Captain Fred Whitney Folker

A quaint home, owned by a former sea captain, stands on Avon Street in Hantsport overlooking the river. It is situated halfway between the former shipyards of J.B. North and Ezra Churchill & Sons. 

Years ago the captain added a room to the house resembling a ship’s cabin. Through the porthole, and using a little imagination, one can see the barque Stadacona sailing on the incoming tide to Windsor. Watching from the riverbank is a woman. The captain of the ship, with his son by his side, is waving to his wife as the vessel passes their home. 

The imagery is actually more truth than fiction. Captain William Folker took his youngest son Fred with him on numerous voyages aboard the Stadacona in the mid 1890’s.

It could be stated that William and Almira Folker’s son cut his nautical teeth on the belaying pins and spars of his father’s barque. And, like his father, his life at sea was eventually filled with astonishing stories and remarkable achievements.

Frederick Whitney Folker was born on April 21^st, 1879, the youngest of the six children of Captain William and Almira (Parker) Folker. He grew up in a family that epitomized “those who went down to the sea in ships”. His grandfather Thomas Parker and his father were both master mariners. He had one brother who was a captain, two brothers who worked in the shipyards and two sisters who married captains.

Unlike his father, Fred Folker wasn’t able to fulfill his seaman’s certificates in waters of the British Empire. The “Golden Age of Sail” had come to an end. Vessels made of wood, trimmed with canvas sails and powered by wind, had been replaced by steel hulled ships with paddle wheels or screw propellers powered by steam engines. These changes required Fred Folker to leave Hantsport in order to attain certification in the larger and faster ships of the twentieth century. Certification requirements had changed as well with each rank needing not only knowledge of the position but also specific years of experience.

Folker moved to New York where years later he fell in love with Grace Louise Meyer, a German immigrant who met Folker while sailing as a passenger on his ship. They married in Manhattan on July 18^th, 1928. Unlike his parents who married very young, Fred and Grace were ages fifty and forty respectively. Together they had one son, Fred Whitney Jr.

After sailing a few years in Canadian, American and South American waters, Fred Folker gained employment with the New York & Porto Rico Steamship Line. His first position was Quartermaster on the S.S. Mae.  At age twenty-one it was obvious he was destined to become one of their elite officers. Captain Henry McDonnell, a Master with the company commended Folker, who was serving as McDonnell’s First Officer at that time. In a memo to the owners he remarked that Folker was “a sober, smart and intelligent young man — a trustworthy officer.”  That was the type of officer companies in the passenger line business needed. The shipping company did regular eleven day cruises to the Caribbean carrying both passengers and cargo.

Fred Folker attained his captain’s certificate at the age of twenty-eight and first took command of the S.S. Vasco.  His thirty-two year career with the New York & Porto Rico Line saw him serve as Master of the Santurce, Vasco, Borinquen, Carolina, Ponce, Brazos, San Juan, San Lorenzo and Coamo. The latter two ships were the finest of the Line’s ships. Folker commanded both of these vessels, spending the last eight years of his career as Master of the S.S. Coamo. Under Folker’s command the Coamo never failed, not even a day, on its regular route. This was considered a remarkable feat in the annals of navigation and a feather in the caps of its commanding officer and crew. 

In 1931 Captain Folker was installed as a member of the Marine Society of New York, a prestigious organization that, among other things, assisted destitute children of seamen. He retired in 1939 after forty years at sea and returned to Hantsport. In his files is a letter addressed to him dated July 10^th, 1939 signed by twenty officers who: “considered it a privilege and a pleasure to have served under your command.” Unfortunately his retirement was short-lived. Captain Fred Folker died in Hantsport on April 24^th, 1943 at the age of 64.

On Board the S.S. Santurce

The newspaper headlines from May 4^th, 1910 make for intriguing reading. The interesting aspect of those newspaper accounts was how differently they interpreted a wireless radio message sent by Captain Cates of the oil tanker S.S. Ligonier. The captain had reported a collision between his ship and the S.S. Santurce, a freighter captained by Fred Folker. Wireless telegraphy was a relatively new form of communication in the Cape Cod region at that time and the Ligonier was the only one of the two ships equipped with the technology.  

Captain Cates’ message to the shore station was brief. He reported the collision, stating his ship was crushed in the bow but not severely damaged; he had taken 17 crew members of the Santurce on board his ship. Captain Folker, the chief engineer, along with two engine room crew remained on board the Santurce with the hope of running her to shore. Cates also requested help for the Santurce and said he would “stand-by”. He maintained communication with Captain Folker by megaphone until the ships drifted too far apart.

Cates’ wireless message was picked up by the newspapers. Their columns the next day varied greatly on the incident. One paper indicated Folker’s deck crew deserted the sinking Santurce, jumping on board the Ligonier while the two ships were lodged. Another story indicated Capt. Folker ordered all but his officers and engine room crew to abandon ship. Yet another account stated the Ligonier was missing and possibly had sunk with 45 persons aboard. Dozens of erroneous accounts of the collision appeared in papers across the United States. One can only imagine how the rumours grew and spread!

Folker, by then a captain for three years, played a heroic role in saving his crew and freighter that night following the collision with a ship twice the size of the Santurce. The S.S. Santurce had left Boston three days earlier after unloading a shipment of sugar from San Juan and was destined for New York.  Shortly after 8 pm, in dense fog off Cape Cod, the Santurce was struck on the starboard bow by the S.S. Ligonier, a tanker carrying several hundred thousand gallons of oil. The lookout on the Santurce sounded the alarm shortly before the two ships collided; too late however for either captain to alter course. The collision tore a gapping 12 foot hole in the Santurce, part of which was below the waterline. Fortunately the damage to the Ligonier didn’t impact the oil compartments, preventing an environmental disaster.

However, the situation on the Santurce was grim.  Water was pouring in the “after compartment” and flowing toward the boiler room. Folker ordered the immediate closure of the bulkheads in an attempt to keep the fire pit from flooding. Although water eventually reached the engine room it did not soak the furnaces as pumps were able to stay ahead of the incoming seawater. Folker ordered “full steam ahead”.  He and another officer stood at the bow as the Santurce limped 20 miles around the Cape, in the pea soup fog, toward the beach in Provincetown. The ship’s bow was high in the air and the wake of her screw washed over the taffrail (rail at stern).  There was fear that the waterlogged ship’s bulkheads might fail, taking the Santruce to the ocean bottom within minutes.

At dawn Folker was able to breathe a sigh of relief when the Santurce was beached in Provincetown proving his former commanding officer correct in that Fred Folker was indeed “a sober, smart and intelligent young man — a trustworthy officer.”  

On Board the S.S. Coamo

It was during the mid 1930’s when the President of the Dominican Republic, Rafael L. Trujillo, was modernizing his country that Captain Folker gained much fame, particularly among ship’s officers who sailed the Caribbean. One project which would improve the economy and bring prosperity to Trujillo City (present day Santo Domingo), the county’s capital, was to dredge the Ozama River and inner harbour, thus permitting large ships direct access to the city. The Ozama river was made prominent by Christopher Columbus who navigated the waterway in December of 1492 on board the Santa Maria.

With a new pier constructed, President Trujillo eagerly awaited a shipping line that would risk the untried channel. Realizing the tourist benefit and economic spinoff for both the country and the New York & Puerto Rico Line, Captain Folker was asked to take the risk. If successful, it would eliminate the costly measure of shuttling cargo and passengers in smaller boats to the capital, a labour intensive and time consuming task. In addition to cargo, the Coamo could carry 350 passengers.

