The Ships, “Blanche” and Otilla,” Part 3

By June 13, 1851, the captains and owners of the Blanche and Otilla had faced American justice.  Federal authorities in New Orleans had prosecuted the captains of the two ships for exceeding the passenger limits.  Together, the two owners of the ships had been fined $9,000, which would amount to about $300,000 today.  The Daily Crescent, a Second Municipality newspaper, approved of this result.  The Second Municipality was largely Anglo-American.  It was the more prosperous area of New Orleans. Both ships were British registered. [1]

Seizure

J.H. Maddox, the editor of the Daily Crescent, argued that seizure of the two ships was not necessary.  Because the passengers on board both ships exceeded the maximum allowed by a very large number, the federal government could have seized both ships.  The Blanche under U.S. law exceeded its maximum capacity by 120 passengers.  The Otilla exceeded its capacity by 70 passengers.  Seizure was allowed if the number of passengers exceeded the limit by 20 passengers.  Maddox claimed the owner of the Otilla was owned by a ship captain who had invested his life savings in the ship.  The owner of the Blanche was a ship carpenter in New Brunswick.  Seizure would ruin the two men, claimed Maddox.  Mr. Maddox does not explain how he would know the financial circumstances of the two owners.  In any event, Maddox claimed the owners knew nothing of the over-capacity.  Maddox claims the Otilla exceeded British law regarding maximum numbers of passengers only becaue4 there were twelve stowaways. [2]

But, the two owners were responsible for hiring two captains who were willing to violate U.S. law and risk the lives of helpless passengers.  Someone helped the Blanche with a perjured certificate regarding its actual measurements.  But, Maddox reveals his bias.  He insists the Irish passengers on the Blanche caused themselves to sicken and die.  He says they “refused” to obey the captain’s orders to not lie in “their filth.”  He apparently meant the passengers did not keep clean their “tween decks” berth.  Human waste would indeed accumulate if the passengers did not use the few available privies or if they did not clean their mess. [3]

Cleanliness

But, this was 1851, the sixth year of the worst famine in centuries.  Hundreds of thousands of Irish had already emigrated.  Even uneducated Irish laborers knew to clean their waste.  They certainly appreciated the need to maintain a clean environment on long voyages. Illness on those trans-Atlantic voyages was a known risk.  The mortality rate for the Blanche was over 10 percent.  This occurred at a time when most voyages for both European travelers and Irish famine refugees saw mortality rates of about 1.5 percent. [4]

John Maginnis was still very angry about the Otilla.  Writing in the Daily True Delta, he complained that the incarceration of the Otilla captain, James Irwin, and the seizure of the ship had been remitted by Pres. Millard Fillmore.  In the case of the captain, his imprisonment had been remitted even before his conviction.  Maginnis reminded his readers that when the Otilla passengers emerged from the ship, the men “glided along ghastly, wild and idiotic.”  The women, married and unmarried girls, “reeled like drunken creatures, half naked, filthy, gaunt, spectral looking, . . .  with eyes sunk deep in their bloodless sockets, expression disordered, language strange and incoherent.”  Maginnis considered it to be an “outrage” that the captain avoided jail time and that the ship was not seized. [5]

It was reported many times by various visitors to Ireland during the Great Famine that many persons were half-naked.  That some of the worst emigrant arrived in America with little or ragged clothing speaks to the condition they escaped.

