Murder and the Mignonette

To be in the yachting world, or a member of a yacht club, was to be in the same world as the royals–who were avid yachters–and it had a level of prestige a lot of folks sought. Yachting was, if you will, a lifestyle, whether you had one for cruising around or you had one for racing. So, when Want went to England, one of his quests was to buy an English yacht and bring it all the way back to Australia. As you probably guessed, he purchased the Mignonette. Now, this was not a new yacht.

Originally built in the late 1860s, the Mignonette had been a fishing vessel. That didn’t last long though. By the 1870s she was on her second owner and altered to look more like the fashionable racing yachts of the day, though she wasn’t exactly a racing all-star. At 52 feet in length the Mignonette was a good size for a yacht but rather small to make such a long journey.

Still, it was not as if small vessels hadn’t made a trip like that before, and so once Want purchased the Mignonette he set about hiring a captain who would, in turn, find a crew and essentially take charge of the whole venture. The captain that Want hired was Tom Dudley. Dudley would be 31 at the time of the voyage. He was from a seafaring family and had been at sea since he was a child.

He rose up through the ranks, received his mate certification, commanded ships and developed a really good reputation. He had a wife, Philippa, and they had three children together. When the opportunity to sail the Mignonette to Australia arose, the timing likely appeared fortuitous. Philippa Dudley had relatives in Australia and Tom and his wife were considering emigration. This would, then, be a great opportunity to check things out and see if it would be the right move for the family.

Much to Dudley’s dismay, I’m sure, no less than three people agreed to join the crew and then changed their minds and backed out. Ultimately the crew consisted of himself and three other men also from seafaring families. First there was Edwin Stephens, who was in his late 30s, and held his master mariner’s certificate. Stephens had a good background in sailing, especially in deeper waters and on longer journeys.

There was one thing that blighted his record: On one job, where he was partly in charge of navigation, the ship wrecked. However, no one and nothing on the ship was lost. Plus, because the responsibility for it all fell on the Captain, there was no real punishment for him for making navigational errors, still it killed his reputation for a bit. He, like Dudley, was married with children and considering emigration to Australia. Then there was Edmund Brooks. Brooks was also in his late 30s.

He’d known Dudley for a long time and had a good reputation for yacht work, but didn’t have any of the certifications that Dudley or Stephens did. The final member of the crew was Richard Parker. Parker was an orphan who had several siblings and was only 17. His foster family didn’t want him to go, but he was all about it. He’d not had the best schooling experience and Dudley purposely brought books on the yacht because he agreed he’d teach Parker to read and write along the way.

And so it was that on May 19, 1884, the crew of the Mignonette began its voyage from England to Australia. The plan was to sail down and around the Cape of Good Hope, that is the southern tip of Africa, then across to Australia in what they estimated optimistically would take roughly 120 days. The route, which traveled away from paths traditionally taken by larger vessels, was inspired by ones fellow smaller vessels had chosen in the past.

And the truth is, things went well for the first near month and a half. Trouble started to hit as the Mignonette continued south in the Atlantic. Winds picked up toward the end of June and threatened the yacht. The four-man crew was able to get through their first bout with it, but then, on July 5th, pardon my language, everything went to hell.

A gale was immensely powerful and the Mignonette was no match for what it brought–which was what the survivors would describe as a gigantic wave the likes of which none of them had ever encountered before. They did their best to save the yacht and forge through but when the wave crashed over it, they knew it was the end of the Mignonette. The four men had to scramble into the dinghy–a small, flimsy boat–that the Mignonette carried. I read in A.W.B.

Simpson’s classic work on the Mignonette that the planking on the dinghy was only a quarter of an inch thick. That’s not a lot between you and the tumultuous ocean. It’s been speculated that the fact that the Mignonette was old and, despite recent repairs, wasn’t in the best shape, meant that she wasn’t able to withstand the wave and weather that did her in. What’s miraculous in my opinion is that the flimsy dinghy was able to save all four crew members.

