Further to recent entries, in case anyone is interested, here is a transcription of an article from the 'Groat in 1848 about a disaster in the Pentland Firth. The George Green who drowned was my ggg-grandfather.


John O’Groat Journal – 28th April 1848
Fatal Accident – Five Men Drowned

Again is there “lamentation and weeping and great mourning” amongst the relatives of the hardy sons of the sea on our remote shores, occasioned by the occurrence of a melancholy catastrophe, by which five men have been drowned.

On Friday last, one of the Duncansbay pilot boats left the shore, in order to pilot through the Pentland Firth a northbound vessel that had hoisted colours for a pilot. The weather had previously been somewhat unsettled, and as there was a pretty smart breeze from the NE, there was a good deal of sea, but not so much as to occasion any alarm in the minds of the pilots and their friends. Six men manned the boat, and having safely reached the vessel, one of their number, as is the practice, was put on board – the remainder of the crew keeping in their boat which was taken in tow by the vessel.

Soon after this occurred the sad accident. The rope by which the boat was attached to the vessel suddenly broke, but the same force which snapped it in two also dragged the boat violently to the vessel, which was then pitching heavily, and in a moment the little bark was under the vessel’s quarter. The vessel lurched, the boat was upset, and the five poor men were in an instant engulfed in the water. All was now excitement on board; every effort was made to save the drowning pilots, but one by one they sank, with one exception. The mate immediately got a rope attached round his waist and bravely plunged into the sea, in order if possible to save the last of the five. By means of a boat-hook he got hold of the man by the jacket, was taken on board himself, and just when in the act of taking the man on board, his jacket tore – the hold was let go – the poor fellow fell, and was in one moment under the briny wave.

Since the above was in type, the following more minute account has been kindly furnished us, as having been received from the lips of the only survivor: -

“The boat, manned with six hands, sailed from Duncansbay to pilot a vessel – the William Gouland of Sunderland. The wind was easterly, with rather a heavy sea. The men’s names were George Green, nearly 50 years of age; his oldest son Andrew Green, unmarried about 25; Hugh Manson and William Manson, brothers, the latter unmarried; James Simpson and Malcolm Dunnet, both married; - the last is the only survivor of the whole.

They had reached the ship in safety, and Malcolm Dunnet had gone on board to act as pilot, when a heavy sea struck the boat and overwhelmed her. The scene that followed was fearful in the extreme. Three of the men got upon the bottom of the boat – one appears to have to have sunk immediately, as he was not seen – the fifth, Andrew Green, got hold of a rope thrown from the ship, twisted it about his hand, and struggled long with desperate efforts to get to the ship. The mate was let down to assist him, and had almost a hold of his hand, when he was obliged, to save himself, to let go the rope, and the poor lad, apparently within a few inches of safety, sank to rise no more.

The screams and cries of those on the boat were heart-rending, and such, their almost distracted companion says, as he will never forget. But the ship, in spite of the utmost exertions of all on board, made away from the boat, and the deeply affected and sympathising crew saw them washed off one after another. The young lad, William Manson, kept his position longest; it is believed about half an hour.

The master Mr S. Thurkle, the mate, and indeed all on board the ship, did all that men could do, and exhibited the utmost concern and humanity. The survivor, Malcolm Dunnet, who was on the ship, had to witness all this, and while he had to lift his eyes in heartfelt gratitude to the preserver of his own life, he had to endure the unspeakable anguish of returning home alone, and be the first to communicate the sad intelligence to the bereaved friends, his relatives and neighbours.

The individuals thus suddenly called into eternity were all men of great worth; sober, amiable, industrious and greatly esteemed in their place and station. George Green has left a widow, two sons and three daughters, it is feared in destitute circumstances, and some of them in delicate health. The father and the eldest brother were the props on which they leaned for support. The two Mansons have left a widowed mother, infirm, aged and in poverty, with none of her family now able to help her; while the elder brother, Hugh, has left in addition a young widow, as has James Simpson, the former with one child, and the latter with two, and both with prospect of an additional burden soon.

The scene of deep grief and the mental anguish which their houses presented may be conceived but hardly expressed; and it is hard to think that stern destitution and helpless poverty must overtake those representatives of worthy persons, whose feelings are now lacerated by the bursting of the tenderest ties of human life. May we hope that the benevolent, both near and at a distance, will not overlook them.