On August 18^th, 1936, with President Trujillo viewing the much awaited passing of the ship from the vantage point of Fort Ozama, Captain Folker and his crew skillfully manoeuvred the 7,057 ton S.S. Coamo up the river and into the inner harbour. Their sense of accomplishment and pride must have been bolstered when they received a twenty-one gun salute from the fortress. 

Fort Ozama, coincidently, was the very spot Columbus landed over four hundred years earlier. 

Being 429 feet long, 60 feet wide and requiring a draft of 24 feet, the Coamo far surpassed the size of any previous ship on the river. Joining the President for the viewing were business leaders from America, eager for commercial prospects if this venture was successful. As the Coamo finally gained entrance to the city harbour and made its way to the pier, over twenty thousand jubilant residents cheered its arrival. Dominican and American flags flew everywhere.

“I felt like a modern Columbus” the captain later told those who greeted him dockside. “I could not help but contrast our tremendous reception, which symbolized the opening of the new canal with the landing of that first great navigator.” Captain Fred Folker and his crew had definitely demonstrated the safety of the new channel and harbour. What earlier was an impossible feat now opened the Port of Trujillo for business. “The new facilities”, the captain stated, “would make ship entry, loading and unloading, as simple as in New York.”  The captain was hailed as a hero by the Dominican government. The master’s response:  “My men were the heroes of the day.”

Almost two years to the day after that historic event, the Council of the Order of Merit – Juan Pablo Duarte issued the following Decree (#2409);  “By virtue of the authority of the National Congress of May 26, 1936, considering that Mr. F. W. Folker, Captain of the S.S. Coamo of the New York & Porto Rico Steamship Company was the first who, in a ship of large size entered the port of Trujillo City, thereby demonstrating the safety of that port which now contributes to the National prosperity. having heard the opinion of the council of the Order of Merit, Juan Pablo Duarte Decree conceding to Mr. F. W. Folker, Captain of the S. S. Coamo the decoration of the Order of Merit Juan Pablo Duarte in the grade of Knight.  Given in Trujillo City, District of Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic, the fifteenth day of August, 1938.  Signed: Rafael L. Trujillo.” 

An article published in October, 1938 noted:  The commendation bestowed on Captain Fred Folker is one of the highest honours that can be conferred by the Dominican Republic for distinguished service to the nation. In bestowing the award to Captain Folker, the Dominican Government also took into consideration the Captain’s past acts in the interests of citizens of the Republic.

Note that the president’s photo is personally addressed to Captain Folker and signed, making it interesting to discover what past acts the captain had done for the republic.

Captain Folker was on vacation when the cable from Santo Domingo arrived at the headquarters of the New York & Porto Rico Steamship Lines. It read as follows: “Please advise Captain Folker he has been decorated with the Order of Juan Pablo Duarte of the Dominican Republic.”  General Superintendent of the Steamship Line, B.C. Edwards, forwarded the cable to Folker while adding the following comment: “You may want to write to the president of Santo Domingo acknowledging this honour.”  One might wonder if this was necessary advice, but considering a statement in the newspaper El Mundo written just prior to Captain Folker’s retirement the suggestion may have been warranted. The journalist, Jeorge Felix, stated the captain was “a modest man and timid to a certain extent.”

In the El Mundo retirement article Captain Folker spoke of his luck during his forty years at sea. Not once was he at sea in a hurricane. What he did not tell that journalist was his experience in a hurricane while docked in San Juan, Puerto Rico or of other major storms he encountered while in command of the S.S. San Lorenzo.  Perhaps Jeorge Felix didn’t specifically ask the modest captain about that. Interviews with other newspapers give a glimpse as to the dangers Captain Folker encountered while sailing in the hurricane prone waters of the Caribbean.

Footnote regarding the S.S. Coamo. During WWII the Coamo was involved in the rescue of 75 passengers and crew off the HMS Lady Hawkins which had been sunk by German U-Boat 66. 250 lives were lost. One of those rescued was Hantsport mariner Robert Clayton. On Dec. 2^nd, 1942 the S.S. Coamo was sunk by Germany U-Boat 604 with 186 lives lost.

On board the S.S. San Lorenzo

Barometer Falling

Hurricanes were not given names in that era but some bear the name of a special occasion such as the one Captain Folker experienced in San Juan on the day celebrating Saint Philip (San Felipe Segundo), September 13^th, 1928. Early radio reports indicated a tropical storm was pending but the worst of it would pass by 80 miles south of Puerto Rico. At that time hurricane warnings were not as accurate as today nor were they even available to many inhabitants of the Caribbean Islands.

Folker became alarmed when the barometric pressure dropped from 29.5 to 28.85 inches in just three hours; a phenomenon he had not seen before. He immediately took measures to secure the San Lorenzo. It was an “all hands on deck” situation. Twenty–two hawsers (mooring lines) were put in place as the category five hurricane with 260 km/h (160 mph) winds began to pummel the island. Folker later said he (had) ”never seen anything like the fury of that hurricane. The air was filled with flying objects and rain fell with the force of hailstones in the abundance of a waterfall.” For twenty-four hours his crew along with every male passenger on board weathered the severity of the storm. It was critical that the hawsers stayed tight to prevent the wave action from pounding the ship against the pier. As lines snapped a dozen men leapt into action to replace them. From 2 am to 3 pm they watched as massive waves tossed smaller boats high onto the shore and the wind ripped roofs off pier sheds. Some ships were swept out to sea while others were dashed against the rocks. Folker’s exhausted crew and passengers somehow managed to keep the San Lorenzo tight against the pier. None had a moment’s rest in twenty-four hours!

When the fury of that hurricane passed Puerto Rico, the other islands and the southern coast of the United States, the death toll and damage was the worst ever recorded to that date. 4000 lives were lost; almost 25,000 homes destroyed and another 192,000 damaged. 500,000 people were left homeless. The estimated loss in today’s figures was over $1.5 billion.

Captain Fred Folker’s decisive action saved his ship, crew and those passengers who were still on board but now he was faced with a new dilemma. The city of San Juan was basically destroyed; debris, downed trees and power lines made travel and communication impossible. Over one hundred passengers were to have boarded the San Lorenzo for the return trip to New York. It became apparent to Folker that chaos would follow as islanders faced shortages of food, water and shelter.

With the realization that the 100 passengers who had made reservations could not possibly reach the port, Folker made the decision to weigh anchor. Luckily he did as in the ensuing days riots broke out all over the island. No doubt the safety of his passengers, his crew and his ship were foremost in his decision making. The food supplies on the San Lorenzo would surely have been a target of the looters.

Captain Folker may indeed have been lucky to have never experienced a hurricane while at sea and likely, after his experience of the San Felipe Segundo hurricane, would he ever want to experience one. He did however, from time to time, face angry seas during those cruises from New York to the West Indies. On one occasion he recalled “the grand piano plunged about the dance floor until it resembled kindling wood more than it did a piano”.

A keepsake letter found in Captain Fred Folker’s files gives wonderful testimony as to why he was so highly respected by a president, his superiors, his fellow officers and his passengers. The letter, penned by passenger C.M. Britten of New York on February 3^rd, 1933 was sent to Folker after what must have been a harrowing and distressing cruise aboard the S. S. Coamo; a trip that took two extra days.

The article written by Jeorge Felix when Folker retired referred to the captain as being a timid and modest man.  Modest — yes.  Timid; likely not! Perhaps Mr. Fleix made a similar misrepresentation of the captain’s character as did the journalists who misrepresented the facts about the collision incident in May of 1910.  Those that served under Fred Folker’s command; having experienced his skillful handling of stressful situations would never have thought of their commander as being timid. They would have likely agreed that Captain Fred Whitney Folker was a wise, unselfish, caring and empathic human being.

