by J. F. Collen
She kicked on. Fatigue hampered her forward progress; the woman she towed felt heavier and heavier. Keep swimming! Full steam ahead! Ach, that is the causation of this disaster in the first place. Tarnation! One ruminates on the most bizarre thoughts during a disaster.
When they stumbled up the shore at the water’s edge, Anastasia spotted them and ran over. She still clutched Nellie’s skirt, which she tried to wrap around Nellie. Nellie fought it off. Mrs. Entwhistle, shivering and dripping, took the garment, found the two seams, and ripped it carefully in half. She and Agnes wrapped themselves in it.
Nellie turned back to the water and looked at the disaster. Thick columns of smoke billowed from all openings in the ship now, making the sky darker still. An even thicker column rose from the smokestack. Together the columns poured into the sky, making it one black, roiling cloud. The fire, roaring and consuming all the hot wood in its path, edged closer and closer to the people still trapped on the stern deck of the ship. The scene in the water was no better. Faces of people and pieces of debris loomed into vision and then disappeared. It was impossible to know how many were submerged in the water. Men still pushed boards out to people struggling for their lives. Several boats circled the stern. Men shouted and gestured for women and children to jump but bizarrely, petrified passengers remained on the aft deck, watching the fire come ever closer.
A few more passengers straggled out of the water near Nellie and her family. A man carrying a young girl dumped her on the sand and ran back into the water.
“Is she alive?” asked Agnes, coming closer to see if she could help.
Nellie stepped back into the river and hesitated.
“Cornelia, go no further!” her mother shouted, running to her, not stopping at the river’s edge, not noticing she immersed her feet in the water. Gertrude Entwhistle grabbed Nellie by the arm. “Ach du Liebe, let the men shoulder this burden—they are imbued by the Almighty to bear this toil.”
Cornelia opened her mouth to protest, but was too exhausted to reply.
“You’ll catch your death of a cold,” her mother scolded and folded her in her arms. “Look, look! The Armenia has arrived and dropped a small boat.”
Around the edge of the menacing cloud of smoke and the frightening red flames, she could just make out the bow of the Armenia. “Thank heavens!” Nellie cried, sobbing in a combination of relief and exhaustion. “The ship’s crew shall throw a line and all those people in the aft can be saved!”
Her mother led her out of the water and said, “The Armenia crew shall send small boats with skilled seamen. Joining the volunteers working from shore, they will soon wrest the remaining passengers from the fire and secure them in boats. You are a lady—you have already given aid above and beyond your station.”
“Nonsense,” said Nellie. “We can at least join the men on the shore and in waist deep waters pushing boards out to those who are still struggling.”
Anastasia shouted, “Have you taken leave of your senses? Augusta and I shall perform that task. You must render first aid. Look at the multitude of injured crawling out of the river! Many passengers, while safely delivered upon shore, still teeter on death’s doorstep.”
Nellie shook her head. Am I ‘off my chump’? Mercy! My first thought should have been to apply my dearly gained healing skills. Passengers fortunate enough to attain dry land might still sustain severe wounds. I must prevent the injured from degenerating into fatalities.
A woman washed up at Nellie’s feet. Mercy, ask and ye shall receive. Nellie choked back a sob at the horrific sight. She dragged the poor sodden creature to higher ground, laid her flat on her back, turned her head to the side and pressed on her abdomen. The lady vomited bilious saltwater. Nellie checked the pulse on the woman’s neck, and put her head down to hear her breathing. No sound! Nellie put her mouth over the woman’s and forced air into it. The poor soul responded by upchucking more water. Nellie tried again. Even in the smoke filled, darkened light, Nellie could see the woman’s lips turning blue. She pinched the woman’s nose and blew in another breath. The woman coughed and sputtered, but began to breathe.
Alleluia! She straightened and felt someone grab her elbow.
“Have you seen my son?” asked a distraught man.
Anastasia immediately recognized him. “Professor Bailey! No, I am sorry I have not.” Both Nellie and Anastasia looked around the water’s edge. There were wet, injured, bodies everywhere.
