#coffin ship

[ltwilliammowett]

Door 23 took us to the evergreen island – to Ireland, but at a time when there were major problems. And here comes the Jeanie Johnston

More about her:

The original was built in 1847 in Quebec, Canada, as a cargo ship and later acquired by merchants from Tralee (County Kerry). Between 1848 and 1855, she made 16 crossings across the Atlantic, bringing around 2,500 emigrants safely to North America. Unlike many other so-called ‘coffin ships’, on which disease and death were rife, not a single passenger or crew member died on the Jeanie Johnston during any of her voyages. This is attributed to the responsible captain, James Attridge, and the presence of a qualified doctor on board. The ship sank in 1858 on her way to Quebec when she was loaded with timber and took on water. The entire crew survived this accident as well.

Construction of the replica began in Tralee in the late 1990s and was completed in 2002. Today, it is moored at Custom House Quay in Dublin, directly opposite the EPIC Emigration Museum, and is open to visitors.

[fathersonholygore]

To the Roots of Personal (& National) Trauma in FREWAKA

Frewaka (2025)Directed & Written by Aislinn ClarkeStarring Clare Monnelly, Bríd Ní Neachtain, & Aleksandra Bystrzhitskaya. ★★★★ (out of ★★★★★) DISCLAIMER:The following essay containsSPOILERS!Turn back, lest ye’re spoilt. Aislinn Clarke’s Frewaka brings a new dose of haunting folk horror combined with Irish Gothic. It tells the tale of Shoo (Clare Monnelly), a care worker who recently lost her…

To the Roots of Personal (& National) Trauma in FREWAKA

[millproject]

P92; Irish immigrants & coffin ships

[oldirishmaritimephotos]

Below decks on a coffin ship, 1851. London Illustrated News.

[tumblingthroughireland]

Day 32 in Wexford

Went to get a sandwich before the trip and they told me they weren't open for another 10 minutes... I must've looked like the most sad, pathetic and sick little thing because after I croaked out "but my bus leaves by then" they opened the kitchen and made me a breakfast sandwich. It was warm and delicious and it made my sick tummy happy.

Got on the bus to Wexford and passed out for about 2 hours. By the time I woke up we were at the famine ship Dunbrody. We walked through a little exhibit and it was okay but going onto the replica ship was so cool! We got to see the atrocious living arrangements and the terrible way people had to live (and 50% of the time where they died) over the course of 6-8 weeks. I haven't even been in Ireland that long. I would have gone stir crazy in a room of malnourished, unhealthy and un-bathed people for that long. And the steerage passengers only got to go from the pitch dark living quarters to the deck for 30 minutes a day. It was just so sad. But this was absolutely the most emotional and interesting part of our day field trip. There were 2 really talented actresses who were dressed respectively as a member or steerage and a member of first class. I can't believe how convincing they were and how they improvised. If I cannot get a legit acting gig, I now know a new place to look. 

We go back on the bus and I stayed awake on the drive to the JFK homestead. This is the part of the day where I lost my energy and just felt so so sick. I got meet one of his relatives and see where he visited his Irish family and it was cool. I just was too sick to function. Sat down like an elderly person the whole time. 

When we got back on the bus this time I passed out. Woke up at the 1798 Rebellion Museum. Now, this place looked small and like it would be a quick tour...nope. We had an enthusiastic guide and a very large museum to get through. Still felt sick and sat whenever a chair crossed my line of sight. I was alive for like a few minutes because there were costumes and I put on a red coat and held a gun while classmates and the professor dressed as members of the Irish Rebels or fellow red coats. In on of the photos, my professor pretended to stab me with a pike. I am so excited to see these pictures later haha. 

But I ran to that little cafe after the tour because we had been up since 8 and it was like 3 and no one had eaten. Everyone was being all cute and getting scones and tea...I asked for the giant baked potato with cheese and bacon. I am such a lady. When our young guide said she didnt want the rest of her tea I poured it into my water glass and stirred it with the back end of my fork. Also got some apple pie. I may have been a little ratchet but I was full and happy.

Slept the remaining 2.5 hours on the bus home. Then, on a whim I booked my trip to Germany with some friends for the following weekend. I also printed out my tickets for Scotland tomorrow...I have to get up at 4am and I wanna cry. I hate the airport and I really hate mornings.

