Santa Parade, Listowel Celtic under 8's and Shipwreck by Bromore 1882

The girls' school band lead out the Santa Parade yesterday Dec 8 2013

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The last voyage of The Dronningen

This is Mike Flahive's account of a shipwreck off the Kerry coast by Bromore in 1882.

The Dronningen left Glasgow fully laden with one thousand tons of gas-coal on the 
11th of November 1882. 
 She was a barque with her home in Christiania now known as Oslow 
in Norway. Originally intended for immigration it was decked out in first
 class style. Under the command of Captain Carl Anderson and with a crew 
of sixteen she was bound for New York. The Dronnin Gen was towed by a tug boat to Greenock, 
one of the loveliest harbours in Britain, the tug left her to anchor at the tail of the bar 
off Greenock. 
 

On the 13th she left Greenock and sailed firstly to the west then southerly down the Firth
 of Clyde with a cold but helpful easterly wind in her sails. 
The Dronnin Gen was running under only fore and aft rigged sails and an outer jib until she
 reached the broader sweep of the Clyde Estuary, there the crew of sixteen 
broke out the square sails of the fore and main mast and heeling hard to starboard she went south
 at a fair pace. Capt. Anderson steered his ship through the sheltered waters of the Clyde Estuary 
leaving the snow covered mountains and then Arran and Goatfell astern.


At Ailsa Crag, that odd round island he veered west until the Mull of Kintyre came abeam. 
  The weather now had changed, milder, the hard cold easterlies were gone, replaced by a freshening Southwesterly. 
Captain Anderson kept his ship close to the offshore wind passing
 just a few miles off Rathlin Island and later Malin Head, from there he ordered a course of west, twenty five south for New York.

 
Around five hundred miles off Achill Island in Longitude 13 degrees 30' West, latitude 54 degrees North the fury of a severe 
hurricane overtook the Dronnin Gen from the northwest. 
All the day and all night on the 18th November 1882 the hurricane continued in strength with wind speeds of seventy five knots sometimes gusting 
to one hundred, the ship was now quite unmanageable. 
  Driven before the wind at a rate of twenty four knots, tossing helplessly on a sea of streaky white foam, it suffered 
terrible damage. 
 One mountainous sea crashed over her taking the three lifeboats, smashing one to pieces against the deck, another burst through the captains quarters
 on deck forcing him and his crew to go below. Minutes later a solid wall of water 
over thirty foot high swept across the deck tearing the captains and the first and second mates apartments from their roots
clean away over the side.

 In a temporary lull the crew lashed together and armed with axes made one gallant 
foray on deck, they hacked at the rigging setting free what canvas they could before again being 
forced below by the renewed ferocity of the wind.  All the time the Dronnin Gen rolled and pitched one minute its gunwhales under water 
the next crashing into a trough submerging its bow in green seas, while the one 
thousand tons of coal shifted with each lurch threatening to destroy the ship from the inside. 
  For three days they were without food, cold and wet and deafened by the terrible sounds of tons of water smashing onto the deck, of the coal hammering her insides, of the
 ship itself and creaking and groaning expecting every moment to be their last and theirs a watery grave. 
 

At 6 oclock that dark Monday night of the 20th Noevember 1882 a lookout saw the beam of Loop Head Lighthouse to the East.All they could do now was pray. The Dronnin Gen missed the storm washed cliff of Loop Head and the Clare coast
 by less than half a mile, the confusion of seas there opening more seams and putting the weakened 
crew on the pumps to intolerable pressure to maintain the upper hand.

Captain Anderson knew it would be over soon one way or another, they could not hold out much longer. 
At half past eleven with a sickening lurch the Dronnin Gen went aground at Faha south of Lick Castle on the North Kerry coast. Driven further ashore 
all night with each gigantic swell and a rising tide it finally rested at Poultenaw. 
The captain and crew stayed aboard until they were rescued in the morning by local frmers alerted by a Mr. Hunt from Doon who spotted the tall masts
 over the cliffs of Bromore. 
The sailors threw out a rope tied to a strong hauser which the rescuers secured around a large rock and on this hauser the wet and weary crew were finally helped to safety. 
In true maritime tradition Captain Carl Anderson was last to leave his ship, he brought with him a beautiful young Newfoundland dog and a little pup in his pocket.


Amidst great scenes of joy and bewilderment (as many of the crew only spoke Norwegian) they were taken to nearby farmhouses 
for dry clothes, food and rest. 
 

They all returned to the wreck on Thursday and Friday at midday at low spring tide to salvage 
what little belongings were left, the best had all been lost. People gathered from miles around to see this once magnificent tall ship now
 battered and beaten and filling with sea water. 
The local athletic youths assisted the captain and crew in their endeavours to recover their property on board.


My grand-father Dan Flahive, then seventeen remembered the captain as a fine blond haired 
man over six feet tall with a beard. He regaled them with the tale of this 
last voyage and of others to New York and Quebec and to Murmansk around the North Cape, the 
land of the midnight sun where there is continuous daylight for ten weeks 
of the year. 
The Coast guards of the Cashen took charge of the wreck and the captain and crew departed with the Norwegian consul to Limerick bidding a fond farewell to their rescuers and 
new found friends from Ballybunion. 


On Monday 4th December Robert McCowan as Lloyds agent auctioned off the cargo of coal 
and any other parts of the ship which could be removed such as ropes, rigging, blocks 
spars and masts.

Many memementos remain in the locality, the kitchen table in Walsh's of Faha is made from decking of the Dronnin Gen, the purlins in Flahive's house in Bromore withstood 
that terrible hurricane out in the Atlantic and many more storms since. Horses ploughed fields and pulled traps to Doon chapel 
shod in shoes made from the anchor chain links at Leahy's Forge in Bromore. 
On the rocky strand at the waterfall shiny polished lumps of coal may be found, coal once intended to make gas to light the streets of New York.

What was left of the Dronnin Gen was quickly broken up in subsequent storms and now one hundred and eleven years later the only visible trace is a fluke of one of the anchors showing only at very low 
spring tides, not much but still enough of a reminder to perpetuate the memory
of Captain Carl Anderson and his brave crew and the saga of the last voyage of the Dronnin Gen.

Mike Flahive, Chief Coxswain, Ballybunion Sea and Cliff Rescue, 1993

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 This is Francis, Fred Chute's nephew following in the family business, painting and sign writing.

Essential tools of the trade

The Harp and Lion is finished. Beautiful!

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Vincent Carmody gave me this photo of himself and the late Michael Sheehy of New York. They were posing at the back of Jim O'Sullivan's pub in Woodside. Vincent and Jim have a strong family association with the Irish postal service.

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Please follow the link below and listen to this original Christmas song for a Cork girl. I include it especially for all of those away from home this Christmas and reliving in memory the feel of a real Irish Christmas. Enjoy!

Meghan Ali Christmas; Coming Home


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John Kelliher's picture of Listowel Celtic's Under 8's