The author extends appreciation to the Folker family for the use of news clippings, photos and personal stories of Capt. Fred Folker. 

 Captain William Folker

1837-1921

“His life, spent mainly at sea, sailing to every port in the world, with all its risks and dangers and adventures, abounded with interest, and were the incidents published in a book would be eagerly read.”

The above quotation from William Folker’s obituary was obviously written by someone familiar with his life story.

Ship logs, newspaper articles, historical records, and family scrapbooks all substantiate that Folker’s nearly forty years at sea were filled with extraordinary adventures. As a risk-taker he reaped astonishing rewards but in some scenarios suffered dire consequences.

William Folker was born on July 13^th, 1837 in Snettisham, a village in Norfolk County, England; five miles from the North Sea. He took his first risk when he set sail as a cabin boy on a vessel bound for America from King’s Lynn, a nearby seaport. Boys aged 14–16 were often sent to sea by their parents to learn the skills necessary to becoming a master mariner. Some parents paid for this opportunity while others, fortunate enough to have a relative as an officer on a vessel, used their influence to secure a position for their sons. Serving meals and cleaning officers’ rooms were daily chores while scrubbing decks and taking turns at the helm in calm seas were also part of a cabin boy’s duties. In return for their services, the officers taught the young lads navigational skills, how to trim sails, tie knots and all the other skills required of a sailor. The boys played an important role relaying messages between the captain and crew, learning much from the orders they were communicating. The job was not always a pleasant one. Numerous articles chronicling the lives of cabin boys indicate that they were sometimes subjected to verbal, physical and even sexual abuse. In spite of those risks, the lure of adventure on the high seas and tales of exotic destinations enticed many young men to accept the job in hopes of one day becoming the master of their own vessel.

William Folker eventually rose through the ranks from that beginning as a cabin boy to achieve a high degree of success as a mariner. During his career he attained his Captain’s papers by age nineteen, a Master’s Certificate while in his forties, and became the owner or at least a shareholder of numerous ships.

Captains on sailing ships often led an isolated and lonely life and William Folker was no exception. Voyages were measured as the lapse of time from when a vessel left home until it returned, in some instances several years. The crew were mostly restricted to the forecastle and did not associate with officers. Many captains took their families with them to overcome their loneliness. How grateful Folker must have been when his wife and children were able to accompany him. When ships entered foreign ports they often lay at anchor for weeks or even months waiting for orders as to their next cargo and destination. On those occasions, visitation from vessel to vessel was a common practice for the captain and families. More often however they sailed without family. One entry in his logbook for the barque J. R. Hea simply reads: “My fourth Christmas at sea.”

Captain William Folker was not only a skilled seaman; he had an artistic side. He spent some of his long hours at sea painting and writing poetry. Samples of his talent remain to this day with his descendants. Records indicate he made 13 voyages around the world. It would have been wonderful reading, as the obituary author noted, if all of his adventures had been recorded.

Some of what is known is covered in the stories that follow.

New Beginnings in Hall’s Harbour, Nova Scotia

The ship carrying cabin boy Folker arrived in Halls Harbour, Nova Scotia circa 1853; quite likely for fresh water and supplies while en route to the United States. The quaint fishing village on the Bay of Fundy was, according to Eaton’s “History of Kings County”, a hub of commercial activity where merchants imported goods from foreign ports.

The sheltered harbour was also one of the first shipbuilding areas along the Bay of Fundy coast. It was here in Cornwallis Township that Folker’s fortunes in Nova Scotia began. He met the family of Tom and Rachael Parker, one of the early settlers. They had two sons and six daughters. Young Folker became smitten with Maria Almira Parker. Tom Parker’s sister Margaret had married Samuel Bucknam. Their son John, Almira’s first cousin, was a marine and naval architect and a partner of local ship builder David Eaton. The Eaton’s were one of the most influential families in the province at the time. Two other Cornwallis citizens played a role in Folker’s career. The first was J.B. North who moved in 1855 to Hantsport to commence ship construction. The second was Jedediah Newcomb, brother-in-law to Hantsport ship builder Ezra Churchill. These family and community connections would prove invaluable to the young Englishman’s future.

Almira Parker was almost five years younger than William but he was so infatuated with this young lady he took a risk in the name of love. When his ship weighed anchor Folker was not among the crew. One can only wonder what the captain thought of his cabin boy when he discovered the lad missing. Almira’s family took William in and once it became apparent that he saw a future with Captain Parker’s daughter, her father made his position clear. Family members say Captain Parker told William that “he couldn’t marry his daughter until he was successful in what he wanted to do in life”. Perhaps that was the motivation that prompted Almira’s suitor to become a captain over the next few years. The gamble of abandoning his ship paid off when, on Dec. 27^th, 1857, he married this girl with whom he had fallen in love. Coincidently, their marriage took place on the anniversary of her parent’s wedding.

Folker’s sailing career, after arriving in Hall’s Harbour, can be traced through family memorabilia including log books of the vessels he commanded. One could surmise he gained his early nautical skills while sailing with Almira’s family or with the Bucknams. Records show he sailed on the Advance, built in Cornwallis Township in 1858 by David Eaton and on the schooner Florence, owned by J.B. North of Hantsport. He also commanded the J.R. Hea, another of David Eaton’s vessels.

In the early 1860’s Captain Folker and Almira moved to Berwick and then to Hantsport where they resided for the remainder of their lives. It seems only fitting that two of their sons would become ship captains, two daughters would marry ship captains, and two other sons would work in ship construction.

On board the brig Herald

In 1861 William Folker received his British Certificate, adding yet another credential to those he had already achieved. That year he took command of the Herald, a 231 ton brigantine built in Hantsport by J. B. North in 1854. At the helm of the Herald, he would soon undertake a major risk.

Folker had relieved long-time captain, John Toye, one of the Herald’s owners. Others with ownership shares included J. B. North, Capt. Kendal Holmes, Jedediah Newcomb, ship builder David Huntley and David R. DeWolf, a resident of New York. DeWolf, born in Kings County, was a ship broker.

On or about the 20^th of May, 1861 the Herald arrived in Boston and was immediately chartered by William Williams of New York to go to Beaufort, North Carolina and load cargo for England. This was just five weeks after the start of the American Civil War. United States President Abraham Lincoln had declared a blockade of Confederate ports one month earlier. Lincoln’s proclamation created a 3,500 nautical mile barricade stretching from Virginia to Texas with the intent to prevent aid being given to enemies of the United States.

This was referred to as the Anaconda Plan. Although the United Kingdom remained neutral in the Civil War, the blockade of southern ports negatively impacted the textile industry in England as cotton exports became increasingly difficult. Running the blockade would become a lucrative business for captains who dared to risk it.

On May 22, Captain Folker cleared customs in Boston, declaring his destination as the Turk’s Islands in the Caribbean Sea. However, once the Herald left Boston harbour he set sail for Beaufort under ballast. Arriving at his destination on the morning of the 9^th of June, Folker waited until the cover of darkness before entering the harbour. Insurgents had destroyed the lights at the harbour entrance making it less conspicuous to see vessels trying to gain entrance to the port at night but also making it more dangerous.