The man wandered away, dazed and distraught, muttering, “They pulled me through the flames to the wharf. I tried to hang onto my children, but someone grabbed me around the neck to save herself. She pulled me under. It was black as the night, I could not see my kin....”
Before she could think of a way to help Professor Bailey, a rescuer dumped an unconscious man on the other side of her. He had a burned arm and lacerations on his head. She turned his face to the side and pumped his abdomen. Water spewed from his mouth, but she could see he was breathing. He opened his eyes and groaned. Mercifully, I never go anywhere without my salves! Her eyes searched to locate her dropped bag, but Agnes already stood at her side, handing it to her.
Nellie grabbed the salve and told her mother to start ripping her discarded skirt into strips for bandages. Before she finished a hasty bandage for the man, Anastasia dumped a soaking wet little girl into her lap. Dazed and confused, the girl stared with unseeing eyes, blood smeared across her face from a gash on her forehead. Anastasia relieved Nellie’s hands of the man’s bandage and Nellie sprang to compress the little girls’ wound to stop the bleeding. Anastasia finished tying the man’s wound and helped him to drier ground while Nellie unleashed her full arsenal of ministrations.
The ladies applied themselves to give whatever assistance they could.
Anastasia worked at Nellie’s side as Nellie triaged whomever the rescuers brought to shore. She pumped lungs clear of water, staunched bleeding, and applied salve for burn relief.
More than once, however, her assistance was to no avail.
As Nellie treated passenger after passenger, the chaos in the river continued.
Agnes assumed the grim job of dragging the victims who could not be resuscitated to the side, and arranging them in a dignified manner, so they could be identified.
Tears slipping down their cheeks, the sisters worked side by side, doing all they could to save the poor souls’ lives, or at least their dignity.
Chapter 8 – The Long Day Is Over
Sing Sing, New York, July 1852
At first the group just huddled in stupefied silence at the bow of an Entwhistle Enterprise ferryboat dispatched to pick up survivors. The heat of the day had dried all their clothes. Nevertheless, Nellie could not stop shivering.
“At long last the nightmare is over,” offered Anastasia, holding Zetus’s hand with both of her own.
Mrs. Entwhistle, eyes on the seagulls following their boat, tears silently streaming down her face, whispered, “Can we be certain that it is truly ended?”
“I would have preferred to take the cars north,” said Augusta in a low voice to her husband Nathaniel. Nathaniel sat stock still, gripping his daughter, looking at her with shocked eyes as the little girl lay sleeping in his arms.
Nellie overheard. “Who is to say locomotives are any safer? They depend upon steam engines too. Papa’s boats comply with all safety regulations. Entwhistle captains run their steamship engines only at the capacity for which they are certified. They blow off their heads of steam at all landings, precisely as the law requires. Most importantly, they do not tie down the safety valve of the boiler in order to over-stoke the engines,” she declared.
“Hopping horse feathers, Cornelia, prudence plays no part in your allegations,” said Obadiah. “Blazes! Have you any realization of the insinuations of your speech?”
Nellie looked at him in surprise and said, “I am fully cognizant of the implication of my words. This disaster springs from clear wrongdoing!”
“Aye, ‘tis no time
for reticence o’ speech,” said Mr. Entwhistle. “Cornelia’s words rightly cast blame.”
“I saw nary an officer throw a line or dispatch a small boat,” stated Patrick, his eyes grim and his jaw set. “I only thank the good Lord above we are all safe and my wife and my little ones remain securely at home.”
Agnes burst into tears and Armistead patted her shoulder with a clumsy hand. She said, “Thanks be to God Cuthbert stayed home, or he might have met the same terror and harm as many of the children onboard.”
Nathaniel choked on a sob and clutched the sleeping Perpetua closer to his chest. Augusta leaned on his shoulder, tears streaming down her face.
Thank you, Lord, for sparing us all, Nellie prayed.
Obadiah said in a low voice, “Do not misunderstand me. I agree—this tragedy was a foreseeable result of reckless behavior and folly. But slanderous speech foments turbulence. Let us leave the assessment of blame to the capable hands of the authorities. I am certain the Yonkers’ coroner will find foul play. As soon as he arrived on the scene, Coroner William Lawrence formed an Inquest jury, selected jurors and began to hear testimony.”
