Forgotten History: The Sultana Disaster

As July 4th approaches and we take the day to remember our declaration of independence from the motherland, I thought it might be worthwhile to mention a generally forgotten bit of History.

The Sultana Disaster, as it was known, occurred on April 27, 1865 and was the greatest loss of life in an American maritime disaster. An estimated 1700-1800 men, mostly Union soldiers returning home after the war were killed. This was not, however, the greatest loss of life in a maritime disaster. I'm going to mention a few other tragedies and then return to the Sultana.

The worst maritime disaster in world history was the sinking, by the Russians, of the German MV Wilhelm Gustloff, on January 30, 1945 with the loss of an estimated 9,000 lives.

Another massive maritime tragedy of WWII was the sinking of the German transport Goya by the Russians in 1945. An estimated 7,000-8,000 German troops and civilians were killed.

Finally we have the loss of the Junyo Maru, a Japanese hell ship, which was sunk by the British sub HMS Tradewind on September 18, 1944 and resulted in the deaths of over 5,000 men including American, Australian, Dutch and British POW's.

Back to the Sultana. She was a paddlewheel steamboat built in 1863. Leading up to, and at the time of the disaster, the Sultana was under the command of J.C. Mason of St. Louis. A bit of background, " At Vicksburg, Mississippi, the steamship stopped for a series of hasty repairs to the boilers and to take on more passengers. Rather than have a bad boiler replaced, a small patch weld job was done to reinforce a leaking area. A section of bulged boiler plate was removed, and a patch of less thickness than the parent plate was riveted in its place. This repair only took about a day, whereas to replace the boiler completely would have taken about three days. Captain Mason was itching to be on his way and had the patch job done because it was faster. During the Sultana's time in port, men tried to muscle, bribe, and threaten their way on board, until the ship was bursting at the seams with soldiers. More than two thousand men crowded aboard." This was more than six times the rated capacity of the ship. Additionally, high water caused greater than usual currents which required the use of more power to paddle against. Can you say "recipe for disaster?"

In an unbelievably cruel twist of fate, many of the Sultana passengers were Union soldiers who had just been released from the notorious Confederate POW/Death Camp. [Aside: Andersonville was also known as Camp Sumpter. Of roughly 45,000 Union prisoners interred there 12,913 died of starvation and disease. Keep in mind that 45,000 prisoners were all kept in a 26 acre compound without modern sewage or running water. The asswipe camp commandant Captain Henry Wirz was justly convicted of war crimes and hanged.]

Andersonville Survivor

From the article: The Story of the Sultana Disaster: The soldiers, one supposes, were dozing. Two or three days more and they would be home again. Then they could sleep and eat and rest, and the terrible prison camp experiences could begin to fade into their memories. The War was over... just a few more hours on this crowded steamboat, and they would be home.Midnight passed, and the Sultana kept on going. By two in the morning, she was just a few miles north of Memphis. She was making progress, but progress was slow; the current was powerful, the boilers were tired, the load was much greater than usual. The Sultana swung 'round a bend and began to labor her way past a cluster of islands known as the "Hen and Chickens."

Then it happened. The leaky boilers gave up. They really gave up! They quit holding the heavy pressure of steam and suddenly exploded with a tremendous crash that was heard all the way back to Memphis. The explosion sent an orange-colored flame boiling up into the black sky. A sudden stabbing pillar of fire that lit up the black, swirling river and was visible for miles. Back at Memphis, the watch on U.S.S. Grosbeak, a river gunboat saw the light and heard the noise. The skipper was called, and he had them cast off the mooring lines and the Grosbeak went pounding up the river. Other steamers on the Memphis waterfront did likewise, hurrying against the strong current to give any help they could give.

