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Smith and the New Sailor’s Magazine

Posted on by hilary.carey

Back to the BL

After a long time waiting for the British Library to recover from the cyber attack earlier this year, it was exciting to be back and able to order in advance. On 4 December, I arrived early and found my orders waiting for me. Thank you BL staff!

British Library

Smith and the New Sailor’s Magazine

This time my principal target was the original – and undigitised – copies of the G.C. (‘Boatswain’) Smith’s issues of the Soldier’s and New Sailor’s Magazine (NSM), which was published by Smith from his headquarters in and around Wellclose Square in London from 1828 and continued, though with many changes of name, until Smith’s death in 1863. I was intrigued because historians have differed over the significance of this journal and Smith’s place in the marine mission movement.

Smith launched the New Sailor’s Magazine as an act of defiance following his dismissal as editor of the Sailor’s Magazine and acrminomious split from the main dissenting mission for seamen in London, the Port of London Society and Bethel Union (PLSBUS).New Sailor's Magazine

According to Kverndal (1986: 271), Smith was entirely the injured party, and had every right to take his talents elsewhere. He argues that Smith had triumphantly created the Mariner’s Church and its numerous satellite welfare and mission work for sailors’ and their families, while all Smith’s dissenting and Church rivals floundered without support or effectiveness. But was it really the case? Is it correct, as Kverndall (1986: 274) states, that the PLSBUS was motivated by sheer jealousy of Smith’s ‘continuing success, coupled with their own diminishing support’?

In fact, this is rather less than the whole story, as I soon discovered by reading Smith’s New Sailor’s Magazine, which proudly proclaimed Smith as the ‘late editor of the Sailor’s Magazine’.

As with all of Smith’s publications, marketing and branding were key features with attempts to entice subscribers and supporters through calls to patriotism, religion and national pride. The first volume included three separate publications, The Soldier’s Magazine and Military Chronicle, aimed at soldiers,  The New Sailor’s Magazine and Naval Chronicle, for supporters of maritime missions, and a monthly brochure for the Sailor’s Asylum and New Brunswick Institution, the precursor to the London Sailors’ Home.

The Soldier’s Magazine was brashly patriotic and included an engraving of Smith’s most important patron, Admiral Lord James Gambier (1756-1833). The cover was embellished with a header including flags, cannon, helmets, a trumpet and drum to the left, with naval emblems of an anchor, sails and masts to the right. Beneath was the logo: ‘Fear God. Honor the King’. It would take a wise reader to realise that the main business of the magazine was not to serving members of the military, but rather former soldiers and sailors of the merchant service and their urban patrons.

The cover of the New Sailor’s Magazine is less showy, but there are indications that Smith’s resources were rather less than he claimed. Unsurprisingly, there are no stories from the PLS and Bethel Union, and Smith instead resorted to publishing the sermon delivered by the Rev. William Scorseby, Anglican chaplain to the Episcopal Society for Sailors at Liverpool. Scorseby would soon become celebrated in his own right, as an Arctic explorer, and patron of Anglican missions to seafarers, especially deep sea fishermen.

With the editorial licence of The New Sailor’s Magazine, Smith would  denigrate the efforts of the Episcopal floating chapel in Liverpool and London, and the successful efforts of Anglican Evangelicals to make a success of the London Sailor’s Home, but for now he was dependent on Church rather than Chapel sources to fill the pages of his new magazine.

BFSSFS debt

The first sign of serious problems for Smith and his enterprises appear with the financial report published in the June 1828 issue of the New Sailor’s Magazine following the annual Meeting of the British and Foreign Seamen’s & Soldier’s Friend Society, or Mariners’ Church & Watermen’s Bethel Union (BFSSFS). While each monthly issue  always included a gratifying and minutely detailed list of all donations, big and small, this was the first set of fully audited accounts, as signed by William Hodge, W.G. Barnard, and R. Ward. These showed that from 17 May 1827 to 15 May 1828, income received had reached almost £2000, but there was a heavy debt of almost £800 for printing, stationers and ‘agents’ salaries’, ie payments to those employed full-time to collect funds for the society. Smith could not afford his grand publications, or his vision for a charitable empire based on the Mariner’s Church, nor could he afford to alienate the wealthier patrons who had earlier flocked to the Port of London Society and its signature floating chapel.

FS Accounts 1827-28

The ‘agents’ salaries’ are a particularly worrying feature of the cash account. They show that about 25% of all donations had been expended in salaries to those responsible for raising funds. Moreover, ‘travelling expenses’ amounted to over £200 – more than a year’s salary for many clergy – much of which would have been incurred by Smith on his relentless promotional and lecture tours. This was not sustainable, and the reality was that Smith’s Mariner’s church enterprise, conducted in belligerent rivalry to that of like-minded dissenting and Anglican Evangelical supporters of the same cause, was a white elephant. Yet Smith continued to attract admirers and donations, which the following year, 1828-29, were reported by the Missionary Register as no less than £3462. Twelve months later, the same journal reported that the BFSSFS debt stood at £1500, inflating to £2500 in 1831 and to £3000 by 1832. (Adjusted for inflation, this is the equivalent of over £420,000 today). This was a colossal burden for any small, voluntary society, even today, but was an overwhelming and alarming liability in 1832. Smith’s solution was to exclude any mention of the debt from the New Sailor’s Magazine,  while continuing to solicit new donations and make a show of transparency by listing everyone who made a contribution.

