South Arklow lightvessel c.1906. The Relief was sold in 1867
(This article originally appeared in Lamp 142, Autumn 2024)
Despite having boasted the world’s second ever lightship in 1736, it was not until the mid-1820s that Ireland invested in her first purpose-built lightvessel when, like the buses, three came along at once. All were wooden ships, built by W. Roberts of Milford Haven and they were named the Seagull (1824), the Star (1825) and the Relief (1826). They were destined for the existing station on the Kish Bank and the two new stations on Arklow Bank and the Coningbeg Rock.
The northern and western coasts of Ireland are rocky, while the eastern and southern shores are sandy, hence the need for floating lights (later light vessels) in these latter two quadrants. Many a ship had foundered on the treacherous sandbanks between Belfast and Cork. The ship, which had been positioned on the southern end of the Arklow Bank, now drifted a mile inside the very danger she was supposed to warn other vessels about. There was still one length of chain hanging from the bow and this was dragging her back towards the bank. The captain decided there was no other option but to cut the chain and let the vessel roam free.
The Relief spent eleven years in Dublin Bay on the Kish and then four years as a spare vessel. By Friday, 20 November 1846, she was on the Arklow Bank. Well, for a few hours of it anyway. A south to southwest gale sprang up and quickly became a gale to hurricane-force storm with mountainous seas. At 7am, the seas had turned southeasterly with a flood tide running and around 8.30am, the mooring chain broke. The Relief was adrift.
Despite having boasted the world’s second ever lightship in 1736, it was not until the mid-1820s that Ireland invested in her first purpose-built lightvessel when, like the buses, three came along at once. All were wooden ships, built by W. Roberts of Milford Haven and they were named the Seagull (1824), the Star (1825) and the Relief (1826). They were destined for the existing station on the Kish Bank and the two new stations on Arklow Bank and the Coningbeg Rock.
The northern and western coasts of Ireland are rocky, while the eastern and southern shores are sandy, hence the need for floating lights (later light vessels) in these latter two quadrants. Many a ship had foundered on the treacherous sandbanks between Belfast and Cork. The ship, which had been positioned on the southern end of the Arklow Bank, now drifted a mile inside the very danger she was supposed to warn other vessels about. There was still one length of chain hanging from the bow and this was dragging her back towards the bank. The captain decided there was no other option but to cut the chain and let the vessel roam free.
The Relief spent eleven years in Dublin Bay on the Kish and then four years as a spare vessel. By Friday, 20 November 1846, she was on the Arklow Bank. Well, for a few hours of it anyway. A south to southwest gale sprang up and quickly became a gale to hurricane-force storm with mountainous seas. At 7am, the seas had turned southeasterly with a flood tide running and around 8.30am, the mooring chain broke. The Relief was adrift.
William Braddon's home Maryville in Courtown
The captain was a Cornishman named William Braddon.
Born around 1810, he had been the master of a merchant vessel, the Boykett,
trading between Dublin and Bordeaux before throwing in his lot with the Ballast
Board and their three floating lights in 1842. Seemingly, he joined as a mate,
rather than a captain, though there was precious little difference between the
two. On every vessel, there was a master and a crew of four, who served for
four weeks before being relieved by a mate and another crew of four. Therefore,
the mate was the de facto captain while onboard. In fact, when William
finally got promoted to captain in 1857, there was no need for him to go and
obtain his captain’s certificate.
It is a known fact that light vessels were engineless and, when loosed from their cable, were at the mercy of the seas. Well, not quite. The early floating lights, in Ireland anyway, packed a lot of sail too and William set about extricating himself from his precarious position and got the vessel moving with the main staysail and mizzen, followed by a jib set as a staysail. The latter soon went to pieces and the mizzen boom broke too but they were able to move northwards, still inside the bank. Eventually, they reached the Wicklow Swash, a small gap between the Arklow Bank and the India Bank to the north. The men took their chance and sailed through the gap and out into the Irish Sea.
Bending the topsail and setting it for a square foresail (I hope somebody else understands all this because I certainly don’t), William and the lads headed northeast throughout Friday night and by dawn on the Saturday morning, they were just south of the Calf of Man. The wind had moderated to westward, so they set new sails and aimed for Holyhead. Several hours later, they had made very little headway, so decided to run the vessel into Douglas. By Sunday morning, they were off Port Lynas in Anglesea!
With the weather remaining dirty and the small crew very tired, William decided to run for Liverpool, taking advantage of the shelter of the North Wales coast. Hopes were raised with the appearance of the paddle-steamer, Dundalk, whose offer of help was gratefully accepted. Unfortunately, both seven-inch hawsers broke and the Dundalk sailed on to Liverpool.
By 14.30, the Relief reached either the Bar or the North West light vessel and a pilot came aboard. When they reached the Rock lighthouse near the mouth of the Mersey, a tugboat arrived, summoned by the Dundalk, and the Relief was brought into the Sloyne. William concluded his report to the Superintendent of Lightships, apologising for the badness of his scrawled report, but his hands were stiff and sore.
It is a known fact that light vessels were engineless and, when loosed from their cable, were at the mercy of the seas. Well, not quite. The early floating lights, in Ireland anyway, packed a lot of sail too and William set about extricating himself from his precarious position and got the vessel moving with the main staysail and mizzen, followed by a jib set as a staysail. The latter soon went to pieces and the mizzen boom broke too but they were able to move northwards, still inside the bank. Eventually, they reached the Wicklow Swash, a small gap between the Arklow Bank and the India Bank to the north. The men took their chance and sailed through the gap and out into the Irish Sea.
Bending the topsail and setting it for a square foresail (I hope somebody else understands all this because I certainly don’t), William and the lads headed northeast throughout Friday night and by dawn on the Saturday morning, they were just south of the Calf of Man. The wind had moderated to westward, so they set new sails and aimed for Holyhead. Several hours later, they had made very little headway, so decided to run the vessel into Douglas. By Sunday morning, they were off Port Lynas in Anglesea!
With the weather remaining dirty and the small crew very tired, William decided to run for Liverpool, taking advantage of the shelter of the North Wales coast. Hopes were raised with the appearance of the paddle-steamer, Dundalk, whose offer of help was gratefully accepted. Unfortunately, both seven-inch hawsers broke and the Dundalk sailed on to Liverpool.
By 14.30, the Relief reached either the Bar or the North West light vessel and a pilot came aboard. When they reached the Rock lighthouse near the mouth of the Mersey, a tugboat arrived, summoned by the Dundalk, and the Relief was brought into the Sloyne. William concluded his report to the Superintendent of Lightships, apologising for the badness of his scrawled report, but his hands were stiff and sore.
Michael Costeloe sketch of the lightship being towed past Rock lighthouse and the fort at New Brighton
As we have seen, William got his captain’s certificate
in 1857. Little is known of any previous marriages but as a widower he married
Margaret Boyle in 1865, with whom he had four children. He continued with Irish
Lights until around 1873 when he retired. After his death in 1878, his widow
sold their house, Maryville, in Courtown Harbour and took the children
to America, where one of them, Jack Braddon, played a big part in designing
and producing film sets through the heyday of the silent movies.
Sources for this piece are Michael Costeloe’s ‘An
Enforced Weekend Cruise’ in Beam Vol 3 No 2 in 1971, together with genealogical
and newspaper archives.
The wanderings of the Relief
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