This is a Cornish Story, a story of the old wooden ships and the iron men who sailed them. It is also a story of a small fleet of Cornish ships from Fowey and of my own family’s maritime heritage.
We have all seen those captivating old Victorian images of Cornwall featuring harbour scenes with a schooner nestled against the quay, surrounded by the port’s fishing vessels. Before the invention of the steam engine, these magnificent ships were the backbone of commerce and trade between Cornwall, other counties in the UK, and even countries across the continent and beyond.
A topsail schooner alongside the Jetty at Mevagissey in the 1930s. Photograph copyright of the Lyndon Allen Collection.
These wooden ships varied greatly in size, from smaller vessels such as sloops and ketches to larger vessels, like the barquentines and barques. Many of these ships were built locally in Cornwall, at shipyards like Slades in Polruan, Cowl Brothers in Padstow, and Samuel Moss in Par. These names represent just a few 19th century wooden shipbuilders. Fondly referred to as the ‘West Country schooners,’ they carried all sorts of cargo locally and to destinations further abroad. These vessels made significant contributions to the British economy before Cornwall had a mainline railway. Everything at that time was transported by ship, which was the mainstay of trade between the Cornish ports and the rest of the country. Many of these ports were located on the more sheltered south coast of Cornwall, at places like Newlyn, Penzance, Falmouth, Mevagissey, Charlestown, Par, Pentewan, Fowey, and Looe.
Once all these vessels had been built, they inevitably required maintenance and repairs. A dry dock was essential for these services. Also, supporting industries thrived, like rope makers, pulley block makers, ships riggers, shipwrights, sailmakers, paint makers, and blacksmiths. Ships trading around ports such as Charlestown where I grew up were reliant on supplies of fresh groceries, meat, fish, eggs, and tobacco from local shops. I know that my third great uncle, Charles Deacon used Mr William Box and Co., grocers in St Austell. They delivered their supplies to the dock using a pony and trap in the 1920s. Ships stores were taken on board whilst the cargo was being loaded or unloaded. Some were packed in ice, others used fresh. They also caught their own fish and shellfish, the latter, especially when the ship was at anchor if they were sheltering from bad weather. They would throw a crab pot over the side. One of the old timers at Charlestown, whose father was a butcher said he could walk from one side of the dock to the other, across the decks of the ships when he was delivering meat.
Capt. Charles Deacon (back right) and the crew of the ‘Waterwitch’ at Charlestown in 1919. Photograph copyright of the Lyndon Allen Collection.
Cargoes of china clay and china stone were shipped from the St Austell Bay ports, and Newquay to the potteries of Staffordshire. Alongside this, copper and tin ore were dispatched to Wales for smelting. The ships often returned laden with coal from the Welsh Valleys. The coal was used to drive the steam engines of the Industrial Revolution. Pumping water from the mines, crushing the metal ore, and drying the clay indoors in purpose-built drying sheds. Captains generally preferred not to sail with empty holds, as this would earn them no revenue; thus, it was common for them to aim for payment on both legs of the journey whenever feasible
Capt. George Beynon, holder of the coveted ‘Blue Riband of the Atlantic’ on no less than three occasions. Photograph copyright of the Lyndon Allen Collection.
The famous barquentine ‘Waterwitch’ is under tow, coming in past St Anthony lighthouse at Falmouth. Photograph copyright Lyndon Allen Collection.
Traditionally, imports included grain, hemp, coal, timber, and lime, while exports comprised china clay, fish, granite, copper, and tin. A small topsail schooner typically had a cargo capacity of around 100 tons, whereas larger barquentines could carry approximately 250 tons. One notable vessel of this type was the barquentine ‘Waterwitch’. She was built in 1871 at Poole in Dorset, by Meadus. The ‘Waterwitch’ was constructed using remnants from decommissioned warships of the line that had participated in the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. One of my ancestors, Captain Charles Henry Deacon, served as her master for many years. The ‘Waterwitch’ was also the last vessel in the British Isles to deliver cargo using only the wind as power, as she was never fitted with an engine. Throughout the 1920s, she traded up and down the British Isles until steam vessels took over her work. For a short time, she became a training vessel for Trinity House pilots. The recruits had to complete some square rig training before qualifying as pilots. She was the last square-rigged ship to fly the red ensign. Captain Charlie Deacon was a deeply religious man who carried a Bible with him at all times. He refused to go to sea on Sundays, dedicating that day to Bible reading instead. A teetotaller, who never swore, he spent his Sundays on land helping out in Sunday school when he was not at sea.
