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The Man Who Sank Titanic
The Troubled Life of Quartermaster Robert Hichens
By Sally Nilsson The History Press
Copyright © 2011 Sally Nilsson
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7524-6769-6
CHAPTER 1
NEWLYN
The year 1882 was a significant one for the people of Newlyn. Work had started on the new 40-acre harbour in the north-west corner of Mount's Bay, overlooked from the east by the towering battlements of St Michael's Mount, a rocky outcrop a mile out to sea. Newlyn port boasted one of the largest fishing fleets in the United Kingdom, its position offering protection from prevailing westerly winds and the huge gales they could bring. The new harbour would attract further boats from far and wide that would be able to land their catch at almost any time of the year in her safe waters.
For the fishermen of Newlyn it would be pilchards and mackerel that would bring in their main source of income. Packed into casks called hogsheads, the pilchards left from the new Penzance railway station for London and from there went across the country or were exported to their largest customer, Italy. But these stocks were becoming depleted and the small luggers, known as the swallows of the sea, were starting to be replaced by larger mackerel drivers with bigger crews which were capable of much longer fishing expeditions, and whose men would be away for months at a time in their search for the larger quarry. Many families operated a share system as the mackerel drivers were expensive to maintain. It was with a crew of nine that Phillip Hichens sailed from Newlyn, along the west coast of Britain, up to Scotland and down to the north-east town of Whitby. It was on one of his trips to this Yorkshire fishing port that Phillip met Rebecca Ward. Whitby had many similarities to Newlyn so their union was a natural one, and before long Rebecca, aged twenty, gave birth to their first son Phillip. In 1881, a year later, Rebecca left Whitby with Phillip and their son to start a new life in the small Cornish town.
In this deeply religious community of Celts with its clan mentality Rebecca's initiation would be tough. Her son, who had been born out of wedlock, would be raised by another family and not return to his parents until he was a teenager. The families of Newlyn and the community were so tight-knit that you needed to ask permission just to join in a chat taking place on the cliff; there would be men standing around in their bowler hats called 'mullers' and some of the more daring types chewing on tobacco. On 16 September 1882 Rebecca welcomes her second son, Robert, and it would be he who took the role as eldest son in the Hichens house. Large families were normal in Newlyn, some with up to twelve children, and the Hichens were no exception. Over the next eighteen years Rebecca and Phillip would raise ten children, three girls and seven boys.
The year 1882 was the year the artists began to arrive. Attracted by cheap accommodation and an abundance of free models, the 'Newlyn School' enjoyed a different environment from the industrial cities many had come from and artists painted en plein air – outdoors. The growing colony took their inspiration from the rural livelihoods of the hard-working fishing community. The whitewashed terraced cottages interlaced with steep cobbled lanes, the beautiful fishing boats with their brown square sails returning with their catch to be met by jousters, the horse and carts waiting patiently on the beach – all provided ample subject material for their paintings. With the backdrop of crimson sunsets on a sea as flat as glass, or a tempestuous storm with waves crashing over the harbour walls, the artists produced masterpieces which made their way to the lucrative London scene or, on a smaller scale, were bartered with the locals in exchange for boarding and meals.
Young Robert Hichens and the children he played with would have been blissfully unaware of their parents' constant struggles in their tough environment. For them, Newlyn was the best playground ever: the labyrinth of lanes in which to hide, the cliffs and nearby fields to chase each other and the long promenade of nearby Penzance – all these things would have heightened their imaginations. When the fishing boats returned the children waited with their mothers, siblings and extended family for the boats to land their catch on the beach; it was up to everyone to help carry the heavy baskets of fish up the steep Gwavas slip and, for Robert's family, on to the courtyard of St Peter's Square ready to be unloaded down into the cellar beneath their cottage for processing.
There were many harsh times to be faced when unpredictable weather or scarcity of fish meant lower wages to share among the nine-man crew, and it was down to Robert's mother and others like her to plan for the weeks or months ahead. Soups, stews and hot meals of meat and cabbage would be replaced with less appealing alternatives. The shoreline offered limpets and winkles known as 'trigmeat' and dried, salted fish called 'towrag' hung from rafters in readiness in the cellars; not the most favoured of meals for the children of Newlyn. Stocks of flour enabled Rebecca and the other wives to make dough which would be taken up to the communal bake houses where the women would chat while the children played at their feet in the warm aroma of buns, bread and cake. Rebecca and the other women ran the family home with the help of their daughters. Their tough work included mending nets, oiling sou'westers and washing cookware and bedding the men brought home from their trips, as well as all the clothes and linen from their own homes. Once a week the women would gather again with their sopping washing to join at the large and cumbersome neighbourhood mangle or meet in the fields nearby to hang sheets from the bushes to dry.
