The stormy North Atlantic may have received it's nickname in the early months of 1856. Of course by this time ships had been crossing the great dangerous ocean for many decades, however the endless tales of storms, high waves and the long list of vessels gone missing or known sunk did not detour the thousands of people determined to cross the ocean. For many it was their job, the sailor who had to earn a living, others sailed because of business. Then there was the emigrant, a population trying to escape to the new world wanting a better life.

Times must have been desperate, just think, would you take your family across the ocean in a small sailing ship knowing just how many of such vessels had failed to reach their destination? Well thousands did, and thousands died, men, women and children. The recent inconvenience for the passengers of the Carnival Triumph in the Gulf of Mexico does not compare to the dangerous voyages made regularly by people in the 19th century.

In December of 1855 and January of 1856 the storms on the North Atlantic were worse than normal and the ice was further south and more plentiful than experienced in years before (reported as far south as 45° latitude). By the end of the first week of March of 1856 no less than 60 ships were overdue just in New York, all these ships had sailed from European ports. Most had sailed in January, but several had sailed in November and December of 1855.

One of the many ships missing was the John Rutledge. This ship was built in Baltimore in 1851 and was owned in 1856 by Howland & Ridgeway of New York and was of about 1,060 tons. Further details of her appearance are unknown to me at the time of this writing.

The ship had sailed from Liverpool on Jan. 16, 1856 and still on Mar. 10 had not arrived in New York with her passengers, emigrants mostly from Ireland, Scotland and England (the exact number of passengers and crew is not known since since record keeping was not as advanced as it is today). Naturally it was a big concern for a ship to be out this long, but in those days it was a long voyage across the pond and a ten week voyage was not unheard of.

The voyage of the John Rutledge was quite unpleasant, there were storms almost all the way, one passenger died from some kind of an accident and by Feb. 18 they were still 1,500 miles from New York (but only 400 miles SE of St. John's, Newfoundland), the next day she ran into and an icefield. Having cleared this field she found another one, this time they could not avoid the ice. At about 10 a.m. on Feb. 19 she rammed an iceberg, which holed the bow. Captain Kelly and his crew did what they could to pump out the water, but as the hours went by it was evident that the sea would win the fight. The five boats were hastily lowered, those in them were not prepared for the cold or the storms that would follow. The last boat in the water proved to be the only boat ever seen again, but before the remaining people could get aboard she broke her line and drifted away, leaving those on the ship to go down with her.

It was the afternoon of Feb. 20, when the night came the cold set upon the poor sufferers in the lifeboats. The next morning none of the other boats were in sight. It is unknown how long those in the other four boats survived, or what pains they suffered, all we know is the story of the one lone boat with thirteen people who were about to face all the horrors of being adrift at sea.

Rations were minimal (only a small piece of biscuit) and the only water was about a gallon in a demijohn, a corked bottle. People were allowed to take one suck on the cork per day. That evening a snow storm caused further distress and agony to those in the boat. Several days of cold, rain and snow passed with those in the boat just hanging on to life.

On the fifth day a female passenger became the first to succumb, she was put over the side. The mental condition of the survivors was adversely affected by seeing the body of this woman placed into the sea, but nothing could be done for her or them. The next day the woman's husband died and in days to come the remaining people died one by one. As they were put overboard sharks could be seen following the bodies into the deep. By February 28, 1856 only one man, Thomas W. Nye, a seaman, was still alive, but only just.

On that day another ship came into view, the Germania, commanded by Captain Wood. They had sailed from Le Havre on Jan. 27 and had met with storms much of the way as the John Rutledge had. As the Germania approached the lifeboat they could see several people inside, but none appeared to be signaling for rescue. When they got the boat alongside they were met with the terrible sight of four dead bodies and an almost dead Thomas Nye.

He was helped out of the boat as he had not the strength to stand let alone haul himself on to the ship. He was suffering from frostbite, hunger, thirst and the mental stress of seeing twelve human beings, including women, die before his eyes. He was so weak that when those who were found with him had died, he could not put them over the side.

Captain Wood knew how to treat this poor soul and it was due to him that Mr. Nye recovered at all. Wood treated his frostbite and provided the proper diet required for someone who was so near death. Without the expertise of Captain Wood, Nye would surely have died before he related the tale of the loss of the John Rutledge. Hampered by storm after storm the Germania did not make port until Mar. 24, almost a month after picking up seaman Nye, by then the John Rutledge had been considered lost with all hands. Had Nye not survived, or had the Germania not found his boat we would never have known what happened to the John Rutledge, she would have been just another ghost of the North Atlantic.