A Salon Guest... Ghost Ships, Treasure and Tragedy

It is my pleasure to welcome Willow C Winsham to the salon today. A blogger on the witch, the weird and the wonderful, Willow is my much-valued writing partner in crime and brings us a spooky tale of ghost ships, treasure and tragedy.

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Everyone loves a good ghost story, especially with the approach of Halloween. It is with great delight that I make my first visit to the salon with the sad and chilling story of the ill-fated Lady Lovibond, a three masted schooner that met her end on the treacherous Goodwin Sands off the coast of Deal, Kent.    

The Lovibond, so the legend goes, left harbour of Friday 13th February, 1748. Her captain, Simon Peel (or Reed as he is sometimes known) was young, handsome, and very much in love with his beautiful new wife. Unable to bear the thought of leaving her behind and wishing to celebrate his recent marriage, he brought her aboard with several guests on the voyage bound for Oporto, Portugal, the hold filled with flour, meat, wine and gold.

What should have been a joyous occasion, however, soon turned to tragedy. Unbeknownst to the captain, his first mate, John Rivers, was deeply in love with the lovely Mrs Peel. Driven out of his mind with jealousy and unrequited desire, Rivers made a terrible decision. While the happy couple were celebrating below decks, in a bitter rage Rivers knocked the man at the wheel senseless. With the ship under his control he steered her straight onto the Goodwin Sands where she ran aground, sinking into the perilous sandbank and taking everyone with her.   

The Goodwin Sands at low tide

A terrible tragedy in its own right, but the story does not, however, end there. Every fifty years, on the date of the disaster the Lady Lovibond is said to sail again, appearing on the site of her sinking. With several accounts up until 1948, she failed to keep her appointment in 1998, but is still one of the most popular British ghost ships on record. The  spine-chilling story is repeated in countless books and websites, in many cases virtually verbatim, the story taken as established fact.

What truth, if any, is there in the story of the Lovibond? A cursory glance at the records brings up no evidence of a Captain Simon Peel or Reed, much less his much-coveted wife. Whether there was any such couple and the details have been lost to time is impossible to tell. There is also no record of a ship named The Lady Lovibond or similar in the eighteenth century or any other. Reports that the tragedy was declared a case of misadventure at a subsequent inquest appear to have materialised from nowhere, or were borrowed from the tale of another wreck in the area.

One thing we can be certain of is the location of the tragedy. There is little surprise that the Goodwin Sands is the setting for such an enduring story.  The sandbank, which lies approximately seven miles off the coast of Deal, Kent, has been claiming ships since records began, with an estimated 50,000 people having lost their lives there. Ten miles in length, the sand is solid enough at low tide that funfairs and cricket matches have been held there, but once the tide turns, it is a different story. The mass of shifting, sinking sand can suck a whole ship down to the depths in minutes, leaving no trace.  Many 18^th Century vessels met their fate here but could one of them have been the inspiration for The Lovibond?

A 1736 Map of the Downs, showing the position of the Goodwin Sands in relation to the shore

The Rooswijk, a ship of the Dutch East India Company, is one possible contender. Built in the Company's Amsterdam yard and Launched in 1737, she met her end on the Goodwins on 19th December 1739, one day out of Texel.  Captained by Daniel Ronzieres, she was on her second voyage east, the purpose of her journey to purchase spices, textiles, porcelain, pepper and tea. Caught in a violent storm that also claimed several other ships that night, she was lost on the Sands with no survivors.

The sinking of the Rooswijk and the fateful legendary voyage of the Lovibond were less than a decade apart. The hold was indeed filled with treasures, as proven when the Rooswijk's wreck was discovered by a diver in 2004 in Kellett Gut, a natural channel that runs through the Goodwin Sands. In 2005 the Dutch government carried out surveillance and dives and it is believed that at least 10,000 finds, including over 900 coins, may have been found at this time. Further investigations were completed in 2007. There are at least two concentrations of 18th Century material, including a cast iron muzzle loading gun.  

Thirty chests of silver coins minted primarily in Mexico were loaded aboard the Rooswijk. Each pine chest was wrapped in canvas, tied with rope, and sealed in red wax with the personal seal of the Captain. In 1536 the Mexico City Mint became the first mint to produce coins in the New World.

Another wreck contemporaneous to The Lovibond is that of a French Privateer that grounded on The Sands in 1747. In pursuit of the Britsh ship, Fanny, she was lured over the sandbank, sticking fast while Fanny escaped to safety. The captain of the Fanny followed the code of the sea however and went to rescue survivors, discovering, or so the tale goes, his own wife who had been captured from a collier by the Frenchman a few days previous. Thirteen men out of one hundred and twenty were saved. Fanny herself was eventually lost herself on September 25th 1860 after a storm pressed her onto Northern Gogland Reef.   

