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Captain Richard Griffith of the Mohegan, senior commander of the line, and Assistant Engineer William Kinley (Martin Kinley)

nationality: british
type of wreck: four-masted ocean liner
propulsion: steamer
weight (tons): 6889
dimensions (m): 146×16x—475ft, Beam: 52ft
cause lost: ran aground
date lost: 14/10/1898 by striking Manacle Rocks (first Vase, then Voices) when steering wrong course after passing the Eddystone.
date built: Launched April 1898
builder: Earle´s Shipbuilding & Engineering Co., Ltd., Hull
owner: Atlantic Transport Line from July 29th 1898
Port of registry, Hull.
Maiden Voyage: July 31, 1898
AKA: Cleopatra, Sisters: Menominee, Manitou, Mesaba, Marquette.
depth (m): 26m max / 18m min.

Notes: Single screw, 13 knots, triple expansion engines by the builder with cylinders of 32″, 54″, and 90″, and a stroke of 66″. Four boilers operating at 200 p.s.i. 894hp triple-expansion engines Two steel decks and eight watertight bulkheads.

This ship was built originally for the Wilson & Furness-Leyland Line as the Cleopatra with accommodation for 120 first class passengers. She carried stalls for 700 cattle and “an improved system of sanitation rendering the cattle carrying quite free from annoyance to passengers.” She was one of five brand new and almost identical ships purchased by the Atlantic Transport Line to replace ships requisitioned by the U. S. Government for use as transports in the Spanish American War. The other ships acquired by the line were the Alexandria, Boadicea, Victoria and Winifreda. The Atlantic Transport Line paid an average of £140,000 for each of these ships.

Cargo: 1280 tons general, including 3000 slabs of tin, spirits, beer, linoleum, prunes, matches, cheese, nutmeg, preserves, jute, rice, books, coffee, toys, lard, pepper, tobacco, bacon, horse hair, furniture, lace, church ornaments. 53 passengers, 103 crew, London for New York. Position: 50 03.33N; 05 02.67W Depth: 26m.
Diving: Boilers at deepest part. Bow shallower at 23m. Hull collapsed, leaving ribs and shallow compartments, but items still being found. Dive only at slack; strong tides.
PROS: Sheltered from westerly bad weather. Shallow enough for newly qualified divers. Still worth a rummage under the plates. Some spectacular marine life on the rocks. CONS: Tides can be a problem.

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Wreck Tour: 8, The Mohegan The flattened wreckage of this ship, spread across the seafloor, is a testament to its violent and tragic end. The broken remains of the Victorian steamship Mohegan form probably the best-known and most intensively dived wreck on the treacherous Manacles Reef off the Lizard, Cornwall. The remains are stuck down in between huge pinnacles of rock which are covered in pink and white dead mens fingers. Although transits and an echo sounder can put you on top of the Mohegan’s boilers, I prefer to start a dive at the outer pinnacle of Maen Voes. This is partly because the rocks are covered in spectacular marine life, but also because I’m lazy and it avoids the hassle of searching, and laying a shot!

Maen Voes is easily found at low water and is just submerged at high water. Be very careful at high water because 200m further south, there is a rock, Carn-du, which sticks out of the water and looks dangerously like Maen Voes at low water. An over-enthusiastic boat handler could head straight for it and damage the boat on Maen Voes or other shallow rocks on Manacles Reef. Entering the water on the north side of Maen Voes (1) follow an anemone-and-hydroid-encrusted wall down to the rocky seabed at 14m (2). Keep an eye out for shoals of fish above you. Over Easter this year an enormous shoal of grey mullet was swirling round for at least a week. Following a north-east compass bearing, it is just a few minutes’ swim to the broken hull of the Mohegan. On the way the seabed comprises medium-sized boulders with coarse sand and broken shell in-between. Marine life on the rocks includes gorgonia fans, dead men’s fingers and jewel anemones. On the sand you might spot the occasional flattie or anglerfish.

