When the escapade was over and the story was told—a week later—it was described as “a hard struggle for life” and “a marvellous escape from death.” It began on a Monday morning, December 20, in the year 1897. The stage upon which the death-defying drama played out was the schooner Pauline.
In charge of Jonathan Butcher, the Pauline left Arnold’s Cove on that windy Monday morning. Butcher had three crew with him.
Built in St. Brendan’s, Bonavista Bay, the year before, the twenty-five-ton Pauline was forty-one feet long and was registered to James Baird, a merchant of St. John’s. Merchants like Baird bought or had schooners built for their enterprise. In many instances they acquired a vessel as payment for a debt owed by some hard-luck fisherman. In this case, Baird’s Pauline operated in Placentia Bay.
On that day, Captain Butcher was sailing, in ballast, to Great Brule. A resettled fishing community, Brule was located near the northern tip of Merasheen Island in a well-sheltered harbour. It is also spelled Bruley and Brewley. The name, today, is popularized in the folk song “The Ryans and the Pittmans” or “We’ll Rant and We’ll Roar”: “Farewell and adieu to ye fair maids of Valen, Oderin, Presque, Fox Hole, and Brule.”
At any rate, Butcher was bound for Brule. The Pauline was sailing along very well in a good breeze. Without warning, a sudden squall fell on the vessel, and it capsized. Butcher was at the wheel at the time and was thrown into the water, clear of the vessel.
He was a good swimmer and reached the side of the overturned schooner. If not for the fact he was able to tread water and was in excellent physical shape, he would have drowned there and then. As it was, the December water temperature was quickly bringing on hypothermia.
His three crewmen were in a better position at the time of the accident, and they succeeded in finding and holding ropes. Each man pulled himself up to the bottom of the Pauline. In the cold and because of their precarious hold, they were unable to help Butcher and expected to see him sink at any moment.
However, as was said after, a “strong right hand,” in reference to divine providence, kept up the three men. As it so happened, another schooner was passing some distance off, and its crew saw what had happened to the Pauline. It was Collett’s schooner out of Harbour Buffett. Collett tacked as close as possible and had the small boat aboard put over the side.
Focusing the attention on Butcher first, he was dragged out of the water, nearly unconscious. Within another minute or two he would have slipped away. Then the crew was taken from their perilous predicament.
All were taken below, stripped, warmed, and cared for as much as was possible aboard a small schooner. They were landed at the town of Haystack. That same evening a schooner went out to find the overturned Pauline, locating it as dark was closing in.
Although a tow line was made fast, the schooner could not tow the hulk. The wind had freshened up and a snowstorm came on, forcing Collett to shelter back in Haystack.
On December 21, the wind blew a gale and no craft could have left Haystack to visit the wreck site. The next day, three boats and a skiff went out in search. Thomas Wakely, George and Thomas Coffin, and several other men could not locate the derelict. In the end they had to give up the search.
All were of the opinion the anchor chains of the Pauline had run out, the anchor had caught on the bottom and stayed steadfast. In the high winds and ensuing pressure, the hull dropped below the surface and out of sight.
Butcher, the master of the Pauline, was in a bad condition for many days after the incident, suffering severely from the long and cold dip in Placentia Bay waters. The crew slowly recovered from the near-miss from death on the ocean.
The Pauline was gone, but the owner, James Baird, did relatively well, for he had the vessel insured through the Newfoundland Mutual Marine Insurance Club for $720.