Was the Lovibond inspired by a mixture of these and other such tales? As with any legend, the fact blends seamlessly with fiction, until it is almost impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. One thing is certain, there will be many gathered waiting in 2048 to see if she sails again and perhaps the question as to her identity may at last be answered.     

Cricket on the Goodwin Sands by J.M.W Turner c. 1828-30

About the author:

Willow is an author and blogger, currently working on her first series, The Virginia Dewhurst Trilogy. Visit her witchy blog at http://winsham.blogspot.co.uk/.

Written content of this post copyright © Willow C Winsham, 2014.

Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802

There is nothing I like better than to wander abroad from my salon, taking in the sights and sounds of the world around me. From the bustle of our great cities to the rolling hills of the countryside, I like to take m inspiration from the most unusual paces and today's tale is of a poem that owes its own inspiration to the city of London. 

William Wordsworth left London with his sister, Dorothy, in the early morning on 31st July 1802 on their way to travel to Calais. Wordsworth was struck by the simple beauty of the cityscape and later composed a sonnet entitled, Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802.

Westminster Bridge and Abbey by Daniel Turner, 1800

The sonnet is a love letter to London in its waking hours, blanketed by the morning sunlight and an all-enveloping silence. Here in the heart of the city he experiences a deep peace that touches his should and fires his inspiration, finding in this man made environment a perfection to rival nature itself. 

For one so closely associated with poetry of nature, it is a surprise to read such rhapsodical lines addressed to the capital but reading the sonnet one can share in those early morning moments, the Georgian city yet to wake from its slumber.

Earth hath not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! The very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

The Singular Life of "Mad Jack" Fuller

John Fuller (AKA Mad Jack Fuller, Honest John Fuller; North Stoneham, Hampshire, England, 20th February 1757 – London, England, 11th April 1834)

John Fuller by Charles Turner, after Henry Singleton, 1808

Today we meet a man with a very particular reputation; known to history as Mad Jack Fuller, though he preferred Honest John, our salon guest is John Fuller, politician, philanthropist and builder of pyramids!

Fuller was born the son of Reverend Henry Fuller and his wife, Frances; indeed, he was also cousin to one of our previous guests, Sir Hans Sloane. Fuller enjoyed a privileged education at Eton College and at the age of 20 came into a fortune in property both in Sussex and Jamaica on the death of his uncle, Rose Fuller MP. Chief amongst the inheritance was Rose Hill Estate, now known as Brightling Park.

Fuller took up residence as squire of Brightling, and in 1780 began his parliamentary career as MP for Southampton, a seat he held for four years before moving on to become Sheriff of Sussex. As the years drew on he set his cap in the direction of Susannah Arabella Thrale, daughter of Hester, but the young lady rejected his proposal and Fuller never married. Instead, he concentrated on his professional life and returned to Westminster in 1801, this time as MP for Sussex. 

In fact, it was in the House of Commons where Fuller created a dreadful scandal when, in 1810, he drunkenly harangued the Speaker of the House of Commons and was physically removed from the chamber by the Serjeant-at-Arms and a number of clerks. A passionate supporter of slavery, he spoke on the matter on numerous occasions in the House of Commons and was never short of an opinion on most matters.

Fuller's Tomb

In 1811, Fuller supervised the building of a pyramid in the churchyard of the Church of St. Thomas à Becket in Brightling, which was intended to serve as his final resting place. The following year he retied from parliament and transferred his interests to a passionate support of Royal Institution. Here he mentored Michael Faraday and in 1818 he built the Observatory at Brightling, going on to many philanthropic activities.

John Fuller died in London; in accordance with his wishes he was returned to Sussex and laid to rest beneath the pyramid.

The Zong Massacre

Today our tale is a tragic one, a dark chapter in the story of Britain's nautical heritage. When I sat down to tell the story of the drownings at Nantes I found myself thinking of the Zong massacre, a terrible crime that cost some 142 enslaved African people their lives. Cast into the mid-Atlantic, they were left to drown and when the case finally came to court it wasn't a trial for murder, but a disagreement over insurance.

The Slave Ship by JMW Turner, 1840

Originally registered to the Dutch, the Zong had been captured by the Royal Navy and by the end of 1781 was sailing out of Liverpool under the ownership of merchant syndicate including men who had made their fortunes in the slave trade. When the deal for ownership of the ship was finalised it was already off the coast of Africa, with 224 slaves imprisoned on board. The Zong was insured for £8000 and captained by Luke Collingwood, a former surgeon with little command experience looking forward to a lucrative retirement. Collingwood was supported by first mate, James Kelsall and a crew of less than 20. Also on board was a passenger, Robert Stubbs, a former governor who had been removed from his post on account of repeated and serious misconduct.

