Mary Grisdale was the eighth of ten children of Australian immigrant and ex-soldier Thomas Grisdale and his half-Indian wife Mary Cartwright (see here). She was born in Sandridge, Melbourne in 1863. We know little about her life, just this:

On 6 October 1871 the Melbourne Argus reported:

A man named James Amos was charged at the police court, Drysdale, yesterday, with an attempt to commit a capital offence upon the person of a girl about 10 years of age, named Mary Grisdale. The prisoner, who reserved his defense, was committed to take his trial at the next sittings of the Circuit Court.

The Geelong Advertiser gave more details on the same day:

Swan Bay on the left

Swan Bay on the left

Circuit Court in Geelong.

OUTRAGE AT SWAN BAY.

The man James Amos, already in charge for larceny, was, on Thursday, further charged, with an attempt to commit rape. The case was heard at Drysdale, before Mr Curlewis, J.P. The court was cleared.

Mary Grisdale sworn, stated she lived with her father, at Swan Bay. Her mother was dead. She remembered going to Mrs Walsh’s about three weeks ago. The prisoner was there. She went in and sat on the sofa. The prisoner was on the other side of the room. Her brother Isaac was there. Prisoner came over and sat on the sofa.

The witness then described what took place, which tended to show that an attempt to commit rape had been made. The witness continued — I called to the prisoner to let me go, as Mr Walshe was coming. He then let me go. When he did so he told me to run and get his pipe, which was against a white stump. I went to Mrs Walshe’s every day. My brother is very young; I do not know his age.

Susannah Walshe deposed she was the wife a farmer at Swan Bay. She knew the prisoner, who; was called “Jimmy, the tinker.” She remembered the 14th of September. On that day she went with her husband to cut firewood. She left Jimmy in charge of the house. He was to mend a teapot. She did not know if the children were there when she left the house. She believed not. She came back about half-past 2. When she came near she heard the prosecutrix screaming. The little boy Isaac was near the door. She heard him call out “I will tell my daddy.” As she passed the window she saw the prisoner holding the girl to him. He appeared to be leaning against the sofa. She hurried round to the door, where she met the prosecutrix, who was crying. Witness asked what was the matter. She did not answer, but ran to her own house. When witness went in she saw the prisoner, who turned his back to her. She did not notice what he was doing. She asked him what he was doing to the children. He said they had been troubling him. I said “It seemed to me that you were behaving indecently.” He answered “I was going to put her out”. Prisoner left at dusk. The girl did not complain to me. I do not know her age, but think she is between nine and ten.

Cross-examined by prisoner — You were not boiling the kettle when I came home. I did not throw the tea on the ground.

Thomas Grisdale—I am a labourer, living at Swan. Bay, and a pensioner of her Majesty’s army. The prosecutrix is my daughter. I know the prisoner, and remember his being at Walshe’s, about three weeks ago. In consequence of what I heard from my son, Isaac, I communicated with the police. My daughter was born at Sandridge. She was either 8 or 9 on the 1st of April last.

C. L. Cunningham, medical practitioner of Drysdale, deposed he had examined the child, but detected no proof of the crime. |The prisoner reserved his defence and was fully committed on a second charge of larceny in stealing articles of clothing from Mrs Walsh. The same prisoner was also committed to take his trial at the next Circuit Court in Geelong.

And then on the 12 October 1871 we hear:

James Amos, an elderly man, was charged with having, on the 14th ult, indecently assaulted a little girl, under 10 years of age, named Mary Grisdale, at Swan Bay. He pleaded “Not guilty,” and was undefended. The jury returned a verdict of “Guilty.”

What the sentence of James Amos was we don’t know.

This is the last we hear of Mary Grisdale until her marriage to Melbourne fishmonger James Broderick in 1882. The couple had no children and Mary died in 1912, but was, it seems, loved by her relatives:

The Australasian (Melbourne) reported Mary’s death on saturday 5 October 1912:

BRODERICK.-On the 30th September, at her residence, “Maryville,” 58 Brunswick-road, W. Brunswick, Mary, the dearly beloved wife of James Broderick, and beloved sister of Mrs. Fawcett, Mrs. Hargraves, and beloved aunt of Janey Davison, May Barnes, Mary Wall, Alfie O’Neil, aged 49 years

It’s a peculiarity of genetics that siblings often inherit quite different genes. William Grisdale had a Bolton-born father and a half-Indian mother. He obviously got his mother’s family’s colour because his is repeatedly called, rather endearingly, a ‘coloured’ or a ‘half-caste’ in the many records of his criminal activity in Australia. I wrote of William’s father, ex-soldier Thomas, in two previous articles: A Hussar in India – Thomas Grisdale and Thomas Grisdale in Melbourne – digging for gold and lugging coal. Here I’ll try to say something about his son William; what became of him? He was a bit of a wayward lad and I’m sure I wouldn’t like him if I met him, but he was after all an Australian!

William was born in 1852 in Bangalore, India. He was the third child of Private Thomas Grisdale of the 15th Hussars and his half-Indian wife Mary Cartwright. He arrived in Melbourne with his family aboard the ship Strathfieldsaye in 1853. About his early years we know little, except that he was without doubt with his family during the years spent in the gold diggings in and around Heathcote, Victoria. He would also later have lived with his parents and siblings when the family moved back to Melbourne.

At some time during his youth William became a ‘ward’ of court. In his case this probably means he was put in a Reformatory School for offences committed while still a minor. But the first time we find him in newspaper records is in 1873 in the Geelong Advertiser:

Monday 28 July 1873

Pugilism.—Three men, named Grisdale, Reilly, and McFarlane, were summoned for fighting in the streets. They had been turned out of the Buck’s Head. They pleaded guilty, and Keilly, who bad been previously convicted, was fined 20s and costs, the others 5s and costs.

Then in 1874 he appeared in Drysdale court to testify in a case involving his father. The Melbourne Argus reported on Friday 23 January 1874:

DRYSDALE POLICE COURT.

Drunkenness and Obscene Language. Police v Collins.—Superintendent Furnell appeared to prosecute, and Mr McCormick for the defence. Defendant was summoned for allowing’drunkenness in his house, and for using obscene language. Thos. Grisdale said he was at defendant’s house on the night of the 24th December, there were a lot of people there; some drunk and some sober. Defendant said to me, “Your son got me fined £5 on one occasion”, and also called him some names. “He offered to fight me for £5, John Davis said-I was at the hotel on the night of the 24th ult. Butlerand Davis were there; they were prettywell on. I remember the constable coming there, but I do not recollect what he said. I heard the words complained of,”

William Grisdale—I am son of the first witness. I went to Collins on the 25th and asked him what be had said about me the night before. Collins said he was drunk, and did not know what he said, and wished to let the matter drop. The case as far as permitting drunkenness was not pressed farther, nor was evidence called as to the use of obscene language. Constable Muloahy—I was on duty on the night of the 24th. I heard Collins tell Grisdade that his son had caused him be fined £5, and offered to fight either him or his son for £5, at the same time calling him disgraceful names. Cross examined — I am not bringing these cases merely for the purpose of taking away his license. Collins told me he had been to Melbourne to try and get me removed, but did not succeed, and would go to Geelong. I asked him to give me time to bring these cases against him. Mr McCormick objected to tho wording of the summons, but this objection was overruled. Tho charge of allowing dancing was proceeded with. MrMcCormick contended that the bonch, as a Court of Petty Sessions, had no jurisdiction, it must be brought before the Licensing Magistrates. Objection allowed. Pined 40s and 30s costs.

In 1878 William married Elizabeth Corfield in Melbourne. Their son, christened William James, was born the next year but died. Elizabeth herself was also soon to die; in 1881 aged just 22 in the Benevolent Asylum in in Hotham, North Melbourne. The Argus reported on Friday 26 August 1881 :

THE BENEVOLENT ASYLUM

Eliza Grisdale, native of Hotham, aged 22 years on the 23rd, from phthisis, a patient for six months.

Phthisis was Tuberculosis, often called Consumption.

 

Benevolent Asylum, Hotham, North Melbourne

Benevolent Asylum, Hotham, North Melbourne

William then starts to appear quite regularly in the Melbourne newspapers, and not for good reasons. On 24 September 1881, just after his wife had died, the Argus reported :

A considerable portion of last Thursday’s sitting of the Sandridge Court was taken up by the investigation of an impudent case of hotel robbery. The prisoner, who gave the name of William Grisdale, entered the Southern Cross Hotel, in Inglis street, on the 15th inst, accompanied by a man named Mullinger. They called for drinks, which were supplied to them by the barmaid, and for which they paid. The prisoner then asked for biscuits and matches, and while the girl temporarily quitted the bar to procure them, he leaned over the counter, and was in the act of abstracting the till, containing £1.12s. 6d, when she returned. He at once ran out of the hotel, but after running some distance was stopped by two young men whose attention was attracted by the cry of ‘Stop thief.’ After a violent struggle the prisoner got away from the young men, but was eventually arrested on a warrant by Constable Good. These facts were proved by the evidence of the barmaid, Mullinger, and the arresting constable, and the prisoner, who had frequently been before the court, and had only just completed a term of imprisonment for an assault, was sentenced to one month’s imprisonment with hard labour.

So William wasn’t new to the courts; he ‘had frequently been before the court, and had only just completed a term of imprisonment for an assault’.