These were heady days for the marine mission movement, with handsome donations and subscriptions recorded by the Missonary Register (1830: 517) for a range of maritime missionary causes, including £3393 for the venerable Naval and Military Bible Society, £597 for the Merchant Seaman’s Bible Society, and £1700 for the Sailors’ Home. Smith’s main dissenting rival, the Port of London Society received a modest £884, reflecting the competition for support especially in London, but was managing to survive and – importantly – remained solvent.

Smith’s legacy

I have scrutinised Smith’s legacy as the leading figure in the maritime mission movement for an article forthcoming in the Journal of Ecclesiastical History. Smith’s personality has divided critics, with those from within his own Baptist and dissenting tradition, including Kverndal (1986) and Dray (2013) keen to overlook his financial improprieties. I am more critical, not least because hundreds of people of very small means contributed to the cause, and were entitled to know that their donations were spent helping sailors, not chasing Smith’s grandiose and debt-laden ambitions.

It may not be possible to untangle the details at this distance in time, but there is a smoking gun, and a pattern of over enthusiastic promotion, unexplained or inadequately explained debt, and the reality that Smith would eventually be imprisoned four times for debt.

Sources

Dray, Stephen. 2013. A Right Old Confloption Down Penzance (Carn-Brea Media: n.p.).

Kverndal, Roald. 1986. Seamen’s missions: their origin and early growth (William Carey Library: Pasadena, Calif).

CMS. Missionary Register, 17-20 (1829-1832). Yale Mission Periodicals Online

NSM. Soldiers’ Chronicle and New Sailor’s Magazine, 1-2 (1828-29).

 

Mariners at Treefest

Posted on by hilary.carey

It is the season for – Christmas trees!.

St Mary Redcliffe from docks
St Mary Redcliffe from the Bristol city docks.

The Mariners team is excited to be planning a contribution to Treefest Bristol 2024

What is Treefest?

Treefest is a spectacular festive display of Christmas trees held within the splendid gothic church of St Mary Redcliffe.

Treefest is an opportunity for local people, schools, businesses, charities, community groups and other organisations to decorate a tree and display it  in the atmospheric gothic surrounds of St Mary Redcliffe. It’s a good opportunity to tell our 1000s of visitors about your organisation for free, while helping to raise money for local charities.

So far, our research administrator, Abi Freeman, has bought a tree and acquired bunting from our project partner, the Hull History Centre. We are having fun creating maritime-themed decorations, with a research cutting edge.

Look out for more upates on Treefest in coming weeks.

Word on the Waters – from the Mariners conference

Posted on by hilary.carey

The following post is written by Claire Weatherall, the archivist responsible for  the Mission to Seafarers collection at Hull History Centre and a member of the Mariners Advisory Board. In the post, they explore the question: What can we glean about the lives of sailors from the first publication of the Missions to Seamen? This was presented as part of the Mariners conference, at the ss Great Britain on 12-13 September.

Introduction 

Whilst cataloguing the archive of the Mission to Seafarers I learnt much of the lives of the chaplains and lay readers who undertook the daily work of the organisation. Regular reports and correspondence from port stations to head office capture the activities of these missionaries in ports across the world. We might similarly expect to find the archive littered with references to individuals aided by the organisation. However, details of the lives of seafarers that the Mission sought to help are rarely captured in the official record. 

We must think creatively to uncover the lived experiences of seafarers as revealed through interactions with missionary organisations. When cataloguing a series of publications produced by the Mission, I noticed that extracts from chaplains’ diaries, since lost to time, were often included in the early magazines. These extracts record encounters between chaplains and individual seafarers. 

The Mission’s first known magazine, The Word on the Waters, was published in 1858 (Hull History Centre Reference: U DMS/13/1/1). It was intended for circulation amongst seafarers and supporters of the Mission’s aims. With this in mind, we should consider that content was likely selected to demonstrate successful outcomes from the Mission’s work and to expound its Christian objectives. Nevertheless, the details captured in chaplains’ accounts can help us piece together narratives of seafarers’ lives.

First volume of The Word on the Waters  1 (1858) and illustrated issue from The Word on the Waters, new ser. 33 (1897) whoiwing ‘A mission-cutter at work’. MTS Archive, Hull History Centre.

The lives of seafarers 

So, what kind of details can we learn? 

Firstly, we find that life in port away from home could leave seafarers vulnerable to unscrupulous individuals. An extract from the correspondence of the Mission’s first chaplain describes meeting a sailor in a ‘forlorn’ state whilst walking in the street. The sailor is said to have recounted coming ashore with several months of wages, being helped to buy new clothing and find somewhere to stay, where he was plied with alcohol and women, before receiving a huge bill that he was having to go back to sea to work pay off (The Word on the Waters, Vol.1, 1858, p.34-35). The description matches a practice known as crimping, which many seafarers in port are known to have experienced. Whilst the anecdote is used to caution against the dangers of drunkenness and lewd behaviour, the details help us understand how easily sailors in a strange port could be taken advantage of. It also helps us understand factors contributing to financial hardship faced by some individuals. 

Extract from Word on the Waters: ‘Surely the owners of ships should have more regard to the lives of seamen’.