As the ship sailed on Collingwood fell ill and effective command of the vessel fell first to Kelsall and then, apparently to Stubbs, when Kelsall was suspended for unknown reasons. The number of slaves on board swelled to over 400, the conditions on the Zong growing more barbaric with each day. The command structure in chaos, a number of poor decisions in November 1781 meant that the hugely overcrowded ship was left without enough food or water and conditions on board grew ever more hellish. When the coast of Jamaica became visible on the horizon, salvation was finally in sight but the crew made a catastrophic navigation error. Wrongly believing the land mass was a hostile French colony they turned the ship back into the open sea, sailing over 100 miles before the mistake was noticed. By this point slaves and crew alike were dying from disease or starvation, with no hope of respite.

At this point a stark reality became clear to the fevered Collingwood; if the slaves died on land or on board the Zong, he would receive no money for them. However, if they drowned, an insurance claim could be made for each at a value of £30 per person. On 29th November the crew discussed the plan and by the end of the day, over 50 women and children had been chained and thrown into the sea to drown. A few days later more slaves were murdered in the same manner, with 142 cast into the ocean by the time the ship reached Jamaica. Gravely ill, Collingwood would be dead within days or arrival.

The owners of the ship made a claim for lost cargo against their insurance and, when it was refused, took the underwriters to court. The case hinged on the matter of whether the slaves were killed to save the rest from dehydration or whether they were murdered simply for the insurance money. With the ship's log conveniently lost, Kelsall spoke out against other witnesses, claiming that the ship was carrying enough water to sustain those on board and that he alone had argued against the massacre.

The jury found in favour of the Zong's owners and the insurers were ordered to pay up. They appealed against the ruling and another furious court case ensued. this time though, the witness accounts were so contradictory and the proceedings so muddled that a retrial was ordered. Whether it happened we cannot tell, as the Zong disappears from legal papers at this point.

Outraged that the trial should be over money and not murder, abolitionist Granville Sharp attempted to have the crew prosecuted for the massacre. His efforts were rebuffed by the Lord Chief Justice, William Murray, 1st Earl of Mansfield but Sharp's crusade continued and the abolitionist cause gathered speed throughout the century. 

Although, in the end, nobody was held culpable for the terrible events on board the Zong, the fate of the murdered slaves brought the plight that thousands endured into the public consciousness. It would be many years before the abolitionists finally found their efforts rewarded but those who died during those terrible days at sea are memorialised today at Black River, Jamaica, where there stands a permanent commemoration to the horrors of the Zong massacre.

John Loudon McAdam, King of the Road

John Loudon McAdam (Ayr, Scotland, 21st September 1756 - Moffat, Dumfriesshire, Scotland, 26th November 1836)

John Loudon McAdam by Charles Turner

We've spent a lot of time with monarchs and Emperors, actresses and artists, yet it occurs to me that we have yet to make the acquaintance of many engineers. Today we'll put that right with the story of a Scottish gentleman who developed new techniques in road building, his influence still felt in modern times.

John McAdam was the son of Susan Cochrane and James McAdam, Baron of Waterhead, and as a child was educated at his local parish school, proving himself to be an intelligent, dedicated student. When he was just 14 his father died and the young man was sent to New York to live with his uncle. There he made his fortune as a merchant and financial wizard; he returned to Scotland as a man of means in 1783, becoming deeply immersed in local affairs and politics around his Ayrshire home. He developed new business interests upon his return, having a controlling interest in the Kairns Colliery and other industrial concerns. Not content with this, he acted as a magistrate and assumed other civic roles including one as as trustee of the Ayrshire Turnpike in 1783.

In fact, McAdam found his position as a trustee fascinating and he developed a deep and abiding interest in road construction and engineering, eventually becoming general surveyor for the Bristol Corporation in 1804. As the years went on he wrote papers on the subject and developed research that showed the benefits of raising roads and making them from layers of stone and gravel, as well as ensuring that drainage was a priority. Although he put his theories forward on numerous occasions no roads were developed in this way until McAdam was charged with remaking the Bristol Turnpike in 1816. Finally he was able to put his theories into practice, demonstrating the benefits of macadamisation, better known today as macadam. He received £5000 for this work, later cut to £2000 and his work made him numerous enemies on the Turnpike Trusts, who preferred to keep the money made from tolls rather than ploughing it back into road improvements.

Macadam caught on quickly and was soon in widespread international use; McAdam was offered and refused a knighthood two years prior to his death, an honour that one of his sons would later accept. McAdam lived to the age of 80 and died whilst travelling from his summer home in Scotland to his house in Hertfordshire. From his two marriages he had three sons and four grandsons, all of whom enjoyed successful careers in the road and turnpike business; not a bad legacy for the man behind macadam!

