Throwback Thursday: Cork tomb of captain who sailed the Sirius

Reader of Throwback Thursday Pat Kelly was interested in our recent article on the Sirius, the first steamship to make the crossing to New York back in 1838.

“In Passage West,” says Pat, “in the Church of Ireland cemetery, there is a tomb where its Captain, Richard Roberts, is commemorated.

“It is a very large tomb, where at each corner of the uppermost slab are carvings of the sterns of the four ships that he captained.

Roberts was lost at sea, and his body was never found, but the tomb remembers him. In the Church of Ireland church is the Bible of the Sirius.

If you are ever strolling around Passage West, you can also see the drive shaft of that amazing little sternwheeler, mounted on display by the side of the road winding on to Monkstown.

Pat Kelly continues: “My grandfather, who was a sailor, told me that nearing New York the Sirius was low on fuel, so Captain Roberts gave orders that anything that was combustible, ie, furniture, etc, was to be burned in the boilers in order to make the harbour.”

It’s a grand story that one, Pat, but unfortunately apocryphal. When Richard Mills and I were compiling Stories From The Sea (O’Brien Press, 2021), we researched that one very carefully, and the Sirius in fact reached New York with plenty of fuel to hand.

James Beale (Cork entrepreneur and strong promoter of the Sirius voyage) had a particular reason to be pleased. At a lecture in London back in 1836, he had heard it declared that a steamship crossing to America was as likely as a trip to the moon.

Returning to Cork, he rebuffed this theory furiously, and declared that if someone would find a good enough ship, he would supply the coals for the 1838 voyage! Which, apparently, he did.

And that coal supply did last out, despite rumours (fake news?) put about in the newspapers that the crew had to burn cabin furniture, and anything else wooden, to make it to New York.

In fact, because they had several barrels of resin on board which could also serve as fuel, the Sirius arrived with a spare 15 tons of coal.

However, the legend that the ship’s fuel was running out persisted, and made useful material for Jules Verne in his classic Around The World In Eighty Days some decades later.

(In the interests of full Corkonian disclosure, we should add that the Sirius was also laden with several casks of best Beamish & Crawford stout, presumably intended as gifts for prominent New Yorkers.)

Now, we have some correspondence on another boat, that wonderful Cork institution, the Innisfallen.

Tim Morley writes to say: “My first ever recollection from my life (I hadn’t known the date, until reading the year, 1948, when the Innisfallen went into service), was when I was three years old.

“The ship was moored at Horgans Quay for public inspection before sailing the seas. 

I was brought down by my parents for the inspection, and couldn’t avoid remembering the impressions of luxury which it had on me at that age, with all the freshly polished brass, and general spotlessness.

“Those stormy nights with the usual crowds of passengers with queasy feelings hadn’t as yet occurred!”

Lovely memory, Tim, and I agree totally on that sense of old-world comfort and luxury which that boat possessed.

Frank Roche, who provided us with such great detail on the several manifestations of the Innisfallen, says that, ironically, it was a misunderstanding that caused him to undertake such research.

“I misread your email of February 16, Jo, when you said, ‘I grew up on Summerhill, from where I could see the Innisfallen coming up river ... still miss that lovely boat - or boats, as I knew the older Horgans Quay one ... and the sleek new Silversprings one.’

I read this as meaning you knew three Innisfallens, and the ‘ghost ship’ was the one I hoped to see a photo of!”

Now there is a thought, Frank! Could there be a ghost ship still patrolling the Lee, sailing invisibly up past Blackrock Castle, dropping a silent anchor at Horgan’s Quay, watching our grandparents and great grandparents move up and down the gangways?

And does it give a lengthy but near-silent hoot at midnight on New Year’s Eve, as the old one always did?

Those of you who espouse the paranormal, look out on some foggy night and do tell us if you see it!

The Innisfallen holds such a strong grip on Cork hearts that it wouldn’t surprise us in the least. But you might have a problem getting a photo. Ghosts are notoriously averse to being snapped.

Frank has also pondered John Kenny’s sailing photo of last week, where John asked for help with identifying the other people besides Josephine McCoy in the image.

“I can’t help with the names,” confesses Frank. “I can’t even place where in the harbour it might have been taken. I thought maybe near Currabinny or East Ferry, but there seems to be open sea at top left and that doesn’t seem right.

“I just wanted to point out that the photo of Josephine McCoy seems to be identical with her image on the cover of John Borgonovo’s book, Florence And Josephine O’Donoghue’s War Of Independence.

“If one is adapted from the other, it may be that the book cover is the altered version.