Feculent Matter

Perhaps the more immediate cause for the Blanche horror was the fact that the captain and most of the crew also contracted “ship fever.”  Ship fever could be many ailments, typhus, cholera were most common.  The port health officer for New Orleans, Dr. Frederick Hart, reported that there was no leadership on the vessel, because so much of the crew was ill.  He said the main deck was completely strewn with filth and “feculent matter.”  The ‘tween deck, where the steerage passengers resided, was the same.  Dr. Hart said two passengers committed suicide during the trip.  There was at last one corpse on the vessel when it arrived.  Dr. Hart’s letter was and still is part of the national archives for the Colonial Office.  So, we can presume the appropriate British authorities saw his report. [6]

Later in 1851, Lt.-Gov. Edmund Head of the colony at New Brunswick complained about the Blanche and another ship, the Virginia.  The British Colonial Land and Emigration Office replied to the Lt.-Governor that the size of the Blanche satisfied British law.  She could not, therefore, be legally rejected by the emigration officer in New Brunswick. [7]

The term “coffin ship” emerged in the 1880’s.  Maginnis and Prendergast described the Blanche and Otilla as plague ships or as pestilence ships.  Whichever term was used, they were dangerous ships for a population long weakened by the Great Irish Famine.  As Dr. McMahon explains, the ships were not inherently dangerous, with some major exceptions.  Generally, the mortality rate for the Irish famine boats was no different than other ships of the time period.  But, if illness broke out, the Irish famine refugees were exceedingly vulnerable to disease. [8]

Notes:

[1] New Orleans Daily Crescent, June 13, 1851, p. 2, col. 2

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Cian T. McMahon, The Coffin Ship (New York: NYU Press 2021), p. 151-152.

[5] New Orleans Daily True Delta, June 13, 1851, p. 2, col. 2

[6] The Coffin Ship, p. 167

[7] Accounts and Papers, House of Lords, vol. 14, 1852, p. 58 (Responding to Lt.-Gov. Head’s Aug. 25, 1851 dispatch).

[8] The Coffin Ship, pp. 146-152.

The Ships, “Blanche” and “Otilla,” Part 2

On a Saturday afternoon, Margaret Naughton, newly arrived at the port of New Orleans, found herself in front of Recorder (i.e., a judge and mayor) Genois’ office. She laid down on the flag stones under the portico of the building and died.  She could have laid down anywhere. Perhaps, that was the cleanest spot. Or, perhaps her meager strength simply gave out.

Margaret was from Limerick.  She was one of the passengers of the Blanche, a ship that arrived with over 100 passengers needing care at Charity Hospital. This latest version of Charity Hospital was established in 1834 by the Sisters of Charity.  It served the poor.  When the great Irish famine stated in 1845, Charity Hospital treated many Irish immigrants. [1]

Margaret was not one of those dis-embarking passengers who sought treatment at the hospital. She was one of the survivors, until she wasn’t. The ship arrived on Tuesday, March 25, 1851. Margaret wandered the streets of New Orleans until Friday.  On that day, she and some seven other passengers were stopped by a police officer who sent them to an empty building. There, on Saturday, they received food and passage money to St. Louis, where some relatives lived.  Later that day, about 3:00 p.m.  Margaret, a young woman, felt ill.  She fell down among the flag stones and died. [2}

Margaret’s body was taken to the police office and examined. By 5:00 p.m., Margaret was buried. [3]

The Blanche started with some 550 passengers.  But, ship fever broke out within days of leaving Liverpool.  Men, women and children died during the voyage.  Near the end of the voyage, many passengers were forced to remain on the upper deck to avoid the sick below decks.  These were the poorest of the poor.  They lived amongst filth and dirt below decks. [4]

Fifty More

By April 12, some 50 more Blanche passengers were admitted to Charity Hospital.  Being famine refugees and then having to endure a pestilent voyage, this number is not surprising. That means some 190 passengers required hospitalization within days of arrival. [5]

The owners of the Blanche and Otilla faced legal liability for having too many passengers.  The U.S. law and the British law on how to calculate maximum passengers differed. But, New Orleans was American, not British.  U.S. law applied at the port of New Orleans.  Under U.S. law, if a ship exceeded its maximum passenger load by 20 or more, then the ship would be forfeited to the government.  When even a relatively Anglo-oriented newspaper like the Daily Crescent advocated that the Blanche be seized, then the Captain knew he was in trouble.  So, Capt. Duckitt traveled to what was then known as Washington City to plead his case. [6]

The Blanche and Otilla were in a special class of horror in a time of many such smaller horrors.  Within days of arrival, almost 200 of the 500 Blanche passengers had to seek treatment at Charity Hospital.  Many of the rest were still ill, but not sick enough for the hospital.  New Orleans had seen many such arrivals, although on a lesser scale.  This time, it was just too much. Those Irish problems had found their way to the doorstep of New Orleans.

