Last Photo of the Sultana Disembarking from Memphis
It is a wonderment that people tend to celebrate the rush to war, mourn the privations of war, celebrate again the cessations of war then ultimately build monuments to the men in their lives for whom they grieve
Regardless of ideology and the will to protect one's present value system, it can hardly be arguable that war is a hot and wanton wind that seldom blows anyone good. One of the most egregious examples of that principle was the explosion and subsequent sinking of the “Sultana“ riverboat just after the end of the war between the states.
It is likely if one asked the average American what the the worst maritime disaster in American history was one would get an answer such as the Titanic or Lusitania. In fact the worst maritime disaster in American history was the explosion of the Sultana which took the life of at least 1,240 (you will see estimates up to 1,700) people, more than the Titanic. It is not only the greatest maritime disaster in American history, but also possibly the most overlooked “accident“ in the nation's history.
While we would not denigrate for a moment the suffering that has be born in this country by slaves, displaced natives and other incidents of mass death and privation the wreck of the Sultana figures very prominently in any list of single, deadly incidents in American history and it happened something like this:
In late April of 1865 it was truly the best and worst of times. The Civil War had just ended which meant no more shooting, but the South and families on both sides were decimated. Part of the ruins of this war was the wasted health of men that had been held as prisoners of war. The treatment Northern soldiers received in Southern prisoner of war camps was a point of great resentment with the Northern troops to the point that many wanted revenge. That revenge is not part of this story, but it is important to know that many Northern troops were largely emaciated and weak when released from horrific camps such as Andersonville and Cahaba. The lack of foodstuffs available to the Southern military generally in the end days of the war was sure to starve Northern prisoners as well.
Now the war was over and these poor men were making the abrupt transaction from starving prisoners of war to free men bound for home, no longer bound to even their own military. One blushes upon thinking of what these men must have felt as it is impossible for the average person to comprehend. It is not however too presumptuous to say they were anxious to be home.
The Sultana left New Orleans on April 21, 1865. Having rode the river for the last 2 years, both in the service of the military and the cotton trade, this appeared to be a regular run and no special vigilance seemed required by the now swollen Mississippi River. Indeed the war had changed the river through the destruction of dams and levees. On the other hand the physics of steam power had remained stable, and the Sultana was rated at 376 passengers maximum.
When the Sultana reached Vicksburg she had a current payload of about 90 passengers, a cargo which included a hundred hogsheads of sugar and a hundred head of assorted livestock. Upon docking the ship was literally overwhelmed with potential boarders. There was little stomach for conservatism in this regard as the soldiers were anxious and the resources of Vicksburg were strained. This must certainly have made it difficult to deliver the news that one of the boilers was leaking. One of the engineers made this discovery and reported it to Captain J.C. Mason, a man with a good record of being conservative and successful on the river. The decision was taken to hold up and effect repairs. Boilers and machinery were repaired and the trip, which was to run to Memphis, Cairo, Evansville, Louisville and Cincinnati was about to begin.
During this delay the Sultana had taken on a LOT of passengers. The next phase of our journey may easily be classified as stupidity unless taken in the context of the times. Men needed and wanted to be moved. The post-war situation was looking remarkably familiar. Men were dying by the hour and the best place for them all was in the bosom of their families. It was a very harsh place for a captain to say the word “NO“. This same philosophy led the administrative portion of the Union Army to postpone any sort of muster until after disembarkation. In brief, no one knew who was on the ship.
With postwar optimism the final count of humans aboard the Sultana, including crew was around 2,300. Men were packed in the very manner you see in the photo on page one. The captain, with extreme trepidation embarked upon his journey. The “quick“ repairs to the boiler were already beginning to feel the strain. The number of soldiers was virtually the physical limit, hardly another man could have been shoved on board. They were in the hulls, cabins and Pilothouse, anywhere there was space.
The captain cautioned his men at one point not to stand too many to one side upon landing because the sheer number was enough to roll the boat. He is quoted as having said he would trade his interest in the boat to just be docked safely at the end of the line.
The boat went along much further than one might think given that it was loaded to almost 500% of capacity. Four two days the Sultana chugged upstream, with a handful of scheduled stops before docking at Memphis. The docking took place on April 26, 1865, some lucky soldiers disembarked here and much of the payload of sugar was unloaded as well. Some sight-seeing passengers felt quite disappointed when they returned to the boat too late for departure. Later they would spend a lifetime praising their luck.
Meanwhile another boiler was leaking, a crew was called, repairs made and the Sultana prepared to get underway once more. The swollen river was pushing hard downstream as the side wheels cranked against the current to deliver their tired, but optimistic crew to Northern ports. The packet began upstream around midnight. The going was slow and by 2 AM the boat was just a few miles upstream. At that point the boat had to chug hard past a group of islands with colorful names such as the “Hens and Chickens“. See drawing below, story continues on the next page.