Gypsy Heart
Gold Member
The wreck of Nottingham Galley
By Stephen Erickson
Special to the Herald
PORTSMOUTH -- If you had been standing on the Portsmouth waterfront on Jan. 4, 1711, you would have witnessed a ghastly sight.
Ten emaciated shipwreck survivors were brought ashore. Most were near death from starvation and exposure. Many had hands and feet blackened by frostbite and subsequent decay.
These were the survivors of the wreck of the Nottingham Galley, a small English cargo vessel that foundered on Boon Island, a treeless rock about 100 yards long off Cape Neddick, Maine.
Portsmouth was a frontier outpost on the edge of the British Empire, with a garrison fence that ran between the North and South Mill ponds. Intermittent wars with the American Indians and/or the French had drenched the region in blood for over 40 years.
Still, the first sight of the castaways and their story must have shocked even a hardened people. Most of the survivors were immediately carried to a local tavern to convalesce. Only the captain, John Dean, along with a couple of others, was healthy enough to walk.
Soon Dean found the strength to sit down and write his "Protest," a legal document that described the causes of the shipwreck and gave an account of the ordeal of the ship's company on Boon Island.
Dean declared that after a difficult and slow voyage, the ship, carrying a load of cordage and cheese, was lost in a nor'easter on Dec. 11, with all 14 sailors, officers and passengers making it safely onto the rock called Boon Island.
Their situation was at first hopeful, then frustrating, since they could see houses on shore, but lacked the means to build a fire of their own to signal those on shore, or for heat. For food they managed to pack together some soggy cheese, which lasted a week.
Two men died of exposure, the second of whom was cannibalized.
The survivors built a vessel, a raft, which overturned further toward the mainland. The two men on the raft perished, but one of the bodies washed ashore and was discovered. Authorities dispatched a vessel to investigate, and that is when the survivors were discovered.
It was, and is, quite a story, told by Dean. With his Protest in hand, he made his way over to the tavern where his crew was recovering. A feeble first mate, Christopher Langman, signed the captain's account.
That should have been the end of it, except that First Mate Langman regained his health, and when he did so, he repudiated the captain's official account, and left a contrasting legal deposition of his own. He claimed that he signed the captain's account under duress.
Langman's account begins off the coast of Ireland, where he first observed Captain Dean acting oddly. When the Nottingham Galley encountered two strange vessels, Langman guessed that they were French privateers, but instead of taking evasive action, Dean seemed intent on running his vessel aground or letting it get captured.
Crew members claimed to have overheard Dean conferring with his brother and another gentleman on board who owned the ship and majority of the cargo. Langman and two sailors said that they learned that the vessel was over insured and that the captain was deliberately trying to lose the ship.
Dean hesitated to give up the ship with the first mate and some crewmembers in opposition, since they could obviously foil any plan to collect on the insurance. Instead, he put the crew on short rations and beat several dissenters in attempt to break the will of the opposition while the vessel made its way across the Atlantic.
According to first mate Langman, the Nottingham Galley was circling in the Gulf of Maine looking for more French privateers at the time of storm when vessel and crew should have been safe in Boston. Langman said he tried to get Dean to steer further out to sea, but Dean put a pistol to his head and sent the mate below. Langman said he was confined to his bunk when the Nottingham Galley hit the rocks.
Langman's account of what transpired on Boon Island differs from Dean's in that he portrays Dean as selfish and an eager cannibal. Dean does not share with us any account of the voyage before the wreck, but on Boon Island, Dean and Langman's stories run parallel and make for a fascinating comparison in their contrasting details.
Dean seems to admit some dissent among the crew. For all Langman's criticism of his Captain, he never disputes that the generally healthy Captain Dean cared for those less well
We will never know who was telling the truth. Captain John Dean and his brother, on the one hand, and Langman on the other, returned to England to publish their stories. Langman, however, did not live long, so his side of the story died.
Dean, on the other hand, lived to a ripe old age, republished his account several times, and died a hero. His account circulated throughout Europe and the Atlantic world for many years.
Even the 20th Century novelist, Kenneth Roberts, painted Dean as the hero and Langman as a villain. Still, one has to wonder what Langman's motive was, if he was lying.
Dean, for his part, immediately left England again shortly after his arrival home, to become a mercenary in the Russian Navy. He later became a spy. Obviously he was a man capable of duplicity.
Probably the people who could judge best who was telling the truth were those who encountered both men right after the wreck in Portsmouth. First Mate Christopher Langman would agree, and he claimed that the people of Portsmouth believed him.