Over the next five weeks the Herald loaded cargo consisting of casks of turpentine, tar and rosin, as well as a shipment of tobacco and naval stores. Some of this cargo was owned by North Carolina exporters while other goods were consigned by merchants in London. The Herald also had one passenger, Nelson Dane Parmelee, who was travelling to Liverpool, England. On the morning of July 16^th, Folker set sail for England but his journey was short-lived. On the high seas off Cape Hatteras the naval frigate St. Lawrence, a steamer, overtook the Herald. Initially the officer who boarded the Herald gave no indication that there had been any improprieties. He returned to his frigate but then returned again and asked Captain Folker to go with him and bring the ship’s registry papers and log book. Upon examination of these documents on the St. Lawrence, the Herald was then claimed to be in violation of the blockade and a prize crew was sent on board. The Herald was taken first to Hampton Roads, Virginia and later to Philadelphia to be adjudicated.

The following outlines Captain Folker’s arduous journey as he and the owners of the Herald and its cargo navigated the Civil War era justice system. Beginning with the initial adjudication by F.H. Stringham, the US Navy’s Commanding Officer of the Atlantic Blockading Squadron, next the District Court Trial, followed by the Circuit Court of Appeal and lastly the Supreme Court of the United States appeal; the process would take from July, 1861 to February, 1866.

The whereabouts of Capt. Folker and his crew after their brig was apprehended by Capt. Hugh Purviance of the frigate St. Lawrence is not fully clear. Records indicated Folker was detained on the Herald after it was taken to Hampton Roads. According to archivist Joe Keefe of the National Archives of Boston, captains were held accountable more so than the rest of the officers and crew. Whereas his crew were likely British subjects, Keefe stated they would “usually be paroled, and as part of their parole they would sign a document stating that they will no longer accept a crew position on any ship in rebellion against the US Government.” Once that was done, they would have been released to return home via ships departing for British Empire ports. In Captain Folker’s case, court proceedings indicate he remained in Philadelphia while adjudication of his ship and cargo took place. Family members recall being told he spent time in jail for his role in violating the blockade until after the Battle of Bull Run. As there were two battles by that name Folker could have been detained until either July 21, 1861 or August 30, 1862. It is very likely he was detained at least until the end of the District Court trial in February, 1862 and may very well have not been released until later that summer. Civil War records searched by this author show no evidence to support long-term imprisonment.

Adjudication

The adjudication in Philadelphia took place on August 6^th, 1861. The Herald, assessed at $5,000 and the cargo, assessed at $57,708 were libelled as a “prize of war”. In today’s dollars those assessed values would be about $ 200,000 and $ 2.5 million respectively.

Political Intervention

Captain Folker gained an ally in his passenger, Nelson Parmelee, who went to New York and reported the capture of the Herald to the British Consul, Mr. Charles Kortright. Kortright immediately notified Lord Richard Lyons, British Ambassador to the United States, who intervened in Washington on behalf of the Herald. The following is a “New York Times” article that appeared on August 19^th, 1861 reporting on the capture of the Herald after it was taken to Philadelphia.

“Lord Lyons, hearing of the capture at Washington, visited the Secretary of the Navy, and represented that the Herald belonged to British subjects in Nova Scotia, and demanded her release. A release was made out and sent to this city (Hampton Roads), but previous to its arrival the Herald was brought in, and the prize master had delivered her up to the United States authorities. The order of discharge was not, therefore, obeyed. Lord Lyons then made representations to the Secretary of State, Mr. (William) Seward, and another order was given directing that the vessel should be surrendered to her owners; but between the reception of the two orders, the papers of the brig were examined here, and it was found that the brig, though apparently belonging to British owners, was owned by Americans, and also that her intentions and orders were to force the blockade at Charleston. These facts were made known to Secretary Seward, and he immediately withdrew the order for her release, and directed that she should be subject to the decision of the prize court in Philadelphia.”

The “was owned by Americans” claim in this article became one of the contentious issues in this case. The authorities in the US felt the Herald was not a British owned property. David R. DeWolf, who lived in New York was a British subject as were the other owners, however two of the owners; DeWolf and Toye, had purchased shares in the Herald but had not registered them. Several affidavits were sworn by Folker, DeWolf and a Mr. Joseph Woodworth as to the fact that the Herald was a British owned ship. Joseph Woodworth was a Hantsport native who worked and lived in Philadelphia. He swore before the British Consul in Philadelphia that he was present at the launching of the Herald as was DeWolf.  As far as the assertion that Capt. Folker was trying to get past the blockade at Charleston, that may have been an error on the part of the newspaper. It is known that the Herald was in Beaufort, North Carolina. Irrespective of these issues, the ruling by Secretary of State Seward prevented Captain Folker and the owners from recovering the vessel and the cargo. The owners of the cargo were, for the most part Southerners, and therefore enemies of the United States. If any cargo owners were from Union states, they could reasonably be seen as betraying their government.

The article in the “New York Times” references the correspondence between Flag Officer F.H. Stringham, the US Navy’s Commanding Officer of the Atlantic Blockading Squadron and the Secretary of the US Navy, Gideon Welles; as well as the correspondence between Lord Lyons, British Ambassador and Secretary of State William Seward. Flag Officer Stringham’s letter to Gideon Welles dated Aug. 1, 1861: “I have the honour to acknowledge receipt of letter from the Department July 30, containing copy of anonymous communication to honourable William H Seaward, New York, July 25; also letter of July 29, directing release of the British brig Herald, seized by the St. Lawrence. This vessel having sailed for Philadelphia, I forward a copy of your letter to Capt. Du Pont, who will carry it into effect. Respectfully, your obedient servant, S.H. Stringham.”

Over the next two months Capt. Folker filed appeals for the ship and cargo as did David DeWolf and William Williams.

District Court

The District Court, on February 8, 1862 condemned the vessel and the 655 casks of turpentine claimed by Folker, on behalf of North Carolina owners, and rejected the Master’s claim on behalf of the North Carolina shippers for the tobacco, as well as Williams’ claim for the barrels of turpentine, tar and rosin and the claims of David Huntley and Company for other items of cargo.

As for the vessel, the court said: “She should be condemned, both because her destination was falsified at the port of departure, and because her master, in the preparatory examination, made false statements, for the purpose of deception as to the ownership of the cargo.“

With respect to the 655 casks of turpentine, the court said: “The several shipments of turpentine which are not included in the claim of Mr. Williams have been claimed by the master, on behalf of the respective owners. They are parties who can have no standing in court as claimants. These claims are rejected, and the subjects of them condemned.”

With respect to the turpentine, tar, and rosin, claimed by Williams, the court said: “The claim of Mr. Williams for the tar and rosin and a portion of the spirits of turpentine cannot be allowed. But in rejecting it, I ought not to condemn the subjects of it. The bills of laden for this part of the cargo, described the shipper as an agent of the Liverpool consignees. This indicates an ownership in parties who, according to the rule of proceeding, are allowed a year to prosecute their claims.”

The court said, respecting the tobacco claimed by the Master on behalf of the North Carolina shippers: “The shipments of tobacco are according to the respective bills of laden, for the account of other parties in England, to whom the like delay should be extended. The claim in or disposed by the captain on behalf of other parties, who are probably the true owners of tobacco, is rejected.”

Circuit Court

The court records went on to state: “No claims having been in or disposed within the year allowed to such cases, by any neutral person for the turpentine, tar and rosin embraced in Williams’ claim, or for the tobacco embraced in the Master’s claim, the District Court finally condemned those subjects. The respective claimants having appealed to the Circuit Court from the sentences, that court, on October 18, 1862, did affirm the decrees and pronounce for the condemnation of the vessel and cargo. From this decree, the respective claimants were allowed to present appeals to this Court.”

Legal representatives, having failed to obtain the release of Captain Folker, the vessel and the return of the cargo then appealed the case to the Supreme Court of the United States. The following is an extract of the court findings.