By 1890 there were three schools in the Newlyn area and the one Robert and his brothers and sisters attended was the Newlyn Board School. It had been built ten years before and stood on top of Newlyn Hill. The sound of the bell tolling could be heard across the bay and for miles around and getting there meant a steep climb up St Peter's Hill and along Church Lane – luckily there was a drinking fountain in the shape of a gun barrel (which the children would inevitably fight over). From there it was further still, through a field with an old mine shaft, round a bend and eventually they arrived. The boys and girls would separate to their own classrooms and the school day would begin from 9a.m., with a break at lunch, until 4p.m. Children were encouraged to be high achievers and although the curriculum was limited, Robert benefited from a good standard of education in an era when schooling for the masses was in its infancy.
Along with school, play and helping with the family chores, Robert and his siblings took part in another community pastime: going to church. Indeed the Primitive Methodist religion found its roots in Newlyn in the 1820s. The community as a whole was attracted by the sermons, which were preached in words everyone could understand, and by the hymns that included strong repetitive choruses and rich harmonies that the Cornish, with their love for singing, enjoyed every Sunday. Just a short walk from their home in St Peter's Square, the Hichens clan would arrive en masse for Sunday service at the Ebenezer Methodist Chapel in Boase Street, and then return home for their day of rest. Robert's uncle Frederick was so entrenched in the religion that he and others like him became missionaries, and Frederick eventually emigrated with his wife and children to set up a mission in Australia.
As children Robert and his siblings were not allowed out on a Sunday unless it was to go to Sunday school; when they were older they were permitted to meet friends for a couple of hours in the evening on the cliff overlooking the bay. It wasn't a proper cliff but a road called Fore Street which overlooked the harbour and Mount's Bay with railings to lean on. Robert was brought up in a community where religion was as much a part of their lives as the fish in the sea. This was a religion where temperance was accepted by all except the few tough young men known as 'hobble-de-hoys' who, when made idle from lack of work, would be liable to misbehave with too much liquor in their stomachs. The tradition of Sunday observance was very strict in Newlyn, and at many of the ports on the west side of Britain, where fishermen put down their nets for the Sabbath day. However, in May 1896 when Robert was fourteen years old, devout Newlyn erupted in crisis, and he witnessed what was to become one of the most infamous events in the town's history, the Newlyn Riots.
Although the fishermen of Newlyn chose not to land fish on the Sabbath, the rule was not observed by the east-coast men predominantly from Lowestoft in Suffolk, known as 'yorkies'. They would regularly land their fish on Sunday and this would attract higher prices than those sold on a weekday, understandably creating a great deal of tension. The situation came to a head on the morning of 18 May 1896, when 1,000 Newlyn men crowded on to the north pier as a dozen or so east-coast boats sailed into the harbour to land their fish. The army of Newlyn men boarded the yorkies' boats and threw their entire catch of 100,000 mackerel into the sea. Other boats, which were moored outside, were also captured and the 'pirates' brought the crews back to town. With many more 'foreigners' waiting out at sea, more help was called for from Newlyns' neighbours at Porthlevan, Mousehole and St Ives.
At this time the whole of Cornwall had little more than 200 policemen for the entire population. Newlyn had never had a perfect relationship with their much larger neighbour, Penzance, but it was to their constabulary a message was sent for police backup, and it was Penzance in turn that called for more policemen to assist from other parts of the county. The situation simmered throughout the course of the day and evening with a few skirmishes, name-calling and brandishing of sticks and stones – but little more. By Tuesday afternoon conditions reached boiling point when word came to Newlyn that a fleet of Lowestoft boats were preparing to land their catch at Penzance. Is response, a mob of 300 men hurried the mile stretch of coast and were met with a throng of police and a tough-looking crowd of Penzance men who were more than happy to fight the Newlyn lads, whatever the cause.
While all this was going on an armada of sailing vessels were sweeping into Mount's Bay with banners flying – the men from Porthlevan, Mousehole and St Ives. It wasn't long, however, before they were joined by a smaller yet much more heavily armed convoy, that of a torpedo-boat destroyer, a gun-boat tender and a special service vessel from the Royal Navy to quell the riots. By land more military had been called for in the form of 330 Red Coats from the Second Battalion of the Royal Berkshire Regiment. For the inquisitive teenage lads of Newlyn, the events unfolding must have been too good an opportunity to miss and they found many vantage points to catch the action, such as the pier, the hills above, the harbour and even the streets surrounding advancing men.