We can glimpse details of physical conditions endured by seafarers. For example, a Bristol Channel chaplain records encountering a man onboard ship who was placed in irons and kept to a prison diet for striking the ship’s mate, thus revealing something of punishment at sea in practice (The Word on the Waters, Vol.1, 1858, p.68). The same extract also notes that the chaplain was able to help secure the man’s release. Another extract highlights the lack of medical care available to seafarers: In the extract, a chaplain to the English Channel recounts visiting a vessel whose crew had been struck down by fever. The chaplain states that he found one man to be particularly ill but that the captain refused to allow him to be taken ashore for medicine. He describes rowing back at night with a surgeon friend and medicine to help the man (The Word on the Waters, Vol.1, 1858, pp.116-119). Incidentally, in both examples, intervention by a chaplain led to physical improvements in the individual’s situation, suggesting that missionaries had a role to play in safeguarding the physical welfare of seafarers as well as their spiritual welfare. 

Extracts also reveal details of working conditions experienced by some seafarers. For example, an extract from the journal of a Bristol Channel chaplain recounts the plight of a shipwrecked Scottish crew. He notes that the loss of their ship ‘was occasioned by overloading, and especially by having pine logs on the deck, which, getting adrift in a gale, stove in and carried away everything, rendering it dangerous and impossible also for the men to work the pumps steadily’, continuing ‘owners of the ships should have more regard to the lives of seamen. It is the overloading of vessels which causes a considerable part of the destruction at sea and loss of life’ (The Word on the Waters, Vol.1, 1858, p.68-69). 

We see evidence of literacy amongst seafarers. For instance, a Bristol Channel chaplain records meeting a sailor from Calcutta who had been baptized and educated by British missionaries. He notes that the two shared a book to read prayers and exposition during a service (The Word on the Waters, Vol.1, 1858, p.67). Another example is given by a chaplain working on the Mersey, who recounts meeting ‘a black cook who had learnt to read English at Demerara’ having ‘obtained an old Bible from a sailor’ (The Word on the Waters, Vol.1, 1858, p.187). The same chaplain also describes visiting an American ship and meeting a crew eager to receive reading material and converse with him: ‘All the sailors were blacks… I believe they could all read; they were very civil and respectful’ (The Word on the Waters, Vol.1, 1858, p.255). As the above instances relate to seafarers of non-British origin who appeared to engage with Christianity, it is possible their inclusion is part of a narrative informed by missionary colonialism. Nevertheless, the accounts are evidence of reading ability amongst seafaring populations. Indeed, there are numerous instances describing British sailors reading religious texts and discussing the content with chaplains. 

Extracts from the archives reveal how remote seafarers’ lives could be. For example, the honorary chaplain for Plymouth recounts a visit made by himself and female helpers to deliver books to the crew of a lightship. His description suggests such crews had no visitors and welcomed their visit for the conversation and company it brought (The Word on the Waters, Vol.1, 1858, p.191). Similarly, the description of a visit by a chaplain at Great Grimsby to the lightkeeper and lifeboat crew at Spurn Point states that the inhabitants were 5 miles across sand to the nearest house, that they never had visitors, and the lighthouse keeper complained that ‘no one cares a straw for us poor souls, we may die and the sea bury us for ought others care’ (The Word on the Waters, Vol.1, 1858, pp.85-86). In both instances, the chaplains describe difficulties reaching their destinations and the isolation in which lightkeepers lived. Reading between the lines we can see that missionary staff might have been the only regular company received by some isolated seafarers. 

Final thoughts 

To summarise, the brief entries we find in magazines such as The Word on the Waters can help us reconstruct the lived experience of both British seafarers and sailors of non-British origin. The surviving evidence reveals details of the dangers of life in port, working conditions, literacy, physical welfare, health care, and social contact, in addition to seafarers’ experience of interacting with missionaries. We don’t have space here to consider what conclusions we might draw from such evidence as regards the project’s themes of colonialism, race and religion, but hopefully this quick look has done enough to highlight that missionary magazines are a valuable research resource allowing us to explore these subjects. 

Mariners conference sails away

Posted on by hilary.carey

Researchers from across the UK, the US, Europe, Australia and India came together  in Bristol to talk and debate issues of race, religion and empire among maritime workers on 12-13 September 2024. From the conference venue we enjoyed a view of the iconic ss Great Britain and, on Friday, followed guides around Brunel’s landmark iron passenger liner.

Delegates took a tour of Brunel’s ss Great Britain.

Over seven lively panels, we encountered the trial of an enslaved black seaman in Victorian London (Umberto Garcia), the pre-history of the Cardiff race riots (Hassam Latif), and the religious background to Birkenhead’s Mere Hall Indian Seaman’s Home (Haseeb Khan). For the British strand, there was a touching account of the emotional lives of children in sailors’ orphan homes (Emily Cuming), and the place of Roman Catholics in the Royal Navy (Michael Snape). Workers’ religious politics in late colonial Calcutta were discussed by Prerna Agarwal, and Florian Stadtler  considered the unique record of Aziz Ahmad and his mission to lascars in Scotland. Justine Atkinson took us to Australia, and the diverse seamen’s missions in the colonial port of Newcastle, NSW, while Houda Al-Kateb provided a rivetting account of passengers on the ss Great Britain – a great way to introduce us to the ship beckoning out the window. Ting Ruan spoke on lighthouses in China, drawing attention to the extreme disparity in the salaries of European and local Chinese workers. The two teams for the Mariners project presented on religion, race and the lascar body, and the soul of the sailor in missions to British seamen.

