Exploration of DIPPAM leads to story about wreck of an Irish famine ship

Claire Santry posted an item on her blog Irish Genealogy News about DIPPAM, the Documenting Ireland: People, Parliament and Migration, the online archive of Queen’s University in Belfast. She thinks it may be an underutilized website because of its dull name: “It’s not snappy, it’s a tad earnest, and the word ‘parliament’ is a turn-off for many family historians who imagine it to be aimed only at academic historians and political researchers.”

In her blog post, Ms. Santry directs us to read Joe Buggy’s four-part series about DIPPAM.

My curiousity was tweaked by both bloggers, so I decided to take a look at the Irish Emigration Database.

Home page of DIPPAM, Documenting Ireland: Parliament, People and Migration. September 25, 2014.

In the search box, I entered “Kilmacrenan,” the town where my Dever (Diver) ancestors lived in County Donegal. I was rather surprised to find a couple of newspaper reports about the wreak of the Ship Exmouth at Islay during its voyage from Londonderry to Quebec in 1847, during the Great Famine. Unless “James Diven” and his six family members (residence unknown) were Divers, and that is a possibility, none of my ancestors was aboard. I expect, however, the Devers knew the passengers from their small town who lost their lives. Perhaps this contributed to my great-great-grandfather James Diver’s (Dever) decision not to leave until 1862.

Here is a newspaper report about the shipwreck. This account provides an interesting account of the voyage. (I have noted where I added paragraph breaks to make it easier to read. Highlighting the names in bold is also mine.) Following this article is another one that lists the names of the passengers and crew who perished.

Give the database a try to see what you may find.

DREADFUL SHIPWRECK ON THE COAST OF ISLAY.
LOSS OF TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY LIVES.
(From The Glasgow Herald.)
Loss of Emigrant Ship Exmouth, Londonderry to Quebec, The Belfast Newsletter, Friday, 7 May, 1847.

We announce, with extreme pain, that, during the storm of last week, a lamentable  shipwreck has occurred on the shores of Islay, being accompanied with the most extensive loss of life which has taken place on the west coast of Scotland within our remembrance. The intelligence was brought to Glasgow on Saturday afternoon last, by three seamen,  being the only survivors of the crew and passengers of the brig, Exmouth, of Newcastle, who had been forwarded from Islay in the Modern Athens steamer, by Mr. Chiene, the
factor for Mr. Campbell, of Islay. According to their statement, the Exmouth, of 320 Tons, of which Isaac Booth, of Sunderland, was master, sailed from Londonderry for Quebec between three and four o’clock, on the morning of Sunday, the 25th ultimo, with a light south-west breeze. 〈paragraph break〉

She had a crew of eleven men (inclusive of the captain) and about 240 emigrants, consisting chiefly of small farmers and tradesmen, with their families, who
had turned their little all into money, for the purpose of escaping the famine, and earning for themselves a home in the western world. Many were females and children going out to join their fathers and protectors who had already settled in Canada, and who had beckoned those who were dear to them across the Atlantic. There were three cabin passengers, young, unmarried ladies, of the middle classes, two of them being sisters, on
their way to join their relatives at St. John’s, [Saint John?] New Brunswick. 〈paragraph break〉

The vessel was registered for 165 passengers, but, as two children count as one adult, and as a very large proportion were under age – there being only about sixty men amongst the passengers – the survivors of the wreck, who are our informants, think that the total number of these ill-fated emigrants must have amounted to the total stated – viz., 240.

The ship lost sight of the loom of the land about four o’clock, on Sunday afternoon. The breeze, which had been light in the morning, increased to a gale during the day, and about eleven p.m., it came in teriffic squalls, accompanied by heavy torrents of rain. They then furled the fore and main sails. The wind, which had been westward at first, veered northerly, and the storm increased in violence, which blew the two top-sails from the bolt-ropes. 〈paragraph break〉

The crew then set the fore-sail and spanker, and commenced to bend two other top-sails, which they furled; but about three in the morning they were blown from the gaskets. Previous to this the jib had been stowed, the larboard tacks on board, and the ship was now driving to the southward and eastward. The reason of the master not standing to the westward, when the wind became northerly, and where he would have had ample sea room, was for the purpose of attaining some harbour of refuge, where he might repair damages and replace the sails.

