...........

...

...

...

.....

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

On 26th of February 1875 the Bell Hill, an iron clad barque owned by J. Walsmly of Liverpool, left her home port bound for Valparaiso with a general cargo on board.
She had a crew of 16 and was under the command of a 35 year old master E Edgar.
Little did they know what cruel fate awaited them.
This is my account of the Final Journey of the Bell Hill.

The Loss of the Barque, Bell Hill.
C 2007 By
Roger Turner

He kissed goodbye to his mother,
Picked up the tattered old sack,
Containing his meagre belongings,
And slung it right over his back.

His mother knew of the dangers,
And begged him not to go.
But he was an apprentice seaman,
Heading for Valparaiso.

At the docks the Bell Hill was waiting,
With cargo being stashed in the hold.
'Twas typical February weather,
A hint of snow, and so cold.

The first mate was shouting out orders,
Telling the crew what to do.
While the captain's ashore with the owners,
Taking his own orders too.

With cold attacking their fingers,
The seamen worked hard and fast,
Getting things shipshape and ready,
Checking the sails and the mast.

By noon, tide and wind have joined forces,
And Captain Edgar was back on the ship.
The order goes out as the first mate does shout,
And away from the quay side they slip

The river is pushing them seawards,
Sails catch the wind from the shore,
Soon the bustle of Liverpool,
Will have vanished for evermore.

But once past the headland it changes.
From the south the wind gathers pace.
Salt spray and rain lash the aft deck,
Stinging the helmsman's old face.

Soon the darkness was falling,
The sea running wild and high.
Waves breaking all around them.
Storm clouds gathered low in the sky.

Soon the night winds were howling,
And a tearing of sails could be heard.
"All hands on deck" cried the captain.
Not one of the crew said a word.

They struggled with ropes cleats and pulleys,
In what was by now quite a gale.
Less than twelve hours from their home port,
And already taking down the last sail.

The Bell Hill devoid of all power,
Tossed side by side on the sea.
Trying to ride the wild storm out,
Not knowing where they could be.

Waves now as tall as two houses,
Almost broke her back right in two,
As she pitched and rolled in the darkness,
Terrifying captain and crew.

Showing no sign of abating,
The storm raged all of the night,
Then a man who was acting as lookout,
Saw the first shaft of light.

His eyes stinging from the salt water,
Saw the rocks breaking up from swell,
Then captain and crew, all saw them too,
And knew of the dangers too well.

Sailors used to the stormy waters,
That pushed sailboats round the horn,
All felt the strangest foreboding,
Upon this cold winter's morn.

They still were without any steerage,
Yet could see the harbour through the gloom,
But in the teeth of a gale, without any sail,
They knew they were heading for doom.

The drift was taking them closer,
So an anchor was dropped in the sea.
But the wind was too strong, so before very long,
The anchor had dragged itself free.

On the shore many watching and waiting,
Seeing a maritime disaster unfold,
And the valiant efforts to save them,
Despite all the wind and the cold.

The Coastguards were firing off rockets,
To carry a line from the shore,
But it all came to nought, the rockets fell short,
So they tried to do it once more.

At the third attempt it did happen,
And the ship was attached by a line.
But that came to nought, the line became caught,
On the rocks jagged sharp at that time.

The coastguard's boat was made ready,
Volunteers were picked from the throng,
James Carton, John Carvin and James Murphy,
Fishermen all their lives long.

The size of the sea it was frightening,
As the crew, so fearless and brave,
Worked their oars to take the boat forward,
Battling every high wave.

On the Bell Hill, clung to the rigging,
Dying men holding on for their lives,
Hoping and praying for rescue,
Thinking of loved ones and wives.

With rocks ripping into the iron,
Cargo moves down in the hold,
Swilling and floating in water.
Water that's icy and cold.

Timbers creaking and groaning,
Unable to take up the strain,
Started to splinter and crumble,
And splitting along the grain.

While others were busily praying,
Their fright they just cannot hide.
Suddenly the ship moves violently,
Lifted by the force of the tide.

Someone fell out of the rigging,
His body carried off in the swell
Nobody heard him falling,
Who it was no-one could tell.

Yard by slow yard comes the rescuers,
Oars dipping into the sea,
Muscles all straining and tearing,
Trying to beat off the Banshee.

But the old Banshee was calling,
The souls of the sailors that day,
As one by one the darkness of death,
Carried them far far away.

Despite all the efforts to save them,
All but one perished that fateful day,
"We did all we could to save them."
The coastguard was heard to say.

The survivor recounted his story,
When the Coroner opened his court.
He told of the five and half hours,
As attempts at rescue came to nought.

It's now many long years since it happened,
But the disaster still lives on today,
For the tale has been told by my elders,
And maybe yours I dare say.

So walk with me to the point at Newhaven,
To put a stone onto the sailors grave,
Then say a prayer to all lost seafarers,
And the crew of the Bell Hill so brave.

............

Every effort has been made to ensure the details, names and dates in this poem are accurate, but it should not be taken as historical fact.
Please feel free to email me with any comments.
Poem Copyright 2007 Roger Turner.

.....

..........

Many thanks to all who have helped and encouraged me while I have been working on this poem, and to Tony and the rest of the B.net team for allowing me to showcase my work on the site.