The Argus , Thursday 27 January 1881:

A most disgraceful case of assault came under the notice of the Emerald Hill Bench on Wednesday, when a coloured man named William Grisdale was charged with unlawfully assaulting a woman named Elizabeth Noon on the 11th inst. The prosecutrix stated that on the above date she was sitting in her house in Boundary street when the prisoner deliberately burst open the door and after trying to commit a criminal offence he assaulted her in a moat cowardly manner. The medical evidence showed that the prosecutrix had been subjected to very severe ill usage. Constable Stewart stated that since the assault took place the prisoner was arrested on two other similar charges – one for assaulting a young woman at Tootscray, for which he was bound over to keep the peace for six months, and the other for an assault on his wife, for which he received two months imprisonment. On the present charge the prisoner received six months, cumulative on the former sentences.

So William battered his wife as well as assaulted other women.

Then on 11 May 1882 we read:

At the City Court on Wednesday, before Mr Call, P M, and a bench of magistrates, two wharf loafers, named James Sullivan and William Grisdale, were charged on remand with feloniously stealing two silk dresses and other articles, valued at £50, the property of John William Parkin, from Cole’s Bond, on the 28th of February last. The evidence for the prosecution was to the effect that on the date in question Mr. Parkin arrived from Adelaide, and placed eight cases containing wearing apparel and household linen and pictures, in Cole’s Bond for security. One case was placed in the open shed in the yard, and the others in the locked bond. About a week afterwards the case in the shed was found to have been broken open and the contents stolen. On the 8th of March last the two prisoners brought some of the stolen goods ma bundle to the restaurant of John Williams, in King street, where they occasionally took their meals, and offered them for sale.

The prisoner Grisdale stated that the apparel belonged to his wife, and Williams bought a lavender silk dress, a black silk polonaise and skirt, a black satin skirt, a black silk body, two black cloth jackets, a black cloth dolman jacket, a print costume and Indian worked muslin skirts, for £2 15s. On the 21st March the prisoner Grisdale pawned two velvet polonaises, a part of the stolen property, at the shop of Elizabeth Davenport at Sandridge for 5s. Detectives Wilson and Brown arrested the prisoner Sullivan on the 27th ult, when he stated that he found the stolen property in Flinders street one night and Detective Mahony arrested Grisdale the same evening, and he said the things had been given to him by a man whom he did not know, and he subsequently identified Sullivan as the man. The Bench committed the prisoners for trial at the Central Criminal Court on the 15th next.

Port Melbourne Docks

Port Melbourne Docks

And on the 15th May:

James Sullivan and William Grisdale were charged with stealing wearing apparel. The second count was feloniously receiving. On the 28th February some cases of luggage, the property of John William Parkin, a passenger from Adelaide, were placed in Cole’s bond. A day or two afterwards one of the cases was found broken open, and most of the contents, which were valued at £30, stolen. Subsequently Sullivan sold a portion of the goods to a Mrs Williams, wife of coloured restaurant keeper, in West Melbourne, for £2 15s. He told her that the clothing belonged to his wife, who had been dead seven years. The story being doubted he called Grisdale, who confirmed it. Some other articles in the list were found at a pawn office. Detectives Mahoney and Wilson arrested the prisoners, who had given various accounts of how they came possessed of the goods.

The prisoners in their defence alleged that Sullivan found the apparel in a bag in Flinders street, and not finding it advertised, sold it. The jury found the prisoners guilty of feloniously receiving. Grisdale was recommended to mercy on the ground that he had been the tool of Sullivan

Five previous convictions (for assault and larceny)) were proved against Grisdale, and one for larceny against Sullivan. Sullivan was sentenced to 14 months’ and Grisdale to l8 months’ imprisonment. His Honour stated that had the prisoners been before him for the first time he should have sentenced each of them to a year’s imprisonment, but he added two and six months’ imprisonment respectively to the term on account of the former convictions

Two years later, probably not long after getting out of prison, William was back in the Melbourne Court. In January 1884:

At the South Melbourne Court yesterday, before Messrs Stead, Foote, and Dr Barker, J P s, two young men named William Whitten and William Grisdale, who had been both frequently convicted were charged by the police with being rogues and vagabonds and also with the larceny of boot Mrs Goodwill, the proprietress of a boot shop m Thistlethwaite-street, stated that three pairs of boots had been taken from her place through a hole made in the window the prisoners were seen by other witnesses close to the shop early on the morning of the robbery, and it was proved that Grisdale pawned a pair of the stolen boots with Mr J Solomon, a pawnbroker at the corner of King and Collins streets. Both prisoners pleaded for a lenient sentence on the ground that they intended to reform and leave the colony. The Bench pointed out, however, that they had already neglected their chances, and they accordingly sentenced both men to 12 months imprisonment, with hard labour.

So back to prison and hard labour. But on his release William is soon back in court. The Argus 8th September 1886:

At the City Court on Tuesday, Walter Middleton, a cook, aged 25, was charged with having stolen a small black bag containing papers, &c., from Mr. Alfred Shaw, who arrived from Adelaide on Monday. The bag in question had been left with a port-manteau and an overcoat in the pantry at Hosie’s Cafe, Flinders-street, but when Mr.  Shaw called again for it the barman could not find it. Inquiries were made concerning the bag, and the porter said he had seen the prisoner take it away. Middleton was then standing outside the hotel without the bag, and was given into the custody of Constable Davidson. He was sent to gaol for three months.

William Grisdale, a companion of the prisoner Middleton mentioned in the last case, was charged at the same court with having  broken a window, valued at 15s., the property of Mr. George Feeney, landlord of the Holyhead Hotel, Flinders-street. Mr. Moloney prosecuted. Mr. Feeney stated that the prisoner and Middleton, who had only just been discharged from gaol, went to his hotel on Monday after-noon, and Grisdale deliberately pushed Middleton through his window. Witness stood in the doorway to prevent Grisdale escaping until a constable came, but was struck by him. They struggled, and with the assistance of a man, who was in the bar, Grisdale was detained until Constable Ross arrived. The prisoner was fined 20s., with40s. costs, in default one month’s imprisonment.

Then in 1887  ‘half-caste’ William Grisdale made an appearance in the Melbourne court in 1887 charged with accosting a woman and demanding money.

But what did the ‘wharf loafer’ William Grisdale do later? He certainly disappears from the Melbourne records. At some point he headed out west to Western Australia where he was again in trouble.

The West Australian (Perth) reported on Wednesday 2 December 1896:

ESCAPE OF PRISONERS AT GERALDTON. RUNAWAYS STILL AT LIBERTY. Geraldton, December 1. Yesterday afternoon a prison gang, consisting of about thirty men, were at work at the quarries at Greenough Road, Geraldton, and shortly before it was time to return to gaol two of their number managed to escape the vigilance of the warder in charge. As soon as they were missed, the police were communicated with, but it was some little time before they received information. When they did so, Constables Conroy and Pollet were immediately despatched on horseback in full pursuit. The names of the men who have levanted are Grisdale and Sutcliffe, alias Walker. Grisdale is a powerful colored man, who gave the police much trouble when arresting him a few days ago. He was then sentenced to six months’ imprisonment for assaulting W. P.C Podesta. Sutcliffe had already served six months out of a term of fifteen months, and has always been quiet and orderly up to the present. There is but little doubt that he was induced to attempt to regain freedom by Grisdale. The warder in charge was out with the gang for the last time, as he had resigned his position, and yesterday was his last day of service.

Both men were soon recaptured near Dongarra and were ‘sentenced to l8 months’ imprisonment with hard labour, cumulative upon the sentences they are now undergoing’. The story of their recapture makes interesting reading:

The two escaped prisoners, Grisdale and Sutcliffe, who abruptly left the quarrying party on Monday evening, were arrested about three miles on this side of Dongarra by Police-constable Walsh at a late hour last night. Warning had been sent to Dongarra that the fugitives were heading in that direction. The particulars connected with the recapture are these: — Police – constable Walsh was engaged yesterday in patrolling the space between the sea and the Geraldton road near Dongarra, the distance intervening being three miles. Late in the evening the constable on coming from the beach discovered the footprints of two men on the road. He felt convinced that they were the tracks of the escaped prisoners, and he followed them. About five miles further on they came to Waldeck’s homestead. Inquiring there, he found that two men had visited the place, and got some food, and were then lying in a thicket 300 yards off. The constable thereupon tied up his horse, and, with a black tracker, made for the thicket, which he carefully and cautiously searched. He saw a fire, and on going up to it found the two absconders sitting around it. Neither offered any resistance, and they were marched to the Dongarra lock-up. Sutcliffe and Grisdale state that they escaped from the road party at 2 p.m. on Monday last. They then made for Walk away, which they duly reached next morning. They started out, as they thought, for Dongarra, but, to their astonishment, in the afternoon they found themselves back at the quarries, the very place they had absconded from on the previous day. They determined to make a safe route, and followed the beach towards Dongarra, and when 15 miles out cut across to the road, which they kept until Waldeck’s residence was reached. It was their intention to go to Esperance, and needless to say they were much disappointed at the course which events took.

Perth in 1900

Perth in 1900

In Freemantle in November 1901: ‘Wm. Robertson, alias Grisdale, was charged with having robbed John Pablitch of the sum of £4 16s. Circumstantial evidence was given, but the Magistrates decided that although the case against Robertson looked bad, there was nothing to connect him directly with the robbery. They therefore ordered his discharge.’

On Saturday 19 July 1902, William is in the Perth Court House:

Obscene language. – A powerful man named William Grisdale (50) was charged with having behaved in a disorderly manner by using obscene language in Bazaar terrace the previous night. Evidence was given that the accused was in an intoxicated state on that occasion and about midnight was using filthy language at the top of his voice. He also was announcing his intention to fight anyone. He gave annoyance to the occupants of two large residences, and was given in charge. Accused said he was a hardworking man, and had been employed on the pipe-track. His conduct on this occasion was only due to drink. He asked to be “given a show,” and said he would not so offend again. Mr. Roe said the accused had ‘used disgusting language’ in the hearing of the lady occupants of the residences, and would have to pay a fine of 30s, with 12s. costs, in default three days’ imprisonment.

