This is the amazing story of the "Rescue of the SS Danmark", the ship in the painting below:
One of the largest and most spectacular rescue operations in world history was carried out at sea 125 years ago. Maybe even the biggest.
The Danish immigrant ship S / S "Denmark" leaked in the middle of the Atlantic on April 6, 1889, and despite severe weather, all 735 passengers and crew members from the sinking ship were saved. It was done without modern aids of any kind, and it was such a great achievement that it filled newspaper front pages all over the world. British artist Thomas M. Hemy painted a picture of the event and took those involved on board to get as true to life to the smallest detail. It was titled "And Every Soul Was Saved". And when it was shown in Baltimore, it was seen by 40,000 people.
S / S "Denmark" belonged to the steamship company Thingvalla, which was founded by CF Tietgen and later became the Scandinavia-America Line. The ship was purchased in the autumn of 1888, and though it was far smaller than the German and British immigrant ships, it was a good and seaworthy ship, and Captain Chr. B. Knudsen and his crew were experienced sailors.
On March 20, 1889, the ship left Larsens Plads in Copenhagen to begin the voyage to New York. On board was a crew of 59 men and 443 passengers, of whom 75 had bought a ticket in Malmö. The trip initially went to Kristiania, as Oslo was then called, and on to Kristiansand, and when the ship left Norway on 24 March and set course north of Scotland, there were a total of 735 people on board.
"Denmark" had 26 cabins for wealthy passengers, while the less affluent were crammed together on the middle deck. Here, partitions had been erected and separate rooms arranged for families, unmarried men and women. The diet was good and plentiful, and the ship had a doctor on board, but when the seasickness set in, it could get quite cloudy in the small rooms.
It was a strenuous journey to the Promised Land, and as a patch on the wound, the male passengers were given a snaps (strong alcohol) every morning. In addition to passengers, the ship had a cargo, which included pulp, hides and cloths.
It became an arduous and slow journey. From the first day there was a gale and storm from the west, and with the wind right against, the little steamship worked hard in the sea. Most of the passengers were seasick, but the ship's own crew was full of confidence. The ship behaved well, and on Monday 4 April, "Denmark" had reached a position in the middle of the Atlantic at 46.16 North and 38.36 West.
Captain Chr. B. Knudsen himself stood on the bridge and saw how the ship climbed over one big wave after another.
It was like climbing wave mountains, and eventually it went wrong. At 15.50 the ship was shaken by something that sounded like a violent explosion, after which the propulsion stopped.
Then it turned out that the screw shaft was broken. Each time the ship had worked its way over a wave mountain, the propeller had been lifted out of the water and had spun around without resistance, eventually causing the metal to yield. The 35 centimeter thick shaft broke and the rupture happened so unfortunate that the shaft punctured the bottom of the ship. Thus, its fate was sealed.
Captain Knudsen ordered the pumps running and, together with his officers, tried to calm the frightened passengers. There was no danger going on. The ship was equipped with waterproof bulkheads, and the pumps could easily keep the water out. The truth was that the water rose in the engine room, and when engineer Kaas was soon found dead, killed by a stray machine part, it provided further nourishment to the unrest.
Throughout the night, fire was kept under the boilers so that the pumps could run continuously. Without propulsion, the ship lay across the waves and rolled violently from side to side, and when it brightened Tuesday morning, the situation was even worse if possible. The sea was still evenly agitated, and Captain Knudsen scouted in vain for a helping ship.
Some Swedish sisters on their way to a Swedish free church in New York walked among the terrified passengers, prayed with them and sang hymns, and a Swedish priest on his way to his new congregation in the United States held a service.
He had the Bible on a table in front of him, and every time the ship took an overhaul, he had to hold on to it and himself so as not to be thrown overboard. It was heartbreaking, but rarely have hymns been sung with such fervor, and both the sisters and the pastor had an unusually responsive congregation.
Prayer was offered for salvation, and perhaps it was the prayers that helped (maybe not). At 13.20, the lookout spotted a column of smoke, which turned out to belong to the steamship "Missouri".
It was a brand new ship of 2845 tons and thus of roughly the same size as "Denmark". "Missouri" sailed under the British flag, but belonged to the Atlantic Transport Line in Baltimore in the USA, and the captain was the only 29-year-old Hamilton Murrell, who had responded to the ship's distress signal.
"How can I help?" Murrell asked using the signal flags.
