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The Wreck of the Steamship Pacific
is now available for pre-order!

A QUICK GLANCE:

When the sidewheel steamship Pacific left the Vancouver B.C. docks on November 4th, 1875 headed for San Francisco, CA, she was already in trouble. Listing heavily to starboard as soon as she set sail, she was overloaded; in her cabins and lining her decks were many more people than she was certified to carry—including miners, financiers, laborers, and an unknown number of unticketed children. In addition, it was likely that her 600 tons of cargo—which included coal, oats, animal hides, and cranberries—was poorly loaded and had shifted, making her list even worse.

Then the captain, Jefferson Davis Howell, made a tragic mistake: Seeking to correct the list, he filled the port lifeboats with water in an attempt to balance the vessel by tipping the ship in the other direction. It didn’t work. In fact, it caused the ship to list too far in the opposite direction; now the ship was listing to port. Worse yet, the desperate move meant that most of the lifeboats were out of commission; if they were needed, which in fact turned out to be the case, they would be unavailable.

At this point, the Pacific had barely left the docks. She was heading into worsening weather, still listing. Things were not going well. The old ship lurched out of the Strait of Juan de Fuca and wallowed into the open ocean, heading south. She would never make it to her next port of call.

There was another problem looming, one for which captain Howell could not prepare.

As the Pacific headed south toward San Francisco, the 1,100-ton sailing ship, Orpheus, under the command of captain Charles A. Sawyer, was heading north, having departed from San Francisco a few days before. Due to mistakes made by Sawyer’s crew, the two vessels would meet in the stormy darkness on the 4th of November, only hours after Pacific left the docks. The two vessels struck one another at about 9:30 p.m., neither having seen the other in the rain-swept darkness until it was too late to avoid a collision. The sailing ship, slightly smaller but somewhat heavier than the steamer, would—contravening long-held maritime tradition that demanded that a ship must aid any other vessel in distress—sail away after the collision, only minimally damaged. The Pacific, though, was mortally wounded; she would sink within minutes and of the perhaps 300 or more souls aboard, only two would survive.

The sad fact is that this catastrophe was completely avoidable. In fact, few such disasters are inevitable. We tend to think of maritime accidents as just that, mishaps that occurred without warning and for no reason. But that’s not how the sea works. It rarely simply rears up and kills you. It’s deadly, of course, but people who are prepared, people who understand the risks and prepare for them, people who don’t take shortcuts—those people almost always survive what the sea throws at them. A prepared, experienced sailor in a well-found small boat can face angry, mountainous seas and come out more or less unscathed—battered, perhaps, but alive; a poorly maintained boat of whatever size in the hands of an inexperienced, lazy, or unprepared sailor, though, will almost certainly disappear beneath the sea when conditions turn perilous.

In the case of the steamship Pacific, some 300 people died in the frigid ocean 40 miles off of the Washington coast not because of any “act of God,” but because of people who made poor decisions, the result of greed, graft, laziness, and plain stupidity.

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