R.M.S. Ortona & the R.M.S.P. Arcadian 1899 to 1917 - Page 2

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Please Note: All ssMaritime and other related maritime sites are 100% non-commercial and privately owned, thus ssmaritime is NOT associated with any shipping company or any other organisation! Although the author has worked and been involved in the passenger shipping industry for well over 60 years, but due to his old age and poor health, he was forced to retire. Yet, he has completed well over 1,550 Classic Liners, Passenger-Cargo Liners as well as humble converted C3 converted Migrant Liners, which has transported countless thousands of folk to the new world, as well on vacations’. Amazingly, ssmaritime.com has received 573.4 million visitors to date I trust the features online will continue to provide Classic Liner and Ship enthusiasts both the information they are seeking, but more so provide a great deal of pleasure and relive many happy memories!

 

Sadly we do not know who the artist is, but thank you Daniel Freiberg for sending it; Daniel Morris (Yorkshire UK)

 

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Page Two

Please Note: If you have arrived at this page via a search engine looking for the R.M.S. Ortona or the R.M.S.P. Arcadian then you have arrived at the features second page, which does not have her history nor all her countless photographs, Thus I suggest that you click and visit Page One first! Page One contains her full history in both her guises, as the R.M.S. Ortona and the R.M.S.P. Arcadian, complete with her external and interior photographs as well as her complete ‘Specifications and Details’.

This Page contains her Deck Plans, Souvenirs and other items of interest! But most importantly it contains the remarkable true story as told by Medical Military Officer ‘Lieutenant Colonel, George Bray’ (1864 - 1933) R.A.M.C, (Royal Army Medical Corp), who was in charge of the Egyptian Corp’s at that time, and he was one of the survivors when the Troopship H.M.T Arcadian was torpedoed and sank so fast with so many lives lost, and he survived to tell the tale. His story is an amazing account of the events that took place on that terrible day! The Link to Page Two is at the bottom of this Page.

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R.M.S.P. Arcadian Deck Plans:

Sadly there are no plans available of the R.M.S Ortona, but I do have a full plan of her after her extensive rebuild in 1912 into a luxury cruise yacht the “Arcadian”.

Below are the smaller versions, just click on the links below and a larger version will open in a new window, although at first it will be small, just click on it and it will enlarge to its full size. When finished, just return to the original page.

Open the Large Plan

 

Open the Large Plan

 

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Souvenirs and other items of Memorabilia:

Below are a number of fine items of memorabilia that were either won or purchased on board the Liner “Ortona” or luxury Cruise Ship the “Arcadian”.

 

Above & below: A Silver Tea Spoon obtained from the R.M.S. Ortona ships Shops

 

 

With the “Arcadian” I will commence with a magnificent Gold plated Trophy

which would have been won in a major tournament

 

 

Above & below: A Silver Trinket Pot, and a close up of its Badge

 

 

A Steering Wheel and “Royal Mail” Flag Souvenir Badge

 

A Silver Napkin Ring, possibly a ‘help yourself’ souvenir direct from the Dining Room?

 

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The Torpedoing & Sinking of the H.M.T. Arcadian:

During the First World War she was first an Armed Merchant Cruiser, but soon thereafter she was converted into a Troopship the H.M.T. Arcadian in 1915 and she was kept rather busy in 1915 and 1916, but 1917 was certainly not going to be her year!

A very crowded Troopship the H.M.T. Arcadian

As stated on Page One, on April 15, 1917, the H.M.T. Arcadian, which had a total company of 1,335 troops and crew was proceeding from Salonika to Alexandria in Egypt, and she was at that time in the southern Aegean Sea, some 26 miles N.E. of Milo.

The troops on-board had only just completed their daily boat-drill when a submarine approached completely unseen and it discharged a torpedo that inflicted such extensive damage that the “Arcadian” sank within just five to six minutes. Fortunately the men’s recent exercise at the boats imparted steadiness and confidence and 1,058 were rescued, either through their own hard fought efforts or by the assistance of the escorting Japanese escorting destroyer and a Patrol boat.

The number that died was because of the explosion on board or the rapid sinking or they had drowned was sadly 277 souls and had it not been for the sudden and rapid capsizing of the ship, many more may have been saved. Those lost included 19 Army officers and 214 other ranks, as well as 10 Naval ratings and 34 members of the crew.