Shortly after this, on Monday forenoon, the longboat was unshipped from the chocks, by the force of the seas, which successively broke over the vessel, and in the course of the same forenoon, the bulwarks were stove in, and the life-boat washed away. The gale continued with the same violence during the whole of Monday night and Tuesday; and an indication of the force of the hurricane may be learned from the fact, that on the latter day
the mainsail, after being furled, was torn from the gaskets by the storm blast. While the crew was setting the foresail it was blown from the bolt ropes, and the trysail-mast was unshipped, and the main gaff carried away, which rendered them unable to carry the spanker. 〈paragraph break〉

During this dreary time, the vessel pitched dreadfully – now on the crest of a mountain wave, and in two seconds afterwards reeling in the trough of the sea; the passengers were all below under hatches, many of them insensible to external danger from the pains of sea-
sickness, but all were not so. Some of them had a fearful presentiment of disaster, and it would be difficult to say whether the parents suffered the greater agony from the cries of their children pent up in the dark and noisome hold, or from the innocent prattle which betrayed no fear or consciousness of the unhappy fate which was soon to overtake them. Cooking, of course, was out of the question; but the grown-up people had no heart to be
hungry, and moreover the cooked provisions brought from Londonderry were not yet exhausted.

About eleven o’clock on Tuesday night, land and a light were seen on the starboard quarter, which Captain Booth at first took to be the light on the island of Tory, off the north-west coast of Ireland, and in the belief that he thus had ample sea-room in the course he was steering, he bore along. As he drifted near the land, however, and observed that the light was a flashing, instead of a stationary one, he became conscious of his
error and dangerous position, and made every effort to repair it by bringing the ship farther to the northward and westward; and with the view of “clawing” her off the
land, the maintopsail and the foretopmast stay sail were set, and the jib half hoisted. The effort, however, was an ineffectual one; the ship soon got amongst the broken water, and at half-past twelve on Wednesday morning was dashed amongst the rocks. 〈paragraph break〉

If the above be a correct version of the impression on the captain’s mind as to his position – and it is distinctly spoken to by the two survivors we have seen – the result shows that he must have been fully a hundred miles out of his reckoning. But perhaps it could not well be otherwise. The sun was obscured during all the time of this brief and disastrous voyage, by black driving clouds, which distilled perpetual rains; the moon was only seen through a heavy haze at fitful intervals, and from these causes it was impossible that any observation could be taken. 〈paragraph break〉

The light seen was that of Oransa, or Oversay, on the point of the Rhinns or Runs of Islay, to the north-west of the entrance of Lochindaul; and the land seen, and on which the brig eventually struck, was the western part of the iron-bound coast of the island. 〈paragraph break〉

She went ashore with all the sails already mentioned fully distended; and, after striking once, was dashed broadside on, alongside the rocks, which rose to the height of the mast head. She struck violently against the rocks three times, and at the fourth stroke the mainmast went by the board and fell into a chasm of the rock. 〈paragraph break〉

An hour and a half previously, when Captain Brook observed his disastrous proximity to the shore, he took his station in the main top, that he might personally keep a look-out and see how the land bore, and from this place he occasionally gave his orders to the crew. 〈paragraph break〉

As soon as the brig struck, John Cleat, the mate, and all the seamen, eighteen in number, joined the Captain in the maintop, leaving the captain’s son, a youth of about fifteen years of age, asleep in his cott [cot?] below. After remaining in the maintop about three minutes, five of the crew went down for the purpose of ascending the foretop, thinking that they would have a better chance of gaining the shore from that part of the ship. At the same time, one of the crew, named John Scott, went upon the mainyard with a life-buoy on his person – thus leaving in the maintop, the Captain and three seamen, whose names are John Stevens, William Coulthard, and George Lightford, all from South Shields. 〈paragraph break〉

