On the 3d of January, 1844, the whole city of St. Louis was thrown into consternation and feverish excitement by the intelligence that the steamboat Shepherdess had been wrecked in Cahokia Bend, only three miles from the centre of that city, and that many lives had been lost. Several boats were immediately despatched to the scene of the reported disaster, and the worst rumors were unhappily verified. The particulars of the sad event are given below:
The Shepherdess, while ascending the Mississippi river on her way from Cincinnati to St. Louis, at 11 o’clock, in a dark arid stormy night, struck a snag just above the mouth of Cahokia creek. The concussion was very severe, and it is believed that several planks must have been torn from the bottom of tire boat. According to the report of the officers, the number of passengers was between sixty and seventy. Most of those who were in the gentlemen’s cabin had retired to their berths; four or five gentlemen in this cabin were sitting up by the stove, as it was cold winter weather. The ladies were generally undressed for the night. In less than two minutes after the boat struck, the water rose to the lower deck, where most of the passengers in that part of the boat were asleep. The Captain, who was on duty, ran to the cabin occupied by the ladies, and assured them that there was no danger; he then returned to the forecastle, and is supposed to have been washed overboard, as nothing was seen or heard of him afterwards. As soon as the shock was felt on board, one of the pilots attempted to descend into the hold for the purpose of examining the leak, but he had scarcely entered when the rush of water drove him back.
About this time shrieks and exclamations of affright and distress arose from the deck below, and several ladies, who hastened to the stern-railing, reported that they saw a number of persons struggling in the river. Certain it is that the water rushed in with tremendous rapidity, and before three minutes had elapsed it had risen to the floor of the upper cabin. Some of those persons who were on deck saved themselves by getting into the yawl, which was cut loose and rowed to the shore with a broom. The water rose so rapidly that it soon became necessary for all to seek safety on the hurricane deck. This position was not attained without great difficulty, for the bow had sunk so deep in the water that the only access was the stern. However, it is believed that all the people from the cabin succeeded in reaching the hurricane roof. In the meanwhile the boat was drifting down the stream, and a few hundred yards below, she struck another snag, which rose above the surface. This threw the steamer nearly on her beam ends on the larboard side. Drifting from this snag, she again lurched to starboard. At each lurch several persons were washed off; some of them reached the shore, but many were drowned. A short distance below, just above the first shot-tower, the hull struck a bluff-bank, which again careened the boat nearly on her side. Here the hull and cabin parted; the former sunk and lodged on a bar above Carondelet, while the cabin floated down to the point of the bar below that place, where it lodged and became stationary.
The steamer ilenry Bry was lying at the shot-tower above Carondelet, and as the cabin passed, the captain of that vessel, being aroused by the cries of the passengers, took his yawl to their rescue. This little boat could only take off a few at a time, but by the strenuous exertions of the captain of the Bry many were saved. This humane gentleman almost sacrificed himself in the work of benevolence, and did not desist until he was covered with a mass of ice, and benumbed to that degree that further effort was impossible. About three o’clock the ferry-boat Icelander came down, and took off all who remained in the detached cabin.
We have thus given a general history of this calamity, but some particular incidents deserve the reader’s attention. A young man, Robert Bullock, of Maysville, Ky., was one of the passengers. With heroic devotion to the cause of humanity, he took no measures for his own safety, but directed all his efforts to the preservation of the women. and children. When every other male person of mature age had deserted the cabin, he went from state-room to state-room, and wherever he heard a child cry took it out and passed it to the hurricane deck. In this way he saved a number of women and children. His last effort was to rescue Col. Wood’s “Ohio Fat Girl,” who happened to be on board. Her weight was four hundred and forty pounds, but with the assistance of several persons on the hurricane deck, he succeeded in raising her to that place of security. A short time after, the boat made a lurch, and Bullock was thrown into the water. He swam to the Illinois shore, having previously given his coat to a lady on the wreck who was suffering excessively from cold. On reaching the land this young hero found two young ladies, who had been put ashore in a skiff, and who were nearly frozen. They were about falling asleep, which would have been fatal in such circumstances, when Bullock aroused them, and with great exertions succeeded in getting them to Cohokia, where they met with the attention which their half-frozen condition required.
An English family, from the neighborhood of Manchester, ten in number, were all saved. Five of them succeeded in getting to the Illinois shore, four to the Missouri side of the river, and one was taken off the wreck by the ferry-boat. They were all re-united on this boat at Cohokia, at a moment when each party supposed the other to be dead. A spectator of that re-union avers that he never witnessed a more affecting scene.
Mr. Muir, of Virginia, and his brother, were on board, with their mother and nine of their slaves. With the exception of seven of the slaves, all of these persons were saved. Levi Craddock, from Davidson Co., Tenn., lost three children; himself, bis wife, and two children were saved. Mr. Green, of the same county and state, lost his wife and three children, and was left with two helpless infants, the youngest only three months old. Mr. Snell, formerly of Louisville, Ky., lost a son and daughter. Mr. Wright, of Mecklenburg Co., Va., and two of his children, were drowned. His wife, who survived, was in a state of distraction. The Captain, A. Howell, of Covington, Ky., was undoubtedly lost. He was in the act of ringing the bell, when the boat made a lurch, by which the boilers, part of the engine, and the chimneys, were carried overboard, Capt. H. being overwhelmed among the ruins, and he sunk with them. lie left a wife and eleven children, the eldest of whom, a son, was with him on the wreck.
The bodies of two children, who had perished with cold, were brought up to St. Louis. Considering how many children were on board, it is surprising that more of these helpless beings were not lost. The Mayor of St. Louis, who personally assisted in relieving the sufferers, caused all who were saved alive to be taken to the Virginia hotel, where they were amply provided for. Forty persons are believed to have perished in this wreck. The Rev. Mr. Peck, of Illinois, who was on board at the time, makes the estimate much larger. One of the St. Louis papers averred that the number of persons lost was not less than seventy.
Capt. Howell had lately bought the Shepherdess, and this was her first trip after she became his property.