It was a loosing race. The Sultana had been half blown apart by the terrific force of the explosion. Hundreds of sleeping soldiers were blown bodily into the river... snugly asleep one moment, hurling through the air into the cold black water the next. With them went great chunks of twisted machinery, a shower of red-hot coals that hissed and spurted as they hit the river, and great fragments of wood, cabin furniture, railings, deck beams, half of the steamboat had simply disintegrated. One man was said to have been thrown more than two hundred feet.

By some freak, he was not seriously hurt and landed in the river, floundered a few yards to a floating tree, clung to it and was picked up by a boat of the Grosbeak, miles downstream. Three other men were blown clear of the ship, a big piece of the afterdeck under them. Deck and men made a square landing seventy five feet from the wrecked vessel; dazed and still no more than half awake, the men clung to the wreckage until it had floated down to Memphis where rescue boats saved them.

Few of the returning prisoners fared that well. The water was icy-cold, many of them could not swim, and there was little wreckage to cling to. Men died by the hundreds in the water near the wreck. They had been half-starved for months and were in no physical shape to swim even if they had known how.

One man recalled afterward; "When I got about three hundred yards away from the boat clinging to a heavy plank, the whole heavens seemed to be lighted up by the conflagration. Hundreds of my comrades were fastened down by the timbers of the decks and had to burn while the water seemed to be one solid mass of human beings struggling with the waves."

For fire followed the explosion. The blast scattered hot coals from the furnaces all over the midships section of the steamer, and in moments the disabled vessel was on fire. The upper works were all collapsed, there was a huge, gaping hole in the middle of the hurricane deck and the flames were taking hold everywhere. To stay aboard could be worse than to be in the river, even if a man was too weak to swim. So men who had not been knocked into the water went there of their own accord, willing to face anything rather than the spreading flames. One man who clung to the wrecked upper deck wrote afterward: "On looking down and out into the river, I would see men jumping from all parts of the boat into the water until it seemed black with men, their heads bobbing up and down like corks, and then disappearing beneath the turbulent waters, never to appear again."

The Sultana, of course, was totally out of control by now and was drifting helplessly downstream. The deck supporting the main rank of passenger cabins where the officers were housed, collapsed at one end, forming a horrible steep ramp down which into the hottest fire, slid screaming men and a tangle of wreckage. The huge twin smokestacks, hallmark of every Mississippi packet boat, tottered uncertainly and then came crashing down, pinning men under them and holding them for the flames. The superstructure was falling in and the whole midships section was nothing better than a floating bed of coals. Survivors clung desperately to the bow and stern sections, which the fire had not yet reached and among them panic born, there started the cry: "The boat's sinking!" Many voices took up the cry as if it were a death chant and men who were as yet unhurt began to throw themselves into the water, thrashing about frantically for some bit of wreckage that might help them stay afloat.

Somewhere aboard the Sultana was a ten foot alligator in a stout wooden cage... a man-eater... according to soldier gossip. One soldier bayoneted the reptile, rolled the wooden crate over the side, jumped in after it, and hung onto it until a passing boat rescued him.

Hundreds of horribly burned and scalded men remained aboard the drafting hulk. Some had the strength and presence of mind to wrench doors or window blinds from their hinged, toss them overboard and jump in after them. Others simply huddled in the diminishing spaces that the flames had not yet reached and shouted, prayed or screamed helplessly for aid. Someone had gotten the steamer's lifeboats into the water and desperate, floating men tried to struggle aboard.So far the flames had not reached the bow, and there most of the survivors were jammed. Then the wind shifted, or perhaps the drafting boat swung around and took it from another direction,and the flames leaped forward.

Most of the men preferred drowning to being burned alive, and leaped into the water. One man remembered, "The men who were afraid to take to the water could be seen clinging to the sides of the bow of the boat until they were singed off like flies."

As we enjoy our 4th of July holiday, let's take a minute to remember those who gave their lives, not just in combat, but the friendly fire and accidental casualties as well, so that we may continue to enjoy our freedom. (though we are getting pretty darn close to july 4th being renamed dependence on the government day--let's put a stop to that, shall we)