Note here William’s age – 50. This fits exactly with ‘our’ William’s date of birth, which was 1852. There weren’t any Grisdales in either Perth or Victoria in 1852, so this is the same William Grisdale. William was back in court a few days later on a similar charge:

Constables Sampson and East arrested two men in different parts of the city on Saturday night for having used filthy language in public places. Both men, George Jones and William Grisdale, were charged with the offence at the City Court this morning, and in the case of the first a fine of 10s was imposed. The second man, Grisdale, accused the arresting constable with having been drinking whilst on duty, but the bench was satisfied with the statement of the policeman, and ordered Grisdale to pay 40s. (Monday 4 August 1902)

Early in 1903, William was yet again in trouble and notice that on each occasion he gave his age as 50.

Charge of Stealing, – William Grisdale (50) charged with having, on the 23rd last, stolen from the premises of John Mullins a silver watch-chain, locket, and pendant. The accused was remanded to Thursday. (Tuesday 27 January 1903)

The Perth Daily News reported the result on 28 January 1903:

A WATCH AND CHAIN. William Grisdale was charged with having stolen a watch and chain, the property of John Mullins, a resident of Victoria Park. The prosecutor desposed to having left his watch and chain in the camp and that it was missing when he arrived home. He reported the matter to Constable Murray.  W. P. Silverstom, licensee of the East Perth Hotel, said that the accused came to his hotel, and asked for a loan of 2s. 6d. on the chain produced. Witness lent the accused the money, and the accused purchased two bottles of beer. After hearing the evidence of Constable Murray, the accused was sent to gaol for one week.

And then on 10 February 1903:

A Series of Charges. – William Grisdale (50), a previous offender, was brought up on four charges. For having given a false name to the police, he was fined 20s., or three days’ imprisonment, and 20s., in default three days’ imprisonment, for having falsely represented himself us a bona-fide traveller. For having resisted arrest, Grisdale was sentenced to 14 days’ imprisonment, and for having created a disturbance at the lock-up he was ordered to do a further 21 days’ imprisonment. The evidence showed that Grisdale had acted in a violent manner.

William makes other appearances in court and in one he even promises to leave the state – but he didn’t. You’ll be pleased to know that’s (almost) the last of the court reports. I quoted them at some length both for social interest and to see if they provided evidence for William Grisdale’s identity. Let’s move on.

Building the Goldfields' Water Pipeline

Building the Goldfields’ Water Pipeline

William had said in July 1902 that ‘he was a hardworking man, and had been employed on the pipe-track’. What did this mean? What in fact he had been doing was helping build the important Goldfields’ Water Pipeline: ‘In 1895 the first plans were prepared for an engineering feat that would stagger the world — an attempt to pump water uphill some 500 km, from the hills near Perth to the goldfields of Coolgardie. Before construction began, the dream had become bigger. The pipeline was extended for water to be pumped even further east, to the new goldfields of Kalgoorlie. On 24 January 1903, the dream became a reality when water, which began its journey at Mundaring Weir, flowed into to Mt Charlotte Reservoir at Kalgoorlie.’

It was a remarkable achievement. In 2009 the ‘goldfields water supply scheme’ was recognised as an international historic civil engineering landmark by the American Society of Civil Engineers. It seems that William Grisdale had been one of the labourers constructing this vast pipeline.

Water from the pipeline became available just as the production of gold in the state’s eastern goldfields was starting to decline. However regular water supplies meant agriculture could prosper. Today the Western Australian wheat fields are the most productive in Australia, accounting for 42 per cent of the nation’s wheat crop and coming mainly from the areas serviced by the goldfields pipeline and its extensions.

Is that it? Is that all we know? Not quite. In the 1916 Perth electors’ list we find a William Grisdale, who listed his occupation as a bullock driver.

Bullock drivers were typically skilled, tough men who often faced extreme difficulties during the execution of their occupation. Bullockies were also colourful characters, often noted for their strong language. Some did not swear though, relying solely on gesture, talking and whip movements as persuasion for the team’s job at hand. A typical bullocky wore a cabbage tree hat, a twill shirt of that period, moleskin trousers, blucher boots and carried a long bullock whip which in many instances he had made.

William gives his address as The Duke of York Coffee Palace in Perth. Now as a bullock driver William probably didn’t have a fixed abode and it is well known that The Duke of York Restaurant and Hotel (often called the Coffee Palace) was a place which was given as an address so people could write to them. Thousands of Australian servicemen used the address in the First World War.

James Alexander Jones (known as ‘Pa’) had taken over the running of Perth’s The Duke of York Restaurant in 1899. The Duke of York Restaurant was also referred to as The Duke of York Hotel (as they offered rooms for rent in addition to serving meals) and even as The Duke of York Coffee Palace. The latter may have been because Mr. Jones had previously run a place in Perth called The Paris Coffee Palace.

Jones offered a unique service. The Perth Sunday Times of May 25, 1925 tells us:

All who remember the old place will recall a large window abutting on the street in which were exhibited many hundreds of letters and newspapers, these having been sent to those who had either forgotten or wished to be forgotten by their friends or who had gone away in to the big spaces of the bush or had crossed the Great Divide. For years Pa Jones kept these letters in his window and now and then was rewarded by someone claiming one or two. Not until years had passed would he allow any to be opened and then only in the presence of reputable and responsible witnesses, and in many cases the letters were returned to their senders with an informative note attached.

Bullock Team

Bullock Team

Let me end with a poem I discovered by Henry Kendall called Bill the Bullock-Driver. I think it’s apt:

The leaders of millions, the lords of the lands,
Who sway the wide world with their will
And shake the great globe with the strength of their hands,
Flash past us–unnoticed by Bill.

The elders of science who measure the spheres
And weigh the vast bulk of the sun–
Who see the grand lights beyond aeons of years,
Are less than a bullock to _one_.

The singers that sweeten all time with their song–
Pure voices that make us forget
Humanity’s drama of marvellous wrong–
To Bill are as mysteries yet.

By thunders of battle and nations uphurled,
Bill’s sympathies never were stirred:
The helmsmen who stand at the wheel of the world
By him are unknown and unheard.

What trouble has Bill for the ruin of lands,
Or the quarrels of temple and throne,
So long as the whip that he holds in his hands
And the team that he drives are his own?

As straight and as sound as a slab without crack,
Our Bill is a king in his way;
Though he camps by the side of a shingle track,
And sleeps on the bed of his dray.

A whip-lash to him is as dear as a rose
Would be to a delicate maid;
He carries his darlings wherever he goes,
In a pocket-book tattered and frayed.

The joy of a bard when he happens to write
A song like the song of his dream
Is nothing at all to our hero’s delight
In the pluck and the strength of his team.

For the kings of the earth, for the faces august
Of princes, the millions may shout;
To Bill, as he lumbers along in the dust,
A bullock’s the grandest thing out.

His four-footed friends are the friends of his choice–
No lover is Bill of your dames;
But the cattle that turn at the sound of his voice
Have the sweetest of features and names.

A father’s chief joy is a favourite son,
When he reaches some eminent goal,
But the pride of Bill’s heart is the hairy-legged one
That pulls with a will at the pole.

His dray is no living, responsible thing,
But he gives it the gender of life;
And, seeing his fancy is free in the wing,
It suits him as well as a wife.

He thrives like an Arab. Between the two wheels
Is his bedroom, where, lying up-curled,
He thinks for himself, like a sultan, and feels
That his home is the best in the world.

For, even though cattle, like subjects, will break
At times from the yoke and the band,
Bill knows how to act when his rule is at stake,
And is therefore a lord of the land.

Of course he must dream; but be sure that his dreams,
If happy, must compass, alas!
Fat bullocks at feed by improbable streams,
Knee-deep in improbable grass.

No poet is Bill, for the visions of night
To him are as visions of day;
And the pipe that in sleep he endeavours to light
Is the pipe that he smokes on the dray.

To the mighty, magnificent temples of God,
In the hearts of the dominant hills,
Bill’s eyes are as blind as the fire-blackened clod
That burns far away from the rills.

Through beautiful, bountiful forests that screen
A marvel of blossoms from heat–
Whose lights are the mellow and golden and green–
Bill walks with irreverent feet.

The manifold splendours of mountain and wood
By Bill like nonentities slip;
He loves the black myrtle because it is good
As a handle to lash to his whip.

And thus through the world, with a swing in his tread,
Our hero self-satisfied goes;
With his cabbage-tree hat on the back of his head,
And the string of it under his nose.

Poor bullocky Bill! In the circles select
Of the scholars he hasn’t a place;
But he walks like a man, with his forehead erect,
And he looks at God’s day in the face.

For, rough as he seems, he would shudder to wrong
A dog with the loss of a hair;
And the angels of shine and superlative song
See his heart and the deity there.

Few know him, indeed; but the beauty that glows
In the forest is loveliness still;
And Providence helping the life of the rose
Is a Friend and a Father to Bill.

In an earlier article called A Hussar in India – Thomas Grisdale, I left ex-hussar Thomas Grisdale and his family aboard the ship Strathfieldsaye en route from Madras to Melbourne in Victoria, Australia. We don’t know why the family chose to go to Melbourne but we can make a good guess. The Victoria gold rush had just started and there is no doubt that news of diggers becoming immensely wealthy would have reached India. So perhaps Thomas wanted to see if he too could strike it rich. The family arrived in Melbourne harbour in November 1853.

