The Wreck of the Sultana

The Sultana, docked at Helena Arkansas, the day before the explosion

 

On April 23, 1865, only a few weeks after Confederate General Robert E. Lee surrender his troops to General Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox Court House in Virginia, the steamship Sultana docked in Vicksburg. The Sultana was a 260-foot-long wooden steamboat—about two-thirds of the length of a football field and half as wide.* Built in 1863, it was intended to carry cotton, but instead transported passengers and freight on the Mississippi between St. Louis and New Orleans, which the Union had captured in May, 1862.

The average life of wooden steamboat was only four to five years. The Mississippi River was treacherous and the ships were often badly maintained.  The Sultana's life span was even shorter.

The ship's captain, J. Cass Mason, stopped in Vicksburg because it had developed a leak in one of its steam boilers. The mechanic who examined the boiler told Mason he needed to cut out and replace the leaking seam—a repair that would take several days.

While in port, Mason received a tempting offer: a lucrative contract to carry former Union prisoners-of-war north to Cairo, Illinois, where they would be transferred to trains. The army’s quartermaster in Vicksburg guaranteed him at least 1000 men, at a rate of $2.75/man and $8.00/officer, if Mason would give him a kickback. Times were tough in the steamboat trade, due to the war, and the contract was big money at the time.  Even though boiler explosions were one of the most common causes of steamboat accidents, Mason decided to patch the leaky boiler instead of waiting for the time-consuming repair he needed. Mistake number one.

Mistake number two: Union Army Captain George Williams, the officer in charge of returning the former POWs to their homes, decided to send all the former prisoners then at Vicksburg north on the Sultana rather than dividing them between several ships. The Sultana was designed to hold 376 passengers. Williams loaded more than 1900 union troops and 22 guards on the ship, despite concerns expressed by some of his fellow officers. In addition to the soldiers, the ship carried 70 paying passengers and 85 crew members for a total of 2,128 passengers.

The  ship was overloaded and top-heavy. The extra weight and an unusually fast river current caused by the spring thaw put increased pressure on the patched boiler. Early on the morning of April 27, soon after leaving Memphis, the patched boiler exploded, setting off two more.  The explosion blew out the center of the ship and setting the rest on fire. Many of the passengers were killed immediately. Others, in poor condition after their time in Confederate prison camps, drowned as they tried to swim to shore in the icy, fast-moving river.. Two hundred died later from their burns.  Bodies drifting downriver before they finally came to shore weeks after the explosion,

The wreck of the Sultana was the deadliest maritime disaster in U.S. History, with a conservative estimated death toll of more than 1100. (Some estimates are as high as 1800.) More soldiers died in the wreck than perished in most of the war’s battles.

The sinking of the Sultana never got the attention it deserved, either at the time or in the years since. News of the wreck was overshadowed by the death of Lincoln’s assassin, John Wilkes Booth, Johnson’s surrender to Sherman in North Carolina, and the fact that Jefferson Davis was on the run.

*One of these days I'm going to find a different size comparison.  All suggestions welcome.

**To put this in context, official estimates of the death toll on the Titanic come in 1571 or 1503, depending on whether you are looking at the American report or its British counterpart.

Word with a Past: Quisling

Vidkun Quisling standing on a balcony with members of the Norwegian Nazi party 1935

In her April 9 report on the German invasion of Norway, Sigrid Schultz reported that Major Vidkun Quisling, the Norwegian Nazi leader, had taken power as premier and foreign minister only hours after Oslo surrendered. In a radio proclamation that evening, he “called upon the people to cease resistance to the German army and avoid ‘criminal destruction of property’ and demanded that the Norwegian army obey his ‘national government.’ Quisling said he had taken over to ‘protect Norway’.”

Her use of quotation marks in reporting Quisling’s power grab proved to be prescient. The King Haakon refused to accept a Quisling government. In fact, so few Norwegians supported Quisling that the Germans immediately realized that keeping him in power as their proxy was fanning the flames of Norwegian resistance. On April 15, he was forced to resign in favor of German Reichskomissar, Josef Terboven He continued to serve as a cabinet minister in the occupation government, and was appointed “Minister President” on February 1, 1942. It was a relatively meaningless title since the real power remained in the hands of Terboven.

He was arrested after the liberation of Norway in May 1945, tried for treason, and executed.

Quisling entered English as a synonym for traitor almost immediately.

The Oxford English dictionary reports first use of the term as a general noun rather than a proper name only days after the Nazis invaded Norway. On April 15, the Times of London reported comments in the Swedish press urging “there should be unremitting vigilance also against possible ‘Quislings’ inside the country.” A year later, in a speech at St. James Palace, Winston Churchill described the term as “a new word which will carry the scorn of mankind down the centuries.”

Quisling: A person cooperating with an occupying enemy force; a collaborator; a traitor. Also used as an adjective for someone who does the same., for example”quisling newspapers”

 

Queen Magrethe I, Pt. 2

One of my favorite things about writing this blog is the conversations I have with my readers about the subjects of my posts, or in fact about history in general.

This morning I got a sidebar to the life of Queen Margrethe I from textile maven Julie Holyoke, who is my cousin by marriage and by choice. I thought it was absolutely fascinating. And, as you know, when I find a fascinating historical tidbit, I like to share.*

As I learned from Kelcey Wilson-Lee’s Daughters of Chivalry, many of our historical sources for the lives of medieval royal women include descriptions of real-life “princess dresses.” But few of those gown survive. A major exception is a gold brocade gown traditionally believed to have belonged to Queen Margrethe I of Norway, Denmark and Sweden(1353-1412) .

The gown was long believed to be the gown Margrethe wore when she married King Haakon VI of Norway in 1363. It’s a romantic story for a gorgeous gown, but modern science has debunked it. Carbon-dating places the dress between 1400 and 1439. Some scholars suggest that it may have belonged to Phillipa of England (1394-1430), who was married by proxy to Margrethe’s adopted nephew and heir when she was eleven.**

Regardless of which Scandinavian queen wore the gown, it is fabulous. Made of gold brocade with a pomegranate pattern on a red silk background, it may well have cost more than Margrethe’s crown.

*Here’s the link to article that sent me down the rabbit hole: https://www.medieval.eu/royal-golden-dress-from-ca-1400-returns-to-denmark/ Julie tells me that a friend of hers created the museum reconstruction. Julie herself reconstucted materials for another of Margrethe’s gowns, now on permanent display in Copenhagen.

**Reminding you once again, that medieval princesses did not have much romance in their lives.