Anastasia spoke. “I noticed men questioning male survivors. Jurors were selected with remarkable alacrity.”
Agnes shouted, “As we worked furiously to ensure more would be saved, others thought it more important to gather evidence to exculpate the ship owners?”
“Yes,” said Obadiah, shaking his head in bemusement. “Word of the disaster spread quickly, as the smoke was visible to all the Hudson River towns.”
“Once my lungs were taxed to the breaking point, and could no longer withstand the inhalation of more smoke, I jumped ashore, the disaster still unfolding behind me,” said Jerome, his voice low and dazed. “I noted people streaming to the site. Good Samaritans and kinfolk arrived, ready to help find and rescue their loved ones.”
Patrick nodded his head in agreement. “The smoke signaled the disaster to all the river traffic as well. I saw the James Madison and the Advance stop and send small boats long before the Armenia arrived.”
“Moreover, the ship ground to a halt veritably on the railroad tracks causing every inbound and outbound locomotive to stop and all onboard offer help,” said Nathaniel.
“And identify the dead,” said Armistead, grimness grating his voice.
Mr. Entwhistle shook his head, his hand traveling over his hair coming to rest on his neck. His brogue even thicker in his consternation, he said, “In truth, trains performed t’ noble service o’ carrying both t’ injured and t’ dead to T’ City as well as to destinations north.”
Mrs. Entwhistle sighed. “We each did what we could to save our fellow passengers.” The rest of the ladies wept and nodded.
Agnes said, “Mercifully, the disaster has ended.”
“Would that we could be certain,” cried Nellie. “With the turbulence of the water, debris from the ship littered far and wide, and the black smoke of the fire obscuring visibility, who’s to say an accurate accounting of passengers occurred?”
“The Yonkers’ coroner,” said Obadiah.
“Rightly so,” said Nellie. “But I do recall the boat was uncommonly crowded.”
“Yes,” agreed Mrs. Entwhistle. “There were no seats to be had in the ladies’ parlor. Ach!” Fresh tears streamed down her face. “All those poor souls.”
“Passengers on the promenade deck were squeezed like herrings. Goodness, I noticed the moment we boarded how overfilled the accommodations. I recall we climbed to the hurricane deck and secured the last grouping of chairs, vacant only due to lack of overhang or any type of shading,” Anastasia corroborated.
“Is there a passenger list enumerating every person on board?” asked Mrs. Entwhistle, turning to her husband. “Has anyone accounted for all the innocent lives on the ill-fated voyage?”
Mr. Entwhistle sighed. “Who’s to say how many people were aboard? ‘Tis t’ responsibility of the clerk to complete the ship roster, but as Jessup was acting captain for the day, due to Captain Tallman’s illness, he brooked no opportunity. Moreover, I doubt any one of those ticket sellers would have taken t’ time to record t’ particulars of those buying passage. They were just out to sell as many tickets as possible and earn their commissions.” He shook his head and scratched his neck. “By t’ shamrocks of St. Patrick, here’s one more omission exacerbating this tragedy. T’ responsibilities of the Coroner are only just beginning.”
“Yea, but it’s well begun. As I said, I saw his jury of twelve men commence the inquiry,” said Obadiah. “Eyewitnesses gave testimony even while the disaster continued to worsen.”
Jerome, his eyes full of tears, said in a low voice, “The jurors could not have appreciated just how many people were trapped aft, waiting for help as instructed, or left floundering in the water. If they had, they’d have realized they were ‘eyewitnesses’ too. From stem to stern, the water surrounding the boat was littered with men, women, children and debris.” He passed his hand over his eyes. “I did what I could. I cut a settee from a cabin chaise and sent women and children overboard on the windward side of the boat, hoping they would cling on and be saved. I just don’t know how many actually survived....”