Victoria Gold Diggers

Victoria Gold Diggers

Things then go a little dark, but not completely dark. Maybe initially Thomas got work in the Melbourne docks, where he later worked, we don’t know. Yet it is certain that he pretty soon tried his luck in the rough and tumble of Victoria’s gold diggings. The family moved to Heathcote, a gold rush town 110 kms north of Melbourne. Two more children were born there: Elizabeth in 1855 and Caroline in 1857. Heathcote itself had ‘developed on the back of a series of gold rushes along McIvor Creek commencing in 1851. One of the major strikes (1852) was a Golden Gully, behind the old courthouse’.

At the peak of the gold rushes there were up to 35,000 people, largely housed in tents and shanties on the fields. 3,000 Chinese walked to the digging from Robe in South Australia where they had disembarked to avoid paying a tax levied upon Chinese disembarking in Victoria. There were at least 3 breweries; 22 hotels; 2 flour mills, reflecting the emergence of wheat growing in the district; a bacon factory, hospital, banks and several wineries.

What sort of life did the family have in Heathcote? Perhaps we can get some idea from letters sent home by other immigrants who had done the same thing at the same time. In May 1855 Alma digger P.H. Brain wrote home to a friend:

There is no friends here, everyone for his self and the biggest rogue – the best man, that is the principle that the colony is carried on, by most people rich and poor. I am happy to say I have never wanted for anything since I have been in the colony, although I have seen more in want than ever I have in England. I have many times thought of you staying in England, I would rather live in England with one meal a day, than here with all the best in the world as there is no comfort to be had here day or night, for by day you are poisoned by dust and flies and by night perhaps nearly blown out of your bed, if it may be so called. Although I have got a feather bed, I cannot sleep…

I should not advise anyone to come out here, although I do not wish to keep them away but I am sure there is nothing to be obtained here but at the risk of your life and hard work and no comfort. You would be surprised perhaps if I say I work 60 or 70 feet underground and have got to sink the hole first. I can assure you that it is the case, one sometimes would sink 10 or a dozen of these and not see gold. I have got a hundred pounds and obliged to spend it nearly all before I could get any more, so you see it’s not all profit. The hole is sunk like a well on, a chain of 24 feet square. You must not have any more than that at any one time but you can sink as many as you want. Where you have sunk one of these holes you try 3 or 4 inches of dirt at the bottom, it is put into a tub and washed so as to wash off the dirt and leave the gravel in the bottom and from thence into a tin dish and divide the gold from the gravel, if there be any. If not you must wash it so before you can tell. So you see what work it is to get gold. I have sunk 10 or 15 before I have seen it and perhaps many around me getting it. I am thinking I shall send you and your dear wife a small nugget, so as you can say you have got some, as I may never have it in my power to bring it personally. If so I have to be more pleased to do so in a larger quantity wont if not to be a pleasure to me once more to see my friends in England all well, which I hope very much is the case now.

James Douglas Ferguson wrote to his parents in 1854 from McIvor (Heathcote):

Gold Rush Camp

Gold Rush Camp

We all live in tension the diggings that you will know I should not think there is a man on the diggings but has a brace of pistols ready for action under his head every night. I have 3 dogs round our tent there is nothing in the shape of beast or body can get near the tent for them, any one was to lay me down £20 for the 3 I would not take it. Some time ago these two men on horseback stuck us up. My dog did his duty she got one of them to an out she made him ten thousand murders. I like a fool had not my pistol charged, perhaps just as well it was not for I should have fired as sure as I am writing this letter to you, anyone comes round your tent at night you are justifiable in shooting them, this was between 12 and 1 o’clock in the morning. I got up and opened the tent door and give my faithful old dog the word of command and got the axe for a weapon myself, I darted out from the side of the tent and got a slip at one of them with the axe, the next moment the dog made the other shout like a bull they did not know that I was up ready to receive them. The wife and children screaming, the dogs barking. People came rushing from all quarters, believe me the fellow would not forget that blow I gave him for sometime. You know I am pretty sharp mettle when set on my pins. They were both armed with pistols but had not time to make use of them. We let them go quietly as there might be a party and some of them come at another time and call on us.

Such was probably the Grisdales’ life in the gold diggings. Thomas must have found some gold; otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to support his family for several years. But he clearly hadn’t struck it rich. The family moved back to Sandridge, Melbourne, where the couple’s next children were born:  Thomas (1859), Joseph (1861), Mary (1863), Isaac Arthur (1866) and Sarah (1869).

Sandridge circa 1858

Sandridge circa 1858

It is only in Melbourne that we start to find actual reports of Thomas and some of his family. The first to appear in the Melbourne Argus on Tuesday 12 September 1865 concerned Thomas himself:

At the Sandridge Police Court yesterday; before Mr. Call, P.M., an old man named Thomas Grisdale, charged with stealing fish, the property of James Lewis, was sentenced to be locked up until the rising of the Court.

Four years later, after having borne ten children, Thomas’s wife Jane died on 24 April 1869 as a result of giving birth to her last child Sarah, who herself died three  days later. On 26 April the Argus reported:

At Sandridge yesterday, the city coroner held an inquiry respecting the death of Mary Grisdale, who had died on the day previous somewhat suddenly. She had been prematurely confined on Saturday last, and from that time until Wednesday was progressing very favourably. On that morning, however, she was seized with sudden illness. Her husband went for the purpose of procuring medical assistance, but before he returned her life had expired. From the medical testimony, the jury returned a verdict that the deceased died from fatty degeneration of the heart.

After Jane’s death it seems that some of her children had to resort to begging. On Wednesday 22 February 1871 the Argus reported:

Sandridge. – On Monday, before Messrs. Molifson (?). P.M., Curtis, and Barker, Caroline Grisdale, a girl from 14 to 15 years old, was charged with stealing a pair of drawers. The prisoner went to Mary Clyans, wife of Michael Clyans, to beg, and Mrs. Clyans took her into her service. At the end of a week the prisoner left, and several articles of clothing were missed at the same time. The prisoner next went to a Mrs. Elizabeth Foley to beg for bread. Mrs Foley gave her 3 1/2d. to buy a loaf for herself and sisters, and the prisoner in return, offered the drawers, which she said belonged to her sister. The prisoner’s father, who described himself as a “lumper” appeared in court, but had nothing to say except that his daughter did not beg, or at least had no occasion to. The Bench sentenced the girl to 24 hours’ imprisonment, and to two years’ confinement in the reformatory, with a recommendation to the police to sec that Grisdale paid for his daughter’s maintenance.

Shortly after this it seems that Thomas and his children moved from Sandridge a short distance across the water to Swan Bay.

Swan Bay, Melbourne

Swan Bay, Melbourne

Later the same year, on 6 October 1871, we read:

A man named James Amos was charged at the police court, Drysdale, yesterday, with an attempt to commit a capital offence upon the person of a girl about 10 years of age, named Mary Grisdale. The prisoner, who reserved his defense, was committed to take his trial at the next sittings of the Circuit Court.

And then the 12 October 1871:

James Amos, an elderly man, was charged with having, on the 14th ult, indecently assaulted a little girl, under 10 years of age, named Mary Grisdale, at Swan Bay. He pleaded “Not guilty,” and was undefended. The jury returned a verdict of “Guilty.”

I’ll tell more of this trial for attempted rape in a future article about Thomas’s children.

The Argus reported on Friday 23 January 1874:

DRYSDALE POLICE COURT.

Drunkenness and Obscene Language. Police v Collins.—Superintendent Furnell appeared to prosecute, and Mr McCormick for the defence. Defendant was summoned for allowing’drunkenness in his house, and for using obscene language. Thos. Grisdale said he was at defendant’s house on the night of the 24th December, there were a lot of people there; some drunk and some sober. Defendant said to me, “Your son got me fined £5 on one occasion”, and also called him some names. “He offered to fight me for £5, John Davis said-I was at the hotel on the night of the 24th ult. Butlerand Davis were there; they were prettywell on. I remember the constable coming there, but I do not recollect what he said. I heard the words complained of,”

William Grisdale—I am son of the first witness. I went to Collins on the 25th and asked him what be had said about me the night before. Collins said he was drunk, and did not know what he said, and wished to let the matter drop. The case as far as permitting drunkenness was not pressed farther, nor was evidence called as to the use of obscene language. Constable Muloahy—I was on duty on the night of the 24th. I heard Collins tell Grisdade that his son had caused him be fined £5, and offered to fight either him or his son for £5, at the same time calling him disgraceful names. Cross examined — I am not bringing these cases merely for the purpose of taking away his license. Collins told me he had been to Melbourne to try and get me removed, but did not succeed, and would go to Geelong.I asked him to give me time to bring these cases against him. Mr McCormick objected to tho wording of the summons, but this objection was overruled. Tho charge of allowing dancing was proceeded with. MrMcCormick contended that the bonch, as a Court of Petty Sessions, had no jurisdiction, it must be brought before the Licensing Magistrates. Objection allowed. Pined 40s and 30s costs.

On 16 May1874 the Geelong Advertiser reported:

Thomas Grisdale, on remand, was charged with stealing seven bags from Mr Levien, M.L.A. Mr Levien said—I have missed some bags within about two month, about two or three dozen Calcutta bags—new cornsacks. I kept them in a shed; I had openeda bale and missed two bundles containingabout twenty in each. The bags produced are of a similar description to those missed.The bag produced marked L has been my property, but I cannot say it has been stolen. I never gave prisoner authority to remove bags off my premises; the prisoner has been in my employ; he left my service about a month ago. To the prisoner—You did have two or three bags last year containing produce (flour and peas). I do not think it possible that the new bag produced is the one in which you had the produce. Joseph, Molden said—I live at Mr Levien’s farm. I identify the bag produced as Mr Levien’s property. I put that patch on it, but I cannot say when. Three other witnesses were examined, but they failed to substantiate the charge against the prisoner, and he was discharged.