SUPREME COURT

The Brig Herald and Cargo, William Folker, appellant — Vs.— The United States

Case # 70US 135, 2-5-66

Messrs. James Speed, Atty. Gen. and J. Hubley Ashton, assistant attorney general for the United States presented the case against the Herald and Captain Folker.

Representatives for the appellant’s were St. George T. Campbell, Beebe, Donahue and William Dean.

Damning Evidence

“It is contended on behalf of the United States, that the decree of the Circuit Court, condemning the vessel and cargo, should be affirmed, on the following grounds:

1. That the vessel and cargo are liable to condemnation or breach of the blockade at Beaufort, North Carolina.
2. That the vessel was liable to seizure on July 16, 1861 and was subject to condemnation for sailing to her primary destination at Beaufort, after the notification of the intended blockade of the Port of North Carolina, by the President’s proclamation of April 19, 1861, from a port of the United States for a port of North Carolina, independently of any question of the actual blockade of that port.
3. That the vessel was subject to condemnation for sailing after said notification under a charter party, for a voyage from Boston to Liverpool, by way of Beaufort with the falsified clearance representing a fictitious destination from Boston to Turk’s Island.
4. That the vessel was confiscated because of the conduct of the Master in knowingly making false statements as to the ownership of the cargo, in his preparatory examination.
5. That the entire cargo of the Herald was the property of enemies of the United States and as such, subject to condemnation.

The brig Herald, a Nova Scotia built and originally a wholly Nova Scotia owned vessel, arrived at Boston on or about May 20, 1861. A state of war existed on that day between the United States and the insurgent people of certain states one of which was North Carolina. She carried a British register and a British flag. A portion 5/64 of her was owned, however, by Mr. David R. De Wolf, a merchant of New York. This interest, acquired in 1854, was never registered, nor was it evidenced by any proprietary document.”

The opinion of the Supreme Court – delivered by Mr. Chief Justice Chase

“The libel claimed the forfeiture of the brig and cargo as prize of war. The Master prayed restoration of the vessel in behalf of six alleged owners, all British subjects, of whom five were domiciled in Nova Scotia, and one in New York. He also prayed restitution of a part of the cargo, which consisted wholly of turpentine, tar, rosin, and tobacco products of North Carolina and Virginia, on behalf of the owners living in North Carolina; and of another part on behalf of persons believe to have an Interest, residing in New York, South Carolina, and in England. Restitution of the rest of the cargo was claimed by William Williams, a merchant, and a native and resident of New York. No proof of ownership of cargo was made, except on behalf of Williams and the parties living in North Carolina.

The principal question in this case is, was the Brig lawful prize? She was a neutral vessel, and the answer to the question must depend on her employment at the time of the capture.

Her master, under charter to Williams, had taken a clearance at Boston on 22 May, 1861, for Turk’s Island, while her real destination, concealed from the officers of the customs and from the crew, was Beaufort, in North Carolina. The excuse given by the master for false clearance in the concealment was his apprehension that his crew would not consent to a voyage to Beaufort, and his asserted intention to proceed to Turk’s Island, in case he should find Beaufort blockaded. Under the circumstances he sailed for Beaufort and, after laying on and off the entrance to the harbour about 24 hours, succeeded in getting in on 10 June. He saw, as he says, no blockading vessel at this time.

He remained at Beaufort taking in cargo, about a month, and then sailed for Liverpool.

The actual establishment of the effective blockade of the ports of North Carolina, in pursuance of the President’s proclamation of this 27^th of April night 1861 was notified by Commodore Pendergast on 30 April; and is a matter of history that the notification, as well as the proclamation, became at once well-known throughout the country. It is impossible to believe that the Master of the Herald, at Boston, on 23 May, could have been ignorant of the facts so notorious. His conduct on arrival near Beaufort strongly indicates his apprehension of capture. The lights at the entrance of the harbour had been destroyed by the insurgents, and yet, though arriving in the morning of the ninth, he lay off and on some 20 miles south, all that day, and went in during the succeeding night.

The vessel, when once within the harbour, proceeded to take in a cargo. Some difficulties were encountered from the action of the rebel military authorities, and from the disturbed conditions of the country; but the laden was at length completed and the vessel sailed, as already stated.

During the month which he lapsed from arrival until departure, the effectiveness and stringency of the blockade were marginally increased. The Master, it is true, asserts that he still remained ignorant of its existence; but the evidence shows that it was the common topic of conversation in Beaufort and Morehead city; and he says himself that, while he was taking in cargo he saw from the tops of buildings, with a glass, a “man of war” off the harbour, once about three weeks, and the other about one week, before sailing. Another witness, a hand on the brig, says during the time the vessel was lying at Beaufort, he saw three different “man of war” off the harbour; and during the last two weeks he saw a “man of war” as often as once in three days. A letter from one of the shippers of the cargo, found on the brig, informs his correspondent that “a smoke had been seen off in the offing at one time, and it was thought to be one of the blockading squadron.”

It would be difficult to make more conclusive proof of the existence of the blockade, or of notice of the fact to the master of the captured vessel.

The cargo was shipped to be conveyed from the port by this brig, and it was in the same offense.

The facts of the case supply other grounds of condemnation. The shares of the vessel, owned in New York, and the portions of the cargo belonging to Williams, of New York, might be condemned for trading with the enemy; and other portions of the cargo might be condemned as enemies property; but it is enough that the vessel and cargo were equally involved in the attempt to violate the blockade. Both were rightfully captured. The decree must be affirmed.”

It had taken over four years for the case to be heard by the Supreme Court of the United States. That took place on January 4^th, 1866 and the decision was delivered on February 5^th, 1866. Their verdict in respect to the vessel upheld the 1862 Court decision and is recorded in the case file as noted below.

The Brig Herald and Cargo

Captured July 16, 1861; libeled August 6, 1861

Vessel appraised at——-$   5,000.00                          

Cargo appraised at——- $57,708.50                           

Vessel condemned in the District Court March 18, 1862.

Cargo (part of) condemned in the District Court March 18, 1862

Cargo (residue of) condemned in the District Court October 7, 1862.

Appeal to Circuit Court from decree of condemnation of March 18, 1862

Appeal to Circuit Court from decree of condemnation of Oct. 7, 1862 and Oct. 17, 1862

Vessel and cargo condemned in the Circuit Court October 28, 1862

Gross proceeds of sale of vessel——— –$ 4,000                   

Gross proceeds of sale of cargo———- $ 67,444.18             

                                                                   $ 71,444.18

There was an increase of funds by investment of $17,818.96 in gold in Treasury notes of the United States —- $6459.37

Total $77,903.55       In today’s dollars that amounted to about $ 3 million.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Article that appeared in a Welch newspaper:

Taken from the supplement to the “Monmouthshire Merlin and South Wales Advertiser”, August 24, 1861

Running the blockade – Boston, August 1, 1861.

The British brig Herald, which was captured July 16, and taken to Philadelphia, for attempting to run the blockade, as reported yesterday, cleared from Boston May 27, ostensibly for Turks Island, but was then chartered by parties in New York, for Beaufort, North Carolina, with the intent to try the experiment of running the blockade.

It is well-known in this city, and in the city of New York, that other British vessels have left these ports within 30 days for Wilmington and other ports in North Carolina, to take cargoes for England and the British provinces.

The above article from Wales seems to validate that the blockade was indeed well known within the merchant shipping world. Captain William Folker’s claim of ignorance was unfortunately not believed. And unfortunately for Folker, the account of the events as provided by passenger Parmelee were also not believed. He stated he had been in Beaufort seven or eight days prior to the Herald’s departure and saw no sign of blockading ships while he was there or during the voyage until the St. Lawrence overtook them. He also stated that, to his knowledge, there were no postings in Beaufort of a blockade being in effect for that port.