Dudley did what a captain was supposed to do, he made sure the others were all safely on before joining them. They also did their best to take drinkable water with them (this failed) and food (they managed to save only two tins of turnips). Also with them was the ship’s compass, and navigational devices. They watched from the perilous safety of the dinghy as their yacht sank forever into the water. What happened next was, quite frankly, nothing good.

There was no land or ships in sight, and they were completely exposed to the elements, with only the two tins of turnips and no water. It was, I have no doubt, even more tortuous than anyone who hasn’t experienced it can imagine. The men did their best, rationing out the turnips over time and using an oar to help with navigation. Also, once the Mignonette was gone, the captain’s authority went with it. No one had to listen to him anymore.

As such, it took time for him to convince the others to give up their shirts to help make sails. I understand this. It may help catch the wind, but it also meant zero protection from the glaring sun. At one point they had to use the oar to hit a shark on its head and drive it away from circling the dinghy. At another they were lucky enough to catch and eat a sea turtle.

But the days wore on and they still had nothing to drink and it seemed that every bit of rain they saw didn’t reach them, or when it did, it didn’t do enough. Yes, I know, they were literally floating on water. But you can’t survive by drinking sea water. In fact, sea water–with its high salt content–can kill humans.

The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration explains it like this, “When we consume salt as part of our daily diets, we also drink liquids, which help to dilute the salt and keep it at a healthy level. Human kidneys can only make urine that is less salty than salt water. Therefore, to get rid of all the excess salt taken in by drinking seawater, you have to urinate more water than you drank. Eventually, you die of dehydration even as you become thirstier.”

So, yeah, these Victorian seamen were not remotely wrong when they reminded each other that drinking sea water was a giant no-no in the survival game and it makes sense why they believed it could cause madness. Unfortunately, as time went on, they remained hopelessly afloat while their bodies suffered terribly. They resorted to drinking their own urine (which actually didn’t help much because, again, salt) and that temptation to drink seawater got bigger and bigger.

While it’s possible that Stephens drank more than he should, because his condition deteriorated quicker than Brooks and Dudley who did not, it’s believed that on or around July 20th, Richard Parker couldn’t take it anymore and drank a lot of it. He became violently ill, including severe diarrhea that only hastened his dehydration.

Around this time, Dudley completed a letter written on what materials he had at hand that–if by some miracle it reached his wife–would be his farewell because he believed they would soon die. A few days later things were so dire that Dudley mentioned, probably not for the first time, what that all sailors knew was a possibility in the case of circumstances such as these. Yes, cannibalism. No one was excited by this idea. Here is where something called the Custom of the Sea came into play.

It was not a law, but traditions and procedures that those in the sailing world considered to be the right way to do things. When cannibalism was the only way to save people by giving them the sustenance they needed to survive, all involved were supposed to draw lots so that each would have the same amount of chance to survive or be selected as the victim. Trying to hold on to hope, Brooks at one point said that he did not want to draw lots because he neither wanted to kill someone or be killed.

However, Parker, all agreed, was not going to get better. In fact, he was lying in the bottom of the boat, unable to function. Awaiting his death might be the obvious choice, but thirst was worse for the survivors than hunger. The fresh blood from a kill would be more desired than waiting for death when the blood would congeal. After considering their situation, Dudley and Stephens agreed to wait until morning–still hoping for rescue–to decide what to do.

But when the morning came, no saving grace came with it. Whether lots were ever drawn is a matter of contention and stories changed over time. This makes sense. Parker was the obvious unfortunate choice, but there was no honor in preying on the weakest member just because you could. Lot drawing created an equal chance of survival. If they weren’t drawn, I can see why they might lie or say they did. Or, if they were drawn, a fix must be considered.

