August 24, 1893

(Written by W.K. Dunwell, probably in the 1970s)

 

The morning of the 24th dawned bright and sunny. There was not the slightest indication that, within hours, one of the worst disasters along the coast would occur.

 

The weather had been inclement for several days. Strong winds and heavy rains had prevailed. The kind of weather we would today characterize as "hurricane." But in that far-off day hurricanes were not known. All heavy storms were called "easters" or "old line."

 

There were no warnings in those days except those given by old sea captains and local forecasters who could "feel" changes on the way. There were no telephones, no wire service, no radio, no television. And so our people went about their plans for the day as usual-golf, tennis, carriage riding, horseback riding, cycling, croquet, etc. But no automobiles. There were no cars, remember.

 

Our summer colony was well on its way by 1893. Many summer homes had been built-many more were in process. Lake Agawam was the nucleus for the estates. Later, those who wanted more elbow room branched out to Great Plains Road, Ox Pasture Road, Captain's Neck Lane, and Halsey's Neck Lane. These were west of the Lake. J. Bowers Lee set up his estate on Heady Creek just across from the Shinnecock Indian Reservation. Henry G. Trevor established a rambling complex on Cooper's Neck Lane.

 

East of the Lake, you would find the new homes of the Mortons, the Peabodys, the Thompsons, the Bells, the Humphreys, and many others. Henry A. Robbins and Charles Steele had mansions on the east side of the Lake. The Robbins house has been razed but the Steele house still stands in all its original beauty.

 

Many houses were being built on the dunes. Dr. T. Gaillard Thomas had already built his home. It stood on the site now occupied by Robert A. Magowan's Beach House. Other dune-dwellers were the Thaws, the Reas, the Betts, just to mention a few. Most of the dune houses were later in the decade.

 

Just one more observation before launching into our story. The Beach Club was not as we know it today. In 1893 bathing facilities for the colony were meager. There was a ramshackle collection of old wooden bathhouses located just east of the present pavilion. This was the center for the "city people" and the local residents as well.

 

And now, at mid-morning of this fateful August 24, 1893, the collier (tug) Panther with her barge, the Lykens Valley, in tow, were steaming eastward along the coast and approaching Southampton. Both ships were loaded with coal bound for Newburyport, Massachusetts. The Panther was of 800 tons burthen and had a complement of the captain and 15 men. Her consort had on board the captain and three men.

 

As the boats came opposite Southampton, a furious easterly storm struck the coast. The onslaught was so sudden and intense that the crews were unable to cope with the situation. The captain of the Panther soon realized that he could do nothing for the barge and its crew. So he cut the tow rope and headed out to sea.

 

At this point, we will turn the narrative over to Alfred Smith, an engineer on the steamer. He was one of the few men saved that day.

 

(Mr. Smith's story is missing.)

 

Of the 20 men on the two vessels, only three were saved. Thirteen bodies were recovered. The missing men must have been trapped on the Panther and sank with her. Otherwise, they would have eventually washed ashore.

 

A small cannon stands at the entrance of St. Andrew's Dune Church. This gun came from the Panther. Also in the church hangs a bronze plaque recording the sad event and containing the names of those who were lost.

 

Today, the Panther lies south of the church about three miles from shore. It is interesting to note that she is the only wreck that ever foundered along our coast. The record, going back to the early days of the colony, shows that over 600 vessels have been stranded on the Long Island coast. A number of these were floated and towed away for repairs. All the rest, large and small, broke up on the outer bars and came ashore as tangled wreckage. The Panther, heavily laden with coal, plummeted to the bottom when those mountainous waves overwhelmed her.

 

Another surprising aspect of this event is that such a loss of life could have been possible in the middle of a summer day. Most of the wrecks along our coast occurred in winter with icy winds and waters impeding rescue attempts. Yet there are numerous accounts of rescues by means of the breeches buoy or the launching of surf boats through the breakers. And so, in the case of the Panther and the Lykens Valley, it must be assumed that the storm came on so suddenly and with such ferocity that the Coast Guard had no time to set up their life-saving equipment. The force of the wind and the tremendous surf made it impossible to launch lifeboats.