Soon after this I believe Thomas moved back to Emerald Hill in south Melbourne.

Melbourne 1858

I mentioned already that after coming back from Heathcote the family settled in Sandridge in Melbourne. What was Melbourne like in those days? Referring to the arrival of William Free’s family in 1853, the same year as Thomas, one writer says:

They were landed not at a wharf but on a beach – Liardet’s Beach or Sandridge as the respectable classes preferred to call it – at which there were present some ramshackle buildings, but no quay, no warehouses, no merchants, and no shade in which the women and children could rest while the men looked for transport. The shore up to the high-water mark was lined with broken drift spars and oars, discarded ship-blocks, mattresses and pillows, empty bottles, ballast kegs, and sundry other items of flotsam. The township of Melbourne was out of sight, some eight miles distant by river and three across land.

Sandridge became Melbourne’s second port – taking the name Port Melbourne. ‘For many years Port Melbourne was a focus of Melbourne’s criminal underworld, which operated smuggling syndicates on the docks. The old Ships Painters and Dockers Union was notorious for being controlled by gangsters. The Waterside Workers Federation, on the other hand, was a stronghold of the Communist Party of Australia.’

We know that Thomas worked as a coal ‘lumper’ in Sandridge port. Margo Beasley, Australia’s expert on coal lumpers, writes: ‘Unlike wharf labourers, who shifted all manner of cargoes between ship and shore, coal lumpers worked exclusively on coal and most, but not all, of that work took place out ‘in the stream’ as they put it… some distance from the wharves…  coal lumpers saw themselves as akin to miners rather than wharf labourers and their main task was to move the coal from colliers or hulks that brought it…  into other vessels.’

Coal lumpers at work

Coal lumpers at work

There were five categories of coal lumping work. The shovellers, winchdrivers and planksmen worked on the collier or hulk that was carrying and discharging the coal, and carriers and trimmers worked on the ship that was receiving the coal or being ‘coaled’. Coal lumpers’ tools were basic: shovels, baskets, boots, ropes and their own brute strength. The ‘gear’ on the collier, which included winch, rope (called the ‘fall’) and baskets, had to be rigged so that the coal could be shifted from down below up to a suitable level on the deck for moving it into the ship that was to be coaled. The baskets were attached to a hook, which was fastened to the fall, which was run through a pulley and a winch on the deck above the hold.

Beasley describes coal lumpers’ working conditions as ‘Dantesque’. She writes:

Billy Hughs, who later became Prime Minister of Australia, was president of the Sydney Coal Lumpers’ Union in 1905, and also its advocate. He said coal lumping work ‘finds out the weak places in a man. If a man has a weak spot in his heart, lungs or back, or … say his nervous system is not all that it should be, he falls out.’ Hughes argued that only the very strong remained in the work and coal lumpers aged 45 or 50 were simply ‘the strongest who have survived’, by natural selection.

Indeed, many men tried the work for a week or two, and even an hour or two, but they couldn’t last. One coal lumper said that some men were forced to leave the work because they because they had started at too hard a pace and they were unable to keep going. Hughes judged that no other occupation called for the exercise of greater physical strength and endurance, supporting his assertion with two illustrations. Employers were unable to get sufficient men who could do coal lumping satisfactorily, or even unsatisfactorily, during strikes and lockouts; and the work necessitated certain conditions that didn’t occur in any other trade: paid two hourly breaks, because a spell was ‘absolutely essential for recuperation and food and rest.

Coal Lumpers

Coal Lumpers

Such was the hard and dangerous life of Thomas Grisdale. The son of a Bolton weaver, descended from the Matterdale Grisdales. A man who had spent years serving Queen and country in India. A man who had been under the command of Captain Nolan who became famous for ‘starting’ the Charge of the Light Brigade. A man who had tried his luck in Australia only to spend the rest of his life lumping coal in the docks. Such I’m afraid was the fate of many, indeed most, of the common soldiers who served Her Majesty throughout most of British history. A fate in stark contrast to that of the wealthy officer class.

Thomas Grisdale died aged 74 on 28 February 1879, at 11 Montague Street, Emerald Hill in Melbourne.

 

“Ours is not to reason why. Ours is but to do and die.”

What was a Grisdale man’s connection with The Charge of the Light Brigade? How did a soldier in an elite British cavalry regiment in India? This is the first part of the story of Thomas Grisdale, a son of an extended Bolton cotton weaving family who would end his days in Melbourne in Australia.

Thomas Grisdale was born in Bolton, Lancashire in 1804. He escaped the cotton mills by joining the army. I’m not yet precisely sure exactly when, but it seems clear that as a private in the 15th King’s Own Light Dragoons (Hussars) he sailed for India with the regiment from their base in Maidstone, Kent, in September 1839 – under Lieutenant – Colonel Sir Walter Scott, the son of the famous novelist. He was to spend the next fourteen years in India, first in Madras but mostly in Bangalore. The ‘Madras Presidency’ which covered most of southern India was run by the British East India Company.

Peterloo Massacre

Peterloo Massacre

The 15th Hussars was an illustrious regiment. They were called both The Fighting 15th and The Tabs. They were raised in 1759 and had fought in the Peninsular War at Sahagun and Vittoria and later at Waterloo. Unfortunately they had also played a pivotal role in the notorious Peterloo Massacre in 1819:  ‘Where a 60,000 strong crowd calling for democratic reform were charged by the Yeomanry. Panic from the crowd was interpreted as an attack on the Yeomanry and the Hussars (led by Lieutenant Colonel Guy L’Estrange) were ordered in. The charge resulted in 15 fatalities and as many as 600 injured.’

Captain Lewis Nolan

Captain Lewis Nolan

After an initial spell in the regional capital, Madras, Thomas was mostly on garrison duty with the regiment in Bangalore. The regiment became one of the best trained cavalry units in the British army, thanks in no small measure to the efforts and new ideas of a certain Captain Lewis Edward Nolan – under whom Thomas served. In a list of the men of the 15th Hussars stationed in Bangalore in 1845 (although I think the list comes from slightly later), we find Private Thomas Grisdale as well as Captain Lewis Nolan.

Nolan wasn’t a typical British cavalry officer. Though British Canadian by birth, through his father’s connections he had been commissioned into the Austrian Imperial Cavalry and seen action as a Hussar in Poland and Hungary. But he was persuaded by certain ‘English gentlemen’ to resign his commission and buy a commission in the British army. This he did in 1839 and he was with Grisdale and the 15th Hussars on the trip to Madras. Nolan had strong ideas about how cavalry should be used, how horses should be trained and about the inappropriateness of the Hussars’ uniforms. He later published two treatises on the subject called: The Training of Cavalry Remount Horses: A New System (1851) and Cavalry: Its History and Tactics (1853). Given his expertise, Nolan was made the regiment’s riding master and his methods were later adopted throughout the army. Two quotes from his writings give us a flavour:

Write up in golden letters – or in letters distinguishable, and easy to read – in every riding-school, and in every stable: “HORSES ARE TAUGHT NOT BY HARSHNESS BUT BY GENTLENESS.” Where the officers are classical, the golden rule may be given in Xenophon’s Greek, as well as in English.

To me it appears we have too much frippery – too much toggery – too much weight in things worse than useless. To a cavalry soldier every ounce is of consequence! I can never believe that our hussar uniform (take which of them you please) is the proper dress in which to do hussar’s duty in war – to scramble through thickets, to clear woods, to open the way through forests, to ford or swim rivers, to bivouac, to be nearly always on outpost work, to ‘rough it’ in every possible manner. Of what use are plumes, bandoliers, sabretashes, sheep-skins, shabraques, etc?

The Charge of the Light Brigade

The Charge of the Light Brigade

But besides the fact that Grisdale knew Nolan, what’s the interest in mentioning this? Well it is this: When the regiment was about to depart for home in 1853, Nolan obtained leave to precede it to Europe. After a bit of spying for Britain in Russia, he was sent to purchase horses for the army for the Crimean campaign. Nolan travelled around Turkey, Lebanon and Syria. ‘He arrived in Varna, Bulgaria… with nearly 300 animals.’ For once Britain and France were not fighting each other; they had come to the aid of the Ottoman Turks in their fight against an expansionary Imperial Russia. Nolan was made aide-de-camp to Brigadier-General Richard Airey.  On 25 October 1854, at the Battle of Balaclava, it was Captain Nolan who brought the message from Lord Raglan to Lord Lucan which read:

Lord Raglan wishes the Cavalry to advance rapidly to the front, follow the enemy, and try to prevent the enemy carrying away the guns. Troop Horse Artillery may accompany. French Cavalry is on your left. Immediate.

Raglan’s idea was to have the cavalry prevent the Russians taking away the naval guns from the redoubts that they had captured on the reverse side of the Causeway Heights, the hill forming the south side of the valley. Lucan was unclear what the order meant and asked Nolan for clarification. Nolan is reputed to have replied, ‘Lord Raglan’s orders are that the cavalry should attack immediately.’ Lucan replied, ‘Attack, sir! Attack what? What guns, sir? Where and what to do?’

There, my Lord! There is your enemy! There are your guns!

Nolan is said to have indicated, by a wide sweep of his arm, not the Causeway redoubts but the mass of Russian guns in a redoubt at the end of the valley, around a mile away.

So Lucan ordered Lord Cardigan, the officer commanding the Light Brigade, to charge straight at the Russian guns. So began The Charge of the Light Brigade, when just over 600 British cavalry charged straight at the main Russian cannons, into the ‘Valley of Death’. As Alfred Lord Tennyson wrote:

Half a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,

All in the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

“Forward, the Light Brigade!