By Stephen Erickson
Special to the Herald
PORTSMOUTH -- If you had been standing on the Portsmouth waterfront on Jan. 4, 1711, you would have witnessed a ghastly sight.
Ten emaciated shipwreck survivors were brought ashore. Most were near death from starvation and exposure. Many had hands and feet blackened by frostbite and subsequent decay.
These were the survivors of the wreck of the Nottingham Galley, a small English cargo vessel that foundered on Boon Island, a treeless rock about 100 yards long off Cape Neddick, Maine.
Portsmouth was a frontier outpost on the edge of the British Empire, with a garrison fence that ran between the North and South Mill ponds. Intermittent wars with the American Indians and/or the French had drenched the region in blood for over 40 years.
Still, the first sight of the castaways and their story must have shocked even a hardened people. Most of the survivors were immediately carried to a local tavern to convalesce. Only the captain, John Dean, along with a couple of others, was healthy enough to walk.
Soon Dean found the strength to sit down and write his "Protest," a legal document that described the causes of the shipwreck and gave an account of the ordeal of the ship's company on Boon Island.
Dean declared that after a difficult and slow voyage, the ship, carrying a load of cordage and cheese, was lost in a nor'easter on Dec. 11, with all 14 sailors, officers and passengers making it safely onto the rock called Boon Island.
Their situation was at first hopeful, then frustrating, since they could see houses on shore, but lacked the means to build a fire of their own to signal those on shore, or for heat. For food they managed to pack together some soggy cheese, which lasted a week.
Two men died of exposure, the second of whom was cannibalized.
The survivors built a vessel, a raft, which overturned further toward the mainland. The two men on the raft perished, but one of the bodies washed ashore and was discovered. Authorities dispatched a vessel to investigate, and that is when the survivors were discovered.
It was, and is, quite a story, told by Dean. With his Protest in hand, he made his way over to the tavern where his crew was recovering. A feeble first mate, Christopher Langman, signed the captain's account.
That should have been the end of it, except that First Mate Langman regained his health, and when he did so, he repudiated the captain's official account, and left a contrasting legal deposition of his own. He claimed that he signed the captain's account under duress.
Langman's account begins off the coast of Ireland, where he first observed Captain Dean acting oddly. When the Nottingham Galley encountered two strange vessels, Langman guessed that they were French privateers, but instead of taking evasive action, Dean seemed intent on running his vessel aground or letting it get captured.
Crew members claimed to have overheard Dean conferring with his brother and another gentleman on board who owned the ship and majority of the cargo. Langman and two sailors said that they learned that the vessel was over insured and that the captain was deliberately trying to lose the ship.
Dean hesitated to give up the ship with the first mate and some crewmembers in opposition, since they could obviously foil any plan to collect on the insurance. Instead, he put the crew on short rations and beat several dissenters in attempt to break the will of the opposition while the vessel made its way across the Atlantic.
According to first mate Langman, the Nottingham Galley was circling in the Gulf of Maine looking for more French privateers at the time of storm when vessel and crew should have been safe in Boston. Langman said he tried to get Dean to steer further out to sea, but Dean put a pistol to his head and sent the mate below. Langman said he was confined to his bunk when the Nottingham Galley hit the rocks.
Langman's account of what transpired on Boon Island differs from Dean's in that he portrays Dean as selfish and an eager cannibal. Dean does not share with us any account of the voyage before the wreck, but on Boon Island, Dean and Langman's stories run parallel and make for a fascinating comparison in their contrasting details.
Dean seems to admit some dissent among the crew. For all Langman's criticism of his Captain, he never disputes that the generally healthy Captain Dean cared for those less well
We will never know who was telling the truth. Captain John Dean and his brother, on the one hand, and Langman on the other, returned to England to publish their stories. Langman, however, did not live long, so his side of the story died.
Dean, on the other hand, lived to a ripe old age, republished his account several times, and died a hero. His account circulated throughout Europe and the Atlantic world for many years.
Even the 20th Century novelist, Kenneth Roberts, painted Dean as the hero and Langman as a villain. Still, one has to wonder what Langman's motive was, if he was lying.
Dean, for his part, immediately left England again shortly after his arrival home, to become a mercenary in the Russian Navy. He later became a spy. Obviously he was a man capable of duplicity.
Probably the people who could judge best who was telling the truth were those who encountered both men right after the wreck in Portsmouth. First Mate Christopher Langman would agree, and he claimed that the people of Portsmouth believed him.
