BUT FOR A SINGLE WAVE:
THE TRAGIC LOSS AND RECENT IDENTIFICATION OF THE STEAMSHIP PECONIC

Michael C. Barnette

For most of my diving career I believed that one had to venture into deeper and deeper waters to explore new, undiscovered wrecks.  Having read about numerous shipwreck discoveries throughout the 1970s, 1980s, and into the early 1990s, I felt that the days of virgin, unidentified shipwrecks resting in easily accessible depths were all but gone.  Perhaps I was too late onto the scene -- a victim of unfortunate timing.

For the past several years I had concentrated on exploring numerous shipwrecks that were found beyond the generally recognized recreational diving depth limits.  These forays yielded numerous spectacular shipwrecks largely unknown to the general diving community.  Recently, though, I decided to document some well-known, but unidentified, shipwrecks around the state of Florida that were in fairly shallow water.  I was surprised to find several sites that still had a robust artifact assemblage, which, combined with the available archival record, allowed me to identify the tug Gwalia and the coastal steamer Arawak in 2004.  However, these discoveries would pale in comparison following a May 2005 visit to an unknown wreck resting off the coast of Georgia known only as the “Razor Wreck.”

Like the other sites I had visited, the presence of the “Razor Wreck” was fairly well known to divers and fishermen.  Yet, the wreck was still unidentified.  Compiling information on the site was difficult, as the vast majority of divers who visit these unknown shipwrecks are spearfishermen who are primarily interested in the associated marine life the wreck hosts and not the wreck itself.  With the help of Captain Ronny Surrency of Jacksonville, Florida, I learned that the shipwreck was that of a large steamer and that there was an abundance of coal in and around the site.  Prior to my planned dives with Captain Surrency, I searched my files for prospective candidates that fit some of the attributes I knew about the “Razor Wreck.”  One vessel in particular caught my attention:  the steamer Peconic

The steamer Peconic was built by the Liverpool shipyard of Royden and Sons in October 1881.  She was 277 feet in length, 34.5 feet in breadth, and displaced 1,795 gross tons.  An iron-screw steamer with two decks, she was brigantine rigged and originally equipped with a 197-horsepower compound engine and one single-ended boiler; a donkey boiler was added to the vessel in 1894.  She initially sailed under the British flag for the Mediterranean and New York Steamship Company, managed by the Phelps Brothers and Company, on a route that carried her between New York and various Mediterranean ports.  During one such cruise in November 1898, she fortuitously rescued 18 seamen from the sinking bark Johanna in the vast and frigid mid-Atlantic. 

In stark contrast to her heroic rescue of the Johanna’s crew, four years later the Peconic was responsible for running down and colliding into the Italian royal mail steamer Liguria in New York harbor.  Following an erratic and reckless course change in broad daylight on a sultry August afternoon in 1902, the bow of the Peconic sliced into the inbound Liguria, opening up the Italian steamer’s hull to the waterline.  As water poured into the hull of the Italian liner, she quickly took a heavy list to port and it appeared the Liguria was moments away from capsizing.  Fortunately, the Liguria’s quick-thinking captain directed the 1,100 terrified passengers to move over to her starboard side, which resulted in the ship rolling back to starboard to a degree that it raised the gash in the hull above the water’s surface, preventing further flooding.  Though heavily damaged, both steamers were able to limp to their respective docks without any loss of life. 

The Peconic was later sold to the firm of J.W. Elwell and Company of New York, and was engaged in the fruit trade from Central America to New Orleans.  However, due to a change in quarantine regulations that prohibited the importation of bananas, she began transporting coal from Philadelphia to New Orleans.  In this capacity, she completed two successful voyages before her final, tragic excursion.

Late on the evening of August 27, 1905, the steamer Peconic was struggling to make its way southward along the Georgia coast.  Bound from Philadelphia to New Orleans with a cargo of 1,500 tons of coal, she was in the midst of a fierce gale that she encountered earlier in the day.  Just after midnight on August 28, the officer of the deck gave the order to put further out to sea, as he feared they were approaching perilously close to the beach.  As the steamer was in the process of turning to port, an immense wave rolling in from the northeast struck the vessel.  The unfortunate timing of the blow caused a shift in the cargo of coal, and the Peconic heeled over and almost immediately sank.  The sinking was so swift that only two of her crew survived; twenty souls went down with the ship. 

The survivors, Bagellini Humberti and Antonio Clark, had been in the bridge at the time of the accident.  As soon as the ship began to careen, they rushed for one of the small lifeboats and managed to sever the lines just as the tumultuous Atlantic threatened to pull them under.  Quickly thrown out on the waves, they watched in horror as a number of the awakened crew crowded into another lifeboat, only to be caught in the trough of a large wave, thrown against the ventilators, and wedged fast.  Through the bleak darkness of the storm, the men’s pitiful cries for help could be heard as the ship was consumed by the angry ocean.  The two frightened survivors managed to keep their small boat afloat through the evening, and managed to safely land at Amelia Island approximately 11 hours later.

One of the articles in my files noted that the Peconic went down approximately 20 miles northeast of Fernandina Beach, Florida.  Furthermore, knowing that the survivors landed at Amelia Island only 11 hours after their escape from the sinking Peconic revealed additional supporting information on the general location of the lost steamer; even with a stout northeast wind, a waterlogged lifeboat can travel but so far in 11 hours.  Regardless of the value of the archival information, I knew that a visit to the wreck site was required to further support my hypothesis that the “Razor Wreck” was that of the steamship Peconic.

