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T.W. Paterson: The good ship Isabel knew excitement from day one

“Susannah, the maid…brandished a pair of rusty tongs over her head…”—Colonist.
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The tugboat Isabel sailed for many years in B.C. waters. (submitted)

“Susannah, the maid…brandished a pair of rusty tongs over her head and loudly exclaimed she would brain any man who dared come on board the ship.” —Colonist.

Few ships had more exciting careers than the pioneer steamboat, Isabel. Passenger liner, freighter, tugboat — and man-o’-war — the single-stacked sidewheeler made her mark for more than 30 years before ending her career as a derelict.

Built for Capt. Edward Stamp, the Alberni lumber tycoon, Isabel was launched in July 1866. The ceremony had to be cut short when it was noticed that she was launching herself.

“She’s off!” someone cried. Others re-echoed his warning as the impatient steamer plunged into the water. Among those caught short by the premature launching was the “jolly skipper” who’d been boarding by ladder. Although thrown to the ground, he was unhurt and, after dusting himself off, he joined in celebrating the occasion.

Built of the “finest timber ever put into a vessel on this coast,” the 175-foot-long Isabel’s frame was of unblemished pine, her keel carved from a single giant fir from Burrard Inlet. Intended to serve as a tugboat, her fine appointments (she cost the then awesome sum of $50,000) made her almost too good for such mundane tasks. In fact, by the time her machinery was installed, Capt. Stamp had outfitted her to accommodate 50 passengers and 200 tons of freight.

On Oct. 24, 1866, she cleared Victoria on her trial run which she passed with flying colours; two weeks after, she completed her maiden voyage by towing the bark Delaware to Nanaimo in just 12 hours.

Despite her “eloquently furnished saloon…spacious lower decks…and cushioned settings for about 200 people,” the Isabel had been built as a tugboat and after serving temporarily as an excursion steamer, she resumed this trade. By late 1867, however, Stamp was eying the lucrative California trade but Isabel remained at towboating when his application for a government subsidy failed.

It was in this role that she made headlines in June 1868 when, under command of Capt. Tom Pamphlett, she chanced upon the burning barque Moneta, then at anchor in Burrard Inlet. Pamphlett immediately took the Moneta in tow — towards the nearest beach — where he let her crash onto the rocks. The impact ruptured Moneta’s seams and — voila! — the fire was extinguished. For this fine service, Capt. Stamp billed Moneta’s Capt. Turpin $10,000.

Enraged, Turpin replied that his ship was worth only $15,000 and offered $2,500. Stamp was adamant and, when Turpin refused to pay, obtained a court order authorizing the Moneta’s impounding. When High Sheriff A.C. Elliott was ordered to Burrard Inlet to seize the vessel, Turpin, “though an Englishman…used the most unbecoming language”.

With reinforcements, Elliott returned to Burrard Inlet aboard the Isabel, to find that the Moneta, despite her injuries, had sailed. Isabel overtook her in Porlier Pass where Elliott ordered Turpin to surrender his ship.

“Now, boys, come on, defend the ship, allow no one to come on board!” roared Turpin. Brandishing a sword over his head, he exhorted his crew to “knock any man down who attempts to come on board”.

“Down with the damned piratical rascals!” shouted one of his men, who’d armed themselves with handspikes, harpoons, swords and ground pepper.

“Some blew horns, others yelled, and as it was afterwards proved, not a few were armed with iron weapons red hot, with which they wounded both Mr. Elliott and Officer McMillan, one of the party of the Isabel,” reported the Colonist.

First over the Moneta’s railing was Sheriff Elliott, followed by four of his officers. A thrust of a heated weapon seriously wounded McMillan in the chest, fellow officer Stephens dragging him to safety. Elliott, in the meantime, had had the warrant torn from his hands and thrown over the side, a hand burned by the thrust of a red-hot pitchfork.

“Amongst the most determined offenders,” marvelled the Colonist, “was Susannah, the maid in attendance on the captain’s wife, who brandished a pair of rusty tongs over her head, and loudly exclaimed she would brain any man who dared come on board the ship. And to prove she was in earnest, she applied the tongs with great force to the shins of the unfortunate marshal, who yelled loudly from the pain produced by so formidable a weapon.”

The battle, though fierce, was brief and with the officers firmly entrenched on her bloodied decks, the Moneta was impounded and, sails furled, towed to Esquimalt. Ironically, the court awarded Capt. Stamp just $1,000 and costs.

In October 1869 it was Isabel’s turn to be stranded, in English Bay. Refloated and repaired, she was sold, refurbished and put on the run between Victoria and Port Townsend. Then it was back to towboating and service as a passenger liner-freighter during the Cassiar gold rush.

In following years she served in Alaska, the Strait of Georgia and Puget Sound. Finally, in 1899, she was reduced to a floating fish plant. After further ignominy as a steam barge, she was left to rot on an Esquimalt beach.

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