A DESERTED SHIP

Southland Times, Issue 23828, 27 May 1939, Page 13

A DESERTED SHIP

Fate Of The Marie Celeste

FOR 67 years, since her sailing from a pier in Brooklyn, there has been speculation as to what became of those who left in the American brig, Marie Celeste, 300 tons, laden with spirits in barrels, consigned to Genoa. The subsequent finding of the brig, in good order, and in fine weather, without her crew, started a train of rumours, speculations, fictions and legends ever increasing. As the years pass the mystery grows. Here is a resume of facts, and the story of an American ship master who served on the board of survey when the brig Marie Celeste was brought into Gibraltar in December 1872.

The Dei Gratia’s signal, “What ship is that?” remained unanswered. Sailing well ahead they lowered a boat, Mate Devon neared the brig. Already they had read her name and hailing port, painted across the transom. Swinging up the main chains Mr Devon made a rapid inspection, called up one of his men and had him take the wheel. “She’s deserted!” he hailed. “Not a living soul on board!”

THEY hauled up the courses and hove her to. The Dei Gratia stood to windward and her master, Captain Boyce, joined Mr Devon. Here is exactly what they found and reported.

1. Not a person on board. 2. Ship in good order (with one exception). 3. No signs . of trouble having occurred (fictions of bloody cutlasses, and so on, to the contrary). 4. Bunks and cabins, and in forecastle, made up; crew’s wash on a line. 5. Ample provisions and water on board. 6. In mate’s cabin, two run-down watches on table, and a letter, started. “Fanny, my dear wife—” 7. In after cabin a sewing machine, and a thimble and some work, apparently dropped hastily. 8. Small bunk with bedclothes thrown back, and impression of a child’s head in the pillow, as if infant had been snatched from sleep. . > 9. Money untouched on captain s desk. His sextant, the chronometer and the ship’s compass, gone. 10. Ship’s log book, open at the entry, a few days before. “Weather fine, wind light." 11. Boat falls dangling from davits across the stern; boat gone. 12. Food in galley pots, cooked to a crisp. 13. The last item, and the most significant. The main hatch tarpaulin had been ripped open, the wooden hatch covers had been thrown off the strongback and lay, bottoms up, on <i>?k. Below everything seemed in orde' bar-

The facts definitely known are these. On November 7, of that year, the taut little brig stood to sea past Sandy Hook, her clearance papers in order' Her master, Captain Benjamin S. Briggs, originally of Marion, Massachusetts, was a man with the highest character among merchants While the Marie Celeste was laden with alcohol, her master and crew were temperate men. She was a “home” ship, and the captain, then 45, carried his comely young wife, 32, and. with them was their infant daughter, aged two. Two mates, a cook, four seamen and a boy constituted the list of those on board. Furthermore Captain Briggs was known as a most capable seaman, a man of quick decision,, who always exercised the utmost caution. He stood well with the underwriters.

On December 4, in the Atlantic, about 300 miles west of Gibraltar, the British bark Dei Gratia, Captain Boyce, bound for the Strait, lifted a sail ahead. As they neared they made her out to be a brig, with all sail set, steering wild, yawing four points or more, up into the wind, backing and filling. Not a sign of anyone on her poop or at the wheel, not a head above her bulwark.

rels stowed, “bilge and cantline,” bungs up. Slight odour of spirits. The Dei Gratia put a salvage crew on board the Marie Celeste and convoyed her into Gibraltar.

★★ ★ ■ PROM here on the story is told me by the late Captain Marcus H. Tracy, of New York, when he was Chairman of the Board of Governors, New York State Schoolship. Captain Tracy was making a short cruise with me in the Newport. Of an evening we discussed many things, for this former ship master, then a ship owner, had seen much. We mentioned the Marie Celeste. As near as I can recall this was his comment.

“I was lying in Gib when the brig came to anchor. She excited the most intense interest. A board of survey was called by Lloyd’s Agent. I sat on that board.”

Captain Tracy recited the facts already set down. “Our opinion, in which all agreed, was this. On a quiet afternoon, the weather fair, a sudden terrifying explosion, either because of a light carried below, or otherwise, blew up the main hatch tarpaulin and covers. Smoke rose from the hold and there may have been a sudden flame, as of alcohol fumes. Knowing the inflammable nature of his cargo, having fear for his wife and child, the master immediately ordered all hands into a boat hanging on the stern davits. He took his instruments, the compass, and lowered, rowing clear. “They watched the ship, lying almost beclamed. Nothing happened. As they attempted to return, a puff of wind sent the brig along. The wind increased, they struggled to regain the brig but she sailed away from them. Night fell, there were no lights on board of her, the boat crew, exhausted, rowed hopelessly until morning. The Marie Celeste was nowhere to be seen.

“The ship’s boat must have been swept between the 'Azoi’es and Madeira, out into the Atlantic, by the prevailing current. This is all that will ever be known of the disaster that befell them. The reason for its occurrence was well established.” In spite of Conan Doyle’s “J. Habakuk Jepson’s Statement,” and many other tales, establishing the name of the brig as Marie Celeste, this is ' the true story, strange and terrible enough for the most ardent believers of mystery. —FELIX RIESENBERG in The Christian Science Monitor.