"We have lost more than we have gained": The Death of Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson

Horatio Nelson, 1st Viscount Nelson, KB (Burnham Thorpe, Norfolk, England, 29th September 1758 – Cape Trafalgar, Spain, 21st October 1805)

Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson by Lemuel Francis Abbott , 1799

Not a week ago I told of the final hours of an iconic figure of our Georgian age, the doomed Queen Marie Antoinette. Today I find myself bound to relate another sad death, that of our very own Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson at the legendary Battle of Trafalgar.

On 21st October 1805 the Royal Navy fought the combined might of the French and Spanish navies in the most decisive conflict of the War of the Third Coalition, the Battle of Trafalgar. Although the Royal Navy would claim the all-important victory the price was high; Nelson's death plunged the country into deep mourning for its national hero. By the end of the day the French and Spanish fleets would be annihilated, Napoleon's plans for glory lay in tatters and the stage was set for English dominance over the ocean for decades.

The Fall of Nelson, Battle of Trafalgar, 21 October 1805 by Denis Dighton, 1825

In the heat of the close-quarters battle Nelson strode the deck of his flagship, HMS Victory, with the ship's captain, Thomas Hardy, by his side. As Victory neared the enemy line officers  implored Nelson to retire to another vessel but the Admiral refused, determined to lead the battle from the front as he stood true to his own famous word that "England expects that every man will do his duty". The fighting was vicious and Nelson's secretary, John Scott, fell victim to a cannonball whilst all around him crewmen were dying or injured. Under fire from the French ships and sharpshooters in their rigging, Nelson and Hardy never left the deck of the Victory, issuing orders and commands to their crew. Clad in a dress uniform coat and proudly displaying his Orders of Knighthood, Nelson was a constant, visible presence on the deck, never taking his eye from the battle.

The Battle of Trafalgar by J. M. W. Turner

It was after one o'clock when a shot was fired from the French vessel, Redoubtable, and Hardy turned to see Nelson collapsed on the quarter-deck, his hand clutched to a wound in his left shoulder. The ball had struck Nelson and travelled through his torso to smash his spine, leaving the Admiral with no hope of survival. Hardy later reported that Nelson knew precisely what had happened, telling him, "My backbone is shot through.".

Sergeant-Major Robert Adair and two marines carried the mortally wounded Admiral below decks whilst Hardy remained in command. Even then Nelson continued to issue orders to his men and when he was joined by the Victory's surgeon, William Beatty, he told the medic that nothing could be done for him and asked that Beatty tend other men who might still be saved. Made as comfortable as possible, Nelson was kept cool and refreshed and asked to see Hardy, telling Beatty to remember him to those who loved him. Joined by chaplain, Alexander Scott, and other important crewmen, Nelson continually asked for Hardy and eventually, an hour or so after the wound was inflicted, the Captain joined them below decks.

The Death of Lord Nelson in the Cockpit of the Ship 'Victory' by Benjamin West, 1808

After listening to a report on the successes of the battle. Nelson told his friend that he knew his time was limited and reminded him to anchor, fearing that a storm was approaching and set on capturing 20 of his opponent's vessels. Fading fast, Nelson asked Hardy to ensure that Lady Hamilton was cared for and then asked, "Kiss me, Hardy". After a kiss to his cheek and forehead, Nelson began to slip into incoherence and finally died at half past four, his last words recorded as, "God and my country".

The Death of Nelson, 21 October 1805 by Arthur Devis, 1807

Nelson's body was stored in a cask of brandy, camphor and myrrh and kept under heavy guard on the mast of the Victory. With her precious cargo aboard, the shop was towed to Gibraltar where the admiral's corpse was placed in a lead-lined coffin filled with spirits of wine. This cask was made from the mast of L’Orient, a French ship destroyed in the Battle of the Nile. As the sad preparations to return were made, a messenger was dispatched to send word to London and Lady Hamilton. She later recalled that she greeted the news of Nelson's death with horrified shock and swiftly slipped into debt and despair, neither she nor her daughter, Horatia, offered any support despite Nelson's express wishes that they be cared for. King George III himself greeted the news of the Admiral's death with horror, supposedly commenting, "We have lost more than we have gained."

Nelson finally reached England on board his flagship on 23rd December and his coffin was taken to Greenwich Hospital, where it would remain until January 1806. Over the three days in which Nelson's body lay in state, 100,000 people filed through the Hospital to pat their last respects. With the Admiral's death, Britain lost one of the greatest heroes of the Georgian age and his funeral reflected his status in the country he had given his life for. It was a magnificent affair and one that we shall visit on another day.