‘A light on the south end of Blackwater Bank is absolutely required to prevent the frequent shipwrecks on that bank.’
On 16 July 1844, Mr. Joseph Hume, MP, brought forward his concerns about the harbours of the United Kingdom. He observed that many natural harbours that had previously been able to receive large ships, no longer could and that the interests of those who owned the coastal properties were at odds with the interests of maritime navigation. The enclosure of the tidal properties made scouring and dredging impossible and as a result, many fine harbours were now closed to ships and others were deteriorating rapidly towards that state. His remarks were acknowledged by Sir R Peel, and a commission was appointed. By 1845, their initial report was released, along with the minutes of the evidence they had collected. One of the harbours of particular concern was the one at Wexford in Ireland.
But by 1850, nothing had been done to resolve the problem of Blackwater Bank.
On Wednesday, 8 January 1850, the James Drake and the Hottinguer were cleared to sail from Liverpool to New York. The two ships duly departed the Port of Liverpool on Thursday, 10 January on a dull and gloomy day, a cold wind from the south-south-east blowing them on their way. The James Drake, a 640 ton ship of Spofford, Tileston & Co, reached New York on 25 Feburary after a 45 day journey. She carried freight and 74 passengers, including 24 paupers who were assisted by the poor law board of the Limerick Union to emigrate to America.
The Hottinguer never arrived.

Then suddenly, at six o’clock on Saturday, 12 January, the Hottinguer struck on Blackwater Bank near Wexford, just two hours before daybreak. According to a survivor, the ship bumped heavily a few times, and then came to rest. The crew made signals of distress by burning lights and firing rockets and at daylight, they hung flags from the masts.
The Hottinguer
The Hottinguer was a substantial 1035 ton, fast-sailing, first-class ship built in New York in 1840. She was commanded by Captain Ira Bursley who was part owner of the ship, along with the Liverpool and the Queen of the West. The cabins were large and elegant and were furnished with every convenience. Cabin passage was twenty-five guineas, and included all stores except wines and spirits, which were available at an extra charge from the Steward. Like other packet ships of the time, the Hottinguer travelled between Liverpool and New York, departing on a regular schedule, and generally took about 18 days to make the crossing.
When the Hottinguer sailed from Liverpool that fateful morning, she had about twenty passengers, twenty-eight crew and a full cargo of merchandise, insured for between forty and fifty thousand dollars.
Captain Bursley’s Final Trip

The ship sailed east from Liverpool, before heading south and rounding the point at Holyhead, Wales. The winds were from the east, and quickly gathered to gale force and the Hottinguer would have pitched and rolled in the waves. Captain Ira Bursley was a seasoned sailor and knew the Channel well. He was probably not concerned.
By half past eight, the captain called the passengers to the deck and told them that they had been drifting off course on Friday and that he did not know exactly where they were. He now believed that he had mistaken the Tuscar light for the Holyhead lights in the darkness of the previous night.
Rescue
[aesop_quote type=”pull” background=”#ffffff” text=”#000000″ width=”300px” align=”left” size=”1″ quote=”Passengers of the Hottinguer included Frederick Chapman, his wife and son; Reverend Mr. Dogherty, his wife and four children; Mr. Robert Miliburn and his wife; Mr. Michael Murray; Ira Bursley Jr., the captain’s son; a young woman going out as a servant; the mate’s daughter and three stowaways, one a young boy.” parallax=”off” direction=”left”]At eleven o’clock, the Preventative Boat 1the Preventative Boat Service was the forerunner of the Coast Guard service came alongside the Hottinguer and Captain Bursley’s son Ira junior and a young woman who had been headed to New York as a servant were taken on board along with the ship’s log book and papers. They headed to shore, about six or seven miles distant.
One of the ship’s life boats was then loaded with thirteen of the crew, two stowaways that had been found on board, the mate’s daughter and Mrs. Chapman and her son. The small boat was nearly swamped as it landed on the distant beach but all the passengers got off safely.
The first mate and five other seaman took the quarter boat, refusing to take any passengers and the Preventative Boat returned to take the Reverend Mr. Dogherty, his wife and four children and Mrs. Miliburn to safety, promising to return for Frederick Chapman, Robert Millburn and Michael Murray, the other three passengers, but the seas became too rough and they never came. There were two boats left on board the Hottinguer. A small life boat with a pair of oars and the longboat with no sails, mast, rudder or oars, but the seas were too rough and darkness was beginning to fall.
At eight o’clock that night, the wind grew even stronger and the captain ordered the two anchors be let down. The ship continued to pound against the bank throughout the long dark night and the crew and three remaining passengers huddled in the second cabin, waiting anxiously for the morning light. When the sun finally dawned, the situation on board the Hottinguer had worsened. The winds were even stronger and the sea was incredibly rough, the waves crashing against the ship as she battered against the sandbar. The captain, seeing that the winds were in his favour, ordered the two anchors to be slipped in hopes that they would be lifted off the bank. He called for the sails to be set but the crew soon discovered that there was about seven feet of water in the hold, and the pumps were put into service.
The Rose
At nine o’clock, a screw-propeller ship called the Rose under the command of Captain Rochford came alongside the Hottinguer. The Rose had been on route from Waterford to Dublin when Rochford had seen the Hottinguer’s distress flags flying from her masts. The two captains communicated by chalking words on boards and under Rochford’s direction, they began to try to ease the Hottinguer off the Blackwater Bank when efforts to get a two rope on board her had failed. By early afternoon, however, the ship had about fifteen feet of water in the hold and refused to respond any longer. With the steering gone, Captain Bursley finally ordered the longboat into the water but it broke up as soon as it was lowered.

