Belanga Family History & Genealogy

Shipwreck of the German Ship Elisabeth
Cape Henry, Virginia (From the 1887 Annual Report of the United States Life-Saving Service
Edited by the Ocean City Life-Saving Station Museum)
*Minor editorial privileges were taken to clarify the text and writing style of the period.
The saddest disaster of the year is, without doubt, that of the German ship Elisabeth. This wreck occurred on the 8th day of January, 1887, at a point on the coast of Virginia about twelve miles below Cape Henry. It involved the loss of twenty-seven lives, including the entire personnel of the ship and five men of the Life-Saving Service.

The Elisabeth was a fine craft of twelve hundred and thirty-nine tons register, built in Boston in 1855, as the Empress, and subsequently sold to parties in Bremen who put her under the German flag. She had sailed from Hamburg-the latter part of the preceding November, with a cargo of several hundred tons of kainit, or manure salt, and five thousand empty petroleum barrels consigned to parties in Baltimore, Maryland. Her commander being Frederick G. Halberstadt, an experienced and able ship master, who had celebrated his fiftieth round-trip voyage across the Atlantic the previous summer, in Baltimore.

The ship arrived on the coast in the vicinity of Cape Henry just as a blinding snow-storm set in at about dusk on the evening of Friday, January 7th. The wind had freshened to a twenty-eight mile gale from the northeast and this raised a turbulent and dangerous sea. The time at which she struck can only be conjectured; but from the fact that she sunk on the outer edge of the bar, fully three hundred and forty yards out from the high-water mark, and that her starboard anchor was down, it is thought that she grounded at low-water just before midnight and that the anchor was dropped to prevent her from driving nearer the shore, with the hope that she would float when the tide rose. It is possible that finding herself in shoal water she had cast anchor, and then owing to the violence of the gale and the sea had dragged into the breakers. Whichever of these theories is correct, one thing is certain, the ship soon bilged and then settled rapidly in the sand; for at daylight on the morning of the 8th, she was decks-to, and the sea was breaking over almost her entire length. She lay parallel to the beach with her head to the north, the anchor which was down trending to the northeast, or off shore, on the starboard bow.

The surfmen of the life-saving service discovered the Elisabeth at about 1 o clock in the morning.

They were the night watch patrols of the Dam Neck Mills and Little Island Life-Saving Stations, which were located south of Cape Henry, Virginia. At the sighting of the vessel, Surfman George W. Stone, of Little Island, hurriedly returned to advise the keeper of the station of the wreck. The station house was two and one half miles to the south of the wreck. He arrived at 2:00 a.m. Surfman James B. Belanga arrived at his station at about 2:40 a.m. The Dam Neck Mills Station was four miles to the north of the vessel. The Elisabeth was about half a mile south of the place, or check point, where the patrols of the two stations usually meet, and therefore, within the Little Island Life-saving Station's patrol limits. The respective life-saving crews sprang from their beds as soon as they heard the alarm, and set out upon the mission from which some of them were destined never to return alive. The shipwreck being within Keeper Abel Belanga's shoreline responsibility, he and his crew proceeded to the scene pulling the heavily weighted, thousand pound, beach apparatus cart, while Keeper Barco, of Dam Neck Mills took simply a spare shot-line. Keeper Barco and his men were comparatively un-encumbered with gear and thus free-footed, and having the wind at their backs, reached the neighborhood of the wreck shortly after 4 a.m. in the morning. Finding that Belanga's crew had not yet reached the wreck they pushed on south to meet them and give them a helping hand. This helped the Belanga crew immensely, as they were nearly exhausted from drawing the heavily laden cart against the wind, and through the snow-drifts, in some places almost waist deep.

The Elisabeth meanwhile had been making signals by torch (flares) every ten to fifteen minutes from the time of her discovery by the patrol. It was 4:40 a.m., when the life-savers arrived and started operations for an attempt to establish communication by means of the wreck-gun. Although the moon was nearly full, it was deeply hidden by the snow-clouds and the morning was dark; so dark that only a dim outline of the vessel could be seen, not plainly enough, in fact, to distinguish the rig. The line- throwing gun was placed in what was judged to be the most advantageous position, abreast of the vessel's bow, and just clear of the swash of the surf. Four attempts were made, while it was yet dark, to throw (or shoot) a line on board. All of these attempts were all unsuccessful. The first shot was with a No. 9 line, the largest used by the Service, the elevation being twenty-five degrees. The line dropped into the water short of the ship, and quickly drifted off to the southward with the strong current. This was quickly hauled back and another shot made with no better result, although a smaller line was used. The elevation of the gun for this shot was twenty degrees. At the third shot, the heavier No. 9 line was again used; but being wet and stiff with ice, it broke. The same line was now re-faked (coiled in a way to keep the line from tangling), not in the box, but on a tarpaulin spread upon the sand, and the fourth shot fired. This failed also. Because only two charges were left in the haversack it was agreed to suspend rescue operations until daylight.

While waiting, a fire was built and the men busied themselves re-arranging the lines for the renewal of operations. At break of day the vessel was made out to be a large ship. Shortly after this as the life-savers were about to fire the gun again they discovered a dark object in the water alongside the ship, under the port quarter. This was at first taken for a piece of wreckage, but closer observation showed that it was a large boat, crowded with men. The crew had abandoned their ship. How long they had been in the boat will never be known, but as no signals were made after the firing of the second slot it is believed that the boat was lowered towards 5 o clock when, with the rising of the tide, the sea began breaking over the deck. As the sequel proved it is a pity, the crew of the Elisabeth had not instead taken to the rigging. At the fifth and sixth shots the gun was given greater elevation. The first fire dropped the line short, as before, but the next time the line ranged well to the windward and lodged over the head-stays. But it was only for a moment, as the line quickly slipped off into the sea. The powder to fire another shot was now exhausted. Keeper Belanga, who directed the operations, decided to return to his station for a fresh supply and also for his surf-boat, taking Surfmen Stone and Ayers to assist him. The three men-reached the station on foot soon after 8 o clock. Belanga gave instructions about the boat, and after seeing to his powder he ran over to his house, but a stone's throw away, and hurriedly asked for something to eat. Breakfast was not ready, but his wife set out some cold coffee and apiece of pie, which he hastily swallowed, and he then left for the wreck again, in his own beach-cart, with a couple of dry shot lines, a canister of powder, and the medicine-chest, leaving the boat to follow on its carriage.

This was the last time his wife saw him alive. Mrs. Belanga relates a pathetic incident of this visit. With some anxiety she had asked her husband, as he stood at the table eating, what he proposed doing with