John 'Bushman' Smith

John 'Bushman' Smith

The Birkenhead Drill — the principle of saving women and children first during disasters — was born from tragedy in 1852. HMS Birkenhead, carrying 643 troops and a few civilians to Algoa Bay, South Africa, struck a submerged rock at Danger Point and sank within twenty minutes. All the women and children were saved. As many as 450 men perished.

Among the survivors was St Ivian, Corporal John Smith. Hailed as a hero, John spent 14 hours in shark-infested open sea before drifting ashore, bruised, nearly naked, and exhausted. He went on to rescue his Army Captain and several comrades from the crashing surf.

John Bushman Smith, survivor of the Birkenhead disaster, c1912.

John made headlines again in 1915 for a more sombre reason. The once-celebrated hero died in the St Ives workhouse. Read on to discover more about John's remarkable and poignant life.

Early life
Born in St Ives in 1833, John was one of five children born to Benjamin, a farm labourer, and Ann. The family lived in the poorer part of what is now Church Street. In his early teens, John joined his father as a farm labourer. But such a life clearly wasn't for John.

In 1851, aged 20, John enlisted with the Royal West Surrey Regiment. He was soon bound for adventure aboard HMS Birkenhead. One of the Royal Navy's first iron-hulled ships, she was powered by two steam engines that drove twenty-foot paddle wheels. She set sail from Portsmouth in January 1852, carrying troops, including John, to fight in the Eight Xhosa War in South Africa.

The Birkenhead Disaster
After briefly docking at Cape Town, Captain Salmond pushed ahead at speed, hugging the South African coast just three miles offshore. At 2am Thursday 26 February 1852, HMS Birkenhead struck an unchartered rock.

The impact sent a violent shudder through the iron hull. Captain Salmond rushed on deck, ordering the anchor dropped and boats to be lowered. As the ship slid off the rock, seawater rushed into hull. Moments later, the vessel struck the rock again, causing further damage. Over 100 soldiers, asleep in their berths, drowned.

Those who survived the initial impact gathered on deck. Soldiers were assigned to man the pumps or prepare the lifeboats. The rest moved to the stern, hoping to lift the bow. Women and children were placed in the ship's cutter. Two large boats, each able to carry 150 people, were rendered useless. One was swamped immediately, the other jammed because of poor maintenance. Only three small boats remained.

The wreck of the Birkenhead by Thomas Hemy, 1892.

The Birkenhead struck the rock once more. Its funnel collapsed and the iron hull split in two. The bow sunk beneath the waves. On the stern, several hundred men stood crowded together. Captain Salmond shouted all those who can swim jump overboard, and make for the boats. But Colonel Seton of the 74th (Highland) Regiment ordered them to Stand fast! He understood that if the soldiers leapt into the sea, they might swamp the boats still nearby. Obediently, the men held their ranks. Captain Edward Wright, of the 91st (Argyllshire Highlanders) Regiment, recalled:

The order and regularity that prevailed on board, from the moment the ship struck till she totally disappeared, far exceeded anything that I had thought could be effected by the best discipline; and it is the more to be wondered at seeing that most of the soldiers were but a short time in the service. Everyone did as he was directed and there was not a murmur or cry amongst them until the ship made her final plunge – all received their orders and carried them out as if they were embarking instead of going to the bottom – I never saw any embarkation conducted with so little noise or confusion.

One newspaper described after the ship struck the rock ...that half hour presented to men and angels a spectacle of the most simple and sublime heroism. The Spectator stated  ... in their ranks, shoulder to shoulder standing at ease, watching the sharks that were waiting for them in the waves; at the simple suggestion of their officers that the women and children must filled the boats and must be saved first. No saint ever died more simply; no martyr ever died more voluntarily; no hero ever died more firmly; no victim ever met his fate in a more generous spirit of self-immolation.

Within thirty minutes of hitting the rock, the Birkenhead sank. Hundreds of sharks were quickly amongst the men in the water. Though the shore was less than three miles away, survivors took up to twelve hours to reach safety. Most drowned, succumbed to exposure or were attacked by sharks. Cornet Ralph Shelton Bond, of the 12th (Prince of Wales's Royal) Lancers, remembered:

She cracked in the middle and filled with water. The poop immediately afterwards, owing to the force of the water rushing up, went down, drawing all those who were on it, as well as myself, under water. I rose to the surface almost immediately. The sea was covered with struggling forms, while cries, piercing shrieks and shouts for the boat, were awful. I swam astern in hopes of being picked up by one. I hailed one 60 yards off, but could not reach it, as they pulled away, I suppose for fear of too many attempting to get into it. I then turned round and made for the shore, which I finally succeeded in reaching at a little after 5am. Two men who were swimming close to me, I saw disappear with a shriek, most probably bitten by sharks.  

A few days after the disaster, Lieutenant J.F. Girardot, 43rd Light Infantry, wrote to his father with an account of his experiences as follows:

I remained on the wreck until she went down; the suction took me down some way, and a man got hold of my leg, but I managed to kick him off and came up and struck out for some pieces of wood that were on the water and started for land, about two miles off. I was in the water about five hours, as the shore was so rocky and the surf ran so high that a great many were lost trying to land. Nearly all those that took to the water without their clothes on were taken by sharks; hundreds of them were all round us, and I saw men taken by them close to me, but as I was dressed (having on a flannel shirt and trousers) they preferred the others. I was not in the least hurt, and am happy to say, kept my head clear; most of the officers lost their lives from losing their presence of mind and trying to take money with them, and from not throwing off their coats.