Charge for the guns!” he said.

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

Captain Lewis Nolan was one of the first to die in the charge. One historian writes:

After delivering the order telling Lord Lucan, the Cavalry Division commander, to attack “the guns,” Nolan joined his friend, Captain William Morris, Acting Commander, 17th Lancers.  Although a staff officer, Nolan was determined not to be left out of this action.  As the Light Brigade advanced, Nolan was seen to ride forward on his own.  His reasons are the subject of vast controversy and much speculation.  In any event, his audacity didn’t last long.  He was struck in the chest by a piece of shrapnel, making him one of the first casualties of the charge.

Nolan, or perhaps only his body, remained upright in the saddle.  The horse veered right, then back through the advancing line of the 13th Light Dragoons, the horse’s former regiment.  After passing through the lines, Captain Nolan finally fell to the ground, but his gallant horse was not through.  Troop Sergeant Major John Linkon of the 13th had just lost his horse.  He managed to mount Nolan’s horse and rode after his regiment.  Thus, although Captain Nolan did not complete the famous charge, his horse did.

After the debacle, his superiors, probably unjustly, put the blame on Nolan. The French General Bosquet, who witnessed the charge, commented: C’est magnifique, mais ce n’est pas la guerre’: c’est de la folie’. (‘It is magnificent, but it is not war: it is madness.’)

Such was the fate of the man under whom Thomas Grisdale had served for so many years in India. But unlike his former officer, Grisdale had avoided the Valley of Death (the 15th weren’t actually there). He left the army in 1853 and with his young family made his way to Melbourne in Australia.

Before I tell of this let us go back a little to Thomas’s roots and the facts of his family. Thomas was the third child of Lancashire cotton weaver Thomas Grisdale and his wife Elizabeth Crossley. He was born in 1804 in Bolton. In previous articles I have tried to show what became of several of his close relatives who had also left England and some who stayed. Among his close relatives was his brother, the weaver Doctor Grisdale, who emigrated to Pennsylvania in 1850, and his two nephews, John and Jonathan, who “went America”.  His uncle  Benjamin became the Collector of Customs in the important port of Whitehaven. His cousin John emigrated to Sydney and his more distant cousin also called John became a missionary in India and later a Canadian Bishop!  His uncle George emigrated with his family to Hudson in Quebec and one member of his family eventually ended up in the Pacific Northwest of America as “King of the Douglas Fir Loggers”. Every single one of these people was a descendant of Joseph Grisdale and Ann Temple of Dockray, Matterdale, Cumberland.

Madras 1850

Madras 1850

When Thomas arrived in India in 1839 he was a single man of 35. But while stationed in Bangalore he married the locally born Mary Cartwright, the daughter of army farrier William Cartwright and his Indian wife Jane. The marriage took place on 5 January 1847 in Bangalore’s Holy Trinity Church. Three Indian-born children were to follow: Thomas (1848), Jane (1850) and William (1852).

Throughout his time in India the British army (or the army of the East India Company to be more precise) had been involved in many nasty little wars, for example the early Sikh and Afghan wars. But these all took place in the north of the country and because Thomas’s regiment were based in the south it seems he took no part in them. I would like to know if this was not the case.

Whatever the case, in 1853, having recently left the army, he, his wife Mary and their two children (Thomas junior had died just before they left) boarded the ship Strathfieldsaye bound for Melbourne in Victoria, Australia. We don’t know why the family chose to go to Melbourne but we can make a good guess. The Victoria gold rush had just started and there is no doubt that news of diggers becoming immensely wealthy would have reached India. So perhaps Thomas wanted to see if he too could strike it rich. The family arrived in Melbourne harbour in November 1853.

See Thomas Grisdale in Melbourne – digging for gold and lugging coal.

 

In an earlier article I told of Simeon Grisdale Senior and finished with his death in Crouch End, Islington in 1825, just weeks after he had been released from debtors’ prison. Here I want to tell of his son Simeon, ‘a most systematic rogue’, of his continual movements, changes of occupation, his repeated bigamy and his spells in jail. There are still some mysteries about his life and the fate of some of his children, plus I don’t even know exactly where and when he died, but I hope it’s still an interesting tale. He was a rogue indeed but I can’t help warming to him.

Broughton, Hants

Broughton, Hants

As mentioned in my earler article titled Simeon Grisdale – bankruptcy and debtors’ prison,  Simeon Grisdale Junior was born in Houghton in Hampshire in 1805. His father, Simeon Senior, was the village baker and chandler and the younger Simeon grew up in rural Hampshire with his younger sister Mary. Whether Simeon Senior’s wife Ruth and his two grown or almost grown children accompanied him to London isn’t known. Maybe they stayed in Hampshire. In any case the next we hear of young Simeon is in June 1830 when he married Ann Jearam in the next door Hampshire village of Broughton. Three children followed: Mary in 1834, William in 1836 (both born in Broughton) and then Simeon in 1839. Baby Simeon died the next year in Over Wallop, Hampshire. But the children were not christened in either of  the Church of England churches in Houghton or Broughton, where the family were living. Instead they were baptized in the Wesleyan Methodist Chapel in the ancient city of Salisbury, Simeon being said to be a labourer. The theme of Wesleyan Methodism will reappear later.

By 1841 the family had moved to Waight’s Terrace in Southampton and Simeon was a brewer. Perhaps the family stayed in Southampton during the 1840s, but in 1850 Simeon’s long career of bigamy starts. On 25 December 1850, while still married to Ann (she died in Clerkenwell, London in 1867), Simeon married Mary Ann Scott in Chelmsford in Essex, a long way from Hampshire. The circumstances leading to this marriage are, I’m afraid, lost forever, as indeed is Mary Ann Scott’s subsequent fate. I can find no trace of any of the family in the 1851 census, which is strange. Whatever the case, Simeon’s bigamous marriage to Mary Ann didn’t last long. Maybe she discovered he was already married? Maybe, though most unlikely, he went back to his family for a while.

But we do know what Simeon was up to in 1851. The Oxford Journal on 6 September 1851 contained the following report:

IMPOSTER -

On Monday last a man, named Simeon Grisdale, was sentenced to three months imprisonment and hard labour, as a rogue and vagabond, under the following circumstances, detailed in evidence by Mr. Parsons, a grocer, of this town, to whom great praise is due for his promptness in bringing to justice a most systematic rogue. In August last the accused called called upon Mr. Parsons and passed himself off as a local preacher attached to the Wesleyan Methodist persuasion, who was deputed to collect contributions in aid of a fund for building a chapel at a place called Stanford, to which pretended object it appeared, by a collecting book which he presented, a great number of parties in various places had subscribed. Mr. Parsons contributed a sum, but having found out subsequently such particulars as left no doubt that he had been imposed on, he procured a search warrant, and with a constable proceed to Oxford, where he heard the man was, and forthwith apprehended him, when he directly confessed his guilt. At a house where he was living portions of books were found, by which it appeared that he had visited most towns in Berks, Oxon etc, and had drawn upon the public to the tune of £40 or £50, and to such purposes he had changed the locality of the pretended chapel from place to placer as circumstances rendered it necessary. The accused had no defense to make.

Meadvale in 1955

Meadvale in 1955

Having most likely been released from prison in December 1851, Simeon, as we will see, arrived in Harefield in Middlesex to ‘open a school’. There he met Mary Ann Clarke, the daughter of Harefield carpenter Thomas Clarke and his wife Ann. In July of that year he married Mary Ann at the registrar’s office in Uxbridge in Middlesex. You have to say he got around.  He stayed with this Mary Ann a bit longer. They had four children together: Margaret in 1855 in Hounslow, Middlesex, Benomi (?) in 1857 in Heston (a suburb of Hounslow), Ruth in 1859 in Speldhurst (Tunbridge Wells) in Kent and Simeon in 1859 in Meadvale in Redhill in Surrey. Son Simeon died aged only six weeks. We can imply that during all these years Simeon was trying his hand at running private schools, though continually moving from place to place.

Certainly when he moved Meadvale in Redhill in Surrey in 1858 or 1859 he and his wife did become schoolmaster and mistress! They are listed as such in the 1861 census. A far cry maybe from labouring, brewing, obtained money under false pretenses and God knows what else.

Meadvale was known in the 19th century as Meads Hole. The name means meadowland hollow. Here not only dwellings but also pottery businesses scattered over the common land — some kilns remain. The major hamlet had two butchers, a baker, a draper, a tailor and a grocer’s shop. The first school was held in the village hall with a fee of one penny a week for each child. At the beginning of the 19th century, there was a tanner’s yard adjoining Earlswood Common which was pasture, not park, at the southern entrance to Meadvale.

Perhaps their school was ‘in the village hall’?

Things seemed to be going well for Simeon. But no, he had obviously not repented of his ways – bigamy and collecting money for fictitious Methodist chapels. In September 1862 various newspapers all over the country reported his activities,. This one is from the Kentish Chronicle on 6 September 1862:

A SCHOOLMASTER COMMITTED FOR BIGAMY -

Samuel Russell, alias Simeon Grisdale, a schoolmaster and a Wesleyan local preacher, was brought up Monday last before the Tunbridge bench of magistrates charged with marrying a female named Fanny Kingwood in April last, his former wife being then alive. Fanny Kingwood stated that in Apri, 1862, she was living at Reigate Heath, and the prisoner was living at Redhill, about three miles distant. She became acquainted with him by his coming to see her master for the purpose of soliciting subscriptions. She understood he was a single man, and went by the name of Samuel Russell. After several months’ courtship he induced her, on 5th April, to go to London with him, and the ceremony of marriage was gone through at York Street Chapel, Walworth. Ann Clarke, the wife of Thomas Clarke, carpenter of Harefield, Middlesex, said she had known the prisoner for ten years. He went to Harfield and opened a school, and shortly afterwards became acquainted with her daughter, Mary Ann Clarke, to whom he was married at the registrar’s office at Uxbridge, nearly ten years ago. He was married in the name of Simneon Grisdale. Her daughter was still alive. The prisoner, on being cautioned in the usual way, said, “All that I have to say is, I am truly sorry for it.” He was committed for trial at the ensuing assizes at Maidstone.