Before long, a pitched battle was in progress, each side using fists, ice axes, barrel staves and stones; any weapon that could be found in the riot. The two sides fought hard, and the strength of the few police was not enough to control the mob. As the fight was reaching its climax, the army of Red Coats arrived, and their pure numbers were eventually enough to beat back the mob and to install martial law, pushing back the men from Newlyn towards their own territory. Roadblocks were put up and by late evening a charged peace was restored and the Penzance men returned to their town. For Robert and the other teenage boys, the riots of Newlyn would have been, without doubt, the most exciting day of their lives so far.
The Navy gunboats remained stationed offshore for a few days, as did the troops barracked nearby, to ensure the troubles did not erupt again. By now the time for violence was over, to be replaced by discussion and a truce, of sorts. The east-coast boats were run by bosses who owned the vessels of the fishermen there, and it was they who demanded the need for fishing on all days of the week. A halfhearted agreement was passed that fishing in Newlyn waters would be permitted on a Saturday but not on a Sunday, and committees in Lowestoft agreed to fish their local waters and only come to Newlyn in bad weather. Still, the arguments for and against carried on through the years until Sunday observance became just a memory for all but the most conscientious of chapel-going fishermen.
Perhaps seeing the Royal Navy's vessels coming into Mount's Bay that Wednesday in May 1896 had an effect on Robert, maybe it was the incredible progress being made in the merchant trade with steam powering ever larger and faster ships, or even the fact that boys who were turning into men were lured by the colourful advertisements for new lives abroad, away from the hardship of fishing. Either way, Robert had been out to sea for four years but when he turned eighteen he was ready to choose a different career to that of his father, and with the help of a state enlistment programme, he left his family to start a career as a trainee in the Royal Naval Reserves.
CHAPTER 2
SOUTHAMPTON
Dearest Florence
I now take this opportunity of writing these few lines according to my promise hoping you are none the worse for your nice little walk last night. I only wish I had met you at 5 or 6 o'clock and I would have seen more of you. I suppose you don't know that I have taken rather a fancy to you.
Robert Hichens Yacht Ariano Torquay
By 1900 the Royal Naval Reserves (RNR) were enlisting many young men from fishing communities who would be called upon to support the Royal Navy in times of war. After initial on-shore training Robert embarked on his first major placement on the warship HMS Alexandra. The Alexandra was remarkable in that she was neither fish nor fowl. Although many ships were crossing the Atlantic by steam, age-old traditions still existed and Alexandra was not only powered by vertical compound engines and high-pressure boilers, she also had a full rig of sails. She was complemented with an impressive armament of heavy artillery which gave Robert and the other trainees all the experience they could hope for to drive their careers forward.
HMS Revenge would be Robert's next training post. A 400ft, 15,000-ton battleship, she was one of the Royal Sovereign Class, considered the most potent of warships in the world; they were only surpassed by the revolutionary Dreadnoughts that would make them obsolete in just two years' time. He and the other recruits of the RNR quickly gained the respect of their counterparts in the Royal Navy for their professionalism, navigation skills and seamanship. Robert knew that if he continued to work hard, building on the opportunity and responsibility that had been given him, there was no reason why he could not be considered for a position of junior officer in just a few years. So that's what he did, and for the next five years he served on different vessels, expanding his knowledge and eventually reaching the position of quartermaster.
In 1905, while on shore leave from the yacht Ariano, Robert began an innocent and blossoming relationship with a pretty farm labourer's daughter from nearby Manaton, twenty-year-old Florence Mortimore. They made an interesting couple – Robert was rather short and Florence was quite a bit taller than her beau. They spent as much time as they could together before Robert returned to his duty. It didn't take long for their courtship to flourish and they married at the parish church in Manaton, Devon, on 23 October 1906. They rented a small flat in Torquay and before the year was out Florence and Robert welcomed their first daughter, Edna.
Developments in steam and the progressive improvements in the size and speed of ships, in both the Navy and the merchant marine, led Robert to make an important decision. They needed to live where he would be better positioned to find employment. In Southampton the larger ships, mail steamers and passenger liners were making regular sailings from the busy port city, and so it seemed an obvious choice. Once again Robert was on the move and the young family arrived at James Street in the St Mary's district, only a short walk up from the docks. The districts of St Mary's, Northam and Chapel were home to thousands of men and women who worked on the ships at this time. The population had swelled from 27,000 in 1841 to 105,000 in 1900, so it had been necessary for a large area of affordable living accommodation to be developed in the form of small terraced houses set in a field grid system. They were cheap and nearly all owned by landlords: there was so much moving around in the port city that most people rented their properties. Over the coming years the Hichens family shared Nos 43 and 45, a double-fronted dwelling with six rooms, with two other families.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Man Who Sank Titanic by Sally Nilsson. Copyright © 2011 Sally Nilsson. Excerpted by permission of The History Press.
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