About 173 soldiers, marines and crew survived along with all seven women and thirteen children aboard. An estimated 450 men died. Frederick William IV of Prussia was so impressed by the soldiers' bravery and discipline that he ordered an account of the incident to be read at the head of every regiment in his army.

The practice of prioritising women and children gained widespread acceptance after the Birkenhead disaster, and became know as the Birkenhead Drill.

Rumours circulated that the ship carried a military payroll of £240,000 (today £29m) in gold coins weighing three tons, secretly stored in the powder-room before its final voyage. Numerous salvage attempts have been made, but the few recovered gold coins are believed to have belonged to the passengers or crew.

John Smith's survival

Aged just 20 years and a soldier for only a few months, John was one of those who stood in silence obeying orders to the last as the ship went down. He recalled:

I was asleep below when I was aroused by a tremendous crash. I at once realised that something serious was amiss, and calling to my mate, a Romford man, I told him I thought we must be ashore. We ran up on deck with the rest and afterwards I stood at the gangway and assisted to hand the women and children into the boat. The men all stood back until they had been got safely away but there was no 'falling in' on the deck. When the vessel went down I was in the long boat. There were about a hundred of us in it altogether, but when the ship broke in two the falling funnel caught our boat and smashed it, throwing us all into the water.

The Sinking of HMS Birkenhead by Charles Dixon, 1901.

John drifted ashore after fourteen hours in the sea, exhausted, bruised and nearly naked. The surf at Danger Point is notoriously rough and hazardous, with sixteen-foot waves and powerful rip currents. He immediately went to the aid of his comrades, saving Captain Lucas, his army captain, and was hailed a hero.

Continued service
Men typically enlisted with the Army for twelve years, six on active service with their regiment, followed by six in the reserves, subject to recall. John was still on active service in April 1861, ten years after enrolling, recorded as sick in the census for the Army General Hospital, Fort Pitt, Chatham. This hospital specialised in treating soldiers repatriated from colonial conflicts with serious or prolonged illness. 

About this time, British forces were engaged in frontier skirmishes in the Cape Colony, South Africa. St Ivians later nicknamed John Bushman Smith. In South Africa, the British Army often fought in the bush, using guerrilla tactics. It's likely John spent his first six years there, and, due to continuing unrest, remained in South Africa for his entire twelve-year enlistment.

The cause of John's illness is unknown, but diseases such as malaria, dysentery, typhoid and tuberculosis were common. The end of John's twelve year's service was 1863.

Working life
After leaving the Army, John got a job with Great Eastern Railway. In 1871, he was working as a platelayer, responsible for maintaining the railway track. Aged 37, he lived in the Bell Yard, shared with 47 other occupants in 15 households. John was unmarried. Living with him was Ann Jarvis (31), his housekeeper. The two married the following year.

By 1881, John (47) was a widower, sharing his house in Station Road with a new housekeeper, Eliza Jarvis, aged 34 and unmarried. Visiting were schoolgirl Elizabeth Millar (15) and 6 month old infant Martha Jarvis.

The 1891 census records John as a widower, boarding with George Clare and his wife in Wellington Street. Also living there were two young girls, Martha Smith (10) and Pollie Smith (9). Both were school-aged, but their relationship to John remains unclear. Letitia Gadsby, a domestic servant from Fenstanton, married a John Smith in St Ives in 1886. She was then 21 when our John was 53. Letitia died in 1890. Did John marry again? And were Martha and Pollie his adopted daughters? There seems no other explanation, as they were not his nieces.

By 1901, aged 68, John was boarding with publican William Norton and his family in Merryland, along with two other lodgers. After 36 years on the railway, he had retired with a modest pension of five shillings a week (roughly £40 today). To make ends meet, John returned to manual labour, working on local farms.

Final years

By 1911, John lodged in Westwood Road with hay cutter Frederick Waldock and his family. On the census form, in a poignant nod to his past, he listed his occupation simply as Army and Birkenhead survivor, state pensioner. He passed his days tending an allotment near the railway station. In February 1915, frail and ailing, John entered St Ives Workhouse. Within a week, the once-hailed hero of the Birkenhead died, aged 82.

News of John death spread across the country. Billed as the last survivor of the HMS Birkenhead disaster, several newspapers lamented that a man once hailed as a hero should end his life in a workhouse. One paper even declared An ungrateful nation has seen him end his days in the Union Workhouse, St Ives. As is often the case, newspaper reports were wrong and facts gave way to sentiment. 

Firstly, St Ives Workhouse was not the Dickensian institution those headlines implied. It was a well-run facility. For elderly or infirm townspeople without family support, or whose relatives could no longer care for them, the workhouse provided structured care. Much of it was delivered by female inmates in arrangements not unlike an early National Health Service.

Secondly, last survivor of the Birkenhead had been assigned several times before John’s death. Joseph Johnson of Floore, Northamptonshire, was called the last survivor when he died in 1901. So too was Mrs Bridget Murphy of Portsmouth in 1905, Benjamin Turner in 1906, and Captain G. A. Lucas of Abersoch in 1914. John may have outlived them, but he was almost certainly not the final survivor. Captain Ralph Bond-Shelton of Cheltenham, also aboard that fateful voyage, lived until 1916. William Newport of Hackney may truly have been the last when he died in 1924.