You should hit the wreck about halfway between the boilers and the stern (3) at a depth of 22m, or a tad more at high water. The wreck of the Mohegan is well broken and has been extensively salvaged in the past. Even so, navigation is easy as longitudinal and transverse girders provide a rough grid to follow. Turning towards the stern, the first recognisable piece of wreckage is a bent shaft projecting from the wreck with broken blades on the end (4). Presumably this is the propeller shaft, although it looks a bit thin for a 7000 ton ship. You won’t find the rudder here, as the Mohegan lost its rudder on the Vase Rock half a mile to the north before being swept on to Maen Voes. Turning forwards, you could either forage beneath the jumbled plates in the hope of finding souvenirs, or start a leisurely tour. Bottom times can be generous, as the wreck is mostly between 22 and 26m.

If you follow the approximate centre line of the ship you will soon come to the remains of the engine (5), about half of which projects above the general level of the wreckage. When the tide is running, the current runs almost directly along the length of the wreck, which means gorgonias growing perpendicular to the current provide another convenient navigation aid.
Forward of the engine are three huge boilers (6). This is roughly where a dive would start if you took the time to play with an echo sounder and drop a shotline. Swimming above these you will see breaks in the skin of the boilers and also notice that the middle boiler is in fact two smaller boilers back-to-back. Continuing forwards, square arrangements in the girders could mark the location of cargo hatches (7). Towards the deeper port side of the wreck you will soon come to a pair of bollards and the end of a winch projecting from below the collapsed wreckage (8). These are almost cut off from the body of the wreck by a large rock. On the other side of the wreck the corresponding starboard bollards (9) are easily found, but further along, the wreckage fizzles out to the occasional scrap of plating or small girder.

Following the main line of the wreckage back towards the boilers you will notice a huge rock that actually overhangs the wreck (10). Here you have a choice of staying on the wreck, or having a look at some pretty rocks and anemones on the reef above it.
Just forward of the overhang is a small cave that’s fun to swim through. From the cave I like to follow the reef up past a shelf at 12m to a window in the rocks at just less than 10m (11). This window and the gully behind it are absolutely plastered with anemones. It is easy to follow the reef westward (12) back towards the starting point on Maen Voes. The trick is to stay on the vertical north sides of the rocks. On the way there are yet more anemones, hydroids, nudibranchs, and most UK members of the wrasse family. Above the rocks there are often small shoals of pollack.

Back on Maen Voes, a crack in the north face full of plumose anemones provides a convenient location for a safety stop (13).
If, however, you want to see more wreckage, then from the cave return to the stern of the Mohegan and follow a compass bearing to the south-west until the depth is just less than 18m. Then follow the contour in a roughly westwards direction and you will come to the remains of the Spyridion Vagliano, a Greek steamship of 1100 tons which went down in 1890. All that remains are the hull plates and a broken boiler.

The bows are smashed up but lie on top of the rocks with their ribs stretching away into the distance. A very impressive sight. In amongst the mass of wreckage are the winches that were used to haul up her anchors, and further along were the remains of another boiler, about twenty feet in diameter which was probably used to power the winches. This boiler is extremely picturesque with some of it smashed open to reveal the pipes inside covered with pale pink dead mens fingers.

S.S. Mohegan

The wreck of the Atlantic Transport Line steamship Mohegan is one of the enduring mysteries of British maritime history. The Mohegan was embroiled in all sorts of intrigue from the moment she hit the rocks, and the mystery continues to this day.
How did a brand new ship on a clear calm night steam straight into a set of rocks that every sailor on board would have known about? Whatever the reason, it cost the lives of 106 men, women and children.

The Mohegan was an extremely luxurious and modern ship for her time, and as well as being fitted out in lavish Victorian style, she was also equipped with eight water tight compartments, with a steam pump capable of pumping out each compartment in turn. The Mohegan drew nearly 20 feet and was capable of a top speed of 14 knots. She carried 97 crew, about 60 first class passengers, and stockmen to attend the animals carried as deck cargo.

The Victorians however were hard taskmasters, and expected value for their money. So when the Mohegan’s completion was held up by a strike, the builders had to skimp on her specifications and completion of the ship was rushed in order to avoid ruinous penalty clauses in the builder’s contract for non-delivery., As a result, she was delivered with serious faults that soon became apparent.

Cleopatra arrived in New York on her maiden voyage on August 12, 1898 (two weeks after the first requisitions) but the crossing revealed her to have many problems – serious leaks and boiler trouble in particular. These were blamed on her construction having been accelerated after delays caused by a strike in the shipyard so the builders could avoid the penalty payments due in the case of late delivery. During her 11-day maiden voyage “pumps and boilers were found to be somewhat leaky” and the crew had to “work like beavers to keep her in right shape.” Passengers protested to the line about the condition of the vessel, but signed a testimonial to “the splendid conduct of the officers and crew.”