As we will see it’s doubtful  that Simeon was ‘truly sorry’.  In any case  on 29 November 1862 Simeon was tried at Maidstone Court in Kent for bigamy and sentenced to four years imprisonment.

Maidstone Prison

Maidstone Prison

Before I continue with Simeon, what became of his (legal) wife Ann and their children? Sometime in the 1850s they had moved to London. In 1861 wife Ann Grisdale (nee Jearam) was a Seamstress living at 36 Chapel Street in Clerkenwell. So too was her recently widowed young ‘Dress Maker’ daughter Mary Midson (nee Grisdale). Son William was nearby working as a ‘Pot Man’ i.e. a glass washer at the British Queen pub off Canonbury Square in Islington.

St Laurence, Upton, Slough

St Laurence, Upton, Slough

Returning to bigamist Simeon Grisdale. If he completed his full four year sentence (probably in Maidstone Prison) he would have been free at the end of 1866. His first and legal wife Ann died in London in the first quarter of 1867. Did Simeon know? Did he care? We don’t know. We might also conclude that his marriage to Fanny Kingwood had been annulled on his conviction for bigamy. Whether he was still married to Mary Ann Clarke is not known.

Yet on the 9 February 1867 Simeon married again in the Buckinghamshire village of Upton near Slough, this time his wife was widow Maria Compton (nee Stevens). Given the timing it’s quite likely this marriage was bigamous too. It does seem Simeon was a bit of a charmer and ladies’ man! He settled down with Maria and several stepchildren in Upton and he now became a greengrocer (and possibly a draper too). One son was born in 1868, who Simeon again called Simeon – third time lucky. This Simeon, who will be the subject of  a subsequent article, survived, but Simeon’s marriage to Maria Compton didn’t.

By 1871 the family had moved to Acton in Middlesex (now part of London), but they weren’t living together. Simeon is listed in the 1871 census as a greengrocer living at 5 Windmill Terrace on Turnpike Road with his young son Simeon. His wife Maria was living at 4 prospect Terrace on Park Road, working as a laundress, with three of her Compton children plus son Simeon Grisdale – he was recorded twice, both with his father and mother!

But Simeon couldn’t do without a wife. Oh no, he had to marry again, and again bigamously. On 30 November 1873 he married Margaret Mary Downie in Christ Church, in the south London area of Southwark.

And here  the ‘most systematic rogue’ Simeon Grisdale simply disappears. I can find no trace of his death. In 1881 the wife Maria was still in London but said she was a widow, so I guess Simeon died sometime in the 1870s after a full life indeed: from labourer to brewer to schoolmaster, to prisoner to greengrocer; with six wives and multiple bigamies behind him!

Later I will tell of Simeon Grisdale the third, who became a soldier, went to Ireland then to the North West Frontier in India and, well into his forties, fought in the First World War.

bigamy

In my own Grisdale family line we find the usual array of professions: yeoman farmer, blacksmith and carpenter for example. But it has always intrigued me that my third great grandfather, William Grisdale, was a Dancing Master in and around Penrith for about sixty years. Luckily William’s teaching, his Balls and his dancing school were repeatedly reported in the Cumbrian press and thus we can get just a flavour of his life and the legacy he left.

We know that William was a Dancing Master because he is listed as such in the censuses of 1841, 1851 and 1861. He was by that time already quite old, having been born in Matterdale in 1785, the sixth and last child of Dockray blacksmith Wilfred Grisdale (1711-1795) and his second wife Ruth Slee (1759-1838). But even when he married Mary Charters in Penrith in 1815 when he was thirty he was already said to be a dancing master. As we will see he’d started this vocation even before that.

The English Dancing Master

The English Dancing Master

What was a ‘Dancing Master’?  Well as we might expect he/she was a teacher of dance. Wikipedia tells us something of the tradition:

The Dancing Master (first edition: The English Dancing Master) is a dancing manual containing the music and instructions for English Country Dance. It was published in several editions by John Playford and his successors from 1651 until c1728. The first edition contained 105 dances with single line melodies; subsequent editions introduced new songs and dances, while dropping others, and the work eventually encompassed three volumes. Dances from The Dancing Master were re-published in arrangements by Cecil Sharp in the early 20th century, and in these reconstructed forms remain popular among dancers today.

Another recent writer says:

For those of you not familiar with Playford’s The English Dancing Master (1651), it was the first collection of popular dance tunes published in the British Isles. It was published in London and sold to the English country dancing market… It was a big hit, and it remained in print through various editions until 1728. It’s not exactly traditional music. It was popular music intended for an urban audience.

The various editions were updated with the hits of the day—songs from popular plays and special music used by professional dancers. However, quite a lot of the material can be found in traditional circulation… English country dancing is first mentioned in the Elizabethan period. Some of the tunes were probably at least 100 years old when they were published. Many of the older tunes existed as songs rather than strictly dance tunes. Nowadays there are two styles of what is called “English country dancing” One is based on Playford tunes. Apparently the tunes are usually played in a style based on late 19th century classical music….

But the type of dancing William taught was more like this:

The other kind of English country dancing is the kind of dancing they do out in the country in England. This is true folk dancing, done to folk tunes played in folk style. It doesn’t really have anything to do with Playford, which has been upper-class stuff since the 17th century. John Playford (1623-1686) was a successful London music publisher. A royalist, he kept a low profile during the Commonwealth and came into political favour with the return of Charles II. He catered to the taste of the emerging bourgeois class which preferred country dancing to the more formal galliards and other formal dances popular with the nobility before the Civil War. His business was carried on by his son Henry. The actual title of the work was: The English Dancing Master, or, Plaine and easie Rules for the Dancing of Country Dances, with the Tune to each Dance.

From where had William acquired his love of dancing? How had he started to teach? To be honest I have no idea. None of his ancestors and, with one exception, none of his descendants or relatives had anything to do with dancing. William had moved from Matterdale to Penrith sometime prior to his marriage in 1815. The couple had at least nine children. Perhaps William at first followed his father’s profession as a blacksmith or maybe he worked as a carpenter as did many of his family? If he did he didn’t stay at it long before starting to teach dancing which was obviously the love of his life.

As I mentioned, there are dozens of newspaper reports telling of  William Grisdale the Dancing Master, they span several decades. Basically what William did was move from town to town teaching young people to dance. paid for by their parents, and then a Ball would be staged to show off the results. All the reports tell of the great success of these balls and how they were a great credit to Mr. Grisdale, who as he gets older is sometimes refers to as Professor Grisdale or, more often, ‘the patriarchal dancing master’. Here are just a few of my favourites:

Carlisle Journal 13 June 1851

BALL – The merry little village of Wreay was, on thursday evening week, the scene of much gaiety and pleasure. Mr. Wm. Grisdale upon whose head seventy years have shone, has been endeavouring for some time past to fashion the young limbs of  “fair maidens and buxom lads” of the village and surrounding neighbourhood to the graceful evolutions of the mazy dance, and his labours, which have been followed by most decided success, were brought to a close with a ball on the above evening. Rarely, if ever, has so gay and numerous an assemblage of plump, rosy-checked lasses and lish, hardy, light-hearted youths, been gathered together under the hospitable roof of  “old Sally” . The”kings and queens” discharged their duties with true dignity; and the “hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels,” in which cross-the-buckle, the double-shuffle and the “cut,”  were all rendered in first rate primitive style, reflect much credit upon both Mr. Grisdale and his pupils. The “bow dance,” however, was the great attraction of the evening, and in finery and gracefulness would succumb to few of our more posturing dances. The young ones having finished their spree, the older folk, inspired by the fire of early days, took possession of the floor, and kept up the pleasure of the ball until the grey mists of morning warned them to depart, which they did with hearts filled with joy.

Wreay, Cumberland

Wreay, Cumberland

Two years later on 16 December 1853 the same newspaper reported:

Dancing School Ball – Mr William Grisdale the patriarchal dancing master, held his ball at the house of Mr Thomas Furness, of Loangwathby… Mr Grisdale is upwards of 74 years of age (sic); yet, though his head is silverd o’ver by time he appears as “lish” and active as ever. He has taught dancing for upwards of half a century, and has always kept within a twenty mile circuit of Penrith, so that at the present time there are few middle aged women in the district who were not his pupils in early life . He has taught three generations. He taught the grandmothers of some of the young misses who were recently his pupils in Longwathby.

And then on 14 April 1854:

Old William Grisdale the patriarchal dancing master, has now a dancing school in Penrith Town head. He is teaching the fourth generation, having taught the great grandfathers and great grandmothers of some of his present pupils.

Naval cadets dancing a hornpipe

Naval cadets dancing a hornpipe

William was still a dancing master in 1861, aged 76, and might have continued somewhat longer. So it seems that William had brought ‘joy’ to four generations of his Cumbrian dancing pupils over a period of about sixty years. He had his fair share of tragedy too – two of his daughter died quite young – but he led a life doing what he wanted to do. Sometime in the 1860s William had to stop his teaching, possibly due too ill health, and the sad fact is that he had to enter Penrith’s workhouse where he died on 30 May 1866, his death only getting two lines in the Carlisle Journal that had followed him for decades. His wife Mary died two years later.

