University of Virginia Library


146

The Aidar's Master

The Queen has been pleased to confer the decoration of the Albert Medal of the first class on Mr William John Nutman, late master of the steamship ‘Aidar,’ of Liverpool. The following is an account of the services in respect of which the decoration has been conferred:—At two A.M. on the 19th January 1896, while the steamship ‘Staffordshire,’ of Liverpool, was on a voyage from Marseilles to Port Said, signals of distress were observed to be proceeding from the steamship ‘Aidar,’ also of Liverpool, and the ‘Staffordshire’ immediately proceeded to her assistance. As the ‘Aidar’ was found to be sinking fast, three of the ‘Staffordshire's’ life-boats were at once launched, and with great difficulty, owing to the darkness and the heavy sea, succeeded in rescuing her passengers and crew, twenty-nine in number. At 6.10 A.M. the only persons left on the ‘Aidar’ were Mr Nutman (the master), and an injured and helpless fireman, whom he was endeavouring to save, and whom he absolutely refused to abandon. The steamer was now rapidly settling down, and as it was no longer safe to remain near her, the officer in charge of the rescuing boat asked Mr Nutman for a final answer. He still persisted in remaining with the injured man, choosing rather to face almost certain death than to leave him to his fate. The men in the boat were obliged to pull away, and immediately afterwards, at 6.17 A.M., the ‘Aidar’ gave one or two lurches, and foundered. After she disappeared, Mr Nutman was seen on the bottom of an upturned boat, still holding the fireman. Half-an-hour elapsed before the rescuing boat could approach, but eventually Mr Nutman and the fireman were picked up and taken on board the ‘Staffordshire,’ where the injured man was with difficulty restored by the ship's surgeon.”— Cf. The Standard, April 9th, 1896.

We had passed Messina's Straits
And the whirlpool at the gates,
When suddenly in Adria we saw the rockets leap;
And we heard our Captain say
As we lowered boats away,
“She cannot last much longer for her hull is lying deep.”
And we toiled through all that night,
And by grey of morning light,
Though the Master still stood by her, we had rescued twenty-nine.
But he cried from off the wreck,
“With a wounded man on deck,
What master would forsake a man? His fate shall sure be mine.”

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And our hearts were sorely tried
As we pulled off from her side,
For his courage seemed to shame us, as from death and doom we fled.
Then the Aidar rolled in pain,
Foundered head-first in the main,
And we felt the whirlpool surges, as we plied our oars in dread.
Oh the glory of that grave!
Oh the wild unfeeling wave!
Never better heart of Englishman had sunk beneath the sea.
What a death to show man great!
What a deed outfacing fate!
Britain's sons by such self-conquest shall a wide world's conquerors be.
But we saw a dark thing float,
God be praised! The Aidar's boat—
Bottom up! with men upon her!—fireman! master! how we cheered!
How we rowed across the swirl!
Heedless all of water-whirl!
How the sea-foam sprang right over, as or rescue straight we steered!

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But the Master bravely cried
When the coxswain came beside
“Save the fireman! he is helpless! I am sound of lung and bone!
He who brought me from the deep
Twenty fathoms, sure can keep,
Life or death it little matters, if there's duty to be done.”
So with skill of hand and oar—
Very gently then we bore
The fireman, nigh to swooning for the bitter cold and pain.
But no word of praise would come
As full-hearted we went home,
With the truest master mariner that ever sailed the main.