Tragedy of the River
The old Town Bridge at Arundel was the site for this incident in 1917. The central navigation arch was the route for all passing river traffic and at high tide, as seen here, the clearance above water level is restricted, posing risk to large, crowded trip boats. This account is based on an inquest findings, as reported in the local press at the time.
The Norfolk was on a Sunday afternoon trip to the Black Rabbit at Offham above Arundel and probably travelled up with the last of the incoming flood tide, so would have passed through the bridge earlier. She then moored at the Inn to allow the passengers ashore for refreshments, setting off an hour later for the return trip. However, the tide had turned and was flowing downstream, probably at 3 or 4 mph or more and funnelling faster through Arundel bridge.
The postcards (not from this trip) show a typical distribution of passengers, with some seated on the engine cover at the stern. One crew member, in this case probably Arthur Healey the proprietor, is at the tiller and another crew member is further forward by the engine controls. The ‘hoops’ above the hull, called stanchions in the incident report, supported the folded cover and defined a safe clearance through any bridges. It is apparent that the view forward from the steering position can be obstructed by the passengers, particularly those on the engine cover. The boat was licenced for 101 passengers but. on the occasion of the incident. it carried 73 plus at least 4 crew.
It was captained and steered by William James Collins, a son of the well known harbour pilot, who had lost an arm during the war and had fairly recently returned from his discharge to be a pilot’s assistant at Littlehampton. Arthur Healey was manning the engine controls. One of the pilot boats was also proceeding up river and aboard was 23 year old Ernest Charles Collins, another son of the pilot. The pilot boat’s engine failed during the journey and she was taken in tow by Norfolk.
On the return journey, as the pilot boat was again taken in tow, Ernest joined his brother James on the Norfolk. As they approached the Town Bridge he took over the steering to allow one-armed James to have a cigarette. At this point, the speed over the ground was estimated to have been 11 mph, a combination of boat speed and tide. The boat took a lurch and the third stanchion from the bow caught the left hand side of the bridge, despite a call from James Collins to “Duck your heads”, one of the women passengers in the engine cover must have realised she was close to the bridge and in trying to avoid impact, overbalanced and fell overboard. Ernest at the tiller responding to calls of “Woman overboard!”, promptly dived off the boat after her.
Arthur Healey at the engine controls eventually managed to go astern, by which time they were some 200yds below the bridge (at the estimated speed, this would have been a little less than 40 seconds later). Meanwhile, the tow had been cast off and Ernest, a strong swimmer, had reached the woman and brought her down nearly 100yds where the pilot boat crew managed to pull her aboard. From this point, Ernest was seen no more. His body was recovered from the river the following day.
The jury at the inquest returned a verdict that the deceased accidentally drowned while he was in the act of saving the life of the woman, Mrs. Haneford, and they expressed sympathy with the parents of the deceased. They also recommended that there should be a notice posted on the engine box, warning passengers not to sit there, especially when approaching Arundel Bridge, and that the person in charge of the launch should see that this is strictly carried out.
We should be careful not to make our own judgements on incidents of this type, when seen from more than a century later in the light of modern health and safety awareness, and there is no doubt that Ernest Collins showed great courage and self sacrifice on that Sunday afternoon.
The Arun has claimed many victims over the years and remains a dangerous river, particularly when in full flow on an ebb tide. It demands our respect.