Haseeb Khan on Birkenhead’s Mere Hall Home for Indian Seamen.

The final session was made up of panels, beginning with archivist extraordinaire, Claire Weatherall, enlightening us on the challenges of knowledge exchange for archives and archivisrts, with examples from the Anglican Missions to Seafarers collection at the Hull History Centre. Asif Shakoor gave a moving presentation on the lascar legacy from the point of view of a community historian, and Brad Beaven and Valerie Burton enlightened us with wit and accumulated wisdom as maritime and social historians of port cities.

We have grand plans for publication, and hope to gather these rich contributions to maritime and religious history into a journal special issue as well as blog posts and contributions to the Mariners website.

 

Mariners conference 12-13 September 2024

Posted on by hilary.carey

We are super excited that the Mariners conference is about to kick off at the Brunel Institute of the ss Great Britain.

Delegates are coming from as far afield as Australia, the US, Germany and India to workshop ideas about religion, race and empire with other colleagues.

We hope to keep the event relatively small so as to encourage conversations and exchanges of view, but visitors are welcome so long as you let us know you would like to attend. Requests should be sent to the conference email: mariners.conference2024@bristol.ac.uk.

Here is a link to the full programme:

FINAL Conference programme 030924 (1)

We are planning to publish the papers and will keep you posted about plans for publication.

 

 

 

The Salvation Navy, 1885-1888

Posted on by hilary.carey

I am the Director of The Salvation Army International Heritage Centre which holds the archives, reference library and other heritage items relating to this international church and charity. As well as caring for these collections and providing access to them, my colleagues and I also research aspects of Salvation Army history. The existence of a Salvation Navy in the 1880s isn’t well known, even within our own history, and it’s a story that I’ve been keen to highlight for some time.

This year, 2024, is the 150th anniversary of the Salvation Army opening its first chapel in Wales. Part of the celebrations of this has been to find stories from our work in Wales over the years. So I decided to look in more detail at the Salvation Navy, whose ships were given by a Cardiff industrialist and which we knew held evangelical meetings in Cardiff dock.

The Heritage Centre holds a small archive of original documents and photographs relating to the Salvation Navy, as well as supporting information in contemporary Salvation Army periodicals, primarily the weekly newspaper, The War Cry. I was surprised, therefore, to discover how little anyone know about the actual history and detail of the Salvation Navy. The official History of The Salvation Army only includes the most basic details and our own catalogue records included little more detail, for instance we knew nothing about the later years of the Salvation Navy and had no date for when it was wound up. I supplemented our records with contemporary newspaper reports from the British Newspaper Archive and have been able, for the first time, to piece together the story of The Salvation Navy.

That story begins in August 1885 when the first flagship of The Salvation Navy was launched. The SS Iole’s three masts flew the Salvation Army colours of red, blue and yellow, alongside flags bearing the words ‘Are you Saved’ and ‘Holiness unto the Lord’. Her sails carried the monogram ‘SN’ for Salvation Navy. The Iole was described by her first commander as looking ‘like a bird on the water.’  (‘Description’ 4)

The Salvation Army had been founded by William and Catherine Booth in 1865. In 1884, the Booths were offered the Iole, a 100ft steam yacht, by one of their wealthier supporters- John Cory, a coal broker and ship-owner from Cardiff, who had originally bought the yacht for his wife. It was described as ‘a little gem, perfect in all her appointments, which are, indeed, almost too luxurious for salvationists.’ in the Salvation Army’s magazine All the World (‘S. S. Iole’ 19)

The crew of the SS Iole was assembled from Officers (ministers) and Soldiers (members) of the Salvation Army with nautical backgrounds. Command of the Iole was given to ‘ex-Admiral’ Sherrington Foster who had been master of the Hartlepool lifeboat. The purpose of the Salvation Navy was “to visit every fishing town and seaport village along the English, Irish, Scotch and Welsh coast, boarding every vessel when lying in any roadstead, giving Bibles and good books, preaching Christ, and doing all in our power to get the sailors and fishermen of our country converted.”  The Salvation Army’s newspaper, The War Cry,  dramatically stated that the Iole had been ‘chartered by the King of Kings to go on a fishing expedition for men’ (‘Our Navy’ 13)

Image of ship
Print. S. S. ‘Iole, July 1885 [Salvation Army International Heritage Centre, SN/3]
The Iole began its evangelical campaign in the Channel Islands and then made her way to ports on the English Channel. In early 1886 she was on the Cornish and Devonian coast where ‘vast crowds were assembled on pier and beach, whilst from the deck of the little vessel the yacht’s crew, assisted by the local Corps where there was one, proclaimed salvation to all sorts and conditions of men.’  (‘The Salvation Navy’ 159)

While attempts to secure a second ship for the Salvation Navy were unsuccessful, ‘Naval Brigades’ were established in the communities it worked amongst. Ships whose captains and crews were made up of Salvationists were encouraged to fly the Salvation Army colours and to ‘labour specially for the salvation of their fellows of the deep’ (‘The Salvation Navy’ 159). A pamphlet of Salvation Navy Songs was published for use by the Brigades.