"Take my passengers on board," Knudsen replied.
"How many are there?"
"700," was the reply.
Murrell had neither space nor supplies for so many people.
"We can only do this in an emergency. Suggesting towing” he signaled back.
Captain Knudsen accepted, and after two hours of hard work on the troubled sea, he managed to get a tow rope attached to "Denmark". There were three ports they could set course for. There were 700 nautical miles to St. John on New Foundland, 1150 nautical miles to Halifax and 720 nautical miles to Sao Miguel in the Azores, and the two captains agreed upon St. John. John. At 16 o'clock the towing began, and with a continued gale from the west and northwest it became a hard night for both ships. At midnight, a rooster jumped on "Denmark", but the towing connection held.
At dawn, Murrell found that they had largely not come out of the place during the night, and when he now also discovered drifting ice, he decided to set course for the Azores. He signaled to Captain Knudsen, who gave his consent, and at 6.30 on April 6, they set course for Sao Miguel and were able to maintain a speed of seven knots.
On board "Denmark", the pumps could no longer keep up, and Captain Knudsen therefore ordered everyone to start throwing cargo overboard. Passengers and sailors threw 70 tons over the side, but the water kept rising.
Concerned signals were exchanged between the two ships, and when the second master announced that the water had extinguished the fire under the boilers, Captain Knudsen was no longer in doubt. Without the pumps, his ship was doomed, and when the broken propeller shaft soon after fell out, leaving an open hole the size of a man, the matter was settled.
Whatever the risk, it was necessary to leave the ship, and he signaled this to Murrell.
The tow rope was cut, and from "Denmark" a boat was put in the water to row the ship's first mate over to "Missouri", where he had the first direct conversation with Murrell. The latter explained the situation. He himself had a crew of 37 men and had no opportunity to feed 735 people extra. The lifeboats from "Denmark" had to bring all the supplies they could. "Denmark" was already so low with the stern that the lakes washed over the ship, and the passengers had begun to gather on the hill. Neither of the two sailors thought they could save the many people before the ship went down.
"Missouri" had two lifeboats and "Denmark" seven. All of them were put in the water, and at 11 o'clock the transfer of the distressed began. Women and children were sent over first, and when the first boat arrived with a precious cargo of 22 babies, Murrell faced a new problem. How was he supposed to get them safely on board?
He ordered the rigging of the baskets used for loading coal, and with them all the children were lifted to safety. In the same way, the women were given a rope around their waists and were lifted on board. Some were stoic, others terrified, and in the small boats one heartbreaking scene after another was played out.
A total of 65 children and nearly 200 women were brought over to Missouri before it was the men’s turn. With life at stake, the tireless sailors rowed back and forth in the troubled sea, and after five and a half hours, 735 people had been brought to safety on "Missouri." As a reward, Murrell promised his people an extra months salary.
Now Murrell faced a new problem. How was he to make room for the many people who crouched on his deck and were soaked by the waves that crashed over the ship. Among other things, he brought a large load of rags to the United States, and resolutely ordered the cargo to be thrown overboard to make room for the shipwrecked.
Missouri officers moved out of their cabins to accommodate women and children, and each vacant space was used for those in need. At one o'clock at night, the number of souls increased when a 22-year-old Danish woman gave birth to a daughter. Almost immediately in the morning, she was jointly christened "Atlanta Missouri" by the two captains in memory of the miraculous rescue.
"Missouri" was built to transport goods from Europe to the United States and live cattle the other way, and as a cattle ship it had a plant for the production of fresh water. Drinking water was therefore not a problem, but Murrell did not have enough food at all for the many people. He therefore set course for the Azores and rationed the food, and the last crumb had long since been eaten when the ship reached Sao Miguel three days later.
With the intervention of the Danish consul, he was allowed to put all the men ashore, where they had to wait for a new ship, while he himself got new supplies on board and continued to New York with women and children. Here they were received with festivity and thanksgiving services, and Hamilton Murrell was celebrated as a hero. Dinners were given in his honor, and he did not hear a reproachful word because he had thrown the cargo overboard. The rescue of 735 people in severe weather in the middle of the Atlantic was a unique achievement, and the shipping company fulfilled without discussion his promise of an extra months salary for the sailors.
When Murrell died in 1916 and was buried in Baltimore, the event was added to his tombstone with the inscription: "And Every Soul Was Saved".