 

The men who were saved came ashore almost on Dr. Thomas' front steps. It was indeed fortunate that he was there to administer aid to the exhausted sailors. Most of the summer colony were on the beach that day and witnessed the tragedy. It was almost impossible to remain on the beach because of the battering of the hurricane and the effects of the wind-blown sand. However, vantage points were found in the lee of the bathhouses and other structures. But many braved the elements to help care for the rescued and to bring the bodies that washed ashore.

 

 

Found by Harold Thompson and George Bangston of Hampton Bays while fishing from their boat, the MetaComet, off Southampton beach in July 1960. Their nets caught it at 65 feet depth. The Panther, a coal barge loaded with 750 tons of coal was driven ashore in a gale. Coast Guard books kept by Mr. Alvin Penny of Hampton Bays have a record of the disaster, which occurred in August 1893. Many local Southampton people remember the event to this day.

 

 

 

If one chances to visit St. Andrew's Dune Church, the quaint little Episcopal church by the sea, at Southampton, his attention is sure to be caught by the memorial tablets and relics of the shipwrecks which have occurred in that vicinity.

 

This is an inhospitable shore for vessels in bad weather. There are no rocks, to be sure, along the whole coast, except for the boulders at Montauk Point, on the extreme eastern end of the Island, but there is no shelter and there are no harbors, and in a storm the wind and waves beat with great fury on the sandy shores. The bottom, moreover, shelves gradually, so that a vessel driven shoreward by the wind is sure to be stranded some distance from land. A bar has formed about half a mile out, which is a source of danger to unwary craft, and, except in an off-shore wind, vessels rarely venture nearer than two miles from the land. Many a ship has been wrecked along these shores, and has left her timbers in the sands.

 

In the memorable gale of August 24, 1894 (sic) occurred the wreck of the Panther and the Lykens Valley, a large oceangoing steam tug and her tow, a schooner laden with coal. Of the seventeen offices and men on the two vessels, all but three were drowned within sight of hundreds of people, who thronged the beach, but were powerless to aid.

 

I well remember the morning when, in a furious gale the word went about the village, "There is a wreck at the beach." We hurried to the shore and saw, before we gained the sand dunes, the masts of a vessel, seemingly on the very beach. When the sand dunes were reached the doomed vessel was seen to be a three-masted schooner pounding in the breakers, and fast going to pieces All through the night a terrible gale had been blowing from the southwest, and the ocean was a boiling, seething mass of billows, while the air was full of flying spray and driving sand.

 

The life-saving crews at that time were off duty all summer, and only the captain remained at his post. A heavy fog lay over the ocean during the early hours of the morning, and shut off all sight of the sea. About 9 o'clock the mist lifted a little and showed to the watcher a vessel driving straight into the breakers. Aid was summoned, but in the face of that raging, tearing sea, man was helpless. The life-savers gathered with their captain, and the village people and summer cottagers thronged the shore and watched the vessel meet her fate. It was almost impossible to keep one's footing on the beach, so great was the force of the wind, while the driving sand stung like needles, and the spray fell like rain. Great waves were washing over the schooner, and first one mast and then another fell; soon the whole vessel broke up before the eyes of the watchers. No sign of life could be seen on her from the time she was first sighted, and it was conjectured that all her crew had been washed overboard.

 

The horror of the spectacle was increased by the report that a drowned sailor had been washed ashore. The men spread out along the beach watching closely and hoping that some might reach the shore before life was entirely gone. They ventured daringly into the surf, and dragged up the bodies which were driven in by the waves. Their efforts were rewarded by the saving of three men, the engineer and two of the crew of the Panther, who were resuscitated. The other bodies were worked over for a long time, but the terrific pounding of the waves had beaten the life out of the unfortunate men.

 

It was only from the tale of the survivors that it was learned that this was a double wreck. The Panther foundered two miles from shore, while her tow cut loose only to rive immediately into the breakers. When the storm subsided the wreckage from the schooner was strewn along the beach. Enough of her cargo washed ashore to make it worthwhile for those in need of fuel to pick up coal by the basketful during the winter, and often a piece of coal is found in the sand, which, no doubt, came from the wreck.

 

The Panther remained on the bottom where she sank, her mast protruding above water, and was a menace to shipping, so that the wreck was blown up by the Government. Some of the fishermen along shore took her ranges before she was blown up, and having the record of her location, have made many a good day's fishing for rock bass over the wreckage. These fish seem to like the vicinity of a wrecked vessel, and the fisherman who lets down his baited hook there is pretty sure of a bit.