In the summer of 1886 the Iole was visiting East Anglian ports when disaster struck as the Iole was sailing for Hull. On the evening of 11 June 1886, she struck a sandbank in the Humber and the crew had to row ashore in the lifeboat. It was reported that, the next morning, ‘at dead low water only two or three feet of the Iole’s funnel was to be seen’ (‘General Booth’s Yacht’ 2).

The Salvation Navy was without a ship for some seven months until John Cory again came to the rescue and gave an 82 foot racing yacht, the Vestal, to Booth. This became known as the ‘Salvation Gun-Boat’. Although the Vestal was ‘awaiting orders’ in a Southampton shipyard in February 1887, she had to await significant repairs before she could be launched on 5 April (‘Yachting’ 7. Her first captain was Abbot Taylor, previously the ‘skipper of a Brixham smack’ (The Salvation Navy Yacht 3). The Vestal continued the evangelical work that had been carried out by the Iole, visiting Bridport and Watchet in July and carrying out an evangelical campaign along the south Wales coast in the winter, spending Christmas 1887 in Cardiff Dock.

Photo of Salvation Army officers
Crew of the Vestal, 1888 [Salvation Army International Heritage Centre, SN/3]
However then, in February 1888, the Vestal was badly damaged in a collision with another   vessel in the Thames. It seems the ship, and her crew, never fully recovered. Despite plans to sail to Cornwall, the Vestal remained on the Sussex coast throughout the summer of 1888, delayed by costly repairs and the illness of Captain Taylor. Adverts in The War Cry also show a shortage of crew, asking for ‘Captain and Mate, with a good knowledge of the Coast, well saved and able to lead Salvation meetings. Also two Able-bodied Seamen, One Ordinary Seaman, a Cook and Steward. Must in each case be well saved men’ (Wanted 7).

Image of cover of Songs of Seatime
Pamphlet, ‘Songs of the Sea of Time as Sung by the crew of the Salvation Gun-Boat ‘Vestal,’ 1887 [Salvation Army International Heritage Centre, SN/1]
The last known report from the Vestal is in October 1888 when Captain Taylor was preaching about their work at the corps in East Grinstead, while the ship was lying at Portslade. Which may imply that the coastal work was not at that time taking place and that the Vestal had been limiting its activities to the Sussex coast since May.

While the Salvation Navy may only have been short-lived, it shows General Booth and the Salvation Army learning from and developing the missions to mariners that had been active since early in the century. The militaristic language and embellished metaphors illustrate the dynamic innovations of The Salvation Army in the 1880s.

By Steven Spencer, Salvation Army International Heritage Centre

Sources

  1. ‘Description of our Salvation Stream Yacht ‘Iole.’ Rough report by Staff-Captain Foster’, The War Cry, 17 June, p. 4.
  2. ‘General Booth’s Yacht Sunk in the Humber,’ Norwich Mercury, 16 June, p. 2.

Booth, William. 1886. Orders and Regulations for Field Officers of The Salvation Army (International Headquarters of The Salvation Army), p. 569.

  1. ‘The Salvation Navy,’ The Salvation War, p. 159.
  2. ‘The Salvation Navy Yacht Vestal,’ Western Daily Press, 17 September, p. 3.
  3. ‘S. S. Iole,’All the World, January, p. 19.
  4. ‘Our Navy,’ The War Cry, 6 March, p. 13.
  5. ‘Wanted for the Salvation Yacht Vestal,’ The War Cry, 19 May, p. 7.
  6. ‘Yachting,’ The Hampshire Independent, 26 February, p. 7.

Researching ‘lascar’ funerals

Posted on by sumita.mukherjee

As part of our research for the ‘Mariners’ project, we’re interested in how missionary engagement with sailors in British port cities affected religious practices, identities, customs and rituals.

Life at sea and in ports was quite often fatal for seafarers, especially seamen who were not British-born. For seamen known as ‘lascars’, cramped conditions on board ships and in port cities, illness, disease and poor health care, alongside the dangers of the sea, led to high fatalities. There were also high incidences of suicide. The ritual of funerals and burial services are an interesting indicator of the way in which sailors of non-Christian faiths adapted their customs and were catered for within burial spaces in port cities.

I’ve been doing some further research into ‘lascar funerals’ in the nineteenth and twentieth century in the major port cities of London, Hull, and Cardiff, and have found some very interesting newspaper reports that reveal the way Muslim and Hindu religious practices were observed by Asian seafarers. Scholars such as Nazneen Ahmed, Humayan Ansari, Eliza Cubitt and Diane Robinson-Dunn have written about some of the practices of burial and internship of mainly Muslim lascars in mainly London. Looking at newspapers enhances and furthers their findings.

For example, in May 1894, Bawa Golam Sahib, who was 30 years old and worked on a ship from Bombay to Roath Dock in Cardiff to load coal fell ill and was taken to the Hamadryad Hospital Ship. The HMS Hamadryad was permanently moored in Cardiff as a seamen’s hospital, next to the HMS Thisby used for missions, and HMS Havannah used as a school to train boys for seafaring.  Sahib was interred at the New Cemetery at Cardiff and press reports reported that he had been given a Hindu funeral by his shipmates – around ten of them wearing white garments and brightly coloured turbans in a short, simple cemetery before pouring soil over his burial.[1]

Elsewhere in Wales, a lascar sailor was buried at Merthyr Dovan Cemetery, near Barry Dock, in December 1893 with roughly twenty mourners who observed Muslim rites, ‘as far as they possibly could’.[2] In January 1895, the funeral of a Muslim seaman, Ahmed Sk Dawood took place in Newport. Dawood had died on board the Indrapura in the Alexandra Dock. Six fellow Asian seamen wore turbans and rode the carriage that followed Dawood’s hearse through the snow to the graveside. A news report specifically noted that the mourners recited from the Koran. Finally, ‘leaving the grave by one of the paths, they suddenly halted, formed in a circle, and chanted their last farewell to the comrade whose remains they were leaving in the snow-covered strange land.’[3] Dawood left behind a widow in Bombay.