It was such a great achievement that no further explanation was needed.
One of the largest and most spectacular rescue operations in world history was carried out at sea 125 years ago. Maybe even the biggest.
The Danish immigrant ship S / S "Denmark" leaked in the middle of the Atlantic on April 6, 1889, and despite severe weather, all 735 passengers and crew members from the sinking ship were saved. It was done without modern aids of any kind, and it was such a great achievement that it filled newspaper front pages all over the world. British artist Thomas M. Hemy painted a picture of the event and took those involved on board to get as true to life to the smallest detail. It was titled "And Every Soul Was Saved". And when it was shown in Baltimore, it was seen by 40,000 people.
S / S "Denmark" belonged to the steamship company Thingvalla, which was founded by CF Tietgen and later became the Scandinavia-America Line. The ship was purchased in the autumn of 1888, and though it was far smaller than the German and British immigrant ships, it was a good and seaworthy ship, and Captain Chr. B. Knudsen and his crew were experienced sailors.
On March 20, 1889, the ship left Larsens Plads in Copenhagen to begin the voyage to New York. On board was a crew of 59 men and 443 passengers, of whom 75 had bought a ticket in Malmö. The trip initially went to Kristiania, as Oslo was then called, and on to Kristiansand, and when the ship left Norway on 24 March and set course north of Scotland, there were a total of 735 people on board.
"Denmark" had 26 cabins for wealthy passengers, while the less affluent were crammed together on the middle deck. Here, partitions had been erected and separate rooms arranged for families, unmarried men and women. The diet was good and plentiful, and the ship had a doctor on board, but when the seasickness set in, it could get quite cloudy in the small rooms.
It was a strenuous journey to the Promised Land, and as a patch on the wound, the male passengers were given a snaps (strong alcohol) every morning. In addition to passengers, the ship had a cargo, which included pulp, hides and cloths.
It became an arduous and slow journey. From the first day there was a gale and storm from the west, and with the wind right against, the little steamship worked hard in the sea. Most of the passengers were seasick, but the ship's own crew was full of confidence. The ship behaved well, and on Monday 4 April, "Denmark" had reached a position in the middle of the Atlantic at 46.16 North and 38.36 West.
Captain Chr. B. Knudsen himself stood on the bridge and saw how the ship climbed over one big wave after another.
It was like climbing wave mountains, and eventually it went wrong. At 15.50 the ship was shaken by something that sounded like a violent explosion, after which the propulsion stopped.
Then it turned out that the screw shaft was broken. Each time the ship had worked its way over a wave mountain, the propeller had been lifted out of the water and had spun around without resistance, eventually causing the metal to yield. The 35 centimeter thick shaft broke and the rupture happened so unfortunate that the shaft punctured the bottom of the ship. Thus, its fate was sealed.
Captain Knudsen ordered the pumps running and, together with his officers, tried to calm the frightened passengers. There was no danger going on. The ship was equipped with waterproof bulkheads, and the pumps could easily keep the water out. The truth was that the water rose in the engine room, and when engineer Kaas was soon found dead, killed by a stray machine part, it provided further nourishment to the unrest.
Throughout the night, fire was kept under the boilers so that the pumps could run continuously. Without propulsion, the ship lay across the waves and rolled violently from side to side, and when it brightened Tuesday morning, the situation was even worse if possible. The sea was still evenly agitated, and Captain Knudsen scouted in vain for a helping ship.
Some Swedish sisters on their way to a Swedish free church in New York walked among the terrified passengers, prayed with them and sang hymns, and a Swedish priest on his way to his new congregation in the United States held a service.
He had the Bible on a table in front of him, and every time the ship took an overhaul, he had to hold on to it and himself so as not to be thrown overboard. It was heartbreaking, but rarely have hymns been sung with such fervor, and both the sisters and the pastor had an unusually responsive congregation.
Prayer was offered for salvation, and perhaps it was the prayers that helped (maybe not). At 13.20, the lookout spotted a column of smoke, which turned out to belong to the steamship "Missouri".
It was a brand new ship of 2845 tons and thus of roughly the same size as "Denmark". "Missouri" sailed under the British flag, but belonged to the Atlantic Transport Line in Baltimore in the USA, and the captain was the only 29-year-old Hamilton Murrell, who had responded to the ship's distress signal.
"How can I help?" Murrell asked using the signal flags.
"Take my passengers on board," Knudsen replied.
