Memories of the Eurydice Disaster

Although news reports at the time of a major incident such as the loss of the Eurydice capture various pieces of “background” testimony, and published correspondence of the time may add additional colour, another way of getting a sense of how events were seen at the time is to look at them through the lens of memory, such as in the form of reminiscences.

Misquoting something I have otherwise forgotten, “a story is what’s left when the facts have been forgotten”, what then is the story of that fateful day in March, 1878, as remembered decades later in “reminiscence” columns of the local press.

LOSS OF THE EURYDICE. - Saturday, April 9th, 1927

The Hampshire Advertiser and Southampton Times, 1927-04-09, p. 2

Mrs C. Mitchelmore. 33 Briton’s-road, writes: I have a few remembrances in my mind which no doubt will be very interesting to others as well as myself. The one that comes first is the foundering of H.M.S. Eurydice off the Isle of Wight. I cannot state the exact date. It was about this time of the year in the eighties.

Image: Two of the survivors of the Eurydice whose portraits were preserved by the writer of this note.

It was on a Sunday afternoon, and, as usual, I was in Sunday School at Watts Hall, being in the second Bible class. We were told off to our Bible Classrooms: ours was in the tower facing :he parks. During Scripture lesson the darkness that came over seemed noticeable, it being a lovely bright afternoon. All at once the wind was very boisterous, blowing people in all directions. Then came a blizzard thick and fast. with no chance for anyone to take shelter.

On Monday morning the newspapers spoke of the foundering of a man-of-war, H.M.S. Eurydice, off the Isle of Wight, in a blizzard, at the same time we had it in Southampton. Only two men were saved. One died a few years after: the other. I believe, died in recent years.

Londoners as well as others were deeply distressed at this terrible calamity. Excursions were run from London at 2s. 6d. return on Sundays. I had to meet friends on the Royal Pier from London. Boats were there to take us on our way to the spot where the Eurydice was sunk. We took our seats in a rowing-boat like many others to cruise round. It was not far from land. Two vessels were there, one on each side of the wreck. All at once something must have given way as orders were given for all boats to clear out. I was glad in one sense, for our small craft was letting in water.

On landing I found a piece of the wreck, which I have now as a relic. A gentleman living in one of the houses facing the wreck was watching the Eurydice passing along when the blizzard came on. When it had passed over no boat was to be seen.

(The date of the wreck of the Eurydice was March 24th, 1878. Ed., “Hampshire Advertiser.”)

[Includes photo of the two survivors BL_0003142_19270409_028_0002_pdf__1_page_.png ]

LOST IN SIGHT OF HOME - Friday, April 22nd, 1932

Hampshire Telegraph, 1932-04-22, p. 14

1878 There are few more mournful pages in the history of the British Navy than that which records the loss, on Sunday, March 24, 1878, of the last Eurydice, and, with her, of hundreds of brave fellows who had devoted themselves to their country’s service. The Eurydice was a 26 gun ship, built at Portsmouth, after designs by Rear-Admiral Elliott, and launched with much ceremony and rejoicing on May 16. 1843. The following lines on the launch were published by the Hampshire Telegraph:

“In days long gone a pretty craft,
All taut and ship-shape fore and aft,
Skimmed lightly o’er the Thracian Sea,
‘Twas Orpheus’ Eurydice.

But now a prettier craft behold,
Her bunting to the wind unfold ;
Let Orpheus’ maid forgotten be,
Lo Elliott’s lair Eurydice.

Hail to thee! Modern beauty, hail !
Success and honour with thee sail,
Till as of old, both land and sea
Ring with thy name, Eurydice.”

Alas ! the day did come when land and sea rang with her name, and there was anguish and deep sorrow in the sound. On February 17, 1877, the vessel was commissioned at Portsmouth by Captain Marcus A. S. Hare, as a training ship for ordinary seamen, and when ready she proceeded on a cruise to the West Indies. On March 6 of the following year-1878—she left Bermuda for home, and had made a fine passage. when nearing Ventnor, with all sail set, about four o’clock on the 24th of that a storm of snow and wind came on with sudden and terrific force. Captain Hare who was on deck superintending as officer of the watch, gave orders to shorten sail. The lower studding sail had been taken in, and the watch were about to take in the upper sails when the vessel lurched heavily, and Captain Hare ordered the men to come from aloft. The vessel continued to heel over to the starboard side, and the water came over the lee bulwarks. The ship righted herself a few feet, but the apparent recovery of her balance was but momentary, for she almost immediately went down bodily, bow first. Whilst the few survivors of the wreck were struggling in the water they were sighted by the Emma, schooner, of Padstow, from Newcastle-on-Tyne to Poole. A boat was lowered, and five men were picked up, three of whom, however, afterwards expired, including Mr. Tabor, the First Lieutenant. Thus there were but two survivors- Sydney Fletcher and Benjamin Cuddiford— out of a crew of over 330. The unhappy ship was, after some months of labour, lifted from that muddy grave and brought to Portsmouth, where she was broken up.

From Sir Conan Doyle’s powerful poem on this catastrophe we quote the stanzas :

Up with the royals that top the white spread of her!
Press her and dress her, and drive through the foam;
The Island’s to port, and the mainland ahead of her,
Hey for the Warner and Hayling and Home!

A grey swirl of snow with the squall at the back of it,
Heeling her, reeling her, beating her down!
A gleam of her bends in the thick of the wrack of it,
A flutter of white in the eddies of brown.

It broke in one moment of blizzard and blindness;
The next, like a foul bat, it flapped on its way.
But our ship and our boys! Gracious Lord, in your kindness,
Give help to the mothers who need it to-day!

Give help to the women who wait by the water,
Who stand on the Hard with their eyes past the Wight.
Ah! whisper it gently, you sister or daughter,
“Our boys are all gathered at home for to-night.”

In the rigging house at Portsmouth Dockyard the figure-head of the ship is still preserved, a woman whose features harrowing grief—for it represents the fallen Eurydice calling in vain for Orpheus. From the neck of the figure-head is a tarnished and battered telescope, which was found in that position when the divers first descended to the wreck.

A relief fund of £23,000 was raised for the dependents of the men who were lost.

HAVANT OF PAST DAYS - Friday, September 6th, 1935

Hampshire Telegraph, 1935-09-06, p. 24

A Eurydice Memory

A vivid picture arises in my mind of a Sunday in March. 1878. It was one of those brilliant cloudless days, reminding one that winter is over. and giving a foretaste of summer days ahead. I was chorister of 12 then and was attending afternoon service at St. Faith’s. Suddenly it grew dark, clouds blotted out the sun, the wind howled in fury round the building, and snow, sleet and hailstones dashed against the windows. Almost as suddenly at is began, the wind dropped, the clouds disappeared, and the sun shone out again. Probably the storm would have been forgotten, but for the catastrophe caused the same blizzard off the Isle of Wight. The Eurydice, a training vessel for young, sailors was caught on its way home Portsmouth after a long voyage. and capsized, every soul on board, except two, being drowned.