The court had settled the issue but the consequences were dire for Captain Folker. His risk for a profitable reward failed. The time he was personally detained must have been very difficult for his family. Folker and the owners of the Herald along with the owners of the cargo paid a heavy price for being caught up in a civil war. Britain may have maintained a position of neutrality but history shows there was much animosity between the United States and the British Empire.

Side notes:

Attempts were made to discover what eventually became of the Herald. She had been registered in Windsor, Nova Scotia (Reg. # 37827) She remained in the British Ships registry from her launch year in 1854 until the United States Supreme Court ruling in 1866. It would appear when she was sold at auction as a “prize of war” she was re-registered as an American vessel. It is quite possible her name was changed as well.

American author Harry Castlemon, pen name for Charles Austin Fosdick of New York, a writer of historical fiction books used a British brig named Herald in one of his Civil War series published in 1891, entitled “Marcy the Blockade Runner”. The circumstances of the Herald were altered somewhat in his story aimed toward an audience of adolescent boys. The conversation concerning the Herald appears in Chapter 6: “Running the Blockade”.

This painting of the Herald was once part of an international crime exhibit.

In 2008 one of Canada’s most notorious art thieves visited Churchill House in Hantsport and walked out with two valuable paintings. Before being caught in 2013, John Mark Tillmann had amassed a collection of over 7,000 artifacts stolen from museums, libraries, galleries, antique shops and private homes all over the world.  In his Fall River, Nova Scotia home investigators found two portraits of ships built by J.B. North & Sons and belonging to the Hantsport Memorial Community Centre. The 130 year old paintings were of the Hamburg and the brig Herald. The RCMP returned the paintings in 2014 and they are now on display in the McDade Heritage Centre. Tillmann, who had a lengthy criminal record, served only two years of a nine year sentence for these thefts. He died in December, 2018.

On board the barque J. R. Hea

How long it took William Folker to recover from his ordeal regarding the loss of the brig Herald and his imprisonment isn’t revealed in documents this author could discover but his sailing career certainly continued and his relationship with the owners of the Herald did not appear to have been jeopardized.

In 1868 Folker was captain of the J. R. Hea, a barque out of Windsor, N.S. of which he purchased shares in 1865. He had sailed to Bristol, England, and was about to experience drama on the high seas as the J. R. Hea crossed the Atlantic. It had been seven years since his capture off the coast of North Carolina. Once again he faced another high risk decision; one of life or death.

The Hea was one hundred miles off Cape Clear, a small island off County Cork, Ireland, bound for New York. The sea was running dangerously high. Wreckage was spotted; the crew visibly in trouble as the storm had shattered her main mast, toppling it but still secured to the deck because of its tackle. The tri- colored flag of France gave evidence as to her registry. Thirty-two men could be seen clinging for their lives to what was left of the splintered mast and spars. The vessel in distress was the brig Nautownier, a French fishing boat with crew out of Saint-Malo and Saint-Servan, two ports of close proximity in Brittany.

Sea rescues are perilous. In a raging sea; failure to carry one out successfully, could result in the loss of your own crew, putting your vessel and remaining crew in a precarious situation. Common practice in that era was for the captains to call for volunteers to man the long boats when attempting such a daring rescue. Rowing the boat through waves that could run as high as two-story house took not only strength, but a full measure of courage.

Captain Folker skillfully piloted his barque while the rescue crew lowered the long boat. Under his direction they made three arduous trips to and from the Nautownier, safely bringing aboard the thirty-two fishermen. Moments later the ill-fated Nautownier slipped beneath the ocean’s surface joining her captain who had washed overboard in the storm.

It likely would have been quite some time before the events of that day and the heroic rescue of the Brittany fishermen reached the fishermen’s families and French authorities. An article, published four decades later in the “Montreal Star”, June, 1912 stated this about Captain Folker’s risky decision: “he chanced death and stood by, saving every hand.” William Folker’s decisive action did not go unnoticed by the French government, under Emperor Napoleon III, who took steps to recognize his valor. The Emperor’s citation was published in “Mechanics’ Magazine” on July 16, 1869. It read: “The Emperor of the French has awarded a gold medal of the first class and a diploma to Captain Folker of the ship J. R. Hea of Windsor, Nova Scotia in acknowledgement of his humane services to the crew, thirty-two in number, of the French ship Nautownier, of St. Servan.”

In addition to the medal and diploma, Captain Folker was also presented with a pair of platinum binoculars; all of which are in the hands of his descendants.

He reportedly received a sum of money as well. It is believed the presentation by Napoleon III took place in the Palace of Versailles. A model depicting the rescue, made by Captain William Folker, is on display in the McDade Heritage Centre in Hantsport; yet another example of this sea captain’s artistry.

Footnote: The vessel J. R. Hea is listed on the Wikipedia site for Ship Wrecks in 1875 as having been abandoned in the Atlantic Ocean on her way from Baltimore, Maryland to Queenstown, County of Cork, UK. Her crew was rescued by the American vessel Colorado. Almost ten years later a newspaper reported on September 25, 1884 that the brig Magenta, owned by Capt. William Folker was driven ashore in Chefoo, China where it had been carrying out coastal trade between Chefoo and Amoy. Unfortunately no other details were obtainable for either of these incidents. They underscore the risks taken by sailors in the “Age of Sail”.

**********

Little Risk — Great Reward

On board the barque Stadacona

In the fall of 1889, Captain William Folker was in command of the barque Stadacona (written as Staohcoma in some articles). After arriving in Pensacola, Florida he was doing business in the office of Thomas C. Waston when someone persuaded him to buy the last lottery ticket in the place. It was a ticket for the Louisiana State Lottery, a somewhat controversial lottery that supported the Charity Hospital of New Orleans to the tune of $40,000 annually. The lottery, which sold tickets all across America, had been operating for twenty-five years and was accused by many as being a corrupt organization. Francis T. Nicholas ran for Governor on an anti-lottery platform and was elected. The lottery’s charter was vetoed soon after Folker bought his ticket.

Last ticket for the last lottery! It definitely seemed like a “red sky at night” scenario for the captain. Folker’s ticket number was drawn as one of the prize winners on December 17^th, returning him a delightful $15,000 for a ticket that cost him $1.00. It was a wonderful early Christmas present for the captain. Something like $600,000 in today’s dollars.

Folker was always considered by his family to be a generous and considerate man. Following his windfall he made an offer to the city of Pensacola. The city had constructed a new courthouse in 1883. Captain Folker noticed the bell tower did not have a clock and offered to make a substantial cash donation toward the purchase of one. His gesture, however, created controversy. Apparently some people were opposed to a clock being purchased with money that came, in part, from gambling. After all, the new governor had been elected because of his opposition to the lottery.

Approval was eventually given for the acceptance of the captain’s kind offer. Other civic minded citizens pitched in and the town soon had the $1,300 required to purchase the clock. The clock, manufactured by the E. Howard Clock Co. of Baltimore, considered at the time to be one the finest clock makers in the world, was safely installed on April 12^th, 1890 along with a 1,500 pound McShane bell.

In 1925 the town fathers pondered replacing the clock with an electric one. The elderly caretaker of the bell, Mr. Lindenstruth, was outraged. “They can’t put up an electric clock — they mustn’t.  They don’t have any works, any soul — they’re just a face with cords attached.” Lindenstruth had trudged up the winding tower steps each New Year’s Eve to make any necessary adjustment to ensure it struck exactly at midnight.