Cleopatra limped back to London at half-speed, taking 21 days to make the crossing. Having been bought before completion she sailed on her maiden voyage with her engines run by the builders’ engineers and assistants, known as “guaranteed engineers.” According to one passenger, her plumbing was also defective and some state rooms were flooded. Extensive repairs took 41 days, and delayed her second voyage for two months. Among those inconvenienced by the repairs were Julia and Lemuel Potwin, whose journal records that they had booked to sail home on Cleopatra, but because she was still undergoing repairs they had to spend an additional week in London (for which they were rather grateful) and sailed instead on her sister Victoria. After her repairs Cleopatra was sent for trials and then rigorously inspected by the Board of Trade. The newly fixed up ship would bear a new name to fit her owners’ house style of nomenclature, the new name Mohegan would soon be heard around the world.

They said that a mad helmsman had wrecked her, or that magnetic rocks had affected her compasses. But the truth is that early into the ship’s first and last voyage under her new name of Mohegan, the course was set for disaster. On 13th October 1898 at 2:30 p.m a Thursday afternoon the Mohegan set out on her second voyage leaving Tilbury bound for New York with Captain Richard Griffiths a 46-year-old commodore, in command. She was heading down the Channel at a steady 13 knots. The ship carried no steerage passengers, instead having stalls for 700 cattle and “an improved system of sanitation rendering the cattle carrying quite free from annoyance to passengers.”

She anchored at Dover to drop her pilot, D Mulley, at 7:30 that evening. A letter to the Engineering Superintendent of the Atlantic Transport Line from the Mohegan’s Assistant Engineer William Kinley probably came ashore with the pilot when he left the ship at 7:55. In the letter Kinley reported minor teething troubles but no major issues with the ship other than a shortage of steam caused by the new team of firemen not being “up to the mark.” The ship had a few minor leaks, a bearing was running hot, and the first night out a fuse had blown, plunging the Dining Saloon into darkness just as dinner was being served.

On 14 October, 1898 she was supposed to be making her way down the Channel, some 10-12 miles offshore. Instead, she was well inside Falmouth Bay and steaming straight for the coast of the Lizard peninsula. “West by north,” was the course given to the helmsman as she signalled “All well” to Prawle Point Signal Station. Later as she passed Rame Head, she was sighted by a signalman who was surprised to see her less than ten miles offshore.

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A map (from a 1930 Atlantic Transport Line passenger list) showing the usual route down the channel, with the Mohegan’s changed ill fated course and wreck site added

The Mohegan’s course for disaster was set as she was inexplicably followed the wrong bearing. At this point of the coastline the rocks are particularly bold, and the ridge, which juts out for a mile-and-a-half into the sea, can be seen for many miles when exposed by receding tides. At the southern extremity of the ridge there is a bell buoy, and the safe passage for vessels lies a good deal to the south of this. But neither this safeguard nor the brilliant lights of St. Anthony at the entrance to Falmouth Harbour and the Lizard availed to keep the Mohegan away from the locality. It was a clear night, although the darkness was intense. There is nothing to explain why the vessel was so far out of her proper course, nor is there likely to be any adequate explanation, as the officers, who alone could furnish one, have perished. It is stated that she ought to have been ten or 15 miles from the land.

In the first class cabins the nannies were supervising the children’s preparations for bed. On the bridge the lookouts were alert, and in the wheelhouse the helmsman was steering a course ordered by the officer of the watch, and personally checked by the Captain.

As the passengers sat down to dinner on Friday, 14 October, (Between half-past 6 and 7 o’clock – witnesses vary in their statements as to the precise time) the Mohegan drove on, lights blazing. At the last minute, Coastguard warning rockets soared up from the shore, an action that saved many people. Instead of swinging full about and steering a 180 degree course to take her back safely through the coastal waters she had already negotiated, Captain Griffith ordered a turn to port and the engines were stopped. However this turned her even further into the Manacles.