A considerable amount of wreckage and spars was sucked down and this, coming to the surface with great force that had killed some who were swimming in the water. The “Arcadian” lies some 146 m deep at position 36° 50' N, 24° 50' E - approximately 26 nautical miles North-East of Milos Island.

The famous experimental pathologist and bacteriologist, Sir Marc Armand Ruffer C.M.G. (1859 - 1917) was on board the H.M.T. Arcadian at the time, and sadly he would lose his life during this tragic wartime event. However, the Medical Military Officer Lieutenant Colonel, George Bray (1864 - 1933) R.A.M.C., (Royal Army Medical Corp), who was in charge of the Egyptian medical facilities at that time, he would survive to tell the tale. Want follows below is the story of his survival, and his own account of events that took place on that terrible day.

Left: Sir Marc Armand Ruffer C.M.G. - Right: Lieutenant Colonel, George Bray

By Officer Lieutenant Colonel, George Bray (1864 - 1933) R.A.M.C.

H.M.T. Arcadian would set sail on April 15, 1917 with 1,335 troops and crew on aboard. It would be 26 miles north east of the Greek island of Milos in the Aegean Sea en-route from Thessaloniki (Salonika) to Alexandria, that she became the target for a German submarine, and at this point her story would be cut short. Within 5 to 6 minutes of her being hit the “Arcadian” would sink, taking with her the lives of 277 of those who had been on board for this final voyage, 10 out of 25 had been medical officers, including Sir Marc Armand Ruffer.

On April 30, 1917 Lieutenant Colonel George Arthur Bray R.A.M.C.  wrote home and in his correspondence he described his escape, and how lucky he was to still be alive “I cannot believe I was meant to drown” is what he wrote. The notepaper upon which this narrative is typed is addressed from “Kilrvarock Castle” at, “Nairn”. It is clear that he wasn’t staying there, it would seem likely a telegram had been typed up by someone, it states “I am off ships, I shan’t come home on leave, even if they offer it to me. Had enough salt water.”

Later the Colonel wrote more clearly about his rescue experiences;

We then started for our destination (Alexandria). I may say that the jokes made about submarines being like shoals of mackerel were not much exaggerated and we lived on excitement, rumours, expectations and stories of other ships. We had daily boat drills and lived with life-belts at hand. We had got about half way on Sunday, twelve days before my birthday. We had a parade at 5.30 and were dismissed just before a quarter to. About seven minutes afterwards a torpedo got us. The ship sank in five minutes! And there was nothing left but a struggling mass of humanity and wreckage. I was on the upper boat-deck talking to Sir Armand Ruffer about our probable course and the various land in sight when there was a terrible crashing, tearing noise and the deck seemed to rise under one’s feet. Of course everyone knew it was what we had been expecting ever since we started. We neither of us said anything. I walked to my life-belt which was on the seat of a collapsible boat, we were leaning over the side of this boat chatting. I thought there would be lots of time. I walked to a stair for I had to go down to get to my place putting on the belt as I went. A lot of men were rushing up and I stood on one side to let them finish and then went down.

I struggled to my place on promenade deck that was quite close I found the men falling in and the other officers in my cabin. Col. Fox was there too. One boat began to come down from the boat deck above and I said to Fox “We can let the men go now” They had to climb over the side down a rope ladder into the boat. I said “Now come on, one by one. No rushing.” They began going over quite properly and orderly, I was sitting on the rail. I saw the Parson charge in among them and force hiover. Then I saw Col. Daly (my other cabin companion, a little man) pushing in among the men. Then I had a look round and saw the ship was going very quickly and she was leaning over badly to the side we were on (port-side). The boat had got swished away about ten yards or so and was full of men. The rope ladder as the ship went lower, and the boat further, became horizontal instead of perpendicular and was covered with men, like bees, struggling to get down it. I looked over the side to see what there was to hurt me if I went over and I saw a large iron thing sticking out, so I moved further forward. The top of the rail was then about twelve feet above the water. There were some men sliding down ropes to get into the boat in front of ours. I stood up on the rail and reached out and caught a rope and went down, hand over hand and landed on top of an upturned boat.  I lost my balance and dropped my cap. I was going to pick it out of the water when I thought it not worth it, and I don’t like it!