After numerous cancellations due to inclement weather, I finally found myself speeding towards the “Razor Wreck” on a glorious morning in mid-May.  I was joined by several friends on this trip:  noted wreck diver Richie Kohler, his wife, Carrie Kohler, and Dr. Michael Ott.  Upon arriving at the site, Richie and Carrie splashed first, while Dr. Ott waited for me to prepare my camera for the dive.  After a short delay, we rolled off the boat into the cool emerald green water. 

Pulling down the line through a massive school of Atlantic spadefish, I soon found myself on the sandy seafloor amongst scattered wreckage just forward of a large single boiler.  As fate would have it, the anchor appeared to be secured adjacent to the remains of the shipwreck’s wheelhouse.  I was amazed to see that in the short amount of time that Richie and Carrie were on the wreck before our arrival, they had already located the two bridge telegraphs and the ship’s compass resting in the sand.  This was going to be a great dive!

I soon noticed that our anchor chain was actually draped over a hull plate that rested on top of the wreck’s partially buried main helm.  It was obscenely obvious that this wreck, while commonly visited by divers, had not been given the attention it deserved.  Moreover, it was very likely that we would be able to identify the wreck through various diagnostic features, as well as specific artifacts recovered from the wreck.  After capturing a few images of the various artifacts in close proximity to our anchor line, I set off to inspect the remainder of the site.

Swimming forward, it was obvious the wreck was resting hard over on her starboard side.  Little of the vessel remained aside from various beams and a few scattered hull plates, punctuated by bollards and the anchor windlass towards the bow.  I also observed an odd looking fixture that resembled a capstan.  While it did not have the classical hourglass shape and appeared a bit petite for a capstan, I nonetheless inspected the top and discovered it had a heavily encrusted brass cover, which I later recovered.  The extreme bow, generally pointing eastward (which was the direction the Peconic was turning when it was struck by the fatal wave), terminated in a low, skeletal framework and a single large anchor in the sand.  It appeared as if the majority of the vessel had been consumed by the sand and the Atlantic itself, not surprising for a wreck that might be almost 100 years old.  Heading aft, I passed back over the massive single-ended boiler and noticed a smaller boiler in the sand pointed slightly upwards.  Perhaps this was the auxiliary donkey boiler that was added to the Peconic in 1894?

I continued my journey aft over the fallen compound engine and along shaft alley, which terminated at an elegant, almost delicate, screw.  The remainder of the stern rested on its starboard side, with disarticulated pieces of structure spilled out into the sand.  Moving out into the debris field, I noticed a vast field of coal strewn across the seabed.  It stretched for several hundred feet and was accented by small bits of miscellaneous debris.  Forward of the remains of the aftermost mast, I noticed the faint edge of something buried under the sand.  Fanning around the object to remove the sandy overburden, I realized that it was a lone porthole.  With traces of wood bulkhead still attached to the back, it appeared this was perhaps a porthole from one of the upper decks that had broken loose during the sinking event. 

Returning back to our anchor line, I remembered seeing that my chisel had fallen out of my gear bag and landed near the main helm.  My search for the missing tool was unsuccessful, though I did manage to uncover the helm stand from the flying bridge, which was totally buried under the sand and embedded in a layer of coal immediately adjacent to the main helm stand.  We felt certain that with the recovery of the bridge equipment, we would reveal important manufacturing information that could help yield the identity of the “Razor Wreck.”  Along with these brass prizes, numerous other artifacts were recovered, including silverware, portholes, bottles, and china.  Most everything was found buried under a veneer of sand and resting amongst piles of coal. 

Based on the evidence at hand, including the orientation of the wreck; the general dimensions of the wreck; the abundance of coal around the site; the large single-ended boiler and smaller donkey boiler; the presence of two masts that would be consistent with a brigantine-rigged vessel; the historical position of the Peconic’s loss and the lack of any other large wrecks in the area, one might reasonably conclude that the “Razor Wreck” is indeed that of the Peconic.  However, while I was fairly confident of the wreck’s true identity, the evidence was definitely not conclusive.  That was until I conducted some initial cleaning on a few of the recovered artifacts….

Due to my hectic schedule, I did not have the opportunity to inspect the artifacts until approximately 10 days after our exploratory dives.  In the interim, they soaked in a large basin of freshwater as I tended to other responsibilities and drafted this very article you are currently reading.  While I was past due to submit the article, I was not happy with the inconclusive ending and decided to expedite the cleaning of the helm and brass cover to see if I could gather any further evidence on the “Razor Wreck’s” true identity.  Unfortunately, the top of the helm stand appeared to only possess the rudder indicator and associated embossed information.  Despondent that I might not be able to find solid evidence to support my conclusion, I began to clean the heavily encrusted brass cover.  From beneath a thick layer of calcareous marine growth I soon observed some intricate etchings with traces of red paint appear.  It became obvious that it was some sort of decorative scrollwork absent of any lettering, so I concentrated on the opposite side.  As numerous decades of encrustation dissolved away, I was ecstatic when a beautiful embossed name slowly appeared on the top of the cover:  “P…E…C…O…N…I…C”

My thanks go out to Captain Ronny Surrency who first introduced me to the “Razor Wreck,” and to my fellow divers Richie Kohler, Carrie Kohler, and Dr. Michael Ott.  Their assistance in identifying the wreck, as well as their camaraderie and support, was invaluable on this project.  It is not often that divers successfully identify a shipwreck on their very first visit to the site, and I am sure we all relish our joint success.

Michael C. Barnette is the founder and director of the Association of Underwater Explorers (http://uwex.us), a coalition of divers dedicated to the research, exploration, documentation, and preservation of submerged cultural resources.  Employed as a marine ecologist with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, he recently published Shipwrecks of the Sunshine State:  Florida’s Submerged History, which offers an extensive and comprehensive cross-section of Florida shipwreck narratives.