Bessie Lindenstruth, the clock caretaker’s daughter pleaded in a letter to the town authorities: “Let us hold fast to that which is good. Commissioners, spare that clock. It can be made to give perfect time. It has counted out only half of the three score and ten years of human life. It should be put into condition to count accurately a century of time.” Bessie’s letter saved the E. Howard clock and it remained ticking in the tower for another twelve years.

As time passed, the beautiful clock which Bessie Lindenstruth boasted would never wear out, if properly cared for, lived up to that expectation. Unfortunately the old Courthouse did not. The seat of justice for Escambia County was demolished in 1937. What would become of the clock Captain Folker played such a large role in obtaining for Pensacola? There were numerous suggestions for a new location but no decision was immediately made.

It took Bessie Lindenstruth’s intervention once again in 1938 to bring about an Act of Congress in Washington, supported by State Senators and members of the House of Representatives to save the historic timepiece. President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed the Act formally giving the clock to the Pensacola Historical Society. It would be up to that organization and its clock preservation society to find a new location. Sadly, no home was found. It stayed in storage in the basement of City Hall until 1964 when a town manager gave it to local businessman Francis Taylor who planned to put it outside his store. The clock preservation society learned of the town manager’s misguided decision and raised a ruckus. It took only a phone call for the manager’s decision to be overturned.

In the early 1980s the City Commissioners finally addressed the clock issue, agreeing to a new home in the Pensacola Square. One commissioner, who vowed to grow his beard until the clock was actually placed in its new home, finally got to shave in 1982.

Fittingly, the family of Captain William Folker were invited to the unveiling of the restored clock. A few members made the trip to Pensacola to honour the memory and benevolent gesture of their great-great-grandfather.

Cargo on board.

Captain Folker’s log books and ledgers reveal much in regards to his life at sea and the cargo he transported. One record shows he did business with Rev. Dr. Silas Rand, missionary to the Mi’kmaq.

Folker’s vessels carried, among many other types of cargo; fish, lumber, hides, apples, potatoes, turpentine, oil, coal, and gypsum to foreign ports while returning with textiles, spices, sugar, molasses, fruit, nuts, and crockery.

One cargo item that Folker brought from England was a crate of English sparrows. In the early 1850s canker worms were destroying massive numbers of linden trees in the eastern states. A decision was made to bring English sparrows to eat the larvae in an effort to save the trees. Over the next decade several organizations imported the birds to abate the canker worm issue. Other importers, immigrants from England, brought them to America simply because they missed seeing and hearing their song.

In 1857 Charles and Rupert Eaton introduced the English sparrow from the eastern U.S. to Lower Canard in the Cornwallis Township.

Captain Folker brought his shipment of English Sparrows to Chesapeake Bay in the latter part of the 1800s and may very well have been the one to have shipped them to the Eaton brothers.

William Folker lived a long and prosperous life. From cabin boy to captain; his life at sea was indeed filled with much danger and many adventures. He and Almira remained in Hantsport in their retirement years; eventually moving to a home on Avon Street where they could feel the breeze of the incoming tide; a breeze that billowed his sails for more than five decades. Descendents of this seafaring couple continue to live in Hantsport overlooking the tidal waters of the Avon River.

Acknowledgements

The author would like to thank the Folker family for stories, news clippings and photos. The model of the Nautownier rescue and the painting of the Herald are held by the Hantsport & Area Historical Society (McDade Heritage Centre). Appreciation is also extended to Dalhousie University Archives. Court proceedings were taken from the United States Supreme Court records. Information pertaining to consulate dispatches were taken from the “North America #8 Papers relating to the Blockade of the Confederate States, 1862” published in London by Harrison and Sons. Other information was found in internet publications. Appreciation is also extended to Judson Porter and Leland Harvie for their consultation and support.

Robert “Bob” Carter Clayton

1916 – 1987

Wireless Operator

Bob Clayton was born in Saint John, N.B. His family later moved to Parker’s Cove, N.S. and in 1935 settled in Hantsport.  He was the fourth of seven sons born to Capt. Delbert and Laura (Hudson) Clayton.  The family moved to Hantsport, in part, because of Bob’s health.  Bob had contracted tuberculosis and spent a year in the Kentville Sanatorium. Hantsport, being a seaport, brought employment opportunities for his father who was a tugboat captain.

Clayton became engaged to Jennie Doris Ells in 1942.  Doris, a 24 year old stenographer was a Willow Street neighbour but not the only lady Bob was infatuated with at the time. The other was Lady Hawkins, a magnificent luxury ocean liner owned by the Canadian National Steamship lines that called on ports in Montréal, Boston, Bermuda and other Caribbean islands. Officially the vessel was a Royal Mail Ship, but could carry cargo as well as passengers. Her home port was Halifax, N.S.  RMS Lady Hawkins was one of five sister ships of the company’s line named in honour of the wives of British admirals who served in the Caribbean. They were among the first of the passenger liners where the officers and stewards wore white uniforms and the ship painted bright white. That all changed when war was declared; the ships were then painted grey.

Clayton was hired to serve as third wireless operator on the Lady Hawkins on August 1st, 1941.   His unforgettable story with this “lady” began the evening of January 18th, 1942; two days after the liner sailed from Halifax, destined for Bermuda and then British Guiana. She was carrying approximately 213 passengers, 107 crew and 3,000 tons of cargo.

“infested waters”

These were war years.  Following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour Dec. 7th, 1941, the Americans entered the war.  Germany responded to the American declaration of war by launching “Operation Drumbeat”; whereby twenty-five German U-boats were deployed from their base in the North Sea to seek prey in the North Atlantic. From January to August 1942, “Operation Drumbeat” was successful in sinking over 400 ships with 59 being Canadian Merchant ships. Needless to say, sailing on any merchant ship in the North Atlantic during this era was risky business, especially without a naval escort.

On that cold, dark evening in January the Lady Hawkins had a United States naval destroyer escorting her off the New York coast but after that she was on her own.  A degree of anxiety swept over the ship as Captain Huntley Griffen ordered the lifeboats cleared away and readied.  All windows were blackened with curtains and radio contact silenced.  Many crew members who were normally quartered on the lower deck chose to sleep on the upper deck dining room floor.  In a maneuver to lessen a torpedo strike the captain ordered his navigation officer to sail in a zigzag pattern.

As a wireless operator, twenty-five year old Clayton was well aware of the danger lurking below the surface. He had received radio messages indicating U-boat activity earlier in the day. He and the other two radio officers, or “sparks” as they were called in the merchant marine, were ordered to be ready to send mayday signals.

“in the crosshairs of a periscope”

Clayton, who had just finished his shift in the radio room, had retired to his cabin not realizing they had already been detected by a U-boat hours earlier.  250 kms east of Cape Hatteras, off the coast of North Carolina, in total darkness, no one saw German U-boat 66 surfacing and preparing to launch its torpedoes.

Almost as soon as the U-boat’s searchlights illuminated the Lady Hawkins the first of two torpedoes struck their target. The first hit below the bridge; the second destroyed the engine room causing the oil-fired boilers to explode. The resulting damage destroyed three of the six lifeboats and knocked out all power to the ship. Within minutes the Lady Hawkins was ablaze and listing severely. Those trapped in the lower decks never stood a chance. The darkened gangways made it impossible to see.  They were filling rapidly with inrushing water and smoke. The pungent smell of cordite filled the air.