While illustrations of lascar funerals are few and far between, we have a photo of mourners at a lascar funeral in Hull in 1909. The photograph at Hedon-road cemetery shows more than ten mourners carrying a coffin. Taking place in September the men were all wearing trousers and jackets and kufi caps.[4] The sailor had died of beriberi, a deficiency of vitamin B1, which had inflicted four crew members of the Knight Errant in Hull but two lascars had died on the voyage too and had been buried at sea. Two of the deceased in Hull were lascars.[5] They were called Masrooda Jabudeen (aged 25) and Ahmed Yussuf (35) and had Christian services alongside prayers from around twenty crewmates.[6] While these seamen had many mourners, not all funerals were well-attended and might even be described as ’pathetic’. A year earlier in Hull Cassin Aleebux, a fireman on the SS Iran, had died of consumption. He was buried in Hull Western Cemetery but only four crew members attended his burial and performed Muslim rites while a small crowd looked on.[7]

 

[1] ’Funeral of the Beri-Beri Victims’, Hull Daily Mail, 15 September 1909, p. 3

[2] ’Beri-Beri at Hull’, Sheffield Daily Telegraph, 13 September 1909, p. 11; ’Beri-Beri at Hull’, Sheffield Independent, 14 September 1909, p. 4

[3] ’Lascars‘ Funerals To-Day’, Hull Daily Mail, 14 September 1909, p. 5

[4] ’Mahomedan Funeral in Hull’, Hull Daily Mail, 14 January 1908, p. 5

[5] ‘Hindoo Burial at Cardiff’, South Wales Daily News, 16 May 1894, p. 6

[6] ‘Local News Items’, Western Mail (Cardiff), 30 December 1893, p. 6

[7] ’Mahometan Funeral at Newport’, Cardiff Times, 2 February 1895, p. 5

 

Bristol Channel Mission – Bristol Archives

Posted on by hilary.carey

I very much enjoyed getting down by the River Avon to explore Bristol Archives, which is part of Bristol Museums.

The Archives are a welcoming place, housed in B Bond Warehouse hard by the River Avon and the impressive engineering works that created the Floating Harbour. I was there to explore the one surviving Book of Minutes, 1843-1844, for the Bristol Channel Mission Society (BCMS), a forerunner of the Anglican Mission to Seafarers.

BCMS Minute Book
Bristol Channel Mission Minute Book. Source: Bristol Archives, 12168/18.

The BCMS originated in the efforts of the Rev. John Ashley to visit isolated maritime communities in the Channel, as well as the much larger number of ships moored in the Channel’s roadsteads waiting for wind and tide to take them to their next port. A ‘roadstead’ or ‘roadstay’ is a nautical term for a sheltered stretch of water, where it is (relatively) safe to anchor. In the Bristol Channel, hundreds of ships could be found anchored at Kings-road off Portishead, the Penarth roadstead, and other locations in the notoriously dangerous waterway. One sailing guide describes a roadstay near Ilfracombe, which was visited several times by Ashley on his lecture tours on behalf of the mission, in this way: ‘Ilfracombe is a little pier harbour, drying at low water; on its western point is a lighthouse…  [O]utside of the pier there is a roadstead with good anchorage from 5 to 8 fathoms. This part is much frequented by coasting vessels; and pilots generally may be had here to conduct you to King’s-road.’ [J.W. Norie, New and Complete Sailing Directions for St George’s and Bristol Channels (London: Norie, 1816), p.1.]

Although Ashley is usually said to have begun his ministry in 1839, it is necessary to rely on newspaper reports for much of the early history of the mission. According to the Bristol Mercury (one of 13 local newspapers serving the busy port city), Ashley was instrumental in creating the first roadstead mission and trying to reach seafarers afloat and at work. It was through his advocacy that funds were raised for a specially fitted vessel, the Eirene, which was built at Pill to Ashley’s specifications in 1841. The Eirene  served not just to visit ships and distribute tracts, but also as a floating chapel. Along the busy roadsteads of the great Severn estuary, Ashley would preach, deliver sermons in aid of the mission, and advocate on behalf of the merchant seaman. Along the ports of the Bristol Channel, ‘it happened that considerable fleets of 200 to 300 sail were detained by contrary winds in Kings-road and the Penarth-roads’. [‘Bristol Channel Mission’, Bristol Mercury, 6 June 1840]. Most were commercial vessels, serving the coastal trade in goods such as coal, as well as imports from the Americas,  sugar, tobacco, wine and spirits, meat, live cattle, fruit and timber. A lithograph in the Bristol Museums collection, dated 29 November 1843, shows the Mission Cutter Eirene, anchored among these vessels off Penarth, signalling that was time for divine service.

