Recent disasters: the wreck of the steamboat Larchmont Ⓐtextual note in the Sound, of the Berlin Ⓐtextual note at the Hook of Holland, and of a fast train on the Pennsylvania Railroad—Ⓐtextual noteNewspaper clippings concerning them, and Mr. Clemens’s comments upon them.
As I have said once or twice already, interesting news cannot grow stale; time cannot destroy that interest; it cannot even fade it; the eye-witness’s narrative which stirs the heart to-day, will as surely and as profoundly stir it a thousand years hence. I wish to clip from the newspapers this morning some things for future generations to read. When they come upon them in this book a century hence they will not put them aside unread; they will not find them stale.
Within the last four or five days several striking things have happened, and I desire to speak of them, one at a time, and each in its turn. First came the Larchmont Ⓐtextual note disaster. On the bitterest night of this winter, and the stormiest, the Larchmont Ⓐtextual note , a steamboat [begin page 437] crowded with passengers, was cut down in the Sound by a heavy-laden schooner. The sea was running high, the wind was blowing a gale, there was no life-saving stationⒶtextual note close at hand; during the few moments that elapsed before the steamer sank in fathomless water, a few of the passengers got away in the boats, but only to drift helpless a whileⒶtextual note, buffeted by the tempest, then freeze to death. The captain and several of the crew took early measures to save themselves, and succeeded, and are now in disgrace; the rest of that great company of men and women and children quickly perishedⒺexplanatory note. Among the steamer’s passengers was a sailor and his wife. Being experienced and courageous, the sailor kept his head. He secured two places in a boat; he put his wife into one of the places and was about to occupy the other himself, when a woman who was a stranger to him appealed to him and he promptly gave his place to her and elected to go down with the steamer. Then his wife said she would go down with him, and she made him help her out of the boat. Then the other woman said she would die with these two new friends, and she made the sailor take her out of the boat. After a minute or two the hurricane-deck fetched away from the steamer, and these three, together with a score or two of other passengers, floated away upon it. One by one those scores succumbed to the cold, and the waves, and the gale, and died—every one. But the sailor allowed his two women no rest; he kept them on their feet; he marched them staggering up and down; he buffeted them with his hands; he kept their blood moving—all this during two hours—and he saved them alive. It was remarked by the thoughtful and the learned that this exhibition of the power and the compassion of an ever-watchful ProvidenceⒶtextual note was a wonderful thing, and a matter for our deepest awe and gratitude and worship.
Now we come to a yet more splendid and heroic rescue by Providence—assisted, as before, by a sailor-man. Three or four days ago there was a terrible disaster at the Hook of Holland. At dawn the steamer Berlin Ⓐtextual note , with a hundred and forty-two passengers on board, was fighting her way into the entrance of that port in the face of a tremendous gale, with her efforts further obstructed by giant seas and a driving snow-stormⒶtextual note. Suddenly something went wrong with the machinery and she was flung, a broken and helpless ruin, upon the rocks at the end of a long pierⒶtextual note, and so situated that it was next to impossible for the life-saving serviceⒶtextual note to get near her or afford any help. But no matter; that brave serviceⒶtextual note went out in its boats and stuck to its gallant and almost useless labors, hour after hour, all day and allⒶtextual note night, fighting the freezing storm and refusing to give up. During that day and night they rescued a few of the unfortunates and got them to the shore,Ⓐtextual note albeit in an exhausted state, and with hands and feet frozen; meantime, more than a hundred of the passengers had been washed overboard, or had perished from the cold. It was now believed that no passengers remained alive in the ship; still the life-savers went on with their labors, but without avail. They could no longer get near the ship. They got near enough, however, to be able to report that there were still three survivors—women. These three, with thirteen already rescued by the life-saving service, were all that were still alive of the hundred and forty-two passengers. When two days and nights had passed since that poor ship had been flung upon the rocks, the captain of a ship lying in the port made up his mind to go, uninvited, and chance his life in an effort to save those women. This [begin page 438] was yesterday. I will now tell the great tale of what followed as the cable tells it to us in this morning’s papers. It has moved every reader, to-day, and its power of moving will not wither out of it by force of any lapse of time, however great.
LAST SURVIVORS RESCUEDⒺexplanatory note.
BRAVE MAN SWIMS TO BERLIN WRECK
AND SAVES 3 WOMEN.
Terrible Sufferings Through Days of
Cold and Hunger—
Mother Clasped Body of Drowned Child—Sang Hymns
to Keep Up Courage.Ⓐtextual note
Special Cable Despatch to The Sun.
