Marima

The following article by C.E. Howard appeared in the July 1955 issue of 'Sea Breezes:
"It was on September 9, 1896 that I joined, at Cardiff, as steward, the London steamer Marima, an iron vessel of 1,672 gross tons, built by E. Withy and Company of Hartlepool in 1881, commanded by Capt. W, Burgess, a Manchester man. The steamer was loading coal when I joined her, and we were bound for Port Royal, Jamaica, with the cargo on behalf of the government of that colony.

On the first day out, off Lundy Island, Capt. Burgess came into the saloon from the bridge and said he would have a glass of wine. I broke the seal, took out a bottle and poured him a glass. He raised this to his lips but whatever it was he took into his mouth, he spat it out at once. The explanation was simple; the bottle contained coloured water as did every other bottle in our small stock. It was the work of the former steward, a coloured man, who apparently had had a good time before clearing out. He had either sold or drank the lot. What, I thought, would the Customs have thought had they afterwards come to relaise they had sealed a load of coloured water?

Arriving at Port Royal after an otherwise uneventful passage, the ship was greeted joyfullyby the natives for whom she meant work. It seemed to me that the women were largely employed unloading the coal, carrying it ashore in baskets on their heads. But the Marima provided other forms of work for the natives; laundry was an important item. Each man aboardI recall promised his to a particular woman, but in the end the Master entrusted the lot to a man and there was a good deal of argument.

Among warships in the bay at this time were the cruiser HMS Mohawk and the frigate Tourmaline – a trim vessel with barque rig, clipper stem and shining brass ports, a fine sight indeed. We were later visited by some members of the frigate’s crew. They were excellent fellows, most of them sporting generous beards. It was not long however, before one of them – Pat was his name – began taking considerable interest in a small Irish terrier which had belonged to the former Master of the Marima. He said they would have the dog before we left port but at the time I took little notice of this threat. We carried on having some capital evenings ashore with the Royal Navy at the “Army and Navy Hotel”.

On the eve of our departure for Galveston I was sitting in the cabin when the dog began barking and rushed up the companion on to the poop. Almost immediately our friends from the Tourmaline came aboard. There were drinks before farewells were said; we did not however, see our dog again. It was long afterwards that we learned the truth; two of our visitors had been waiting at the head of the companion with a bag into which the dog rushed headlong. By way of payment, we found two buckets of ale, one at each side of the fo’c’sle.

Next day we sailed but before long we were struck by a typical hurricane which threatened to lay us on our beam ends. Though small, the Marima, despite her years, was soundly constructed and behaved like a little duck. Three Army deserters had stowed away in the bunkers. Normally they would have been looked after by the crew and no one would have been any the wiser when they had gone ashore in America. The terrible commotion however, below decks due to the extreme weather conditions, forced the three wretched men on deck.

Frightened, sick and covered in coal dust, they were compelled to admit they were soldiers. I felt very sorry for them. Their intention had been to reach America but this was the end of their adventure. Capt. Burgess decided to put back. As soon as we had signalled ashore the Pilot came off in a large canoe and asked £20 10s to take the men ashore. After a good deal of argument, the Master gave him £10. The three soldiers, each with a broad gold stripe down his trouser legs, clambered into the canoe which I watched bobbing like a cork on its way inshore.

A few days later we arrived at Galveston to find the newspapers full of reports on the ship’s experiences in the hurricane. It was not long before we resumed the voyage and from Galveston loaded cotton for Havre, from where we returned to Cardiff."

This section will, in time, contain the stories of more than 450 merchant ships built or owned in the Hartlepools, and which were lost during the First World War. As an illustration of the truly global nature of shipbuilding, these ships were owned by companies from 22 different countries, including more than 30 sailing under the German flag at the outbreak of war.

Robert Livingston and George Steel traded as managers and shipbrokers under the title of G. Steel & Co. The partnership was dissolved in April 1889 with George continuing to trade under G. Steel & Co.

In 1873 he formed a partnership with William Young establishing Steel, Young & Co. They eventually moved the company to London. Almost all the ships they owned were built in Hartlepool. George purchased the Para built by Withy in 1875. This was the first steel steamer to be built at Hartlepool.

Included in their fleet at different times were two ships named Para, two named Kennett and three named Blenheim.

Family History:

George Steel was born at Annan, Dumfriesshire in April 1828. In 1856 he set up business in West Hartlepool as an ironmonger. By the 1881 census he was an ironmonger, shipowner and farmer of 366 acres at Owton Manor. He lived at Owton Manor House with his wife Margaret, two of their sons George Carlyle and Henry Foster and their daughter Jesse.

George died on 11 October 1899 at the age of 71 leaving assets of £83,842.

William Young was born in April 1827 at Chatton, Northumberland. By 1861 he was living at Stranton, West Hartlepool with his wife Mary. By 1891 he was living at Foxgrove Road, Beckenham, Kent and managing the ships from offices at Fenchurch Street, London.

William died on 25 November 1916 leaving effects of £208,376.