“A part of Josephine’s dress that is hidden by the hair of the gentleman at lower right in the yacht photo can be seen in full on the book cover.

“I don’t have the book to hand but I wondered if that cover photo was credited in the book - which might give a source to check. Of course, John Kenny’s photo might be the original source?

“Lastly, the ‘old St Patrick’s School’ mentioned by Pat Kelly was likely St Patrick’s Infants School, just above St Luke’s Cross, which closed in the late 1950s.

Boys and girls remained in the infant school until the end of first class.

The scan above, on the far right from the Echo of March 9, 1961, shows the building shortly before demolition. The wet play area which Pat fondly recalls was hopefully outside the main building!”

And finally, it’s Easter Week and Tim Cagney has sent us a temptingly toothsome reminder of those wonderful puddings of yesteryear which you might have anticipated eagerly with the ending of Lenten fasting.

“How many of you remember those wonderful desserts with which our mothers once graced our tables?” asks Tim. 

Such things as Farola Pudding, or baked rice, with egg, sultanas and nutmeg?

“Then there were such pleasures as boiled rice (with jam in it of course) and semolina.

“One of my favourites was Queen of Pudding - I think it contained elements of egg-white and jam. Haven’t seen it for years, of course!

But there was another very special delicacy, and thereby hangs a tale...

“Once upon a time, in the Dublin suburb of Rathgar, stood an establishment called The Highfield Hotel. It was owned by a husband and wife team, by the name of Rice. He was from Kerry, she from Cork (the reverse of my own marital situation). Presumably, that was where they had learned their culinary skills, as many of the desserts on their menu were reminiscent of those I have just mentioned.

“One evening, Mr Rice asked me ‘Would you like to try some bread and butter pudding - with chocolate sauce? I stared blankly at him, feeling my arteries hardening. ‘Chocolate sauce? I repeated. ‘Oh yes,’ he enthused, ‘we infuse the traditional custard with chocolate. It’s quite delicious - would you like to have a bowl? On the house?’

Well, who could refuse an offer like that? 

"My head nodded vigorously all by itself, whereupon Mr Rice disappeared, in the direction of the kitchen. He returned, quite shortly afterward, bearing a bowl of the aforementioned pudding.

“I seemed to detect a wicked gleam in his eye, the sort that a fox might display when looking at a chicken. ‘Enjoy,’ he said, then disappeared again.

“I gazed into the steaming depths of this devilish concoction, torn between the prospects of culinary delight and an early death. Greed prevailed, of course, and - in less time than it takes to say an Act of Contrition - I plunged a spoon into the irresistible dark depths...

“Suddenly, I realised the bowl was empty. I just sat there, wondering if I’d ever see the dawn. My host reappeared, still with that wicked glint in his eye. ‘Well,’ said he, ‘did you like that? ‘Oh yes,’ I responded. ‘It was absolutely wonderful. My compliments to Mrs Rice’.

“Off he scuttled again, to prepare the coffee.

“All of this decadence happened some 25 years ago - obviously, I survived the experience. Alas, the Highfield Hotel no longer exists. Regrettably, we have lost contact with Mr and Mrs Rice. I can only hope that they are still above ground, no doubt enjoying a well-deserved retirement.

I do wonder if chocolate-infused bread and butter pudding ever appears on their table?

What are your memories of special dishes that appeared around Easter, readers?

The hot cross bun is everywhere right now, of course, but those who claim that these should be eaten only on Good Friday are forgetting the once iron-clad fasting regulations which held that day under strict control. More of a treat for that Sunday, one would imagine, along with the Easter egg, if you were fortunate, and your parents could afford it.

(A sigh for the memory of O’Brien’s wonderful chocolate confections, each one made by hand and carefully inscribed in pink sugar with the name of the child, if you had the forethought to order in advance.)

It seems to be common practice these days to have children confidently expecting dozens of rich chocolate eggs at Easter, each more decorated and lavish than the last.

It is a lamentably bad habit, especially if you think back to the old days, when such occasions were truly red-letter, to be looked forward to, anticipated, enjoyed to the full. What is a longed-for treat if you get more than you want of it? Too right, it becomes the norm.

This writer remembers an elderly man who kept a shop at the corner of Castle Street and Paradise Place a few years ago, looking out the window at several girls stumping past in the morning, still clad in their glittering dance gowns, with coats thrown over and, of all things, fluffy slippers on their feet.

“Sure it’s Christmas every day for them, now,” he sighed. “Where’s the big occasions, the once-a-year treats? They have it all the time.”

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