The lifeboat was lowered and bailed out and the three male passengers climbed on board along with four of the crew and a young boy who had been found stowed away on the ship. They began to make their way towards the Rose, but the seas were swamping the boat and would have capsized in the waves had Captain Rochford not brought the Rose towards it, finally pulling the men on board to safety in the heavy sea.
Rochford ordered the lifeboat to return to the Hottinguer for Captain Bursley and the remainder of the crew, but the waves were even higher and the Hottinguer had begun drifting towards shore.
[aesop_image imgwidth=”600px” img=”https://www.thesocialhistorian.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/Arklow-and-Glassgorman-banks-near-Arklow.jpg” align=”center” lightbox=”on” caption=”Arklow and Glassgorman banks near Arklow” captionposition=”left”]When the Hottinguer was about two miles from the shore, she came to rest on the Glasgorman Bank and Captain Rochford had to abandon the idea of relaunching the lifeboat, knowing that his men would face certain death in the breaking seas. He attempted to lower his own longboat, with the intent to send his mate to the Hottinguer with a chart of the coast but it was struck by a wave and was stoved in. There was nothing left to be done.

The Hottinguer was lost.
On 18 January 1850, once the loss of the Hottinguer was confirmed, a meeting of the shippers and others interested in the cargo she held was convened at the offices of the Fieldan Brothers in Liverpool. It was resolved to send a tug boat to the final resting place of the ship to attempt to recover what could be saved, particularly the goods in the lower hold that were said to be quite valuable. It was thought that recovery could be made by a team of divers. The recovery operation was ultimately successful and the water damaged goods were later offered for sale.
Captain Ira Bursley
Ira Bursley was the oldest child of John and Susanna Bursley, born June 21st, 1798. His father John died Feb 17 1836 and his mother August 31 1828. He married Louisa Matilda Green on 30 April 1831 in Barnstable, MA and the couple had at least six children together. Although by all accounts, Ira Bursley’s remains were never recovered, a memorial stone in Cobb’s Hill Cemetery in Barnstable marks his passing.
When Ira died, Louisa was 41 years old, Ira Jr was 17, Louisa Jr was 15, Susan was 12, Anna was 11, Caroline was 9 and the baby, Henry, was only 2. Those who knew him said that the fateful voyage from Liverpool was to have been his last before he retired from his life on the sea to spend his time with his family.
Allan Forrest, Seaman
Frederick Chapman
References
↑1 | the Preventative Boat Service was the forerunner of the Coast Guard service |
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