We have said that the maintop, along with the wreck of the mast, was thrown into a rift or chasm of the rock, and immediately afterwards Coulthard, then Lightford, and finally Stevens, scrambled up the topmast rigging, and obtained a footing on the crags. As it was pitch dark at this time, the Captain asked the men their names, and when they had informed him, he said it was their duty to assist each other in such a terrible crisis. He was about to follow the men, when a wild wave dashed over their heads as they clung to the rock, but they were unable to maintain their position; and when they looked round, after the sea had retired, they found that the Captain and all were gone. 〈paragraph break〉

The main-mast had been broken into splinters by the fourth collision with the rocks, and this recoiling wave had not only dragged the ship, but the fragments of the mast which adhered to her rigging, further into the sea, and thus cut off from the dense mass of human beings on board every chance of escape. 〈paragraph break〉

Had the wreck remained in the chasm where it was originally thrown, and from which the three survivors escaped, it might have been used as a bridge by the others; but, unhappily, this last possibility of relief was taken away. The same wave which effected this fearful havoc must also have prevented the five seamen from reaching the fore-top, from which they might have had a chance of escaping. 〈paragraph break〉

A quarter of an hour elapsed from the time of the brig first striking until the three survivors got upon the rock. At the moment she struck, and a little previous to it, about half a dozen of the male passengers were standing on the deck, occasionally asking the mate if there was, in reality, any danger; but as the latter well knew the perils of their position, from the broken water seen around, he answered them not. 〈paragraph break〉

Of the three young ladies who were cabin passengers, one of the sisters had been confined to bed by sea-sickness from the moment of leaving Derry; but at ten o’clock on Tuesday night the other two took their position in the companion way, and anxiously gazed on sea and sky till their agonizing doubts were realised by the fearful catastrophe at half-past twelve. They were seen there when the survivors last gazed on the deck. 〈paragraph break〉

The ship was ground and crunched so frightfully amongst the rocks, that she must have broken up almost instantaneously. 〈paragraph break〉

There was no cry of despairing agony from the multitude of God’s creatures, cooped up within the ill-fated brig, or at least it was unheard; for the commotion of the elements was so furious, that the men on the top could scarcely hear each other at the top of their voices. The great mass of the emigrants, therefore, must have perished in their berths, as the rocks rapidly thumped the bottom out of the vessel; and though there might be one “universal shriek,” within a very few minutes “all was hushed, save the wild wind, and the
remorseless dash of billows.”

The three men who had escaped to the rock, so soon as the ship entirely disappeared, searched anxiously for some outlet by which they might reach the mainland; but none such could be found, and they finally took shelter in a crevice, which, however, did not shield them from the rain, which fell heavily all night, and here they remained till grey daylight. They then discovered an opening, through which they scrambled to the summit, and having travelled about a mile, they saw some cattle on a waste or muir, near which
they lay down in the hope that some person would soon come to look after them and take them away. 〈paragraph break〉

No one came, however, and after day had fairly broken, the men got up from the grass, and ascended an elevation near at hand, from which they observed a farm-house about half-a-mile distant. Thither they proceeded, and were most hospitably nourished and put to bed. They were thoroughly worn out by exhaustion, not one of the crew having been in bed from the moment the ship left Derry. They were, at the same time, nearly naked, from having divested themselves of their heavy clothing when the Exmouth struck the rocks. 〈paragraph break〉

The farmer, and others who had been apprised by him, went to the scene of the catastrophe, but, of course, too late to help, and only to gaze on the desolation.