Just as dinner was being served, a grating sound was heard, and this was quickly followed by crashing noises as she hit a dangerous rock off the Lizard Peninsula. She hit the Penvin or Vase Rock first, the impact tearing off her rudder. Her momentum and without steering then carried her forward directly onto the Manacles, the notorious granite reef beyond. She careered on into the Voices, ripping out a great section of her starboard side According to one of the survivors, “suddenly there was an awful sound as though the ships bottom was being torn out…no one seemed to know what was the matter…Stewards continued to serve dinner, and it was only when Charles Duncan, who was on the ship, shouted out ‘to the life preservers!’ that we realized a serious accident had happened.” (Duncan, who was Isadora Duncan’s father, died with his second wife and their young daughter in the wreck.)

The particular ledge of rocks on which the Mohegan struck bears the name of Varais, and is situated about a quarter of a mile inside the bell buoy. Had this ledge been avoided, the vessel would probably have run clear into a cove some little distance away from the village of Porthoustock, the lifeboat station. According to accounts of the disaster she was steaming at over 13 knots at the time when she struck the rocks.

Against this kind of damage the watertight compartments were useless and within minutes water gushed in and several were flooded straight away. Within thirty seconds the engine room had to be abandoned, and very quickly the generators were flooded out plunging the whole ship into complete darkness. Chaos ensued as crew and passengers crowded onto the deck and the captain gave the order to abandon ship.

On the bridge, Captain Griffiths and his officers managed to fire off some distress rockets and started to get the passengers into the ships boats. Mohegan had been fitted out under Captain Griffith’s supervision, and one feature that was absent from her sisters was a second railing inboard of the lifeboats intended to prevent people from rushing the boats in the event of an emergency. Miss Roudebush described these rails as being “almost as high as one’s chin.” In the few minutes available these hampered the lowering of the boats and were much complained of at the inquest. Mohegan carried six steel lifeboats and two of wood.

Great difficulty was experienced in launching the eight lifeboats. The crew was new to the ship and unfamiliar with the boat drill, the ropes and blocks were new and stiff and the Mohegans list to port soon became so severe that the starboard lifeboats could not be lowered, and so offered no escape. The tradition of “women and children first” was adhered to, but rather too closely: the first boat had only four men in it to handle it, and it was soon capsized with the loss of most on board. Only two boats were launched before a sudden lurch by the ship hurled most of those on board into the sea.

With three quarters of the ship underwater the Mohegan quickly sank, and within fifteen minutes of striking at 7.04pm she was gone leaving those on deck to swim for their lives. Some managed to cling to the mizzenmasts and rigging which remained above the water, (and remained that way for some days after the wreck) until they were rescued hours later. For 106 poor souls their end was at hand.

The lifeboat station at Port houstock had seen the rockets and, believing that they came from a ship in trouble, the men prepared to launch. The loss of life would have undoubtedly been even greater but for the presence of mind of the Cox’n of the Port houstock lifeboat, James Hill. When he saw the Mohegan coming across the bay, he realized that it would most probably hit the Manacles, and he had almost mustered his crew before the Mohegan struck. They had launched their vessel within half an hour of the foundering of the Mohegan.

The night was a dark one, and it was only by the guidance of rockets fired from the shore that they were able to find their way to the wreck. The darkness and the rising swell made their task most dangerous, but several trips out to the wreck were made nonetheless. As a result, some 50 lives were saved. Two of the luckiest people to survive were a Miss Rondebush, and a Miss Compton-Swift. They had escaped the ship in a lifeboat, which was later overturned, and they were both trapped underneath the boat for over an hour before being rescued. Only a few people were rescued from the water by the lifeboat crews who worked hard all night.

From The Times newspaper at the time. – When the first alarming sounds were heard passengers rushed up on deck from the saloon, and the greater part of the crew quickly followed them. Signals of distress were shown, and there is a story that the shrieks from the despairing passengers were heard four miles inland. Great rents must have been made in the bottom of the hull, for the inrushing waters lifted up the metal plates forming the flooring of the engine-room and rose three foot in less than a minute. The electric light appliances were soon submerged, and the whole vessel was plunged in darkness. This added greatly to the horror of the situation. The huge vessel was swaying in the surf, continually washed by big breakers, and the grinding of the rocks in contact with the bottom added continually to the fright of the wretched passengers, who were huddled together on the deck hoping for means of deliverance. Immediately after the impact the fore part of the ship began to settle, and there was a list to one side. Some of the crew stood by the lifeboats, but there seems to have been delay in getting them afloat. Two only were launched before the foundering of the ship precipitated the mass of human beings who were on the deck into the sea. The want of promptitude in getting the life-boats out was probably due to the inexperience of the crew in the matter. Most of the men were fresh for this voyage, and one of them stated that they ware ignorant of the boat stations.