Regardless, with Dudley taking control and Stephens assisting, Parker was killed by a pen knife stab to his neck. In later descriptions of events, Dudley described Parker’s death as taking different amounts of time, with a maximum of about 30 seconds. Also, it is possible that Parker said “what, me?” as his final words when he realized what was happening. Although Brooks did not participate in the murder, he took part in the gruesome food and drink.

They drank his blood and ate his heart and liver, disposing of much of the rest of the body in the sea, but saved some small pieces for the following days. Several days later, on July 29th, Brooks finally saw a sail. This was so shocking that he didn’t believe it at first. The three remaining survivors sprung into action as best they could to try and make themselves visible to the ship. However, a rescue wasn’t a given.

In this period, it was entirely possible that a ship spotting people in need of rescue could just…choose not to do it. Maybe they didn’t have enough rations to share. Maybe they were afraid it was too difficult a rescue mission. Thankfully, the Mignonette survivors were not ignored. A large barque, the Moctezuma, captained by P.H Simonsen, took all three men aboard. His wife, also on the ship, took personal control of nursing Dudley.

At Dudley’s request, the dinghy was also saved, though when the Moctezuma’s crew discovered Parker’s remains, Captain Simonsen ordered them to be put overboard. Still, it was likely obvious what had occurred and the physical state of the survivors who could barely function certainly spoke to the dire straits they’d been in. Dudley, Stephens, and Brooks were on the ship for over a month as it made its way north to bring them to England on the way back to Hamburg.

During this time, they were cared for, though still not well at all, and Dudley wrote and rewrote his tale of what happened (which A.W.B. Simpson is careful to indicate were not confessions but explanations, likely for Want, the yacht’s owner). Dudley, Stephens, and Brooks reached England courtesy of the Moctezuma in early September. They were finally safely in their home country and all signs point to that they believed they would come ashore, regain their health, and return to their lives.

Instead, they ended up at the center of a headline-grabbing trial. You see, once they went ashore, they knew that by standard procedure, they were required to meet with the shipping master and report all that happened to the Mignonette to aid future reforms of sea safety. However, a sergeant of the police force of Falmouth Harbor heard what happened and was appalled. Likewise, the shipping master was aware that this situation should be reported above him and could escalate. And, escalate it did.

As it turned out, the men’s honesty got them arrested. This was stunning to them to say the least, but in context, you see, it is really a matter of terrible timing. In this era there was a movement to bring the actions of the seafaring world more under government control and regulation. However, there was no real track record of prosecution for shipwreck survivors like them. This is why when they gave depositions about what occurred they didn’t worry about what they said.

It was just a matter of course and everyone in their world knew that in a situation as dire as theirs had been, you had to resort to the custom of the sea. What they didn’t know however, was that the government had particular interest in this. (There were WAY too many ships wrecked in this period and a lot of dark things happened so people could survive.) As such, the government wanted to officially declare that it was NOT okay no matter what seafaring folk believed was justified.

Such an opportunity had arisen the decade before, but for a series of reasons–certainly not least of which was that in that instance the ship whose wreck led to cannibalism was owned by a Member of Parliament–had not pursued action. The Mignonette crew was the new opportunity to make this point. Of course, finding a way to convict them was a bit difficult because the main source of information about what happened in the dinghy was due to Dudley, Stephens, and Brooks talking about it themselves.

So, what did the Crown prosecutors do? Well, they knew Brooks had not been an active participant in the murder so they didn’t press charges against him but they did against Dudley and Stephens. (The two shocked men plead not guilty.) The prosecution then used Brooks as a witness to testify that Dudley and Stephens had committed murder–though Brooks stated that he believed cannibalism saved them.

The case was then brought to the Exeter assizes, assizes being periods where judges heard cases in different regions of the country. There, the judge was Baron Huddleston who was aware of the importance of this case and was going to do anything to get what he wanted out of it. When a Grand Jury was faced with the option to decide if the case was one even worth hearing, Huddleston took no risks.

