“The Wreck of the Premier”

Upon the wide dull water-stretch 
The deep fog sank and lay, 
The firs along the rugged shore, 
Climbed out like spectres gray, 
And the hoarse voice of the Premier called, 
Pleading, across the bay. 
Each heart upon the fated ship 
Leaped into that wild cry, 
And tears of mingled hope and fear 
Trembled in every eye, 
And lips that would not pray, yet prayed 
In a deep, unconscious sigh. 
Oh, but the voice in that swart throat 
Plead passionate and strong! 
And the bell-buoy farther out to sea 
Tolled mournfully and long! … 
One poor mute mother by her dead 
Knelt in that white-faced throng. 
Only the dead upon the decks 
Heard not that passioned call, 
They that had suddenly grown wise, 
Indifferent to all― 
Complaining not tho‘ the chill fog 
Spread o’er them her gray pall. 
At last came level-browed Despair 
And sate our hearts among. 
Then there were some, bereft of hope, 
That wept, or prayed, or sung; 
And still across the sullen sea 
That supplication rung. 
But of a sudden thro’ the dark 
Came the strong, thrilling cry 
Of a pilot steering straight for us 
And signaling―“Ay, ay!” 
As if he bade us―“Be of cheer 
And not afraid―’tis I!” 
Oh, bent was every knee that hour 
And bowed was every head; 
The mother stirred, and her pale lips 
Prayed now above her dead; 
And then she wept―as if the prayer 
Her grief had softenéd. 
Thou shipwreck’d soul upon Life’s sea― 
Call to thy pilot so! 
Call long and loud, and call again, 
And if thou doubtest, lo! 
Call once again . . . and still once more . . . 
He’ll answer thee . . . I know. 
“The Wreck of the Premier” as it appears in Higginson’s When the Birds Go North Again (1898).
 
“The Wreck of the Premier” recounts the October 8, 1892 collision of the collier ship the Willamette and the passenger steamer the Premier on Puget Sound that resulted in six deaths and many injuries. Ella Higginson was a passenger on the Premier. An article in The Dalles Daily Chronicle of Oregon contained a letter from Higginson recounting her experience:

The best description of the disaster which we have seen was written by Ella Higginson. She says that all her life she has had a desire to be in an accident, preferably a water accident, because the waves always curl up so soft and caressing that it seemed to me it would be a good place to lie down beneath them and rest. “Well, I have had my desire, and I am bound to confess that when I stood on the guard of the Premier with the whole side of a bedstead in one hand, a pillow, yes a feather pillow, in the other, my cloak under my arm, and a life-preserver around my waist, and realized that in a moment I might be struggling with those same waves for my life, there was nothing soft or caressing in their appearance.” I was flung on the floor several feet from my chair, and men, women and pieces of furniture were swept violently past me. I heard groans and moans of anguish, and low murmurs of prayer, but not one scream. Not for an instance did I lose my presence of mind.”

In attempting to find a life-preserver, she met with resistance from male passengers:

I ran to four different staterooms to get a life-preserver, but every door was locked. Then I ran out on the rear guard, and I found men climbing down from the upper deck, and up from the lower. They all swarmed around me, and all shouted at once, ‘Now madam, keep cool! Don’t get excited!’ In two seconds I realized that the flutter of a petticoat had the effect on every men of jerking his mouth open and forcing out the words: ‘Keep cool! Don’t get excited!’ Exasperated, I exclaimed: ‘I am cool! But in the meantime, we may as well be thinking of life-preservers. We needn’t be too cool for that!’ ‘Life preservers!’ wildly ejaculated a man. ‘Why, madam, we are on Puget sound! A boat can’t sink on Puget sound!’ Even in that awful moment I was struck with the grim humor of his reply. What an advertisement for Puget sound! Then a lady with a solemnity that puts me into convulsions of mirth now whenever I think of it: ‘Young man, don’t you tell us that if it ain’t so!’

Higginson’s experience led her to call for reform:

I want to lift up my voice for better laws concerning life-preservers. I want them out in plain sight, easy of access―I don’t want them under berths in staterooms with the doors locked, I want them labeled. They may not be pretty ornaments for finely furnished cabins, but let me tell you, Mr. Law-Makers, that after you have been in a shipwreck, they will be beautiful in your own eyes under any and every circumstance. Another thing, make a law that the name of each passenger shall be taken. The man who jumped overboard is unknown, and may always be. We don’t want to vote, but take our advice sometimes on a new law.

From “The Premier Collision: A Visit From One of The Survivors—Ella Higginson’s Account—Some Suggestions.” The Dalles Daily Chronicle. 25 Oct. 1892.