Several survivors, however, credit them with coolness and courage in the time of peril. Attention was at once paid to the women and children, who were as far as possible got into the lifeboat first. The captain is stated to have given his orders clearly and to have paid special heed to the despatch of the lifeboats. He was last seen jumping overboard with others who were on deck at the time of the lurch which sent everybody into the water. Prior to this another lifeboat was cleared with a good load of people, but this was swamped and capsized and only two or three of its occupants were rescued. The others were discovered dead under the overturned boat.

By dint of arduous exertion the first boat was kept afloat and clear of the wreckage, and her load of human beings was safely transferred to the Porthoustock lifeboat. Twenty minutes at the most elapsed between the striking of the vessel on the rocks and her foundering. During that time scenes of pathos occurred on board the sinking ship, although there was an absence of anything like panic. Mothers agonized entreaties for the safety of children, the heartbreaking separation of members of families, and the severance of comrades were incidents which have burnt themselves into the memory of all who witnessed and have lived to narrate them. After the ship listed to one side she lurched suddenly and very heavily to the other and many persons were hurled into the sea. For a few minutes after this awful plunge the sea around the sunken ship was alive with straggling and shrieking people, but gradually the cries died away, and when the last survivors were taken from their perilous positions on the rigging of the submerged vessel the only sounds audible were the roar of the breakers and the rush of the wind.

At about 7 o’clock rockets from the Porthoustock Lifeboat Station gave the alarm to the district. Some of the crew of the lifeboat live at a distance, but by half-past 7 o’clock the boat was launched. A ship’s lifeboat, bottom up with men clinging to it and people inside it gradually suffocating, was the first object to demand their attention. After dragging all but one of those clinging to the boat’s bottom into the lifeboat and having to allow one poor fellow to remain, the lifeboatmen turned the boat over and found that the greater portion of those who had sought safety in it were dead. Of the two or three who were still alive, one lady, Mrs. Grandin, was so crushed that she had to be cut out from the boat. Although every care was taken of her she died before the lifeboat got back to Porthoustock.

Two men hanging on to wreckage were next rescued and then the lifeboat encountered the other a ship’s boat with 22 persons. The ship’s boat was waterlogged and her passengers in a perilous condition, and they were taken into the lifeboat. Miss Noble, a lady passenger, was found clinging to a plank and was picked up. The lifeboat returned with 26 survivors and having landed them put out again. They then found the Mohegan. Only the masts and the funnel were above water. Sixteen persons, including one woman, Mrs. Piggott, the assistant stewardess, were found clinging to the rigging. Two or three hours were spent in the perilous task of taking these off one by one. Both the rescued and rescuers alike received attention on reaching the shore. One or two other lifeboats had been called out, but they naturally did not arrive until late. As far as is known no survivors or bodies were picked up by any other lifeboat than the Porthoustock boat. One man named Maule was picked up by a Falmouth life-boat tug after having been over seven hours in the water.

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The wreck of the Mohegan aground on the Manacles. photographed from the mainland soon after the disaster before the funnel had fallen,, showing the reef on which she struck. Note the spectators on the rocks in the foreground. The image was much used for postcards, and this tinted example was mailed in 1905.

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The local newspaper published this image weeks after the event claiming that it shows passengers being rescued from the Mohegan, but the ship sank in the darkness of an October evening. The photo probably shows visitors exploring the wreck some weeks later as for some time the masts and funnel of the wreck were clearly visible from the shore, but the funnel collapsed during a storm about three weeks after the disaster, and over the years the ship gradually disintegrated.

