The Wreck of The Ship P.R. Hazeltine
by Tom Seymour
After being fully laden with 1,500,000 feet of deals, the ship P.R. Hazeltine sailed for Liverpool Thursday, July 27, 1876. Then on August 3, 1876, The Republican Journal reported that the new ship P.R. Hazeltine had gone ashore in dense fog on Cape Sable at the entrance of the Bay of Fundy. Photo courtesy of Belfast Historical Society
The ship P.R. Hazeltine may well have served to inspire the author of Murphy’s Law to say that if anything can go wrong, it probably will. From beginning to end, this, the largest ship built in Belfast, was fraught with ill fortune, as were people connected with it.
Commissioned in 1875 by Captain William Herriman of Belfast, the three-masted ship was of 1,836 tons, the largest ever built at the C.P. Carter shipyard. The ship was launched on May 25, 1876. Unfortunately, Columbia Perkins Carter never lived to see completion of this, the 100th of 125 ships built in his shipyard. Still, it seems probable that Carter, while yet alive and fighting the debilitating kidney disease that eventually took his life, was involved in the planning of the ship P.R. Hazeltine.
Misfortune Strikes
Its string of bad luck began for the P.R. Hazeltine at the very beginning of its construction. While unloading oak timber from Virginia at Dyer & Son’s Wharf, the mechanical apparatus used for unloading broke, and the timbers came showering down. No one was injured, although this mishap certainly set the stage for future problems, not the least of which was the eventual wrecking of the ship on a submerged rock off of Cape Horn.
The second misfortune occurred one week prior to launching, when some staging collapsed and workers painting the ship fell to the ground. One of four painters was quite badly injured.
Even the sailmaker for the ship P.R. Hazeltine was troubled by ill fortune. Joseph Dennett made the 7,000 yards of sail for the P.R. Hazeltine. And it seems a wonder that he did, since prior to making sails for the P.R. Hazeltine, his sail loft and/or house completely burned four different times. A poem by David Barker memorialized Dennett’s misfortune in his poem, “The Third Cremation.”
After a successful launching on May 24, 1876, the big ship was towed to Bangor, where she was stepped and then loaded with deals (pine boards) destined for Liverpool, England. But because of her large draught, she could not accept all the deals and the balance were placed on rafts and towed to Belfast to finally get stowed about the ship.
On June 22, 1876, the ship was officially named. But the name given, P.R. Hazeltine, was not what anyone had expected. It was commonly accepted that the ship would be named for her late builder, C.P. Carter. However, her owners, having full power and authority to do so, decided against that and assigned the name P.R. Hazeltine.
Finally, after being fully laden with 1,500,000 feet of deals, the ship P.R. Hazeltine sailed for Liverpool Thursday, July 27, 1876.
Then on August 3, 1876, The Republican Journal reported that the new ship P.R. Hazeltine had gone ashore in dense fog on Cape Sable at the entrance of the Bay of Fundy. This was, by Captain Herriman’s reckoning, about 30 miles off the cape. Anchors were set and assistance recruited from shore to assist in throwing off a deck load of lumber.
The ship was finally pulled off by steam tug, the abandoned load of lumber located and saved. The keel and planking were damaged and the ship began leaking, but not badly. Nevertheless, she proceeded on her journey. The captain said that the ship’s compass was in error, which accounted for her going aground. The ship P.R. Hazeltine made the trip from Cape Sable to Liverpool in sixteen days, a fast trip by any account.
Fateful Journey
After her trip to Liverpool, the P.R. Hazeltine sailed to the Port of New York, where she took on a load of general cargo bound for San Francisco. And on Thursday, April 4, 1878, an item appeared in The Republican Journal declaring the loss of the ship P.R. Hazeltine. Wrecked off Cape Horn.
Maine people on board, in addition to the Captain, were the captain’s wife and 21-year-old son, who served as the ship’s second mate and Wellington White. The Journal report stated that “part of the crew were saved,” which caused much consternation in and around Belfast. “Which part of the crew were saved and which lost?” people wondered.
Then on April 11, The Republican Journal reported that the captain had sent a message stating that the ship wasn’t so badly wrecked that it couldn’t be saved. His wire, though, said nothing about the people aboard, except it was presumed that if any loss of life had occurred, Captain Herriman would have reported it. But presumption only goes so far when uncertain about the fate of friends and neighbors.
Missing Boat
When the P.R. Hazeltine struck a submerged rock off of Wallaston’s Island, she immediately filled with water and quickly sunk, but not before the ship’s boats were let down and filled with everything that frantic people could think to grab in a hurry.
In their attempt to make a landing, one boat got separated from the other two, the boat with the captain’s son. The captain and his party, along with those in the second boat, searched for his son for two weeks, but with no results. Finally, Captain Herriman, his wife and 17 of the crew were picked up by the French bark Gustave, headed for Guayaquil. The captain by then had determined that since no trace of his son’s boat had been thus discovered, that another vessel must have picked them up and that they were safe. The captain reported also that he blamed his mate for the loss of his ship.
