By Larry Clinton, Sausalito Historical Society
We’ve written before about the 1904 collision of the ferries San Rafael and Sausalito, which inspired the opening chapter of Jack London’s The Sea-Wolf. It turns out that the San Rafael, which sunk after the collision, had a sister ship — ironically called the Saucelito which was involved in a similarly tragic crash 27 years earlier.
In October 1877 the Sacramento Daily Union reported on a collision between the steamers Saucelito and Clinton (no relation!) off Alcatraz.
The Clinton, which sank almost immediately, was no longer serving as a ferry, but had been towing freight barges that fateful day. The Saucelito, formerly known as the Petaluma, was returning from San Francisco about 6:40 p.m. when the disaster took place. The paper reported: “Whistles were sounded as the steamers approached, but the vessels did not clear each other, and the Saucelito ran into the Clinton almost amidships, and cut into her so deeply that she sank in a few minutes. The Saucelito continued her trip and landed her passengers at her berth near Vallejo street wharf, but being injured considerably by the collision, it was considered advisable to steam back to Saucelito, with the intention, if necessary, of running her on the flats in Richardson's bay.”
The Captain of the Clinton, incongruously named Charles J. Lucky, gave the paper a firsthand account of the accident. Here are excerpts from his statement:
“Shortly after passing Arch Rock, I saw the Petaluma coming up from Saucelito and gave the usual signal — one whistle — for her to pass on the port side, and put my helm hard-a-port, but got no answer. I signaled a second time and kept my helm a-port, but the Petaluma did not change her course. I saw there was not time to prevent a collision, and so I put my helm hard-a-starboard, to try and get a glancing blow, to lessen the force of the shock. It was then the crash came. She struck us fair amidships, on the port side.
“I ran down below and went along the main deck, when I stumbled down the hole which the Petaluma had made on her bow, and had to scramble up out of the water to get on my vessel again. I found my engineer, and asked him it he could work the engines. He was excited, and said he could not find the fireman. I said, ‘Let's look for him,’ and went to the engine room and found a lantern there. I returned to the fire-room, and as I got to the door some one cried "Help!" I ran to the port side from which the cry came, and found Mannie [the fireman] in the cut made by the Petaluma. He had evidently tumbled in as I did when I first went below. The water by the time I got there was up to my waist. Mannie was fighting to keep himself up, and as he saw me called ‘Help! help me: give me your hand, Captain !’ I reached down one hand and caught him by the wrist. He said ‘Don't let me go.’ I said, ‘I will not,’ and tried to hold him up with one hand, but found that he was caught by something, and in order to get a better hold I put the lantern in my mouth, and using both hands pulled Mannie half way up. By this time the water was up to my waist, and the vessel suddenly keeled to port — so much so that I could see the hurricane deck was shutting me in. I was therefore forced to let go my hold and make a struggle for my own life. Poor Mannie never said a word when I left him, and I was too eager for life to think of anything but myself. He was 65 or 66 years of age, and one of the oldest and best known engineers on the coast; and if he is gone, leaves a wife and several children in Brooklyn, where he resided.” Mannie was never seen again.
“After a hard fight I reached the bow, which was still out of water, and saw the Petaluma lying about fifty yards off, her paddles turning slowly to keep her in position. I cried out, ‘Stop her,’ pulled off my coat and boots, and, jumping into the water, swam alongside of the Petaluma and hailed, when a rope was lowered and I scrambled aboard. I ran up to the pilot-house at once, found the Captain and a deck hand at the wheel, and said: ‘Captain, this is terrible; How did it happen?’ He answered, ‘I don't know. I was down below when we struck.’
“The Petaluma landed us at the Vallejo street wharf; I heard some one say as I left that there were two feet of water in her hold, but know nothing about it myself. There seemed to be some forty feet of her starboard bulwarks stove in, and I thought I could see two large holes in her starboard bow.”
The Petaluma/Saucelito was repaired but was destroyed by fire in 1884 at the Pt. St. Quentin ferry wharf.
PHOTO FROM SAUSALITO HISTORICAL SOCIETY
The Saucelito was an elegant replacement for earlier North Pacific Coast Railroad ferryboats.