Just a few words on William’s family.  In the early nineteenth century his older brother Wilfred (b 1782) had moved to Carlisle and from there he emigrated with his family to Canada, just after William’s marriage, there to found a veritable Grisdale dynasty in Canada and the United States.

Another brother Gideon (b 1777) moved to London and became a jeweller; his daughter Elizabeth ‘Minnie’ Grisdale first became a ballet dancer at the Drury Lane Theatre in London before marrying a famous painter, moved to Boston and then returned as a widow to hawk fish in Falmouth! Perhaps Minnie had been influenced by her dancing uncle William?

Wilfred Grisdale, William's son

Wilfred Grisdale, William’s son

There is much to tell of William’s children. I’ll only highlight a couple of them. Their son Wilfred (1815-1893) was a carpenter. The family story is that Wilfred loved horses. The picture I have included here might suggest that. He married twice and had eleven children, one being my great grandmother Agnes Grisdale. Another son, also called William, emigrated to Australia in 1853 with his wife and child and there had many adventures.

It’s not much of a story I know, but I just love to think of William teaching country dancing to the good youngsters of Cumberland and Westmorland in the nineteenth century. Perhaps he even knew Levi Grisdale, the landlord of the local tavern called the General Lefebvre. Levi was much more famous, but he and William were related, both being descended from Joseph Grisdale and Agnes Dockray of Dowthwaite Head in Matterdale. I guess we’ll never know.

Having left Boston four days before the cruise liner Prince David struck ‘Northeast Breaker Reef’ on the 13th of March 1932, while just twelve miles and two hours from its destination of St. George’s in Bermuda. All the eighty-seven passengers and crew on board were safely rowed in lifeboats to the nearby ship Lady Somers. Most of the vacationers were from New England but also onboard was Canadian Dr Joseph Hiram Grisdale, who had recently resigned as Canada’s Deputy Minister of Agriculture for health reasons. Travelling alone, Joseph was said to be ‘on his way to Bermuda for his health and intended staying there for some time’.

I will write more at a later date about Joseph’s life, but the shipwreck story is interesting, so I’ll start there. Edward Harris, the director of the Bermuda National Museum, writes:

Prince David in Vancouver in 1930

Prince David in Vancouver in 1930

As the Great Depression of 1929—39 was beginning, the shipping subsidiary of the Canadian National Railways, the Canadian National Steamships, ordered three identical passenger liners from the Cammell Laird works at Birkenhead, near the great maritime city of Liverpool.

The three were of a royal strain, being duly knighted Prince David, Prince Henry and Prince Robert, and were intended for luxury service on the Canadian west coast, operating out of Vancouver, British Columbia.

Alas, the Depression put paid to that concept and after brief service in those parts, two of the vessels were transferred to the Canadian Maritimes in the east, for service to Bermuda and the West Indies.

The two ships were placed on a regular cruise service to Bermuda from St John and Boston, berthing in St George’s, and it was planned the pair would operate to Bermuda for several months, with departures each Friday and Sunday.

The first departure was taken by Prince Henry, which departed Boston on 25 February, followed on 27 February by Prince David, with 122 passengers on board.

 

Prince David in Bermuda in January 1932

Prince David in Bermuda in January 1932

The cruise on which Joseph Grisdale was sailing was only the second the Prince David had made to Bermuda.

On 14 March 1932 The Ottawa Evening Journal reported:

St George Harbour, Bermuda

St George Harbour, Bermuda

HAMILTON, Bermuda, March 13.

The Canadian National steamship, Prince David, struck a reef two hours out of St. George’s today, forced the evacuation of her 87 passengers, and several hours later was sinking.

The accident was blamed on poor visibility in a blinding rain, storm, and occurred just before the Prince David picked up her pilot. According to passengers, the vessel was making a speed of about 23 knots when the accident happened. The third officer was on the bridge at the time, passengers reported, and all were ordered immediately to don life preservers.

The life boats were lowered quickly while an SOS was sent to the Lady Somers. When all the’ passengers had been taken off the Prince David was listing badly. The Lady Somers, fearful of entering the channel, stood by three miles out while passengers and crew alike worked at the oars. They rowed for an hour and a half in rough sea before reaching the Lady Somers.

Chief Steward Kerr of the Prince David was praised highly by passengers for his work in the transfer of passengers. All were brought safely aboard the Lady Somers and then taken ashore.

The transfer was accomplished without any serious Injury to any of the passengers or crew. It was 11 a.m. when the 3.072-ton vessel bearing 87 vacation-minded passengers from Boston for St. Georges, was brought up sharply upon the reef. Ships officers calmly directed and assisted passengers in donning lifebelts and soon lifeboats were -swung over the side and the long pull started to the Lady Somers.

Later, it was said by passengers, that there was little commotion as the majestic liner was abandoned. True to the traditions of the sea, Captain A. & McKay was the last man leave… the listing vessel. Captain McKay and two engineers remained aboard surveying the situation…  Most of the passengers of the ill-fated Prince David were New England holiday-seekers. The only Canadians known to be aboard were Dr. J. H. Grisdale, former Dominion Deputy Minister of Agriculture, and Mr. and Mrs. T. J. Murphy, Toronto.

There are many others reports in Canadian newspapers telling that Dr Grisdale had survived the wreck.

One passenger, Maxine Morgan, reported to the newspapers:

Lady Somers

Lady Somers

HAMILTON. Bermuda. March 13.

The Prince David struck a reef today, and we all had to take to the lifeboats to complete a pleasure trip to Bermuda from Boston. It was about two o’clock when the ship was brought up abruptly against a reef. The third officer got into action immediately, while the rest of us were trying to figure out what happened… My mother and I adjusted belts, as did the other men and women passengers. There was no great commotion although I guess we were all very excited. While the process of adjusting our belts was going on, the crew of the Prince David was busy getting ready the lifeboats. Soon we were told to get into them. There was no chance to collect wraps or personal baggage. I went into the lifeboat with my mother, and neither of us had a chance to go to our staterooms and collect our effects. Other women and men were in the same predicament.

After we got into the lifeboats, we were lowered into a rough sea- and then the task of rowing to the steamer Lady Somers was started. As we pulled away from the Prince David, she seemed to be listing badly. We were told after we reached land that the craft was sinking slowly. The ride out to the Lady Somers, which apparently did not venture into our position for fear of meeting the same fate, was not a pleasant one but the men passengers in the boat proved good seamen and took a hand at the oars. It took about an hour and a half before we reached the Lady Somers, which made the trip down here from Boston the same day we Jeff-last Friday.

The man whom I think was the hero of the whole affair was the chief purser. Kerr is his name. He was efficient, gentle and courageous and certainly helped us women a great deal. Most of the passengers said the same thing about him: The Lady Somers brought us all safely ashore the only thing we missed, especially, the ladies, was a change of apparel. Tonight we had hopes that some of our effect might be saved before the ship sinks.

Lady Somers

Lady Somers

The timing of the ship hitting the reef varies in the various newspaper reports. More recently marine historian Piers Plowman in A Century of Passenger Liners to Bermuda  wrote:

St George Bermuda in 1930s

St George Bermuda in 1930s

On the morning of Sunday, 13 March 1932, Prince David on its second cruise was approaching Bermuda in heavy rain causing poor visibility.

Shortly before noon the Island hove into sight, and the officers on the bridge estimated their position from the radio direction finder, as they had done the first time the ship cruised to Bermuda.

Unfortunately, only days previously the Bermuda radio direction equipment had been moved from its original position near St George’s to ‘Eagles Nest’ in Devonshire, but the captain of Prince David was either unaware of this, or forgot.

The result was that, instead of following a course that would bring them safely to the entrance of the channel through the reef, the ship was several miles off course.

At 12.40pm it struck one rock, went over it and then became firmly lodged on a second rock that formed part of the reef near North Rock.

An SOS message was immediately sent, being picked up ashore, and also by Lady Somers, which was also approaching the Island from Boston.

An hour after the ship went aground, the rain stopped, but a strong wind sprang up from the south west, which soon whipped up a heavy sea, preventing Lady Somers, or the tugs that had rushed to the scene from St George’s approaching the grounded ship.

At first there seemed little danger, and passengers were served their lunch in the dining room as usual.

During the afternoon Prince David began to sink by the stern, and as the tide began to fall, also began listing to starboard.

This increased concern for the safety of the 84 passengers, resulting in them being placed in the lifeboats, along with some members of the crew, and transferred to Lady Somers.

Eventually at low tide Prince David was listing at 45 degrees, and the stern had disappeared beneath the water, only the captain and four officers remaining on board.

The five officers remained with the ship throughout the next day, but rising seas on the evening of 14 March forced them to decide to abandon the ship too.

A group of St George’s men, including some pilots, manned a small boat to rescue the officers. Battling strong squalls and heavy seas, the boat took three and a half hours to reach Prince David, at 2am on 15 March.

By then the men on the stricken ship were numb with cold, and it was a major task to rescue them, but at last all five were safely on board the small boat.

The voyage back to St George’s was as difficult as the outward trip, the small launch battling huge seas that threatened to swamp it at any moment. It was 5am before the boat finally tied up at Market Wharf.

When the weather moderated, divers were sent out to examine the hull of the ship. They found much of the bottom plating at the forward end of the ship had been torn off, and it was awash to B Deck aft.

It was thought the ship would be a total loss, but it was held firmly on the reef by the bow, and it was thought she might be saved.

Salvagers later determined that the cheapest course was to turn the Prince David back to her owners, Canadian National Steamships, who eventually got her off, refitted her and sent her back for another four years’ service. Later she served throughout the war before being broken up at Swansea in 1951.