"How many are there?"
"700," was the reply.
Murrell had neither space nor supplies for so many people.
"We can only do this in an emergency. Suggesting towing” he signaled back.
Captain Knudsen accepted, and after two hours of hard work on the troubled sea, he managed to get a tow rope attached to "Denmark". There were three ports they could set course for. There were 700 nautical miles to St. John on New Foundland, 1150 nautical miles to Halifax and 720 nautical miles to Sao Miguel in the Azores, and the two captains agreed upon St. John. John. At 16 o'clock the towing began, and with a continued gale from the west and northwest it became a hard night for both ships. At midnight, a rooster jumped on "Denmark", but the towing connection held.
At dawn, Murrell found that they had largely not come out of the place during the night, and when he now also discovered drifting ice, he decided to set course for the Azores. He signaled to Captain Knudsen, who gave his consent, and at 6.30 on April 6, they set course for Sao Miguel and were able to maintain a speed of seven knots.
On board "Denmark", the pumps could no longer keep up, and Captain Knudsen therefore ordered everyone to start throwing cargo overboard. Passengers and sailors threw 70 tons over the side, but the water kept rising.
Concerned signals were exchanged between the two ships, and when the second master announced that the water had extinguished the fire under the boilers, Captain Knudsen was no longer in doubt. Without the pumps, his ship was doomed, and when the broken propeller shaft soon after fell out, leaving an open hole the size of a man, the matter was settled.
Whatever the risk, it was necessary to leave the ship, and he signaled this to Murrell.
The tow rope was cut, and from "Denmark" a boat was put in the water to row the ship's first mate over to "Missouri", where he had the first direct conversation with Murrell. The latter explained the situation. He himself had a crew of 37 men and had no opportunity to feed 735 people extra. The lifeboats from "Denmark" had to bring all the supplies they could. "Denmark" was already so low with the stern that the lakes washed over the ship, and the passengers had begun to gather on the hill. Neither of the two sailors thought they could save the many people before the ship went down.
"Missouri" had two lifeboats and "Denmark" seven. All of them were put in the water, and at 11 o'clock the transfer of the distressed began. Women and children were sent over first, and when the first boat arrived with a precious cargo of 22 babies, Murrell faced a new problem. How was he supposed to get them safely on board?
He ordered the rigging of the baskets used for loading coal, and with them all the children were lifted to safety. In the same way, the women were given a rope around their waists and were lifted on board. Some were stoic, others terrified, and in the small boats one heartbreaking scene after another was played out.
A total of 65 children and nearly 200 women were brought over to Missouri before it was the men’s turn. With life at stake, the tireless sailors rowed back and forth in the troubled sea, and after five and a half hours, 735 people had been brought to safety on "Missouri." As a reward, Murrell promised his people an extra months salary.
Now Murrell faced a new problem. How was he to make room for the many people who crouched on his deck and were soaked by the waves that crashed over the ship. Among other things, he brought a large load of rags to the United States, and resolutely ordered the cargo to be thrown overboard to make room for the shipwrecked.
Missouri officers moved out of their cabins to accommodate women and children, and each vacant space was used for those in need. At one o'clock at night, the number of souls increased when a 22-year-old Danish woman gave birth to a daughter. Almost immediately in the morning, she was jointly christened "Atlanta Missouri" by the two captains in memory of the miraculous rescue.
"Missouri" was built to transport goods from Europe to the United States and live cattle the other way, and as a cattle ship it had a plant for the production of fresh water. Drinking water was therefore not a problem, but Murrell did not have enough food at all for the many people. He therefore set course for the Azores and rationed the food, and the last crumb had long since been eaten when the ship reached Sao Miguel three days later.
With the intervention of the Danish consul, he was allowed to put all the men ashore, where they had to wait for a new ship, while he himself got new supplies on board and continued to New York with women and children. Here they were received with festivity and thanksgiving services, and Hamilton Murrell was celebrated as a hero. Dinners were given in his honor, and he did not hear a reproachful word because he had thrown the cargo overboard. The rescue of 735 people in severe weather in the middle of the Atlantic was a unique achievement, and the shipping company fulfilled without discussion his promise of an extra months salary for the sailors.
When Murrell died in 1916 and was buried in Baltimore, the event was added to his tombstone with the inscription: "And Every Soul Was Saved".
It was such a great achievement that no further explanation was needed.