Miss Roudebush, one of the survivors, gave an account of her experiences to the New York Times, and recalled: My mother and I reached the head of the stairs, where our stateroom was, where we met two stewards. We had in the mean time secured life preservers, but we were unable to put them on. As we stood there bewildered the stewards offered to assist us up stairs. There was no panic at the time, for as I looked back into the dining saloon I saw a number of persons still seated at the table. I think it must have been about four minutes after the ship struck when without warning every light went out. I shall never forget the scene as we went out onto the deck. There appeared to be absolutely no panic, and yet everyone that we could see was working with desperation to save himself or herself. It was growing dark. I saw no officers and heard no orders given. Two boats had been swung out to be launched. One was filled with sailors, but at the last minute before it was launched Mr. Pemberton threw his wife and child into the boat, following himself. Then their maid jumped and fell into the boat almost by a miracle, and she too was saved. Miss Roudebush’s mother, who had been trapped beneath one of the seats of a boat that capsized as the ship went under, bled to death in the local lifeboat after one of its crew accidentally cut off her foot with an axe while trying to free her.

Neither Captain Griffiths nor any of the deck officers survived to explain what had gone wrong, but it was one of the worst maritime tragedies of the era. Survivors praised all of them for the cool and courageous way they had stemmed the tide of panic, when it became obvious that escape by the ships boats was hopeless.

Survivors were put up by the local villagers until they were sufficiently recovered to travel. Some of the ship’s alcoholic cargo washed up on the beach, and this was accommodated by the villagers too!

Dark rumours soon surrounded the wreck. Several locals claimed to have seen a man get out of the first lifeboat to be brought ashore and run inland never to be seen again. It was said that this was the ship’s captain, Captain Griffith reputedly a shareholder in the company who had deliberately wrecked the boat in order to collect on the insurance. This theory doesn’t really hold water, as the ship was brand new and insured for £38,000 less than what was paid for her. The official inquest was unable to determine any reason for the wreck, as none of the ship’s officers had survived to be questioned about it

Soon speculation arose that the mysterious man who legged it had in fact been the captain, and that he had faked his own death. Years later, it transpired that Captain Griffiths had substantial shares in the Mohegan and was in a great deal of debt.

This led many to speculate that the accident was in fact an insurance job, and that the vessel was deliberately heading for the land. The passengers and crew would certainly have been able to reach safety much more easily had the vessel crashed into the shore.

Three months later, a headless torso dressed in the captain’s uniform washed ashore in Caernarvon Bay.. This was the only corpse that could not be identified from the bodily remains alone. Could this have been Captain Griffiths?

This was by far the greatest disaster in the history of the Atlantic Transport Line, and although theories abound, none is very plausible. The cause of the accident has never been explained and Bernard N. Baker described it at the time as an “impenetrable mystery.” The inquest determined that the cause was, “that a wrong course – W. by N. – was steered after passing the Eddystone, at 4.17 pm.,” but with all of the officers dead, it was not possible to ascertain why or how this course was set. Simple human error would seem to be the likely explanation.

Apparently inexplicable incidents often acquire a conspiracy theory, and Mohegan’s claims that the Captain Griffiths, reportedly an Atlantic Transport Line shareholder and in financial trouble, deliberately wrecked his ship for the insurance money. But this does not bear examination particularly since Griffiths would not personally have received any of the insurance payment but would have been held accountable for the loss of his ship and any attendant casualties. What is certain however, is that Mohegan was desperately needed by the company after most of its fleet had been bought by the U.S. Government, and that she had been insured for £38,000 less than was paid for her.

With such a compelling story, it is understandable how mystery has built up around the Mohegan. She is now said to be haunted, and certainly all the groundwork has been laid. The people died suddenly and before their time. Most of them were laid to rest in a mass grave, and several bodies are unaccounted for. So is the Mohegan haunted? Several divers think so. Some even appeared on a TV programme to describe their experiences of being led to find a buried skeleton. A haunted ship is certainly good for hooking a TV audience, and the Mohegan is the sort of place a lost soul might choose to haunt.

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The mass grave at St.Keverne’s Church. The interment of the victims in the mass grave.

In the aftermath of the disaster an inquiry was held into why the Mohegan had steered such an incorrect course. Many theories were put forward, but since the Captain and all the officers were dead no real conclusion could be reached, and the mystery has remained unanswered to this day. About the only good thing to come out of the disaster were new recommendations into the type of lifesaving equipment to be carried on all passenger ships.