He lectured them on his opinions of the legal aspects of the case as if evidence had been presented already…which it officially had not. Of course this caused them to say, yes, it should go to trial. Then, at the actual trial, Huddleston again had no qualms about pushing things in the direction he wanted. Instead of letting the prosecution and the defense do their thing without his interruption, he pushed the jury to consider something called a special verdict.

A special verdict was not a verdict of guilty or not. It was a situation where the jury would affirm in writing what they understood to be the facts of the case. Then they would hand it over to the court system and basically say, “okay, now you can be the ones to make the decisions as to what this means, because we can’t do it.” The jury accepted this and–shock!–Huddleston just so happened to already have a drafted version for them to consider and approve.

It had been so long since a special verdict was used–just shy of a century!—that the next step that occurred the last time couldn’t be used anymore due to a restructuring of the court system in the intervening decades. Huddleston wanted to get the case kicked up to where it would be heard by a panel of high-level judges, because that sort of collaborative ruling was the only way that a precedent could be set that would hold up in future instances of cannibalism at sea.

But to get the desired bench with the system as it stood in 1884, a scramble occurred where a new one was formed for the occasion and would consist of the Lord Chief Justice Coleridge, Huddleston, and three other judges. The case was heard by these judges. The defense argued some legal points (like that Huddleston had edited and amended the special verdict after the jury agreed to it) and the crux of his argument was this: murder by necessity isn’t a criminal act.

This isn’t the same as self-defense, which is when you are being actively attacked. Necessity is such as the Mignonette crew experienced: they would die if they did not have sustenance and the only sustenance available was one of them. Therefore, it was necessary that someone died. It was, if you will, the sacrifice of one to save the many. Of course, none of this truly mattered. The judges decided to officially affirm the conviction that the men were guilty. Except. You know.

They had never actually been convicted. The jury’s Special Verdict did not include a conviction, just their decisions regarding case facts, but the judges didn’t want to be seen as overreaching and doing the jury’s job. Yes, it’s as ridiculous as it sounds and Dudley and Stephens were given the proper sentence for a guilty-for-murder verdict…death. But the judges made it clear that everyone involved in the case wanted the men to be given mercy–so, not have that sentence carried out.

All of this circus was to set the legal view of cannibalism at sea. Plus, it was to say that, you know, murder by necessity is not something that you can use as a defense. There was a fear that if it was established as a fact that you could, it would be very, very widely applied for people to get off of all sorts of things. Anyway, as things progressed, Dudley and Stephens had been assured that as soon as they were sentenced, they would be pardoned by the Queen and allowed to go home, free.

Well, it was true that they didn’t get executed, but they also didn’t get to go home. In order to make sure the point was well and truly made (and I mean, how could it be made if they walked out of the trial free despite conviction?) they were forced to spend six months in a very restrictive prison.

It was yet another blow to them, but mercifully it was the last legal blow they faced, and they were released from prison in May of 1885, one day over a year from when they’d set sail on the Mignonette. I want to point out that in the court of public opinion, Dudley and Stephens always had tremendous support.

Funds were started to pay for their defense (though Dudley only agreed to accept money if whatever went above what he needed was used to pay for Parker’s sister’s schooling, something which Parker family tradition says might have happened). People showed up to the trial to support them–every captain under which Dudley had ever served was in Exeter in case they were needed to give evidence in support of him.

Even those who thought a conviction and punishment made sense to establish a precedent appeared to feel bad for their trauma and there was no big call for execution. To me the most important thing though is this: Daniel Parker, Richard’s elder brother, met with the men early on, as soon as he learned of his brother’s death. He also at one point appeared in the courtroom and shook hands with them in a public display that eliminated any speculation that he had animosity toward them.

As a seafaring man himself, he surely understood what happened, horrible as it was. Eventually, when a memorial stone was placed in a graveyard for Richard Parker, Daniel personally insisted that a specific Bible verse be included. That verse? Acts VII, verse 60: “Lord, lay not this sin to their charge.” To me that tells us all we need to know about Daniel’s view of what happened.