The “Arcadian” is seen sinking and men are seen climbing down ropes and rope ladders at her stern

Then a man in the boat near seized me and pulled me into the boat. We both fell down. I immediately jumped up and shouted to the men to sit down; they had all lost their heads and were shouting and staggering about over one another and falling down. I couldn’t make myself heard. This boat was still fastened to the ship by the boats in front. I saw a davit (the thing the boat hangs on) coming down nearer and nearer and saw that it would catch the edge of the boat and upset it.

I yelled to them to push it off, but no one saw it nor understood. The thing came down, caught the edge and began to tip the boat up as the ship sank. If anyone had pushed if off and cut the front rope the boat would have been alright, but they didn’t, and over went the boat emptying everyone out towards the ship. As soon as I saw it was inevitable I climbed over the upside and pushed off into the water. I never even wet my hair, just swam off like going for a bathe! I swam away and found a wooden box and caught hold if it and looked round. All the fore part of the ship had disappeared and she was leaning over badly towards me – so much so that the funnels looked as if they were coming on top of me. So I dropped the box and swam hard. Some hot water from the steam-pipe fell on my head, and then I ran into a fine wire (part of the wireless, I think). I put that over my head and then saw the second funnel coming. I swam like blazes and I think, got caught in a swirl, which helped me.

Then I found a large iron biscuit box belonging to one of the boats and I hung on to that. The ship had practically righted herself. The stern went up in the air and all sorts of things came falling off and down she went with the propeller high in the air with a smashed boat stuck on one blade. Now this takes very long to write but the escort watching the whole thing said it was five minutes from the time she was hit to the time she disappeared! I swam and pushed the box along and came across a stout spar at the end of which was some wreckage, with men on it. I hung on to the spar, so I had the box under one arm and the spar under the other. It was a God-send that the water was warm, nearly a dead calm, and it was daylight. I discussed with a man near, the rapidity and so on, in a quite ordinary way. We shouted to one another “hullo, is that you?  Are you all right? What you got?” etc. etc. I thought, well this is all right, the escort will be along presently to pick us up. The escort went flying round about at full speed sometimes near us and sometimes three or four miles away.

There was a fearful collection of wreckage broken wood, chairs, tables, doors, rafts, cars, broken boats, boxes, etc. There were two boats near me, one broken and one full of men and water right up to the gunwale. They drifted about and get separated and the men were howling for help and holding up their hands. An enormous number seemed to be disappearing and giving up. Time went on everything up to then seemed to be quite ordinary and expected and exactly what one had been waiting for and thinking about.  I was never flurried nor lost my sense of judgment for anything. In the water we made jokes about out supports, etc. I examined my box carefully to see if the water would get in at the lid but it was well painted up and didn’t appear to be leaking. I thought about what I should do about cabling and writing and about my kit all in a quite normal way.

Then to go on with the story I had the biscuit box under my left arm and the spar under the right and was perfectly comfortable. The water was quite warm and very calm, only a little swell and currents. We discussed the movements of the escort and the boats in sight, which were very few. One near me full of men and the gunwale right in the water and full of water itself. A rigger near me rescued a bucket and threw to them to bail with. The various groups and masses of wreckage made a weird picture. After a bit men were shouting and waving their arms and calling out to be saved and I’m afraid a good many dropped off very early.

I began to get cramp, found a door and tried to sit on it, but it would upset, so I gave it up. There was one man near me who started “Smile, smile” and most of them near were very cheery one young officer was walking about on the wreckage trying to make a raft. One man near me was I thought for a long time dead, when suddenly he began to cough. It began to get dark and the different groups got separated. When it was dark the escort began firing and several thought it was the Germans firing at us.

After about two hours I had a few bad minutes when I began to shiver violently and to get bad cramps in my legs and thighs and I began to think of going under. I decided this was too precarious a position and looked about for a large piece of wreckage I had seen ticking out of the water and I thought I would try and climb on to something. Luckily, I saw it quite near, so, pushing my biscuit box, I left the spar and swam over and climbed up. Of course, it sank a bit but I could sit straddled-legs on with the water only half way up my thighs. I kept the biscuit box and another piece of wood with some rope on it close to me. One foot was through some bars then I made myself comfortable by putting a flat piece of wood under my seat. No boats came and it got quite dark. Then some vessel began throwing searchlights about. The scene was extraordinary and I could not get the movement of the swell and the wreckage out of my eyes for twenty-four hours after.

