the pay they hoped for from the trip.
The footage for the film was thought lost for a time but was eventually discovered in 1950 and the film released in 1971 (Tarver, p. 168).
As was often the case in Newfoundland, tragedy brought forth much folk poetry, and newspapers often printed it. FelthamNortheast, pp. 106-107, has two examples of pieces about this disaster. NewfoundlandStories, pp. 13-15, has one by author Addison Bown; it's much too flowery for my taste (and, given the number of small errors found in Bown's article, I don't trust it much).
There is a photo of the Viking on p. 182 of FelthamSteamers, one on p. 103 of Andrieux, one on p. 67 of Winsor, and another on p. 28 of Ryan/Drake. P. 69 of Ryan/Drake (actually a four page spread) has eight photos associated with the film that destroyed the Viking, including movie stills and shots of the production team as well as of the ship itself. Clarke, p. 291, has a damaged photo of Frissell and a number of his crewmen on shipboard. O'Neill, p. 948, has a photo -- probably meant to be publicity photo -- of Bob Bartlett in his role as the sealing captain. Smith, pp. 105, 107, has photos from the rescue.
Earl B. Pilgrim wrote a book, The Day of Varick Frissell (Print Atlantic, no date, and the copyright page claims it has an index, but it doesn't), which I unfortunately bought because I didn't know it was fiction. It does have a few interesting photos of Frissell and a distant photo of the Viking, plus a list of those who were aboard her and those who were lost.
For more on the Sagona, which was the main rescue ship, see the notes to "Greedy Harbour." - RBW
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