“Each of us strove to assist the victims with utmost courage,” said Patrick. He looked down at the deck planks, shaking his head. His words caused fresh visions of the horrors they just witnessed to swim before their eyes. “Death by fire and water. Lord, have mercy on us!”
“I thank the Lord he saw fit to save us all. But for the grace of God we would be burned or drowned. I pray thanksgiving that we were chosen instead as the Lord’s instruments, rendering aid to our fellow travelers,” said Mrs. Entwhistle.
Agnes put her still wet handkerchief to her face and burst into fresh tears. “Women and infants stranded on the aft deck or in the ladies’ cabin perished in multitudes. They could not swim. Those who tried, drowned but....” Now even the men were openly crying. “...I am sure some, who may still be trapped onboard or who have yet to wash up on shore, were burned to death.”
Armistead put his arm around his wife. “I wished not to burden you with what we were helpless to prevent and could only witness, as we pulled oar on our small craft and endeavored to assist those flailing in the sea. A horror show, a nightmare, unfolded before our eyes.”
“Amen,” said Zetus, engulfing the sobbing Anastasia in his strong arms.
Mr. Entwhistle shook his head, sorrowful tears spilling from his eyes. Obadiah kept his eyes down. Mr. Entwhistle clamped one hand on Obadiah’s shoulder and the other on Zetus’ broad muscular one. “‘Tis no shame in letting t’ keening begin.”
Obadiah shrugged off the hand, pinched his nose, and shook his head. He cleared his throat. “We must reserve final opinion on the culpability of the ship’s owner and crew until we can ascertain all the facts. I have volunteered my legal services to the fact-finding Inquest and to the prosecution of criminal charges,” Obadiah offered to the sobbing crowd.
“Little that will do to restore the lost, innocent, lives,” sobbed Agnes.
“Or aid the gravely injured who might still succumb to death from their wounds,” said Anastasia, picturing the victims she had assisted Nellie in doctoring.
Obadiah gave a snort of anger.
Nellie laid a reassuring hand on his arm. “We all suffer distress beyond rational thought at the tragedy we have witnessed first-hand,” she said. “We mutually ache from the painful awareness that further efforts, now, shall spare none of the victims. Agnes, the legal proceeding shall assess culpability. Moreover, the Inquest could spawn new legislation banning all racing on the Hudson River.
“If only it were permissible for the ladies to give sworn statements at the judicial proceedings. I would willingly subject myself to that torment for the privilege of aiding this investigation. Would that women had citizens’ rights and could effectuate a change in the law,” stated Nellie.
“Cornelia, such pie-in-the-sky thinking. That
day shall never come,” said Obadiah.
One more sorrow to heap on this calamitous day.
Suddenly Anastasia giggled. All eyes turned to her in disbelief. “What a ragtag bunch we ladies are,” she said. Nellie looked at the women. Her mother, Agnes and she were still only half-dressed with men’s waistcoats or the other woman’s shawls covering their bloomers.
“Mutter, I dare say you have not been this scantily clad on a summer day since you were a wee tyke,” Anastasia’s giggle turned into a laugh which suddenly became hysterical laughter. Everyone looked on in unsmiling sympathy as Zetus gathered her in his arms and pulled her head to his chest, stroking her head to calm her.
“More breach of etiquette,” sobbed Anastasia into his shoulder.
The next morning brought no relief from their post-traumatic stress. The entire Entwhistle clan gathered for breakfast at their parent’s mansion on Main Street. As the women helped prepare the meal, they commiserated about their lack of sleep. Just as the ham and toast were ready, the kitchen door opened and Augusta and Nathaniel appeared.
“I see this is a gathering of the survivors,” said Nathaniel.
“We have brought some of the morning papers,” said Augusta, giving her husband a silencing look.
Every newspaper in The City and the Hudson Valley contained news of the tragedy. Everyone reached for the papers at the same time.
The visitors read headlines and extracts aloud: “‘Terrible Catastrophe’.”
“‘Dreadful Calamity on the Hudson River’.”
“‘Terrible Steamboat Calamity’.”
“‘Forty-seven bodies recovered’,” read Armistead.
“‘Reckless disregard for life and limb’....”
