The Strange Case of Charlie Verge’s Miracle
A man overboard, Thomas and William Daniell via Wikimedia/public domain.
There are two sides to every story, that’s what they say. Never has that been any more true than in the strange case of Charlie Verge and his miracle at sea
It was the spring of 1909 when the brig Amy Louise left St. John’s bound for Brazil.
By their fifth day out of port, According to an account in The Telegram, they were staring down a powerful storm. As night fell the wind tore at the sails and heavy seas swept across the deck.
Even for the experienced crew of the Amy Louise, it felt like a perilous situation.
It was quite a story: a brave attempt to save a ship, a struggle in the wild North Atlantic, and a mysterious glow that was nothing short of a miracle.
Capt. Sheppard decided that running under small canvas was their only option, but reducing the sails wasn’t going to be easy. A gust of wind had taken the fore-topsail and tangled it in the rigging. It was in the wrong place and would need to be cut free.
There was only one way to do it — send a man up. The man have to go out on the yardarm and use a knife to remove it.
Capt. Sheppard knew the risks — it was night, the wind was fierce, and a wave could easily take any member of his crew overboard. He didn’t want to send a man up there, and delayed as long as he could, hoping the storm might ease.
But the wind kept howling.
Someone was going to have to go aloft.
He turned to Charlie Verge, a level-headed young man who could read the sea, He knew Charlie wouldn’t take any unnecessary chances.
Dangerous Work
Charlie set out.
The captain urged him to be careful but he needn’t have bothered; it was a dangerous situation and Charlie knew it.
The boy’s heart thumped loudly in his chest as he climbed toward the sail. He held the yard with both hands and peered into the night. He couldn’t see very much but could he could feel every move of the ship. The Amy Louise began to dip, she seemed to fall farther and farther, like she was being sucked into the sea. Then came the swell. The ship rose and the wave crashed across the deck, the yard swung and Charlie held on for dear life.
Again and again waves battered the boat. Charlie looked into the night, he couldn’t be sure of anything but it looked like maybe — maybe — the next wave wasn’t as big.
He lifted one hand from the yard and pulled his knife from his belt. No sooner had he done it than the wave hit. It was as bad, maybe worse than the rest.
As if he were moving in slow motion, Charlie toppled from the arm, pushed by the momentum of the wave. He tumbled through the darkness, into the roiling surf below.
Below the surface of the water there was no light and no sound, there was nothing. It was as if the storm was miles away. He thought of his friends and family back on shore — he imagined them gathered round the kitchen fire, warm and happy.
He would never see them again. He knew it.
There was no hope of rescue. It was night, the sea was wild, and with every passing moment the wind was pushing the Amy Louise farther away from him.
A Light In The Darkness
Suddenly in the darkness there was a flash; a phosporesent glow in the water. Instinctively Charlie lunged toward it, made a grab, and caught it.
Chip log and log-line, Charles Ellms, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
It was the log line — a 150-fathom rope trailing from the Amy Louise. He caught it barely four feet from its end, if he had hesitated — even for a second — he would have missed it.
The strange glow was like a miraculous beacon. It had lead him to his one chance for survival.
Hand-over-hand Charlie hauled himself along the line until the stern of the Amy Louise rose in front of him. It took all of his strength but he lifted himself, up to the deck and over the rail.
He landed on the deck just in time to hear Captain Sheppard call out to the crew, “No use, boys, to launch a boat; she wouldn’t live.”
Imagine the captain’s shock when Charlie answered from the aft, “I'm not drowned yet!”
It was quite a story — a brave attempt to save a ship, a struggle in the wild North Atlantic, and a mysterious glow that was nothing short of a miracle.
Understandably, the tale has been told time and time again… but not everyone agrees on the details; not by a long shot.
A Contradiction
About a week after the story appeared in the Telegram Thomas Whittel, bosun on the Amy Louise, allegedly wrote to the local papers to contradict the account in the Telegram.
“There is no truth whatever in the report,” a piece in the Harbor Grace Standard read. “The voyage was a beautifully fine one and no water went over the vessel during the trip.”
Whittel’s rebuttal went on to say Capt. Sheppard had never experienced finer weather in his twenty-five years at sea.
His account was a far cry from the thrilling tale told by the Telegram.
Sailor Stories
So what really happened aboard the Amy Louise? We may never know, for sure.
The whole thing makes me think of Ron Hynes’ song ‘St. John’s Waltz’. In it he sings,
"All the sailors got a story,
some are true, and some are false."
When it comes to the stories of this island, you can never be too sure where the strange truths end and the tall tales begin.
In this case the safest bet, I suppose, is to believe nothing much happened, to believe that it was an uneventful voyage, and that the bosun’s letter was setting the historical record straight.
And we should thank him, I guess… but I’m not sure I want to.
After all a good tall tale has it’s place, too.
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Charlie Verge’s Thrilling Experience, Barrelman, August 1938
In The Jaws of Death, Evening Telegram, July 31, 1909
Thomas Whittle, Harbor Grace Standard, August 06, 1909
No experience? No problem. I took a boatbuilding workshop path the Wooden Boat Museum of Newfoundland and Labrador in Winterton and left with more than just splinters—this is what it’s like to learn a hands-on piece of Newfoundland history.