On Thursday afternoon, the latest date of our advices from Islay, about twenty of the bodies had come ashore. They were principally females, with one little boy amongst them; and as many of them were in their night clothes, the probability is that they were those who had rushed upon deck at the first alarm, caused by the striking of the ship. They were fearfully mangled by being dashed amongst the rocks, and being jammed within the crevices, along with pieces of the wreck, few of which were above two feet in length. Other bodies were seen floating in the surf, but the sea was still too high to permit any boat venturing out to bring them in.〈paragraph break〉

The belief is, however, that the great mass of the poor emigrants went down with the “between decks,” of the ship, and that their bodies will not be recovered till this part of the vessel breaks up.

The Exmouth had nothing on board but ballast, and the provisions and little stocks of goods of the emigrants. She is the property of Mr. John Eden, of South Shields,
and, though old, is stated by the survivors to have been well found in every respect. All the crew and passengers were perfectly sober during this fearful time, and the three seamen state that they never saw drink on board at all. The Captain was in the prime of life, and
has left a widow and family. All the rest of the seamen were unmarried, with the exception of a man, named George Ross, who is amongst those who perished. 〈paragraph break〉

According to the above estimate, the number who have been thus suddenly called to their account amounts to 248; but even leaving room for misinformation, or exaggeration, the loss of life has unquestionably been frightful. Whether or not this fearful shipwreck may have been partly caused by negligence, or incompetence, or unseaworthiness, we cannot say. We have no reason to state that it is so; but still the public voice will demand a searching inquiry.〈paragraph break〉

The passengers were chiefly from Kilmacrenan, Letterkenny, Ballyshannon, Stranolar [Stranorlar?], Clonmany, Enniskillen, Strabane, Dungiven, Newtownlimavady, Castlederg, Omagh, Ballymoney, and Shanreagh.

A second article, Passengers Who Died on Ship Exmouth, The Belfast Commercial Chronicle, Wednesday 12 May 1847, listed the names of some of the passengers and crew who lost their lives.

The loss of the Passenger Ship Exmouth. – We extract from the Derry Sentinel the following list of the unfortunate passengers from the North of Ireland, who perished in the Exmouth, wrecked on the 27th ult. on the island of Islay, on her passage from Derry to
Quebec, viz :

Ballymoney – Nancy Forgrove, Patrick McGucken and family, 5 in number ; James Wylie.
Ballyshannon – Terence and Patrick Maguire.
Clonmany – John Devlin and family, 5.
Castlederg – Margaret Kealy, 4 ; Ann Gallagher.
Dungiven – John McConnell, James and Isabella Boyd, James Kealy.
Derry – Letty Henderson.
County Fermanagh – Jane Flanigan [Flannigan?] and family, 8 ; James Caldwell, 9 ; John Crawford, 7.
Kilmacrenan – Margaret McGettigan and family, 7 ; Patrick Kelly, 3 ; John McDermott, 7 ; William McElhenny, 2 ; Edward McGettigan, 6 ; James Bradley Michael and Magt. [Margaret ?] McGinley, John Gallagher.
Letterkenny – Brian Donnell and family, 5. Nr [Near ?] Limavady – John Riddles and family, 2 ; Matthew Miller, Sarah Magill, 3; James Wright, Jane Harper and family, 7; David Steen, 6.
Omagh – Ann Alone.
Strabane – Hugh McCrossan and family, 3 ; John Dixon, 7 ; Robert Blair, 4 ; Sarah Smith, James McCrea, 10. Stranorlar – Redmond McCool and family, 10. Shanreagh – John Wilson and family, 3.
The former residences of the subjoined, who were also on board, are unknown to the agent here :- Jas [James ?] Diven, Owen Curran and family, 7 ; Terence Kelly, 7 ; Patrick Woods,
6; Bernard McCaffrey, 4 ; John Coolaghan, James Cochrane, James Donaghy, Andrew Tevain, 6 ; Peter Cox, Patrick Fee, James, Jane, and Ellen Patterson, Patrick Leonard, 5 ; Peter Muckilhill, 7 ; James McGirr, 3 ; Denis Brogan, 11.
Total [___?]

………………………..

Memorial
Today, there is a memorial to the victims of the shipwreck on the Isle of Islay. View photos and the story here.