A correspondent who was aboard the Wodan describes Capt. Sperling’s heroic achievement. After arriving at the scene Capt. Sperling, who is an experienced diver, quietly completed his arrangements. Divesting himself of his oilskins and heavy sea boots, he descended into a dingey and, with three others, rowed toward the breakwater, pulling like demons.
When they arrived near the wreck Capt. Sperling plunged overboard into the surf, swimming strongly. The waves beat him back twice, but eventually he climbed on the end of the breakwater. He took a moment’s rest and then began a terrible crawl along fifty yards of treacherous masonry. He was often hidden by the spray.
Clinging spider-like to anything available he reached the trestles beneath the wreck, stood up and uncoiled a rope which he carried and flung the end over the wreck. He then began a perilous climb slowly up the side of the wreck. He was buffeted by the waves, but finally with a mighty effort clutched the rail and sprang on the deck.
By this time one of the boatmen had climbed the piles near the wreck. Through the gloom those aboard the Wodan watched Capt. Sperling heave a rope to the man below and lower a bundle, which was laboriously dragged along the pier to another man who was standing amid the spray. In this way the bundle was slowly transferred to the rowboat. This was done three times. Those saved in the three bundles were depositedⒶtextual note there.
Then Capt. Sperling began his perilous descent. Suspended from a rope, he gained the piles and battled his way back to the breakwater. The tide was rising rapidly and he had not a moment to lose. He rejoined his companions who had shared in the rescue work below and they plunged into the water and were dragged into the boat by comrades.
On arriving beside the tug the sailors tenderly got the women aboard. The poor creatures were quite helpless, sodden with wet and blue with the cold. They were just able to murmur prayers of gratitude for their rescuers.
All was ready for their reception below. There were doctors and nurses waiting and restoratives were applied and the poor women were wrapped in blankets. Then the Wodan made a triumphant return.
When Capt. Sperling boarded the Berlin he found the three women huddled together on the hurricane deck screaming and crying hysterically. They threw themselves on their rescuer and had to be soothed before anything could be done for them. They were unable to walk and clung to the necks of the tugboatmen, [begin page 439] hampering their movements. Their clothing was nearly frozen and soaked with icy water.
The captain found Mrs. WennebergⒶtextual note clasping her dead child to her breast. She refused to leave the ship without the corpse and the rescuers were compelled to use force.
Minna Ripler asked the men to save Miss ThieleⒶtextual note first and Capt. Sperling carried her to the side, fastened her securely in a rope cradle, which he slung to the main hawser with a running knot. She was thus landed safely. The others were similarly landed. Mrs. WennebergⒶtextual note was in a pitiable state. Miss Ripler was in better condition than her companions and was able to walk.
Capt. Sperling is not the captain of the Wodan but of a ship that is now lying in the harbor. He privately arranged with the captain of the Wodan, who is a friend of his, to attempt the rescue before the lifeboat went out this morning. He was accompanied on the tug by two nephews and a friend.
A great ovation was given to the lifeboat men on their return after forty-eight hours’ battling with the seas. Their beards were covered with ice and they were suffering terribly from their long exposure.
Interviews with the men and women who were rescued last evening show that they passed the time on the wreck sitting in icy cold water, huddled together for warmth, great waves continually breaking over them. They sang hymns and songs and told stories until they were too exhausted by cold and hunger to do so any longer.
During their long ordeal they had only a few biscuits and scraps of food, which the crew shared with the passengers, and some peppermint lozenges. For the last twenty-four hours not a morsel passed their lips. They were horrified on Friday morning to find that some of them had been sitting on a man’s corpse. The men gave the women all of their clothes possible. One woman was washed off by the waves just before the rescue.
In an interview with Lloyd’s News’s correspondent, after the rescue, Capt. Sperling, who was bruised and shivering and was just recovering from exhaustion, said:
“I thought I would never reach the wreck. It was a terrible fight and I was getting worn out, but I determined to reach them or go under. How can I tell what passed in my mind? I was struggling with the waves and climbing on the wreck. My only thought was whether any person was still alive.
“It gave me hope when I reached the rail and saw them move. No sooner was I on the deck than they seemed to wake out of a trance. All three rushed at me like wild creatures. They looked terrible, so gaunt and bedraggled, with their eyes starting out of their heads. The women seized me by the clothes. One of them flung her arms around my legs. I said: ‘Keep as cool as possible, ladies.’