Venison Tickle in Newfoundland, a place close to my great-grandfather’s heart. Photograph Copyright of Lyndon Allen Collection.
Capt. Deacon was the senior captain in Edward Stephens’s fleet of ships. This fleet was known as the ‘little’ ships, most of their names started with the prefix little, like ‘Little Mystery,’ ‘Little Wonder,’ or ‘Little Gem’.
This small fleet of coastal cargo vessels was based in Fowey at the turn of the 20th century. The Stephens family owned around 30 ships, including 24 smaller schooners and six larger barquentines. The larger barquentines were named ‘Ocean Swell,’ ‘McBain,’ ‘Rigdin,’ ‘Martha Edmunds,’ and the ‘RTK’, known to her crew as the ‘Rusty Tin Kettle’. In addition to this list was the famous ‘Waterwitch’.
Most of these larger ships were engaged in what became known as the ‘Newfoundland’ or ‘Deepwater’ trade, which was significant for transporting salt from Fowey to small villages in Newfoundland and Labrador. One small rocky harbour that my great-grandfather George Beynon, visited regularly was called Venison Tickle, in Newfoundland. The fishermen there would catch cod and split the fish lengthwise, salt was then sprinkled over the fish and air-dried on wooden racks in the open air to preserve it. Once preserved, the fish would be loaded onto vessels and transported across the Atlantic to Porto in Portugal. Upon arrival, the fish would be discharged and replaced with sherry, port, and red wine for the return journey back to Cornwall.
The ‘Isabella,’ whose record-breaking voyages across the Atlantic were the talk of the UK maritime fraternity at the turn of the 20th century. Photograph copyright of the Lyndon Allen Collection.
George Beynon was a frequent visitor to Newfoundland, where he would load dried or salted cod before sailing southeast to Portugal. The Portuguese refer to this fish as ‘Bacalhau’. Occasionally, he made voyages down to the West Indies for sugar, molasses, rum, salt, fruit, and coffee. His first job with Stephens was as a Mate on the ship ‘Ocean Swell,’ which was a beautiful vessel and the flagship of Stephens’ growing fleet at the time. George later transferred to the smaller schooner, ‘Isabella’.
Captain Beynon was described by the Greenwich Maritime Museum as genial. A sea captain with a huge, fearless heart who was well-respected by everyone in the trade at that time. He was the recipient of the coveted ‘Blue Riband’ of the Atlantic on three occasions: during two record-breaking voyages to Newfoundland in 1901 and another in 1903. He achieved all three records with the little schooner ‘Isabella,’ which was owned by Edward Stephens and measured just 97 feet In length. George kept the same crew for over 20 years! He must have paid and fed them well!
On his first record-breaking voyage, the time from departure in Cornwall to landfall in Labrador was 12 days and 20 hours. A few months later, he broke his previous record with a time of 10 days and 11 hours, and, incredibly, again in 1903 with a final record of 10 days and 1 hour. It would be many years before another sailing vessel would break these records.
Things would change for the Stephens little fleet with the outbreak of the First World War. They would lose several of their beautiful ships to the enemy. Below is a list of Cornish vessels lost from Fowey alone to the enemy during the First World War.
The beautiful schooner ‘Katie of Padstow’ alongside Clunes and Co’s depot in Par harbour. This ship would be my great-grandfather’s last command. Photograph copyright of the Lyndon Allen Collection.
In June 1917, the ‘Little Mystery’ was sunk by gunfire off the Isle of Wight. Captain Frank Larcombe lost the ‘Conoid’ off the French coast. Another captain from Charlestown, Alphonso Hurley, lost the ‘Endymion,’ tragically losing not just his own life, but also the lives of his crew; there were no survivors. A month later, Captain Bishop lost the ‘Carrie Harvey,’ which was also sunk by gunfire off Ushant on the French Channel coast. During the same period, the ‘Ocean Swell,’ captained by Captain Charlie Deacon, was lost as well. Shortly after, the ‘Martha Edmunds’ was torpedoed 125 miles off the Lizard. The explosion produced by the sinking vessel blew the contents of her cabin into the water, but Captain George Beynon managed to save four flags before the crew escaped.
