The Wicked Wreck of the Waterwitch
A schooner leaves St. John’s, NL
The sun sets early in Newfoundland at the end of November. The golden autumn days disappear, making room for long snowy evenings. Even the most mundane activities take on a new, dangerous character. Trips that are easy in the summer afternoon are treacherous in the late fall gloom.
It’s always been that way on the coast, but rarely more so than on November 29th 1875 in Pouch Cove, NL.
The Waterwitch
It was early in the evening, the schooner Waterwitch was tied up in St. John’s harbour. The weather was rough but not exceptionally bad. Capt. Samuel Spraklin and his crew had often faced worse.
The Waterwitch was destined for Cupids — her home port. Aboard were 25 people, the crew and a compliment of men and women returning home from the city with provisions for the winter.
By the time the ship cleared the Narrows the sky was dark. It wasn’t long before the snow intensified but, having little choice, the Waterwitch forged on.
The Shipwreck
They were looking to clear Cape St. Francis, veer into the mouth of Conception Bay then home.
The snow was thick and it was nearly impossible to see. The crew had to rely on travel time and their other senses —like the sound of the waves on the Cape — to estimate where they were.
Finally they were sure they’d cleared the Cape and they turned.
They were wrong.
They sailed right into the mouth of Horrid Gulch — a narrow, rocky crevice north of Pouch Cove.
The Waterwitch crashed into the cliffs. There was no saving the ship — the bow was broken and the wind kept lashing the boat against the rock. The impact was devastating, people were thrown everywhere. Some were killed almost instantly.
The Waterwitch settled at the base of a tall cliff. They knew they weren’t safe — it was only a matter of time before the pounding surf would distort the ship.
Captain Spraklin knew their only chance was to get help. He decided he would brave the elements. He, and two other crewmen, leapt from the boat determined to scale the cliffs and find help.
The Rescue
They found themselves on a narrow ledge, slowly they began to inch their way up the slippery rock face. It was a long, dangerous climb but after a half hour they had made it the hundreds of feet to the top.
They looked around… and saw nothing.
Horrid Gulch was about a mile from Pouch Cove but the men didn’t know where they were. They took a guess and decided to head south. After nearly an hour’s trek through the wind and snow they saw a house and there was a light in the window.
They called out for help and soon word spread through Pouch Cove and a team of men was headed to Horrid Gulch.
When the men reached the Gulch it was impossible to see the ship. They decided the only thing to do was to send a man down.
Alfred Moores, a fisherman, agreed to be lowered down the cliff. One end of a rope was fastened around his waist, the other end was tied to a tree. The team gradually lowered him into the dark, dangerous gulch.
Lower and lower he went into the gulch until his feet found a ledge. Then he heard something — cries of the people stranded below.
He knew he was close.
In the early light of dawn, Moores saw them — they had made their way from the Waterwitch to the rocks.
Moores guided the survivors. They tied ropes around their waists and slowly the men of Pouch Cove began hoisting them up, one-by-one, to safety. It took hours.
11 people came up over the cliff before Moores was lifted back from the rock face. The survivors were taken into the homes of Pouch Cove where they were cared for.
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The following letter appeared in the December 4, 1875 edition of the Courier.
Parsonage, Pouch Cove, Nov. 30, '75.
To the Editor of the Times
We had a frightful wreck here last night. The schooner Waterwitch, … to and belonging to Cupids, in the Bay, total loss. There were 25 souls on board, – out of which we saved only 13. I was on the spot soon after the terrible news reached the houses, and helped to haul up the survivors. Every man was hauled up fast to about 100 fathoms line, as the wreck could not be approached. We could hear their cries all night below us. It was frightful! The people have behaved nobly. Apply to Messrs. Bowring for thrustworthy list, which I have forwarded them, of lost and saved. Will probably
write to you again.
In much haste and much trouble,
Yours truly,
REGINALD M. JOHNSON.
It was a daring act of heroism. While many died in the wreck, without the rescue efforts of the people of Pouch Cove it would have been much worse.
Alfred Moores was awarded the Silver Medal of the Royal Humane Society for his actions while 5 members of the team (David Baldwin. Eli lanngmead, William Noseworthy, Christopher Munday and William Langmead) earned the bronze medal for their bravery.
The song
While the tragedy happened nearly 150 years ago, it has not been forgotten. Today, there is a plaque near Horrid Gulch commemorating event but it is probably best remembered in the folk song ‘The Loss of the Waterwitch’.
It’s been recorded numerous time but one of my favourite versions is by Corner Brook’s Allison Crowe, check it out.
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The Courier, December 4, 1875
Waterwitch, Folk Songs of Atlantic Canada
Waterwitch, Pouch Cove Heritage Society
We could hear their cries all night below us, Archival Moments
Newfoundland Stories: The Loss of the Waterwitch & Other Tales, Eldon Drodge