The Bristol Channel Mission Cutter EIRENE. from a Sketch taken in Penarth Roads before Monring Service, November 29th 1843, and Dedicated to the Revd. John Ashley, LL.D> Chaplain to the Mission. By James Edward Fitzgerald.
The Bristol Channel Mission Cutter Eirene, 29 November 1843. Source: Bristol Museums, Galleries and Archives. Object Number J129.

Ashley would later write about his mission in these terms:

Truly I pass from roadstead to roadstead here; as a dying man preaching to dying men. Every heavy gale that sweeps the sea buries in its abyss some of the Bibles I have sold, the books and tracts I have given, and in the prime and vigour of life, the men whose hands received them from mine. [‘Missions to Merchant Seamen‘, Churchman 4 ( 1881 ), 329.]

The Minute Book shows that Ashley and the BCMS had high-level support in the city, at least at first. The Society was formed ‘under the auspices of the Lord Bishop of Gloucester and Bristol [ie. James Henry Monk] for the purposes of sending a Clergyman to officiate among the fleets in Penarth-road, Kings-road, etc.’ [Taunton Courier, 22 Feb. 1842]. A sub-committee held at Sundon House, on 21 April 1843, was chaired by Charles Pinney (1793-1867), a Bristol merchant who had been Mayor of Bristol during the disastrous riots following the House of Lords’ rejection of the 1831 Reform Bill. Like the Ashley family and many wealthier Bristolians, Pinney is listed in the Legacies of Slavery database, and benefitted substantially from slave labour. Also on the BCMS committee was a future Mayor of Bristol, Thomas Porter Jose (1801-1875), a colliery owner and director of the Ashton Vale Iron Company, and George John Hadow (1789-1869), formerly of the Madras civil service and assistant under collector of sea customs. Hadow was an active philanthropist, and in 1838 also served on the committee of the Bristol Asylum for the Blind.  Sundon House was Hadow’s Clifton home. At the second anniversary of the Society, the meetings was held in the Victoria Rooms, and was chaired by the then mayor of Bristol, James Gibbs. [Cardiff and Merthyr Guardian, 6 May 1843].

While Ashley was also on the committee, it is evident from the minutes that things were not all as they should be. For undisclosed reasons, Ashley demanded that the captain of the missionary cutter, the Eirene, be dismissed. While he was able to achieve his wish, it was not long before there was  a parting of the ways.

As the Society’s debts mounted, Ashley and the Committee were on a collision course. Ashley failed to attend the Annual Meeting held in the Victoria Rooms on Thursday 25 April 1844. Money seems to have been the main issue. In June 1843, the Society decided to set the chaplain’s salary at £250 – backdated to 31 March 1843.  Ashley seems to have declared war on the Committee, and began withholding subscriptions, including from the Merchant Venturers.

By December 1844, most of the Committee had had enough, and almost all of them resigned. This removed the treasurer, both Secretaries, W.C. Bernard and Jose, as well as the Committee’s leading cleric, the Archdeacon of Wells [Henry Law], along with seven clergy and seven laymen, including Charles Pinney. Ashley promptly offered to fill up all the vacancies with his own choice of officers, but – unsurprisingly – his offer was not accepted. At this rather exciting moment, the Minute Book ends.

Excerpt from BCMS Minute Book
The BCMS Committee resigns, Dec. 1845. Source: BCMS Minute Book, Bristol Archives.

There are press reports of accusations and counter accusations exchanged between Ashley and the Committee, though the pamphlets distributed by the warring parties have not survived. Perhaps this is just as well. In their reply to Ashley, the Committee quoted scripture: ‘He that is first in his own cause seemeth just; but his neighbour cometh and searcheth him.” – Proverbs 18, v. 17 [Bristol Times and Mirror, 5 Feb. 1845]

Newspaper cutting
The NCMS Committee v. the Rev. John Ashley, Bristol Times and Mirror, Sat. 8 February 1845.

So what happened? The Society limped on, and Ashley himself went on an heroic fund-raising tour in 1852, moving from ‘town to town’ to support the cause. Ashley’s tour ended in London where, at a meeting chaired by Lord Shaftesbury, Ashley spoke for three hours on behalf of the mission he had founded. [Morning Chronicle, 11 June 1853]:

But it was not enough.  In July 1856, the Bristol Channel Mission Society held its final meeting. There was a very poor attendance as the Committee explained that the Society would be wound up and incorporated into a new national organisation, based in London [Bristol Mercury, 5 July 1856]. With relief, it was also reported that the new Society would take over their debt of £450.  This included all that was owed to Ashley, who had agreed to resign on being paid his full stipend of £400, an enormous salary by the standards of any other missionary society. By this stage, Ashley had already been replaced by three new chaplains, the Rev. T.C. Childs, well known for his mission to emigrants now extended to seamen from his base at Ryde on the Isle of Wight, for the English Channel, the Rev. C.D. Strong for the Bristol Channel, and the Rev. R. B. Howe for the Great Harbour of Malta. Putting on a brave show, the committee reported: ‘Feeling then that the time is come – that already the adequate discharge of our duty as a mission to the seafaring population of Great Britain is entirely beyond our strength as a small local committee, we propose that this society be now dissolved in favour of the society for promoting missions to seamen at home and abroad.’ [Bristol Mercury, 5 July 1856]

The Missions to Seamen (1856), incorporating both the Bristol Channel Mission Society and the Thames Church Mission Society (1844) was launched under new, more effective management. Ashley himself never recovered from the collapse of his vision, though fondly remembered as a pioneer of the Anglican Missions to Seafarers, and the first to attempt a direct mission to seafarers isolated on the roadsteads of the Bristol Channel. Based on the BCMS Minutes, the mission he pioneered succeeded despite rather than because of his involvement with the cause. However, given the many gaps in the record, it may not be possible to understand the full story.