Once their prison sentences ended, Dudley and Stephens were allowed to return to their normal lives, whatever their new normal was. Meanwhile Brooks, who of course wasn’t convicted of anything, likely participated in what were essentially freak shows for the time. There, to make money, he would have exhibited himself so that people could gawk at a real-life cannibal. Around or after that he probably worked in a Yard as a rigger or a yacht hand.

He married a woman named Sarah Anne Cox, and passed away in 1919 from a heart attack at the age of 73. As for Stephens and Dudley…Following his imprisonment Stephens did return to the seas. It’s believed that he developed an increasingly bad drinking problem and quite possibly lost his marriage. Stephens died in 1914 at the age of 66. Finally, although I’m talking about Captain Dudley last, he was actually the first of the three to pass away. He and his family did emigrate to Australia.

There, he and his wife had more children, and he had a successful sail business. However, in 1900 the bubonic plague came to Australia and Dudley had the misfortune of being one of its earliest victims. He died at the age of 46 and, due to his cause of death, the Sydney Morning Herald reported that his coffin was filled with “a very strong disinfectant.” Then it was covered in sheets further soaked in disinfectant and a sailcloth.

He was buried in quarantine ground in a grave which was “of unusual depth.” It is not surprising that the Mignonette fascinates creators. In fact, as you were listening, if the name Richard Parker rang a bell, it could be because of this piece of pop culture: in the early 2000s, Yann Martel published the novel Life of Pi about a boy who, following a shipwreck, ends up stranded in a lifeboat with a tiger. It has since been made into a film and a captivating stage production. That tiger’s name?

Richard Parker. So, was the tiger named after our Richard Parker? In part, but not entirely. It turns out that our Richard Parker was one of at least three 19th-century Richard Parkers associated with tragedy at sea. In the late 1830s, Edgar Allan Poe released the entirely fictional Narrative of Arthur Gordan Pym. It involved men being lost at sea and drawing lots to decide who would have the unfortunate fate of being the one sacrificed so the others might survive.

As you also probably guessed, the unfortunate fictional soul chosen was named Richard Parker. Then, roughly a decade later, in very-much-real history, there was a Richard Parker among those lost in the shipwreck of the Francis Spaight. The Richard Parker in Life of Pi is a naming choice inspired by the unfortunate Richard Parkers who died at sea. And the Mignonette continues to inspire new fictional pieces.

As I mentioned at the top of this episode, I was inspired to pursue this topic because of the very new musical Swept Away. I had the pleasure of seeing the production in Washington, DC last month and I can vouch for the fact that it contains no characters named Richard Parker or yachts called Mignonette.

In fact, it’s set on an American whaling ship, and the characters are given intentionally non-specific names: Big Brother, Little Brother, Captain, and Mate…played by Stark Sands, Adrian Blake Enscoe, Wayne Duvall, and John Gallagher, Jr. respectively. Still, the elements at play are clearly rooted in the Mignonette and other horrific tragedies that befell more seafarers than I like to think about in the 19th century.

(The cast and The Avett Brothers have all mentioned reading Neil Hanson’s The Custom of the Sea which is about the Mignonette and one of the books I read for this episode.) You won’t get any spoilers here about what exactly happens in that Swept Away lifeboat or why, but it does a phenomenal job of wrapping you into its world through perfect casting, beautifully adapted music, engaging stage design, and well-crafted structure and dialogue.

I hope it has a long life but for now I’m just thankful I got to visit it once, not only because I loved it, but because it caused me to cover this topic. Thank you for joining me! For more information about the sources used for this episode, visit FootnotingHistory.com. Special thanks, of course, to all of our patrons and ko-fi supporters! Please join us again next time and until then, remember, the best stories are in the footnotes.