For several days after the accident, bodies were washed ashore. Most were well-preserved, the people having died quickly of the cold, and, as they hadn’t been in the water that long, they were fairly easy to identify. Some 48 are buried in a mass grave at St Keverne Church next to the Three Tuns pub, which more or less overlooks the very spot where the Mohegan struck.. The grave is marked with a Cornish Cross and the name Mohegan. There was no epitaph, just one word ‘Mohegan’.

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The mass grave for victims of the disaster in the parish church of St. Keverne, and the memorial window given to the church by the Atlantic Transport Line. The company gave a splendid memorial stained glass window to the parish church of St. Keverne. Some bodies were sent to London for burial, and eight were shipped to New York on the Menominee “in hermetically sealed caskets.”Much of the cargo from the wreck was salvaged soon after the disaster, although one of the divers from Falmouth lost his life in the process.

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A plate displayed at The Five Pilchards Inn The steam whistle also at the Inn

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In October 1966 a tape recording was made of interviews with three St. Keverne people who had either witnessed the tragedy or who had heard first hand accounts of it within their families over many years.

Joe Rogers was born in Rosenithon in October 1893 and was five years old at the time of the disaster. Some of his recollections are his own, others are from members of his family who were personally involved both during and after the events of 14 October 1898. Joe, as a child, remembered being disturbed by the rocket which was fired from Tommy Noye’s field above Porthoustock because the noise reverberated to such an extent that the windows rattled. His sister, Dora, heard screams from the front steps of the Rogers family home in Rosenithon, while his mother and Janie Tripp went off to Porthoustock to help. They were the first two women on the scene.

Next morning Joe was taken to the shore by his father and he vividly remembered seeing the Mohegan’s four masts and red funnel sticking up above the water. Joe’s grandfather, William Matthews, and his great uncle, Captain John Matthews, both of Porthoustock, saw a man jump off the prow of the Porthoustock lifeboat as it grounded on to the beach and disappear up through the village and up the valley. Tradition has it that this was Captain Griffiths of the Mohegan and substantiated the story that the vessel had been deliberately wrecked.

Joe recalled that four survivors stayed with his grandparents at Porthoustock, including the boy John (Jimmy) MacFarlane who was best remembered for his swearing and for playing the mouth organ. He had two broken legs and was at Porthoustock for about six months.

Joe was out with his father the day after the wreck and they found a body washed ashore which they took by cart to St. Keverne. He recalled the story of Miss Noble who stayed at Rosenithon with the Rogers family after the loss of the Mohegan, Miss Noble commented to Joe’s parents about the chaos on board because the lights went out on the Mohegan so soon after striking the Manacles.

The second person interviewed was Bentley Tripp who was born in 1901, the son of George Martin Tripp and Ellen Jane (nee Peters). Bentley had been brought up on stories of shipwrecks and the sea as his father was a fisherman and a lifeboat crew member at Porthoustock. Bentley himself was a fisherman with first hand experience of the coastal waters off St.Keverne and he knew the Manacles “like the back of his hand”. Bentley recalled that, from the story told to him by his father, the Mohegan appeared from the east into Falmouth Bay and looked like a floating town because of all the lights. However, she then turned and took a course straight for the Manacles.

His father, George Martin Tripp, was a stroke-oarsman in the Porthoustock lifeboat and on the evening of 14 October 1898 the sea was moderating with a heavy swell. When the “Charlotte” was about half way to the Manacles by Maen Garrick (the rocks due east of Manacle Point) it came across an upturned lifeboat from the Mohegan. One (or two) people were rescued from the keel, but, according to Bentley’s version, there were twenty four people dead underneath it. They went on in darkness towards the cries and screams coming from the vicinity of the Manacles and came across the second Mohegan lifeboat.

George Tripp had told Bentley that there was one young lady about 28 or 29 in a Mohegan lifeboat. She had long hair which had become entangled with ropes at the bottom of the lifeboat. Frank Tripp, a crew member of the “Charlotte” who was “a good man on land and sea” took an axe and cut her hair to free her. (Ed. This is a very similar account to that of the rescue of Mrs.Compton Swift except that in the other version she had been trapped by her foot). However, when Frank Tripp was using the axe to cut her hair, the “Charlotte” rolled and the axe blade struck the leg of another passenger and badly cut it. The result of this unfortunate incident is that the other passenger who had been rescued, Mrs. Lizzie Small Grandin, bled to death in the Porthoustock lifeboat before she could be landed. This story ties in with the known fact that Mrs. Grandin died in the Porthoustock lifeboat before it reached Porthoustock beach.