Notes:

[1] New Orleans Daily Crescent, March 31, 1851, p. 3, col. 1

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Ibid.

[5] New Orleans Daily Crescent, April 12, 1851, p. 2, col. 1

[6] New Orleans Daily Crescent, March 31, 1851, p. 2, col. 1

The Ships “Blanche” and “Otilla,” Part 1

Within days of one another arrived the Otilla and the Blanche from Liverpool. Both ships arrived in New Orleans in late March, 1851. Both ships carried Irish immigrants. Some 40 passengers on the Otilla suffered from “ship fever,” probably typhus and had to enter Charity Hospital. The Otilla buried at sea two adults and three children. Upon arriving in New Orleans, there were one dead child and two or three adults aboard.[1]

The Blanche was even worse. Upon arrival, 126 passengers were taken to Charity Hospital, said Prendergast in his initial report. Just a day later, the New Orleans Daily True Delta, also edited by an Irishman, John Maginnis, reported that the Blanche arrived not with 497 persons, but with more than 525. Maginnis was angry that the ship’s captain, Capt. Duckitt, did not sign the list showing 497. His crew said Duckitt was too ill from ship fever to sign the list.[2]

Charity Hospital

Upon arrival of the Blanche, the Daily True Delta reported that the Otillia sent 63 passengers to Charity Hospital with ship fever, while the Blanche sent 134 to the hospital for the poor. Charity Hospital served everyone, but mostly it served the Irish. Maginnis blamed the British government. He flat accused the British landlords and government of murder. Maginnis insisted the captain and owners of the Blanche and Otilla violated U.S. law because they did not properly care for their passengers. Maginnis allowed that many English were fine and decent. But, some Englishmen must be punished. He commended Rev. Charles W. Whiteall, Pastor of St. Peter’s Episcopal church on Esplanade in New Orleans for coming immediately to the aid of these devastated Catholic passengers.[3]

But, a day later, Maginnis was furious that Capt. Dukitt did not sign the final passenger list showing 497 persons arrived in New Orleans. He was angry because Nicholas Sinnot, the New Orleans Collector for the passenger tax, acquired the Liverpool broker’s list, which was the Captain’s private list of passengers. That second list showed over 525 passengers when the ship embarked from Liverpool. Maginnis was also angry because the Captain, supposedly too ill to sign the 497 passenger list, was alert enough to make public his annoyance at the accusations being leveled against him. That means some 28 passengers died enroute. [4]

It was likely no accident that Nicholas Sinnot, the younger, located the Liverpool broker’s list. Mr. Sinnot was Irish himself and was the son of Nicholas Sinnot, Sr, a former rebel of 1798. The elder Sinnot was well respected among the Irish community in New Orleans.

Centuries of Irish Anger

Centuries of Irish anger boiled up in Maginnis and Prendergast in their respective newspapers on April 5 and 6. Maginnis described Capt. Duckitt as a “stolid” Englishman with all the “presumption, self-sufficiency and vulgarity of [his] class.” Maginnis meant Duckitt was pompous and arrogant. Duckitt explained apparently in some New Orleans newspaper that he lost only 25 passengers and not one Englishman. He even suggested the previous “debility and previous habits” of the 25 Irish passengers may have caused their death on the voyage. Today, we would describe Duckitt’s comments as complete bigotry. Maginnis thundered: “Only twenty-five deaths, says this Englishman, ‘certainly not an excessive mortality under the lamentable circumstances – and it ought to be remarked that not one English passenger died” (Maginnis quoting Duckitt). The next day, Prendergast supported Maginnis completely. [5]

Maginnis called for the District Attorney and the Port Collector to devote their attention to Capt. Duckitt and the Blanche. Maginnis reported that the Blanche was 1000 feet short of the measurements her papers claimed. Maginnis believed this was a fraud perpetrated by the owners of the Blanche with the help of corrupt officials in Liverpool. Being smaller than her claimed size, she should not have been carrying as many passengers.