After I had been on this wreckage about an hour I drifted near another group of three and someone said “Here’s an empty raft here” So I said “Push it over” and I tried to paddle to it and luckily, got it alongside and proceeded to transfer myself; but found my leg caught. (I subsequently found I had barked it a little getting it clear). I got on to the raft (square iron boxes with wooden battens all over it). I found a bit of wood with a nail in the end and used it as a boathook to keep my bit of wreckage and biscuit box near me in case the raft leaked. I could sit at my ease, or lie down and I thought to myself “now I’m all right and good for the morning”. A boat then appeared and took some men near me a man said it was coming back, but I thought he was ratting to cheer us up. However, it turned out to be one of the rescuing boats. After a time another man swam over and I invited him to my raft but he was rather distressed about a pal he had been with who couldn’t swim, and wanted to fetch him but as it was doubtful if the raft would hold three and the pal was sitting up comfortably nearby, I said he was all right till the boat came back.

I spent about an hour on the boat when two boats arrived. We directed one to the man who couldn’t swim and told them to hold out an oar to him, which they did. There were half a dozen men the boat went to fetch and when they saw it coming they all got so excited that they all fell into the water. Then the second boat with some foreigners in it came to us I was pleased to hear them talking French. They were very excited and pulled us in. Then they rowed us to a vessel near which turned out to be a French trawler patrol boat. I was dragged on board and hurried to the gallery (cook-house) where I found two other men. There was a nice fire and some coffee cooking. I asked the cook if he had any biscuits it was then ten o’clock. He said he was the baker and he made bread every day.  He produced a beautiful loaf, which I cut up. I then demanded ‘baccy’ and had a pipe and some coffee. Then they discovered I was an officer and took me to a cabin. There were two other officers there, Major Barnes with a badly cut leg and Capt. Harper. They had dressed them and changed their clothes. I was quite warm and jolly and loath to change. They then took all our wet kit to dry and we laid down and smoked and had more coffee.

The cabin was very small and all shut up so as not to show a light and I began to sweat like billy-ho. And then I moved for something and got such fearful cramp that I didn’t dare move again for about two hours. It was only a small little boat; they picked up five officers and seventy-two men. They were magnificently kind to us, did everything they could and put themselves to no end of trouble. We went very slowly and I thought we were sure to be torpedoed again before we got to port and was really in a funk. We got there at seven a.m. They brought us our clothes dry and we dressed.

After a bit we were taken on barges to a French man of war. I made all the compliments to the officers on the trawler and got the men to cheer them really well. We were a funny crew on the man-of-war. I had dejeuner with the captain and the surviving O.C. troops the real one was lost. The skipper was saved but had rather a bad time it was the second time he had been torpedoed and once taken prisoner. He was rather hurt at my appearing so fit and well when I went to see the more or less crocky officers in the captain’s saloon. Well, they collected all of us from off the various rescuing boats in this man-of-war. It was a great sight to see all the re-unions. The men wildly excited at seeing Bill or some popular man coming alongside, and shouting and yelling at one another. After we had been there a bit they transferred us again in two lots to two other vessels. All this took place at a place that begins with the fifth letter of Adorable’s real name and end with the last letter of Lum’s second name. We left there in the evening – it was very rough.  I slept on a mat in the passage like a dog fearfully crowded. Most of the men had no boots nor coats and some no clothes except odds and ends given them by the French or own people. One could not tell who were soldiers and who were sailors. We arrived in the morning at another place beginning with the third letter of Margery’s pet name and we were put on board another big ship which was under repair. We stayed there ten days, I think. We could get on shore and buy a few things, toothbrush, razor, etc but very little in the way of clothes then were shipped again and after two days in the devil of a funk on a crowded ship we arrived safe and sound.

(Lt. Col. George Arthur Theodore Bray R.A.M.C.)

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Remembering what was a simply magnificent Ship!

 

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Remembering the Superb
R.M.S.P. Arcadian

 

The R.M.S.P. Arcadian is seen here during one of her Norwegian cruises

 

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Where the ships of the past make history & the 1914 built M.S. Doulos Story.

The Author has been in Passenger Shipping & the Cruise Industry for well over 60 years

In addition he was the founder of “Save the Classic Liners Campaign” in 1990.

 

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Photographs on ssmaritime and associate pages are by; the author or from the author’s private collection. In addition there are some images that have been provided by Shipping Companies and private photographers or collectors. Credit is given to all contributors. However, there are some photographs provided to me without details regarding the photographer/owner concerned.

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