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Bentley’s mother, Janie Tripp, and Mrs. Margaret Ann Rogers had rushed to Porthoustock as soon as the rocket had been fired and witnessed the scene on the shore. They remembered the distress on the beach as the lifeboat landed because families had been split up and members were missing. The local doctor, Dr. Spry, was rendering help to the victims and asked Janie Tripp to escort two elderly male survivors up to a cottage in Porthoustock village but, en route, in the darkness she took fright and returned to the beach.

Bentley recalled that the next morning bodies from the wreck came ashore on all the beaches between Lowlands and Godrevy and that they were carried in farm carts up to St. Keverne village. The bodies were laid out in the church, although some of the more affluent Americans were embalmed and taken back to the USA. A firm of embalmers came from London to St. Keverne as embalming was not carried out by any local firm of undertakers.

He remembered that his father had said that,after the “Charlotte” had landed on Porthoustock beach, a person dressed in brown fireman’s overalls jumped off the side and ran up through Porthoustock village as “if fired from a gun”.

Next morning a man was seen taking a boat and rowing across the Helford River. Was this person Captain Griffiths? Rumour had it that he knew the area well and had deliberately lost the ship in order to get, as a shareholder of the Atlantic Transport Company, the full insurance. However, if Captain Griffiths had local knowledge, why did he run the Mohegan on to the Vase Rock when he could have run her inside the Voices or on to the Lowlands without any loss of life?

The last person to be interviewed on the tape in October 1966 was George Lory of St. Keverne, the village carpenter and undertaker. He had been born at Trevalso in 1881 and was 18 at the time of the disaster. He recalled the story of how Mrs. Grandin had died in the Porthoustock lifeboat as a result of “having her leg cut off” accidentally by Frank Tripp’s axe. He, too, believed that the Mohegan had been wrecked deliberately. He referred to the embalming of some of the bodies in the house where St. Keverne garage now stands and supported the tradition that Captain Griffiths had been rescued and then disappeared.

George told how the last body was picked up some seven or eight weeks after the disaster. He recounted that there had been a lot of ale on board the Mohegan and that some of this was washed ashore. This ale was of good quality and was enjoyed by the locals, Mr. Lory included.

Survivors accounts

One of the last people to be plucked from the waves was a cattleman named George Maule, who gave this account of the wreck to The Times: The passengers rushed on deck and they found their vessel was on the rocks. Orders were immediately given to lower the boats. The crew behaved like heroes. The captain stood on the bridge and the greatest order existed among the officers and crew. The steamer immediately began to settle down by the head. Meanwhile two boats were launched the women being sent away first. The vessel filled rapidly. I secured a lifebelt and jumped overboard in company with Mr. Couch, the chief officer. When in the water Mr. Couch made me take off my coat and boots. Soon after we got parted from each other. When leaving a little girl begged me most piteously to save her, as she “did not want to die yet,” but I was powerless. On getting into the water I fortunately found a bit of plank floating, and to it I clung until I was picked up seven hours afterwards by the famous tug and lifeboat. I could not have lasted much longer. I cannot tell how the accident happened. It was a very clear night. The captain was an experienced sailor. Indeed, he was commodore of this line

One of the lifeboatmen, Bentley More, told this story in a letter to his sister: The first shipload we came to was capsized, bottom up, but we threw a grapnel and righted her. One man jumped into the boat (a smart man, he ought to be rewarded), and the boat was full of water. I and one or two others caught hold of the boat and the man in the boat got one woman out, but she died soon afterwards. The next boat was all right, but the people were terribly scared; we took them all in, women and children and men. One woman threw her arms round my neck; they were mad with joy. Then we picked up all we could, some on lifebelts and some on wreckage

The last was Miss Noble, a girl on a piece of wreckage. She had been in the sea three hours, and, mind you, a very nasty sea. All she said was “Just chuck me a rope,” and we hauled her on board and she just shook the water off her and sat down in the most unconcerned way. We got ashore after a devil of a pull; we had so many in the boat and we took two hours rowing home.