“They clutched me harder than ever. ‘I implore you to be quiet,’ I said, ‘or we will all four be drowned.’ Then they began to cry and that soothed them.
“My first business was to make fast the rope around what remained of the funnel. As I was doing this I noticed one of the ladies pointing with horror. I looked and saw about ten corpses huddled together in terrible attitudes, staring heavenwards. When I made the rope fast I flung the other end to my mate. Then I got another rope, tied it around the waist of a woman and lowered her by a slip loop down the first rope, which was taut.
“In this way I got the three off. It was a difficult job, for each clung to me. They did not want to go. Then I had a last look around and found that there was nobody [begin page 440] else alive. I struggled back to the piles. When we got back to the port the beach was deserted.”
Salvagers reached the wreck of the Berlin to-day and landed twenty-two bodies from below. No more corpses are believed to be on the wreck of the vessel.
Now I come to another stirring thing. It happened in our own country last night, a quarter of an hour before midnight, and this morning’s newspapers have furnished us the details.
BOLT WRECKS 18 HOUR TRAINⒺexplanatory note.
TRACK ON STEEL TIES SPREADS UNDER PENNA. R. R. FLYER.
Train Rolls Down Embankment and Crashes Through Ice on Conemaugh River—Not One of the 100 Passengers Killed and Only One in Danger of Death.
Pittsburg, Feb. 23.—The Pennsylvania special, the famous New York-Chicago eighteen hour train of the Pennsylvania Railroad, left the tracks at Mineral Point, near Johnstown, at 11:45 o’clock last night, rolled down sixty feet of embankment and crashed through the almost solid ice of the Conemaugh River, the stream that took such a tragic part in the flood of almost two decades ago.
The remarkable feature is that not one of the more than a hundred persons on the train was killed outright. Fifty of the injured are at the hospitals in this city, Altoona and Johnstown.
It was the most unexpected thing that happened.
A new piece of track had been put in at this point a short time ago. Instead of the ordinary wood crossties the track was supported on steel ties, to which the rails are bolted. One of these bolts, the railroad men say, gave way, the rails spread and the train, running around a curve at sixty miles an hour to make up lost time, was thrown to the river.
When the heavy train went over the embankment everything went before it, including the telegraph poles. For that reason it was hours before the outside world could be communicated with and assistance sent to the injured.
In the meantime they were huddled together, many of them devoid of any but night clothing, others with what clothing they did have soaked with the icy waters of the Conemaugh, and still others with blood from their wounds congealing over their bodies.
It did not seem out of place that when assistance did arrive and a special train was started for Pittsburg early this morning with the unhurt and those of the injured who were able to continue on their journey the Rev. Edgar Cope, rector of St. Simeon’s Episcopal Church of Philadelphia, assembled all together in one car and there conducted one of the most solemn services of thanksgiving that has ever been held. Most of the passengers were still without clothing and were wrapped in blankets and bedclothes.
“Let us give thanks to the Lord our God that our lives have been spared,” said the pastor as he opened the brief service. “Our presence here in the flesh at this time [begin page 441] is nothing more than an act of Providence. So let us utter thanks to Him who has permitted us to live.”
Then down on their knees went the survivors and the fervent “amen” of the clergyman was heartily joined in by every person in the car just as the Union Station in this city was reached.
These eventful happenings engage our interest, and they also make us thoughtful. By the official statistics compiled by the United States Government, we find that within the brief compass of the year 1906 our railroads killed 10,000Ⓐtextual note persons outright and injured 60,000Ⓐtextual note othersⒺexplanatory note.