Sad that I may not be able to talk to my boyfriend for a few days. We're staying with a friend rather than in a hostel so I don't know if we can talk. And that makes me feel so sad. But he has fun plans and I have fun plans and I will get to talk to him for sure over Skype Sunday. I guess that I haven't really gone a day with out even just a good morning/goodnight since we started dating last March. That's really weird. But I will be thinking about him and hopefully I will be recovering from my lame cold. My goal is a cough-free Skype. Fingers crossed.

[notesandboltsrex-blog]

151: Coffin Ships

In episode 151, of Notes and Bolts, we hang out with Miranda and Brat, of Coffin Ships, and talk about how to split the difference between creating as a band and balancing their personal lives, while also working on opening a new venue and storefront in Pilsen!

Download from itunes by clicking here.

[colm-furlong]

The Coffin Ship- Chapter One

The little boy clutched his teddy tight and took his mom’s hand as the crowd began getting restless.

“Mommy I’m scared” he said in his little voice.

“It will be fine baby... don’t worry” his mother told him.

The boy was Joseph Butler. He was six years old and had a closely cut crop of blond hair. He was about four foot and was quite a small build, wearing a white shirt with brown pants and a small brown hand knit jumper. He was casting nervous glances at his mother and brother. His brother smiled encouragingly back.

The boy’s brother was Patrick Butler. He was twelve years old and since their father had passed away, the man of the family, the main breadwinner. He was around five foot three and also had closely cut blond hair, wearing a white shirt, black pants and a green hand knit jumper which had a few patches on it.

Joseph heard a shrill whistle and a loud voice yelling, but the yells were drowned out by the agitated crowd who were now pressing forward. They were all waiting to board a ship, the ship that would take them to America and the promise of a better life. The boy’s mother had saved their money to buy the tickets.

“It’s our turn now Joe” she said to Joseph. “Patrick you take the bags”.

 Patrick went up the ramp and deposited the bags on deck. But Joe was stopped at the bottom of the plank, frozen in fear. Patrick made his way to the end of the plank and took Joe’s other hand. The noise level from the crowd grew, people pushing and shoving, tired and impatient. The officers tried to get them under control but they were failing. Patrick picked Joe up and carried him to the deck, the younger boy was shaking in his arms. He set him down and looked him in the eyes, soothing him. He looked back down the ramp at his mother.

She put one foot on the ramp, and then all hell broke loose. The crowd got out of control, pushing their mother so that she nearly fell. She took her foot off the plank to steady herself, and then, the officers withdrew the plank!

“NOOOOOO!!!!!” Patrick yelled “MOM...HEY YOU...LET MY MOM ON”

“Sorry son, can’t” the officer said. “My orders are to cast off... that means the plank doesn’t go back out”.

Patrick looked from the man to his mother and back again. Then he punched the officer in the face.

“LET HER ON”.

The man wiped the blood from his nose, and pushed Patrick over.

“NO YOU LITTLE BRAT I WON’T”.

Patrick felt a tugging on his shirt. It was Joe.

“Patrick...Where is mommy... and why are you and the big man yelling”? he asked, his eyes welling up with tears.

“Mommy can’t come with us Joe...I’m Sorry.”

The boy burst into tears, crying his little heart out.

“MOMMY...MOMMY...Where ARE YOU?” he screamed.

Patrick pulled him across to the gap where the plank had been and pointed out their mother.

“LOOK AFTER HIM PATRICK...I LOVE YOU BOTH...I’LL FOLLOW YOU AS SOON AS I CAN...”

The officers started firing shots into the crowd as the boat pulled away. Patrick’s heart stopped as his mother was hit in the chest. There was a look of surprise on her face for a moment as the tell-tale red stain spread over her clothes... then she keeled over and fell forward into the water. People began throwing themselves at the boat trying to get on as it moved away, most fell... one or two got on...but none of this registered with Patrick who burst into tears himself and huddled with his brother...mourning the loss of their mother.

[chailatteplease]

Medallion 25mm in diameter (1875) - Samuel Plimsoll.

Samuel Plimsoll (1824 – 1898) was a British politician and social reformer, now best remembered for having devised the Plimsoll line (the line painted on a ship's hull indicating where the waterline should be at or below, reflecting the legal limit to which a ship may be loaded).

Plimsoll became destitute after failing to become a coal merchant, and then learned to sympathize with the struggles of the poor, so when his good fortune returned, he devoted his time to improving their condition.

His efforts were directed especially against what were known as "coffin ships": unseaworthy and overloaded vessels, often heavily insured, in which unscrupulous owners risked the lives of their crews.