THE once gleaming-white hospital ship was wrecked within sight of land. It was very early on a Friday morning in October 1914, just after the outbreak of the First World War; writes Alan Roberts in the third of his features on the Rohilla. 15 members of Barnoldswick’s St John Ambulance Brigade had been called up to act as sick bay attendants on board the Rohilla which was on its way to Dunkirk in northern France to rescue wounded British servicemen.

TRAVELLING at night in ferociously stormy seas the vessel struck submerged rocks just to the east of Whitby. All lighthouses had been switched off – it was wartime. The captain believed he was much further out to sea, and felt sure he had hit a mine. The ship was in fact just a few hundred yards from the coast.

At daybreak one of the ship’s lifeboats was able to head for the shore carrying a line which would allow the nursing staff and crew to be rescued. The line snapped as the boat neared land.

The sea was too rough to launch the main Whitby lifeboat, but a smaller 36-foot-long lifeboat was manhandled over the harbour wall and dragged three-quarters of a mile across slippery, jagged rocks to the site of the disaster. The lifeboat did not have a motor, but relied on the skills of the coxswain at the helm and of the crew at the oars. 17 people including all five women were rescued. Although the boat was badly damaged, the crew resolved to try again: another 18 including Barnoldswick’s Tony Waterworth and Fred Reddiough were brought ashore. The lifeboat was falling apart: it would not survive another attempt.

Rockets with lines attached were launched from the clifftops and shore, but the rockets either missed or else the line broke. A lifeboat was dragged by horses from Upgang to the north of Whitby and gingerly lowered down the 250-foot-high cliff by strong ropes. Even so it took a while for the sea to be calm enough to even launch the boat, and it still could not get close to the stricken Rohilla. Conditions on board the ship were worsening: the rear section of the ship had been hanging over deeper water and eventually broke off. The bows would follow later. Should the stranded men stay or swim? Even good swimmers risked being dashed against the rocks by the stormy seas.

Reddiough and Waterworth sent a telegram to Barnoldswick telling everyone they were safe. This was the town’s first news of the disaster. Distraught Barlickers made their way to Whitby by rail or by car to be near their loved ones in their hour of need. The first had arrived that very same evening. They were not alone. There was a crowd of hundreds if not thousands on the clifftops watching the proceedings.

The following day Fred Reddiough wrote about his experiences. His letter was published in the next weekend’s Craven Herald.

‘I suppose you will have heard the news by now, but not quite all… It was one of the roughest sights we have had since we have been away. The wind was blowing the ship wherever it wanted. We could not sleep all night. At four o’clock in the morning the ship shook from stem to stern.

"We all nipped out of bed. The water was pouring down the hatches in torrents. When I got out of bed, I was ankle deep in water. I slipped on my pants and grabbed a life belt and ran. When I got to the other end of the line of bunks some bottles came dashing past and cut one of my toes clean off… I then went upstairs to the promenade deck. No sooner had I got there then I was swept off my feet about three times, the waves coming mountains high.

"Then I got hold of a ventilator along with some other chaps when a wave came and swept all of us off our feet right against the rails. There I was in about three foot of water trying to get my wind! I got up and got behind a boat out of the way of the waves when I saw Tony just beside me. We went forward and got into the Marconi [radio] chap’s cabin where we stayed until daylight… I stayed there about another hour and a half when there was a lifeboat coming and the Captain shouted, ‘Women first!’ I said to myself, ‘When the boat comes back, I’m for it’, and when it did come back, I got hold of a rope and slid down into the lifeboat.

"A man pulled me in by the feet. When I looked up, I saw Tony standing on the rail. I threw the rope back to him… I think we were the only two from Barnoldswick that got saved. [In fact there was one other person] I am now in the Cottage Hospital and am lucky to be here I can tell you. I wouldn’t go through it again, not for a fortune!’

Thanks to Barnoldswick History Society for its help in the preparation of this article.

To be continued.