The steamboat Lexington left its Manhattan pier on the bitterly cold afternoon of January 13, 1840, bound for Stonington, Connecticut. It would never get there. Before the night was over, all but four of the approximately 150 people on board would be dead in the worst maritime disaster in the history of Long Island.
Today, few people have heard of the fire that consumed the steamboat launched by ‘Commodore’ Cornelius Vanderbilt in 1835, sending it to the bottom of Long Island Sound off Port Jefferson, New York. But at the time, the disaster was major news that captivated and inflamed the public.
Vanderbilt designed the Lexington to be the fastest, safest and most luxurious steamboat on the Sound. On its maiden voyage June 1, 1835, it traveled to Providence at an average record-setting speed of 14.7 knots. In 1838, Vanderbilt pressured the competing New Jersey Steam Navigation and Transportation Company to buy the Lexington, which he now considered too small to operate profitably, to avoid a fare war. The company converted the steam engine to burn coal and added blowers to make the furnaces burn hotter.
Before the Lexington departed on its last voyage on January 13, 1840, the crew loaded almost 150 bales of cotton on the main deck, a cargo that would prove to be a godsend but also highly controversial. The passengers included many businessmen, actors, a Harvard College professor and Mary Russell, who had been married the day before. There were several oceangoing ship captains traveling as passengers too, including Chester Hillard, 24, who would play a critical role in the events that transpired.
Stephen Manchester, the pilot, was steering when the fire was discovered about 7:30 p.m., as the ship was north of Huntington, New York. One of three surviving crew members, the Providence resident testified at an inquest a week after the disaster that when he looked aft, he saw “the upper deck burning all around the smoke pipe.” With the helmsman and Capt. George Child, Manchester tried to steer for the nearest land, Eatons Neck on Long Island, “when something gave way, which I believe was the tiller rope.” It was burned through by the flames. The portable fire pump proved useless because one end of its hose was engulfed by the fire. Many of the fire buckets were out of reach because of the flames. And the engineering crew was forced away from the steam engine before they could stop the Lexington. Even though the steamboat was still moving at 13 miles per hour, Manchester, Child and the rest of the crew, assisted by passengers, tried to launch the three lifeboats. All were swamped and lost. Fireman Charles Smith testified that he survived by climbing on a piece of a paddlewheel guard.
Passenger Chester Hillard urged those around him amidships to stay on board until the vessel stopped. “I then recommended to the few deck hands and passengers who remained, to throw the cotton overboard,” he testified. Hillard climbed on a cotton bale with fireman Benjamin Cox and they pushed it overboard. When the bale capsized about 4 a.m., the two were able to climb back aboard. But Cox soon became insensible and fell off the ship.
The 30 people on the bow with Manchester made a raft that proved unmanageable. The pilot became convinced near midnight that the steamboat could not stay afloat much longer and went over the side, sharing a cotton bale with passenger Patrick McKenna. “I encouraged him and told him to thrash his hands, but he soon gave up pretty much” and died, Manchester had said.
Mariners on both sides of the Sound—including Capt. Oliver Meeker of the sloop Merchant in Southport, Connecticut—saw the flames on the ship but were trapped in their harbors by ice. The next morning, Meeker was able to get out on the Sound and rescued Hillard about 11 a.m. and then pilot Manchester and fireman Smith.
By far the most remarkable survival tale was that of second mate David Crowley. He was alone on a cotton bale until 9 p.m. Wednesday, when it drifted up on the Long Island shore near Riverhead, New York, nearly 50 miles from where he had abandoned the Lexington 48 hours earlier. Crowley stumbled three quarters of a mile to the house of Matthias and Mary Hutchinson, who treated the survivor’s frostbitten hands and feet before recovering the cotton bale for Crowley as a souvenir.
The newspaper coverage of the sinking of the Lexington created a furor across the country, with widespread condemnation of the steamboat company and the crew.
If people in 1840 and following years had a vivid sense of what the Lexington ablaze looked like, it was because of lithographer Nathaniel Currier and his groundbreaking image that was titled “Awful Conflagration of the Steam Boat Lexington.” Currier collaborated with the editors at the New York Sun to produce an image of the burning steamboat so the newspaper could print special “extra” editions. It may be the first image to run in a daily newspaper extra edition.
A “Jury of Inquest” was convened in Manhattan on January 19. Despite disagreements among the witnesses, the evidence showed the steamboat was well-maintained, could burn coal safely, and was carrying cotton in compacted bales that were not fire hazards. But when the jury issued its verdict on the ninth day, the jurors proclaimed that the steamboat inspectors, company and officers of Lexington deserved “the severest censure.” The newspapers demanded indictments. None were forthcoming.
But there were lawsuits over lost cargo. The most significant went all the way to the Supreme Court. The Merchants’ Bank in Boston sued over the loss of $25,000 in gold and silver coins. The court held the steamboat company liable, ruling that stowing cotton near the steam chimney was gross negligence.
In the decade after the sinking, there were multiple efforts to recover the entire wreck or some of its contents.
In 1842, a salvage company placed cables under the wreck and brought it to the surface only to have one of the cables snap and the remains of the the ship break in two and drop back to the bottom of the Long Island Sound.
Demands that the government improve steamboat safety went unheeded for a dozen years until Congress passed the Safety Act of 1852. By mandating tougher standards for inspections, boilers and fire safety equipment, it reduced accidents on steamboats like the Lexington.
This story is based on a new book by Bill Bleyer titled “The Sinking of the Steamboat Lexington on Long Island Sound,” to be published by The History Press in May 2023.
This article was originally published in the May 2023 issue.
