Frank Bridgeman,  steward

The Sappho

he port city of Archangel, in Russia,  is located 400 miles north of Moscow on the banks of the Northern Dvina River that flows north into the White Sea.  A major center of commercial fishing and the export of timber, it was long considered the gateway to the Arctic region and by the turn of the century many foreign ships were exporting Archangel's timber.

On November 28, 1915, the  Wilson Lines ship Sappho (3) left Archangel to return to Hull England with a cargo of pit props. The climate of the White Sea is severe with temperatures falling to 40 degrees below zero and ice over 4 feet thick. By the middle of December the crew of the Sappho found their ship trapped by the ice. Repeated attempts to free themselves by dropping the anchor repeatedly proved futile and by Christmas Eve, with their supply of provisions nearly depleted, the decision was made to abandon ship and walk 18 miles across the ice to safety.

Built in 1903, Wilson Lines'  Sappho (3) weighed 1,694 tons

Captain J. Martin 41, and 66-year old chief engineer J. Carten  began the journey with their crew, but by Christmas Day their compass had frozen and become unusable and on December 26th they could go no further.  Ordering the crew to proceed without them they remained where they were. It was here that 31 year old ship steward Frank Bridgeman of Hull and 16 year old sailor F. Boyles of Flamborough, made the decision to stay with their captain and engineer and it was here that they perished

The remaining crew members continued the journey toward land, led by Finnish seaman Martin Hautica. 25-year old Hautica courageously walked before the group, testing the ice with a boat hook.  While this proved a prudent method of making one's way over the ice, the pace was too slow for most of the crew. Anxious to move forward as quickly as possible, eleven of the remaining  crewmen decided to part from the group.  Ultimately Hautica's instinct to proceed cautiously was proven correct. Of the eleven who had forged ahead, none survived. That same night, two more men in Hautica's party could go no further and were left behind, and finally, second engineer A. M. Andrew, age  62, was left, delirious and in his own world, believing himself to be back on the Sappho. One can only hope his delusion was a comforting one, softening the inevitable as he lost consciousness and slipped away from life.

By now Martin Hautica was left with two men, 40 year old second officer Mr. W. Ashford and 17 year old J. Stork. During their journey the small group ran into the cook A. Terry, who was part of the group that had gone ahead, but by then Mr. Terry was suffering from frostbite and could not go much further.  Young Stork was almost lost his life when he fell through the ice, but was saved by Mr. Ashford and the three men, Hautica, Ashford and Stork, were the only survivors. Reaching land, they followed telegraph posts until they were discovered and taken to Sosnovetz. They returned to England on February 26, 1916.

RIVERS TO THE SEA
Sara Teasdale

Wind, night and space
Oh terrible height
Why have we sought you?
Oh bitter wind with icy invisible wings
Why do you beat us?
Why would you bear us away?
We look thru the miles of air,
The cold blue miles between us and the city,
Over the edge of eternity we look
On all the lights,
A thousand times more numerous than the stars;
Oh lines and loops of light in unwound chains
That mark for miles and miles
The vast black mazy cobweb of the streets;
Near us clusters and splashes of living gold
That change far off to bluish steel
Where the fragile lights on the Jersey shore
Tremble like drops of wind-stirred dew.
The strident noises of the city
Floating up to us

Are hallowed into whispers.
Ferries cross thru the darkness
Weaving a golden thread into the night,
Their whistles weird shadows of sound.
We feel the millions of humanity beneath us, --
The warm millions, moving under the roofs,
Consumed by their own desires;
Preparing food,
Sobbing alone in a garret,
With burning eyes bending over a needle,
Aimlessly reading the evening paper,
Dancing in the naked light of the café,
Laying out the dead,
Bringing a child to birth --
The sorrow, the torpor, the bitterness, the frail joy
Come up to us
Like a cold fog wrapping us round.
Oh in a hundred years
Not one of these blood-warm bodies

But will be worthless as clay.
The anguish, the torpor, the toil
Will have passed to other millions
Consumed by the same desires.
Ages will come and go,
Darkness will blot the lights
And the tower will be laid on the earth.
The sea will remain
Black and unchanging,
The stars will look down
Brilliant and unconcerned.

Beloved,
Tho' sorrow, futility, defeat
Surround us,
They cannot bear us down.
Here on the abyss of eternity
Love has crowned us
For a moment
Victors.

Crew of the Sappho

The White Sea