The time spent searching for the second mate’s boat was a miserable one for the would-be rescuers. Bread, a common staple of the day, was pretty much spoiled by wetting in salt water.
The weather was cold, rain, snowy and very windy most days. Hours and hours of “pulling,” or rowing, were of no avail against stiff winds and heavy seas. The boats finally split, one going one way around an island, the other taking an opposite course. Commencing at that point, both suffered severe privations. Additionally, encounters with decidedly unfriendly natives added greatly to their discomfort.
However, despite their intense hardships, being mostly fairly young and in the prime of health, no one fell ill. This was a blessing, since recovery would have been greatly hampered by the adverse conditions and lack of food.
Mate’s Report
Meanwhile, the second mate and companions faced perils of their own. During the initial trip from the wreck to shore, fierce winds bore down upon them and when a sudden sheer pushed his boat sideways, the boat took on water and in order to avoid being swamped, the mate ordered the third mate to cut the painter by which they were attached to the long boat. This resulted in restoring stability.
Shortly after that, huge seas took the boat’s tiller. Without a means of steering, the boats were as a consequence, separated and the second mate made, the best he could, for the nearest land that he could see, while the other boats continued on their initial course to a different point of land.
Two days later, while searching for the captain’s boat, the second mate found the third boat, a Mr. Robinson being in command. Robinson was searching for the captain, but had not seen anything of him. So what began as three boats together, heading for a predetermined point, ended up with all three separated and not knowing the fate of the others. That is, not until the second mate encountered Mr. Robinson’s boat.
And even though Mr. Robinson had lost most of his provisions, on account of having to heave most everything overboard while being inundated by high seas, he was able to give the second mate’s party a half of a ham and a quantity of raisins. The two boats then went on their ways, looking for the captain. But of course the captain was also searching for them at the same time.
Four days after meeting Mr. Robinson’s boat, the second mate’s boat was chased by natives in canoes, but gave them the slip. The second mate managed to go completely around the island, for it was on an island where they had landed, without seeing another boat.
At several points, the boat’s crew attempted to disobey orders and to circumvent the second mate’s direction. But he forcibly held his position and managed to retain order and decorum.
Days passed and food became scarce. The second mate killed a penguin and one of his party killed another, giving them fresh meat. While at sea again, they saw lights on shore but didn’t go in for fear of hostile natives.
Later, back ashore in safer environs, the second mate saw a cave at the head of a beach. This cave contained the remains of two men, naked, with much of their flesh stripped from their bodies…a sign of cannibals. And although the cave stunk from decomposing bodies, the men were able to salvage much-needed items of clothing, including oilcloths (the raingear of the day), boots and shoes. The clothing stank, but the men were in such need that they managed to overlook that particular discomfort.
Several days later, the men found another camp, this one completely deserted, but with more supplies, including blubber, oil and a large, iron pot. This aided them in cooking mussels, which were plentiful. Two days later, the second mate’s boat sighted a sail. It was the American bark Samoa, traveling from Liverpool to San Francisco with a load of coal. The men of the second mate’s boat were finally safe.
Captain William Herriman House, Belfast, Maine. Captain Herriman, reluctant to give up on salvage efforts, bought his own ship back at auction in Valparaiso. Back home in Maine, Captain Herriman began hatching salvage plans. In this effort, he included some of the original investors. Photo courtesy of Belfast Historical Society
Captain’s Fate
It eventually came to the attention of people back in Belfast, Maine, that all on the P.R. Hazeltine were saved, with not a single loss of life. But the story does not end there. Captain Herriman, reluctant to give up on salvage efforts, bought his own ship back at auction in Valparaiso.
Back home in Maine, Captain Herriman began hatching salvage plans. In this effort, he included some of the original investors. Also, the captain arranged with the Chilean government to protect the vessel from unauthorized salvagers.
The salvage effort was hampered by attacks from natives, with a battle that resulted in one native being killed and two other being severely wounded before they finally retired in the face of superior fire. The natives posed a continuing threat to salvage efforts.
The wreck of the P.R. Hazeltine was then sold to a professional diver and wrecker, C.A. Jones. Captain Herriman accompanied Jones on a final effort to salvage as much as possible from the wreck. But the stress of his loss had taken an irrevocable toll upon the captain and an entry in the June 26, 1879 issue of The Republican Journal stated that “The belief is that attempts to raise the ship had proved a failure and through labor and anxiety, Captain Herriman was suffering a temporary loss of his mind.”
Postscript
But the Journal article was wishful thinking. The captain’s loss of mind was not temporary and Captain William Herriman was committed to the Augusta Mental Health Institute. He died, insane, in 1893 at age 66.
After the Captain’s unsuccessful efforts at salvaging the P.R. Hazeltine, a portion of the cargo was, in fact, salvaged and this consisted of casks of whiskey and some pianos, encased in tin. We today can only speculate upon what kind of melancholy notes were eventually played on these instruments, sad reminders of a hopeful and well-intended venture gone so terribly wrong.