In the middle of 1917, the ‘Little Gem’ vanished while reportedly on a transatlantic journey from Portugal to Newfoundland. The commander of a submarine later claimed responsibility for sinking her in the English Channel. Finally, in January 1918, the ‘Bessie Stephens,’ under the command of Charles Deacon, was sunk while part of a convoy off Padstow, bound for Cardiff. Both George Beynon and Charles Deacon had survived the loss of two of their ships due to submarine attacks.
In thirteen months, eleven vessels were lost. These were losses from which the fleet owners, Stephens of Fowey, never truly recovered. However, the company survived in a smaller capacity for another twenty years. There was no shortage of men willing to take these ships and their replacements to sea. Each of the three senior masters of the fleet, who served for nearly twenty years, lost two vessels to the enemy during the war, yet they all returned to sea.
Letters from loved ones at home were well received, even in the 1920s, Falmouth wasn’t easy to get home from. The crew often didn’t return home unless they were in the home port—Photograph copyright of the Lyndon Allen Collection.
Captain George Beynon was in command of the barquentine ‘McBain’ and the topsail schooner ‘Martha Edmunds’ during their losses. Captain Bishop survived the loss of the ‘Harriet Williams’ and the ‘Carrie Harvey’. Captain Charles Deacon lost the barquentines ‘Ocean Swell’ and then the ‘Bessie Stephens’ to the enemy, and he was in command of the famous ‘Waterwitch’ when the war finally came to an end.
My great-grandfather’s account of the loss of the ‘Martha Edmunds’ to a German U-boat is here in two parts. Firstly, his account he relayed to Edward Stephens the ship’s owner. Secondly, I’ve reproduced George’s interview with the Cornish Guardian. They both make interesting reading.
Part 1, report back to Edward Stephens, fleet owner at Fowey.
“We sailed from Charlestown Bay at 9 pm Tuesday for Seville with a cargo of silver sand. Friday morning, some 120 miles from The Lizard, fresh, fair wind, spinnaker set, doing about eight knots. Mate called captain at 05.30 am, submarine shelling steam ship astern. Captain up on deck, and after looking at the chart, he found the submarine just finished with the steamship sent a shot in his direction. Not hurrying to round to, he sent a second, which smashed the boat on the rail and damaged the rigging. Lowering square sail and spinnaker, he hauled his wind. The submarine came up on the port side, awfully close to the other six men in the boat caught ready to get in, standing outside the bulwark. ‘Where bound?’ called the captain of the submarine.
‘Seville,’ replied Capt. Beynon.
‘What cargo?’
‘Silver sand,’ answered Captain Beynon.
He moved his hand quickly as if to say, ‘Get into the boat’ but the submarine fired immediately. Captain Beynon thought to get her into Brest, but the submarine fired again, and the ‘Martha Edmunds’ went down headfirst.”
Part 2, George’s account of the sinking of the ‘Martha Edmunds’ by U-38 to the Cornish Guardian newspaper.
The topsail schooner ‘Martha Edmunds’. Photograph copyright of the Lyndon Allen Collection.
As one who has ‘gone down to the sea in ships’ for nearly his whole life, George Beynon of Charlestown has had some exciting moments, but they all pale into insignificance beside the experience he had last Friday morning when a German submarine marked out his ship for destruction, and in a few minutes sent her to the bottom.
Capt. Beynon’s ship is the ‘Martha Edmunds,’ a three-masted schooner of 353 tonnes register and both skipper and vessel are known in all the ports along the coasts of England, Scotland, and Wales.
The ‘Martha Edmunds’ was on her way from Rouen (France) with a cargo of silver sand for glass-making, to Seville in the south of Spain when she ran afoul of the submarine. The news of the disaster to the ship when received at Charlestown on Saturday caused something of a sensation mingled with feelings of regret at the loss of a fine schooner and the nearness to danger of a genial and highly esteemed sea captain.
Later the reassuring news that Capt. Beynon was coming home came to hand, and shortly after his arrival on Tuesday morning he related his experiences to the ‘Guardian’.
