On Saturday October 6 1860 approximately one hundred miles out from Boston, the PS Connaught, one of the biggest and most spectacular transatlantic ships of its day, hit a storm, and sprung a leak. As water poured into the engine room, an auxiliary coal-fired engine was started which sparked a fire which rapidly spread out of control. Flames and smoke forced the 591 passengers and crew on to the top deck.
The lifeboats, which could only accommodate a limited number of people, were lowered but the waves smashed them against the iron hull. Those passengers desperately scrambled back on board the doomed ship.*
The PS Connaught was to be the Galway Line’s saviour. Its powerful size, the luxury and comfort of its interior, and its promised transatlantic speed, should ensure success in attracting fee-paying emigrants heading to America in vast numbers.
Built by the reputable Palmer’s Shipbuilding and Iron Co, Jarrow, the ship was 380 ft long (120M ) with a 40ft beam, and the capacity to carry 800 passengers and crew. Her hull was built of iron. She was powered by three 800 horsepower engines capable of reaching speeds of 20 miles per hour. She also carried two masts with sails. At her centre were two massive paddle wheels three storeys high.
Its main deck promenade and combings were made of solid teak, ‘beautifully carved and polished’. She boasted spectacular framed skylights ‘stained most gracefully’. The saloons and first class cabins had walnut and maple panelling ‘of the most exquisite workmanship’. The cabins were adorned with paintings depicting scenes of the Irish countryside. Throughout the ship ‘there were diamond cut-glass doorknobs, velvet couches, and burnished gold moulding’. The lavishly furnished dining lounge could seat over 200 diners in luxury.
On April 21 1860 a special train, crowded with passengers, departed Newcastle-Upon-Tyne to join thousands of others to witness the launch of this great ship, the largest ship afloat at the time with the exception of the Great Eastern, designed by the great Isambard Kingdom Brunel
Despite all its comfort and elegance, however, on ships at this time, when it came to safety on the wide Atlantic, with all its perils, passengers could only hope their engineers understood the new technology of steam, and put their trust in God.
Profitable postal contract
A ship of this size must have cost a fortune. There were 316 shareholders backing the Galway Line, and were typical of the type of investor existing in Ireland in the mid 19th century. Apart from the aristocracy and landed gentry, by far the bulk of the shareholders consisted of middle class merchants, businessmen, bankers, clergymen, elected representatives and solicitors all largely unaffected by the recent and devastating Great Famine.
The company had been bedevilled by bad luck. During its six years of trading it employed 16 steamers (eight paddle-powered, eight screw-powered ) which made a total of 55 return voyages between Galway and Halifax/Boston/New York. These voyages were made during winter months as well as during the calmer summer season. However six ships were involved in serious accidents due to ice and fog, as well as storms. Five ships had made only one round trip, or had foundered on their first crossing.
At the time of the launch of the PS Connaught the company’s financial position was so dire that it sold its profitable postal contract.
On hearing the news that the postal contracts were gone, the Galway Vindicator (Saturday July 14 1860 ) lashed out with a particularly scathing editorial under the heading: ‘How Galway was taken in and done for’.
Taking up almost the entire page that was normally devoted to international news, it thundered: ‘Galway is sold up, sold out, transferred, travestied, wronged, robbed, and laughed at…’
After firing off a broadside against critics of Galway, which included the government, Liverpool and Southampton interests, the people of Foynes, Cork, and Waterford, it targeted various individuals including John Orrell Lever MP, one of the original founders of the company. Lever was called ‘a charlatan’ and asked to resign his seat at Westminster.
Finally, as an afterthought, the editorial concluded: ‘The foreign news today requires no particular comment’.
A trial run
There had been trouble with the PS Connaught almost from the start. Before coming to Galway she made a trial run to Boston taking eight days instead of the scheduled six. A temporary piston had to be fitted, and specially made as the engines were larger than usual. On the return voyage Captain Robert Leitch decided not to call at St John’s owing to the presence of drift ice and heavy fog. And
while steaming eastwards the port piston again fractured adding a further seven days to its stated schedule.
Nevertheless as she steamed into Galway Bay on Sunday June 24 1860 she was received with rapture. The Galway Vindicator, which had not yet lost heart in its belief in the Galway Line, lavished praise on its long and graceful look: ‘ the masts, funnels and paddleboxes appeared small in relation to her great length, but the overall impression was one of speed.’
When the reporter went below decks, he was ecstatic at what he saw. The first class passenger lounge was ‘fitted in the most elegant and substantial manner. The sides are ornamented with walnut wood and bird’s eye maple panelling of the most exquisite workmanship and finish. Between the panels are beautifully executed views of the finest scenery in Ireland painted in oil….’
‘In the state rooms the panels are painted white; while the mounding is entirely burnished gold….there is a row of loungers in crimson velvet……the ladies retiring cabin with its splendid sideboard, a perfect model of upholstery work…’
Having completed the necessary repairs, under the supervision of John Palmer, who came over specially from Jarrow, the Connaught embarked on a series of trials out as far as the Aran islands and back. Both the Board of Trade inspectors and John Palmer were happy to agree that the ship was ready to begin its transatlantic career. On Tuesday September 25 with 462 passengers and a full charge on board the Connaught sailed out of the bay for Boston, arriving after a trouble-free voyage.
While in dock, an estimated 10,000 people came to see the ship and to marvel at its size and grandeur. All seemed in order as the Connaught departed from Boston on the morning of Saturday October 6 heading for Galway. It was later that day that disaster struck.
Next week: An extraordinary rescue.
NOTES: * The discrepancy in the ratio of passenger numbers to space on ships’ lifeboats, continued unchecked for a further half century, and was only corrected after the sinking of the Titanic in 1912. The PS Connaught has been called the Titanic of its day, not only for sinking on its maiden voyage but for its relative size and opulence compared to other ships of the time.
I am indebted for today’s story to Timothy Collins and his excellent book Transatlantic Triumph and Heroic Failure - The Galway Line, published by The Collins Press 2002.
Listen to Tom Kenny and Ronnie O'Gorman elaborating on topics they have covered in this week's paper and much more in this week's Old Galway Diary Podcast.