Clayton raced to the radio room only to find it mangled and his fellow “sparks” dead. He tried to send an SOS signal but, with no power, it was in vain. There was nothing more Clayton could do. He made his way toward the lifeboat launching area and jumped into the frigid, oil slickened ocean and swam toward one of three lifeboats. Not a strong swimmer, he somehow managed to struggle to its side where he remained and assisted passengers and crew out of the icy water into the 30 foot boat. To his shock, a few minutes later, he heard a crewmember tell the chief officer there was no more room. Chief Petty officer Percy Kelly saw that it was Clayton. “He is a spark” shouted Kelly, “we need him.” Clayton was hauled aboard; making him the 76^th person on a lifeboat certified to hold 63.

One of the most lingering memories of that pitch black night was the screams coming out of the darkness; people pleading to be rescued.  Officer Kelly ordered the lifeboat to pull away knowing that when the Lady Hawkins went below the surface it could suck them under with it. Kelly later told journalists it was the most agonizing decision he had ever made. Those haunting voices disturbed Kelly and the others for the rest of their lives. From the time the first torpedo hit it was less than 30 minutes until the Lady Hawkins slipped beneath the surface. Moments later there was only the sound of silence.  The survivors in lifeboat #2 huddled together and watched anxiously as the U-boat plied its search light over the floating debris. Then, it too slipped beneath the surface in search of another victim.  The other two lifeboats were visible for only moments.  They were never seen again, perhaps capsizing when the ship went down or in the violent storm that came upon them the next day.

“the struggle to survive”

With no distress signal given during the attack; the chance for rescue was bleak. For the remainder of that first night Officer Kelly ordered everyone to stay exactly where they were in fear that any movement might cause them to capsize.  In the light of day they realized their predicament was a serious one.  Being over capacity they were forced to take turns standing. Extra mouths to feed placed a further strain on the available rations which Kelly limited to half a biscuit and a sip of water for breakfast and supper and a mouthful of condensed milk for lunch. A bottle of brandy in the boat’s kit was reserved for illness. The only other beverage to share was a bottle of rum the bartender had taken before he jumped over the side.  

Swells, as high as 10 meters, accompanied the storm that engulfed the lifeboat over the next 24 hours. The survivors bailed continuously to prevent their boat from swamping.  Many of them were scantily clothed, and what clothing they wore was soaking wet.  Salty skin, parched lips, dehydrated bodies and fuel ingested stomachs took its toll; four persons died over the next four days.  The deceased were gently lowered over the side with a prayer, a sign of the cross and a hymn led by Mrs. Parkinson, a missionary. She had pleaded with Clayton to save her husband the night he assisted her into the lifeboat. Her husband drifted off in the darkness and was never heard from again.

“a moment of levity”

After the storm calmed on the second day they discovered a passenger who had, up until that time, remained unseen by most and mysteriously silent. It was two-year-old Janet Johnson who, amazingly, had been calmly cradled in the arms of her mother. Kelly cleared space in a storage hatch for the mother and child. Janet developed a fever and was given brandy.  It proved helpful but was too much alcohol for a toddler.  She became giddy.  The giggling little girl brought smiles and bursts of laughter to the otherwise somber group.

Bob Clayton and others shared their milk ration with Janet and when a milk can was emptied they swished it with water and gave it to her as well.

The lifeboat was equipped with a pole for a mast, a sail, and an oar for a rudder.  Aside from the meagre food rations, the only other aide was a flashlight to use as a signaling device. Officer Kelly set a westward course toward the US coast; one that would hopefully drift them into shipping lanes.

For four days they bailed water continuously while enduring the harsh elements. At times some of the survivors became delirious, babbling incessantly. Miraculously, a ship was sighted on the fifth night.  Clayton grabbed the flashlight and flashed an SOS Morse code of distress.  The signal was ignored! No response!  Clayton then flashed the signal again using the sail of their lifeboat to reflect his message.  Only then did the ship’s captain realize it was a true distress call.  The steamship Coamo, (formerly commanded by Hantsport captain Fred Folker) on its regular run from New York to Puerto Rico came to the rescue. Later, they discovered that the captain thought the distress signal was a submarine trying to trick them.  Tragically, a fifth person died as he slipped trying to step from the lifeboat onto the Coamo’s rope ladder.  The Lady Hawkins’s survivors were taken to Puerto Rico where they contacted love ones to inform them of their rescue.

The news of Bob’s rescue was met with tremendous joy and relief in the Ells house. Doris, at the time, was Bob’s fiancée. She had been inconsolable since the news of the sinking of the Lady Hawkins reached Hantsport.

Weeks later, after first docking in New York, the survivors arrived home. Their rescue story had come to an end but not their nightmare.  In reality it never would, but at least they were alive.  For the families of the 251 children, women and men who perished when the Lady Hawkins was torpedoed by U-boat 66; their grief had just begun.

“a local hero recognized”

Robert Carter Clayton received two recognitions for his role that night. In December, 1943 he received a badge: The King’s Commendation for Brave Conduct.  Later he was awarded the Bronze Oak Leaf emblem of His Majesty, the King’s Approval.  Perhaps, an honour more meaningful to Bob Clayton was a recognition years later by Marion Parkinson. She was the missionary whose husband perished in the icy Atlantic. She contacted Clayton and asked if he would attend a conference where she would be speaking in Halifax. From the podium Mrs. Parkinson paid tribute to his heroic actions on that terrifying night in January, 1942.

Bob Clayton left the merchant marine following the sinking of the Lady Hawkins to work in the Halifax dockyard.  Most of his time was spent on McNabs Island at the “sound range” working for the Department of National Defence as a civilian employee in the department of Research Establishment Atlantic. He also worked several years travelling the Maritimes as a repair technician fixing projectors in movie theatres.

Bob and his sweetheart Doris were married on June 19th, 1943 in the Ells family home. The Clayton home, 22 Willow St., is a hundred meters up the street.  The sunroom on the front, where Bob spent many hours soaking up the sun’s rays, is a reminder of his struggle with TB.  Those rays of sunshine produced vitamin D which was considered to be helpful for persons fighting tuberculosis. The disease had compromised his lungs and the fuel oil ingested at the time of the sinking caused further damage. 

He and Doris lived an active live in Halifax until their passing.  They never had children but enjoyed time spent with their numerous nieces and nephews.  Many of them remember their uncle as a man who had a passion for electronics, constructing appliances rather than buying them. Bob used his skills as a licensed ham radio operator to relay information to the Atlantic Weather Network. Many local families appreciated his willingness to connect them via ham radio with other family who were in remote areas of the Canadian north where there were no telephones.  The Claytons were outdoor enthusiasts who enjoyed boating and camping. They were, as well, dedicated members of their church. Around the age of seventy Bob Clayton received news he had developed liver cancer with little hope for recovery. His response was not what many expected. He is reported to have accepted his fate saying: “I should have died many years ago.”

Webster’s dictionary defines a hero as a person who is admired for great or brave acts or fine qualities. Robert “Bob” Carter Clayton fits that definition.  He is but one of many heroes who are unknown in their own communities.

It took fifty-five years before the Canadian Government recognized the sacrifices of the 18,000 men and women of the merchant marine; 1,500 of them who paid the ultimate sacrifice.  The Lady Hawkins was one of seventy-two Canadian vessels lost in WW2. Only two of the five “Lady” ships survived.  In the year 2000, the mariners each received $20,000 in compensation for their service in the war effort.

Acknowledgements:

The author would like to thank members of the Clayton and Ells family for their contributions, especially Kathrin Grace, Doris’ niece.  Appreciation is also extended to David Gillis, a fellow DND civilian employee.

Other information was taken from the Montreal Gazette, Feb. 2007 edition, Legion magazine, and Trident magazine.