It has been said that the ways of Providence are wonderful, and past finding out, and this is true; but in a good many cases they do not seem so wonderful as are the ways of the pulpit, nor so curious, and obscure, and interesting, as are the results of its mental feats. The language of that clergyman in the train indicates that he fully believes that Providence is so all-comprehensively powerful that He can rescue from death and mutilation any of His children that are in peril by the simple exercise of His will, and at no inconvenience to Himself; also that Providence extended this grace to him and to his ninety-nine fellow-passengers, and that this was a most praiseworthy act and entitled to admiring applause, and to the deepest and humblest gratitude. It is as if a millionaire should contribute ten cents’ worth of bread to a couple of his starving children and then sit down and admire his benevolence while the rest of his family pineⒶtextual note supplicating around him and die of hunger. It is also as if this clergyman, being one of the rescued pair, found nothing to observe in these sorrowful circumstances except merely and solely the benefit which had accrued to him and his brother, and by that happy fortune was stricken so blessedly stone blindⒶtextual note to the rest of the extraordinary episode that he could not even perceive its ghastliness, and stricken so dumb with gratitude for his own escape that he could not utter a word of criticism, reproach, or censure for the treatment which had been meted out to the rest of the family. Ten thousand killed and sixty thousand injured by the railroads; the Larchmont’sⒶtextual note people allowed to go to their pitiful death unhelped by any but a poor sailor-man; the Berlin’sⒶtextual note hundred and twenty-six allowed to go to their miserableⒶtextual note doom without help from any but another good-hearted sailor-man and some brave and devoted life-savingⒶtextual note crews—mere human beings, not all-powerful, but weak, and with lives to lose—and this clergyman in the train is dull enough, sillyⒶtextual note enough, indiscreet enough, to slander HisⒶtextual note Providence with grotesque compliments for doing an inexpensive kindness to one little handful of HisⒶtextual note earthly childrenⒶtextual note while allowing all that multitude of others to drift into misery and death when a nod from HimⒶtextual note could have saved them whole. I do not know what the pulpit’s mind is made of. ItⒶtextual note takes a child’s delight in theatrical exhibitions of the Creator’s physical powers; no other thing so excites its eloquence; it can find opportunity for intemperate admiration where opportunity for sarcasm holds the better chance by a thousand to one.
In this connection I will remark that an elder sister of Harriet Beecher StoweⒺexplanatory note told me this anecdote a generation ago. One summer afternoon when Harriet was a little creature, she was playing about the room where her mother sat at work, when a storm [begin page 442] came up, and presently a thunderbolt struck an apple-tree close by, accompanying the act with a prodigious burst of sound and scattering the abolished tree in fragments all over an acre of ground. The astonished child said,
“Mamma, who did that?”
“God,” answered mamma, reverently.
“What did He do it for?”
“To show His power, my child.”
Later the child reported the matter to the elder sister, who was surprised at one detail, and thought that perhaps she had misheardⒶtextual note, so she said,
“What did mamma say He did it for?”
“To show off,” answered Harriet.
The mother had not intended to utter a sarcasm; neither had the child, but both had done it.
First came the Larchmont disaster . . . the rest of that great company of men and women and children quickly perished] On the night of 11 February, the Joy Line steamboat Larchmont, bound from Providence to New York, collided with a schooner in Block Island Sound. Nearly all of its estimated one hundred and sixty passengers were killed; fourteen of them froze to death in a lifeboat. Captain George W. McVay and the other Larchmont officers were accused of cowardice for their inadequate rescue efforts. The New York newspapers all printed detailed reports of the disaster; Clemens’s particular source has not been identified (New York Times: “Probably 150 Lost in Wreck,” 13 Feb 1907, 1; “How Survivors Escaped,” 14 Feb 1907, 2; “Another Larchmont Victim,” 16 Feb 1907, 3; “Did All I Could for Others—M’Vay,” 17 Feb 1907, 4).
LAST SURVIVORS RESCUED] This article is from the New York Sun of 24 February.
BOLT WRECKS 18 HOUR TRAIN] This article appeared in the New York Sun on 24 February.
official statistics . . . our railroads killed 10,000 persons outright and injured 60,000 others] See the Autobiographical Dictation of 6 January 1907 and the note at 361.2–5.
an elder sister of Harriet Beecher Stowe] Either Catharine Beecher (1800–1878) or Mary Beecher Perkins (1805–1900), both of whom lived in Hartford’s Nook Farm neighborhood (Andrews 1950, 17).
Source documents.
Sun Facsimile of the New York Sun, 24 February 1907, 1, 3, 4 (the original clippings that Hobby transcribed are now lost): ‘LAST SURVIVORS . . . the vessel.’ (438.4–440.4); ‘BOLT WRECKS . . . was reached.’ (440.8–441.5).TS1 Typescript, leaves numbered 1825–38, made from Hobby’s notes and the Sun and revised.
TS1 was made from Hobby’s notes, and from two articles from the New York Sun of the previous day, and revised by Clemens. The texts of both articles have been abridged by Clemens, presumably by marking or clipping the newspaper printings. For the texts of both articles, the relevant portions of the original printings provide the base text. We follow Clemens’s handwritten alterations on TS1.
The typescript originally came to a close on page 1836, with ‘is made of.’ (441.36) and a rule; but Clemens must have decided soon after to add the concluding anecdote, marking the previous ending ‘(No ¶)’ to run it into the addendum on pp. 1837–38.