THE LOSS OF THE ‘SAXON’

In August 1930, a fishing boat was wrecked on the Hough skerries. These newspaper reports tell the story:

‘Stories of how the crew of the Fleetwood trawler Saxon were warned of the impending disaster were told when the crew reached their homes after the boat was wrecked off the island of Tiree.

‘Before the start of their ill-fated voyage, it was found that the rats, which formerly infested the ship, had suddenly left it; and just when the trawler was about to cast off from the quayside, a black cat, the trawler’s mascot, jumped ashore and disappeared. “We shall never go to sea again on a trawler which the rats have deserted,” a member of the crew declared. 

‘The trawler went ashore during a gale and blinding rainstorm, which made visibility impossible. The crew of twelve reached shore in a small boat. Skill and coolness enabled them to leave the stranded trawler in safety. In fact, when the crew were rowing to the shore, which could only be dimly seen, and were in expectation of the small boat capsizing, they lustily sang popular songs. 

‘The Saxon, owned by the Saxon Steam Trawlers Ltd. of Fleetwood [an important fishing port north of Blackpool], had been fishing off Barra Head, the most southerly point of the Hebrides, in the early hours of the morning, and was moving to the Cairns of Coll when the rain came down “like a sheet”, according to the description of Mr James Crompton, of 144 Radcliffe Road, Fleetwood, the mate of the trawler. 

‘The wind was blowing a gale and there was a heavy swell. The skipper, Mr Arthur Christie of Mowbray Road, Fleetwood; the mate; and Samuel Harringham, a deckhand; were on deck at the time, and without warning the Saxon struck a submerged rock. 

‘“She struck amidships,” said Mr Crompton, and in spite of the skipper’s efforts, she would not budge. “The noise when we struck roused nine of the crew who were below, and the bo’sun, who reached the deck first, at once raised the alarm.” The crew all rushed on deck scantily clad. “The skipper asked for three volunteers to take out the kedge anchor [a smaller, secondary anchor, which can be used to haul a boat that is grounded] and myself; Samuel Harringham, a deckhand; and George Stables volunteered. We pushed the lifeboat over the side, and as we jumped in it nearly capsized. The sea was rough, and we were tossed about so much that we never thought we would survive. It was touch-and-go every minute. We got the anchor fixed, but although we were only 200 yards from the Saxon, it took us a full hour to row back. I think we should have given up, only we thought if we were lost in the small boat the other chaps on board would have no chance of getting off the trawler, and would all be drowned. We managed to get back on board, and just then the chief engineer came running up from below and said that the boat was holed, and the water pouring into the engine room. The position was hopeless, and the skipper himself gave orders for every man to save himself. We grabbed a few of our belongings, and got into the boat. It was no easy job, for the Saxon was being thrown from side to side, and the small boat was bobbing up and down.

‘“We rowed five miles, and although sometimes we had no hope of reaching land, we kept up our spirits. Somebody started singing the ‘Stein Song’, but we told them to come and take turns at the oars, and this soon stopped the singing.“ “This is no pantomime,” said our skipper. “At last, we reached part of the land where there were no rocks. We got ashore pretty well exhausted. Then we walked two miles across wet sand and marsh, and found we were at a village called Kilkenneth. “We knocked at the door of a farmhouse, and a woman who answered, when she saw us in our sea clothing, said: ‘My God! Where have you come from?’ “Hot milk was given to us, and then eggs and bacon. People at the farmhouse and at adjoining houses gave up their beds for us.”

This was the third time Crompton has been wrecked. When the crew left the scene of the disaster the Saxon was going to pieces.’ (Dundee People’s Journal, 30 August 1930, p. 8)

‘When the crew last saw the stranded vessel, it was almost submerged, and the waves were breaking over it. The wheel-house and funnel had disappeared, and the beach was strewn with wreckage. The skipper remained behind with the salvage expert .’ (Fleetwood Chronicle, 29 August 1930, p. 8)

The ‘[Maine] Stein Song’ was an American college song that became a No. 1 hit in 1930 with the singer Rudy Vallée. ‘Oh, fill the steins to dear old Maine / Shout till the rafters ring / Stand and drink a toast once again / Let every loyal Maine man sing.’ The Fleetwood trawlermen were certainly up-to-date with the chart music of the time!

Dr John Holliday