 

Sources

Bristol Archives, 12168/18. Bristol Channel Mission, Minute Book, 1843-1844.

For accounts of the BCMS and the Rev. John Ashley: Bath Chronicle and Weekly Gazette, Bristol Times and Mirror, Bristol Mercury, Exeter and Plymouth Gazette, Morning Chronicle (London), Southampton Herald.

Miller, R.H.W. Dr Ashley’s Pleasure Yacht: John Ashley, the Bristol Channel Mission and all that Followed. London: Lutterworth, 2017. [Available as an ebook here]

Miller, R.H.W. ‘Thomas Cave Childs: Pioneer chaplain to female emigrants and the Missions to Seamen’, The Mariner’s Mirror 106.4 (2020), 436-449.

For older views of Ashley:

Strong, L.A.G. Flying Angel: The Story of Missions to Seamen. London: Methuen, 1956

Walrond, Mary L. Launching out into the deep; or the pioners of a noble effort. London: SPCK, 1904.

 

 

 

 

Advisory Board comes to Bristol 4 September

Posted on by hilary.carey

The Mariners project was delighted to welcome Advisory Board members to Bristol on 4 September. The Board consists of leading marine historians, archivists and community leaders:

  • Claire Weatherall, Hull History Centre, is a trained archivist who has completed the catalogue of the archives of the Mission to Seafarers
  • Brad Beaven, University of Portsmouth, is a leading marine historian with a special interest in the history of British ports;
  • Aaron Jaffer, Royal Museums Greenwich is a leading authority on the history of lascars; 
  • Asif Shakoor is a community historian whose family were employed on lascar contracts in the British mercantile marine.

In the morning the Bristol team  briefed the Advisory Board on progress since the project began on 1 October 2022. We were able to report that the website was on track for release in November, which will be the major milestone for the first stage of the project. All team members have also been contributing regularly to the project blog, which is shaping up as a great window to the evolution of the project.

We then headed down to the floating harbour for lunch in the Grain Barge where there was more chat and debriefing about the directions of the project. We are very grateful to Evan Jones, one of the leading authorities on the history of Bristol and Bristol Harbour, who took us on a superb walking tour of Bristol, pointing out key elements in the city’s port history, and ending up at Bristol Bridge where the medieval city began.

Evan Jones explaining why Bristol actually has two statues of Cabot – not one.

On the way we paused outside the badly damaged site of the former Bristol Missions to Seafarers in Prince’s Street, and the rather more salubrious Seaman’s Home in Queen Square. We look forward to our next Advisory Board meeting which will be in six months time.

Mariners Advisory Board and team members outside site of former Missions to Mariners, Prince Street Bristol.

 

 

London Metropolitan Archives

Posted on by Manikarnika Dutta

The London Metropolitan Archives (LMA) specialises in the history of London and maintains records related to the development of London’s urban spaces and communities. I went there to consult documents on the seamen’s mission circuit and the Sailors’ Orphan Girls Home in Hampstead. While the Hull History Centre has most of the Hampstead home’s records, the LMA had some scattered documents on the institution and London’s seamen’s missions.

The LMA is housed in a brutalist building looking over a park. The reading room and reference centre floor had an exceptionally well-curated free exhibition on London’s racial minorities. I read several logbooks of the Wesleyan Chapel Trust seamen’s mission circuit (N/M/42/70) that described the frequency of preaching among seamen in five London locations: Brunswick Chapel (1832-), Mitre Buildings Sunday School (1843-), Queen Victoria Seamen’s Rest (1900-), Barking Road Chapel in Canning Town (1861-68), Barking Road Minister’s House (1894-) and Every Seamen’s Rest (1909). The local preachers also kept detailed minutes on the content of their lectures (N/M/42/69).

London Metropolitan Archives (photo credit: Manikarnika Dutta)

The archives held a large number of annual and occasional reports of the Sailors’ Orphan Girls School 9A/FWA/C/D/122/001) that provided an overview of the church’s work with orphans. Captain R.J. Elliott started the Home in Whitechapel in 1829 as a means to provide education to orphans of seamen and fishermen. The committee moved the institution to Frognal House in Hampstead in 1855, where they provided board, clothing, education, and training in domestic duties. It received children between the ages of five and 12, who remained there till 16. The Duke of Edinburgh led a fundraising campaign that helped the establishment of a new building in 1866.

The church and the admiralty jointly managed the enrolment and the religious and practical education of the orphans. Training in housework included cooking, laundry, and needlework, and the Home found them suitable jobs as they turned 16. The girls were given an outfit as they ventured out into the world, and prizes for serving for a long time at one place. The Home prided itself in saving orphaned children from poverty and ignominy, but its vision for preparing these children for life was grounded in archaic notions of class and gender roles: that working-class women could not aspire to become any more than servants. I will revisit Hull to consult other documents of the Home and generate a deeper understanding of the church’s role in orphan welfare.