Notes:

[1] New Orleans Daily True Delta, April 4, 1851, p. 2, col. 2

[2] New Orleans Daily True Delta, April 4, 1851, p. 2, col. 2

[3] New Orleans Daily True Delta, April 4, 1851, p. 2, col. 2

[4] New Orleans Daily True Delta, April 5, 1851, p. 2, col. 2

[5] New Orleans Daily Orleanian, April 6, 1851, p. 2, col. 2; New Orleans Daily True Delta, April 5, 1851, p. 2, col. 2

Memorial to Hood’s Texas Brigade

There is a myth today that Confederate statues and memorials were intended more to commemorate white supremacy than lost loved ones. One can almost appreciate the myth, since so many of the memorials depict one Confederate general or another. But, in fairness, the statues were erected at a time when history was largely viewed as the history of “great men.” Prior to a few ground breaking books like Johnny Reb by Bell Irvin Wiley (LSU Press 1970), social histories were never done. The focus was always on the so-called great men, not the men who slogged through the mud or who bore the brunt of the decisions of the great men.

One of the few Confederate memorials to the average soldier is found in Austin, the memorial to Hood’s Texas Brigade. The memorial started around the turn of the twentieth century. As the veterans of the famed Hood’s Texas Brigade were aging, they talked about erecting a monument to their sacrifice and the sacrifice of their departed brothers. After exhaustive debates and years of fund raising, they agreed the memorial should feature an individual Confederate soldier and that it should make no reference to Jefferson Davis or the Confederate government. As former private, Joe Polley explained, it had to be about their sacrifices alone:

If a medallion of [Jefferson] Davis appears on the monument at all,

it is bound to have the central and most conspicuous place, and the

men and women who when we are dead and gone look at it, will accept

 it as a monument to Davis and the cause he represented, and never

give a thought to the brave men to whose memory alone it should be

dedicated.

The veterans of Hood’s Texas Brigade believed they were the best brigade in the Confederate army. They believed, with much justification, that they represented the best. For decades after the war, they collected their stories and history. Their goal as stated in 1872 was to “collect and perpetuate all incidents, anecdotes, history, and everything connected therewith.” By 1906, they were still working to finalize complete rosters of the original members of the brigade and their eventual fate. The memorial would represent the ultimate remembrance of their time together.

Hyperbole

So, it was perhaps surprising that at the unveiling of the monument in 1910, the speakers spoke inaccurately about the role of Southerners throughout American history. According to the speakers, a Southerner had won the War of 1812, the Mexican War in 1846 and was the author of the Monroe Doctrine. The members of Hood’s Texas Brigade rarely engaged in such hyperbole.

Joe Polley was himself a person of some controversy. He did not care for excessive ceremony. In a time when virtually every white man supported the Democratic party, Joe flirted with the Republican party. He was a well-known contributor to the Confederate Veteran magazine. Yet, he was anything but an apologist for the Southern cause. No doubt it helped that the Republican candidate for Texas governor was also a former Confederate veteran. But, Joe Polley supported the Republican in the next gubernatorial election. Joe, who lost a foot at the Battle of Darbytown, was more practical than demagogic. The memorial to Hood’s Texas Brigade reflects that same spirit of honest remembrance.

Source:

Susanah J. Ural, Hood’s Texas Brigade (Baton Rouge, La.: LSU Press 2017), pp. 272-274.