German Commander’s Perfect English
“I was on my way from Rouen to Spain,” he said, “and last Monday night being off Charlestown, I came into the bay and dropped anchor. I came ashore for an extra stock of things and continued the voyage the next night. Down to the Lizard, I set my course for Finisterre and sailed on with no unusual incidents until we got about 120 miles west of Ushant, an island off the west coast of France. At about 5.20 on Friday morning, the cook came down to me in my cabin and said that the Germans were firing at somebody. I went on deck, and in a few minutes, a submarine came alongside us and the commander spoke to me and asked where I was bound and what my cargo was. He spoke perfect English and if he was not an Englishman, I am a Dutchman, declared Capt. Beynon.”
Fired Three Torpedoes
The questions of the German being answered, the submarine drew off about 20 yards and turned her gun on the ‘Martha Edmunds’. “It was a very large submarine,” said the captain. “I saw about twenty men on the deck and five men were at the gun, the shells being as much as one man could lift. From 20 yards range they fired a torpedo at us. It missed and then they fired another and that also went wide. At this time, the schooner with full sails was speeding on but after the second shot, I decided to haul her up but not before the third shot crashed into her. They gave us no warning and fired while we were on board. We got the one boat that was left un-smashed, crammed provisions and water into her, and got away. The submarine went off to torpedo other ships: I saw no less than five boats sunk, and I dare say she accounted for a dozen that day.”
The steamer that picked up the crew of the ‘Martha Edmunds’. Photograph copyright of the Lyndon Allen Collection.
The crew altogether numbered seven. “We were in our boat for seven hours,” said the captain, “and then we were picked up by a Norwegian steamer and taken into Swansea. We were 120 miles from the nearest land when we were torpedoed, and 160 miles from Swansea where we arrived on Saturday.”
Capt. Beynon lost everything except his sextant and oilskins and of course, the clothes he was wearing at the time. The crew were more fortunate and recovered some of their personal belongings.
Asked how he felt when he realised the proximity of the submarines, the skipper said, “All who sailed this way knew what might be expected,” but it left him unmoved as evidenced by his remark, “It’s no use looking for trouble.”
The crew, he said, showed commendable courage as also did the lad Wilkinson. Capt. Beynon, who for some years has been making trips to Newfoundland is now having an unforced rest at home but he has no fears of going again and doubtless will soon be once more on the high seas.
As a child growing up, I knew the lad Wilkinson in this story as an old man, having taught me and a few others to fish when we were kids, but he never, ever, mentioned this story to me.
These magnificent old ladies of the sea continued for many more years until, in the end, they were pushed aside by the modern steamships between the war years.
The crew of the ‘Martha Edmunds’ and my great grandfather, front, centre, seated. George sent home postcards to his son George Jr. Hence, from Da to George. Photograph copyright of the Lyndon Allen Collection.
The new vessels were not dependent on the wind and could sail in most weather conditions. They also carried more cargo in the hold; another factor was that there wasn’t the need for such a large crew. No more can we hear the creak of the rigging and the wind tightening the sails. These old ships must have been a sight to behold when they were heeled over in a stiff breeze. It’s a memory and a way of life that is lost, one, that I’m trying to record and preserve for future generations to learn from. Stories like these, are our glimpse into the not-too-distant past, to a time of the wooden ships and the iron men.
Lyndon Allen
Lyndon Allen grew up in Charlestown, St Austell. He comes from two longstanding historical families in Charlestown, who have been an integral part of village life for over 230 years, particularly in its maritime heritage. Lyndon attended both Charlestown and Penrice schools before leaving in 1981. He pursued a career in the commercial fishing industry, working from the port of Charlestown for thirty-six years, in line with his family’s strong connection to the sea. He retired from the fishing industry in 2019.
Currently, Lyndon operates the award-winning Charlestown Walking Tours, a business he established after the lockdown. He is also an author, a passionate historian, and manages eleven Facebook historygroups, including the popular St Austell History Group. Lyndon has authored four comprehensive history books: two on Charlestown’s history, one on St Austell’s history, and a maritime history book about the St Austell and Mevagissey Bays.
His books are available for purchase on his website at www.charlestowntours.co.uk
