One of the most important classes of seamen in Bermuda until the Age of Steam revolutionised the ‘sailing’ technology of ships was the pilot cadre. These were men, mostly from the west and east ends of Bermuda, who ventured to sea in ‘pilot gigs’, small vessels powered by oar and sail, to pick up employment and fees for piloting ships through the reefs into safe harbour, sometimes at Ely’s in Sandys, but more often into the east end, for St George’s and Castle were the most accessible anchorages for larger ships.

Later on, after the establishment of the Town of Hamilton in the central district of the Island, ships would have to be piloted from Hurd’s Deep (The Narrows) along the channel off the north coast and into Hamilton Harbour via Timlin’s Narrows. Even today, shipping cannot enter local waters without taking on a pilot off the east end of Bermuda, for The Narrows is the only entry channel through the reefs for ships and large boats, so pilots continue to serve the Island in an invaluable way, even if you do not like the larger-than-large cruise ships ploughing enormous furrows along our shores.

Given the importance of the pilot class, Lionel Simmons of Somerset was delighted to find an account of his great-great-great-grandfather as such an individual in 1843, being at the young age of twenty-four a ‘Senior Pilot’ and in command of a pilot gig, sometimes in the form of a whale boat. Once reaching an approaching ship, the pilot had to negotiate for the task of sailing the vessel through the reefs and into harbour, for which sale of service he and his crew would be paid. The negotiations with the Spanish brig, Sophia, proved to be difficult and were reported in The Royal Gazette on 11 July.

‘On Saturday July 1, 1843, Jack Simmons (Pilot) saw about 10am a full rigged Brig coming in from the Southward distance about 15 miles — the wind about S.S.E. — very light. The Brig was steering N.W. and this course would have taken her clear of the Long Bar’, but the ship was steering erratically and ‘apparently under the influence of the current.’ In the afternoon, Simmons went to Somerset Bridge and upon returning home in the evening he saw a light to the west-southwest about 9pm. ‘About 10, Uti Simon (a man who belongs to J. S.’s pilot boat) and lives on a Hill immediately above his house, came and told him, that he had seen the flash of a gun and thought he had heard the report, which was not loud’. Simmons and Simon decided that the occurrence was worth investigating, as it might be that the ship was on the reef and ‘collected some men, on their way to Somerset Bridge, where the Boats lay’.

Setting out via Ely’s Harbour ‘in 2 whale boats containing 12 men each’, when at sea in the direction they had seen the light, they met up with two ‘rowing gigs’. From those boats Pilots Will Night, George Evans and Jack Outerbridge told Simmons and company that the brig was on the rocks, but had fired upon them and they advised the newcomers not to go out to the vessel. They turned back to shore and were overtaken by a boat from the ‘upper part of Somerset’ at ‘a rapid rate, and the dip of her oars made the water sparkle very much’. While the others hightailed it for home, Simmons and his team hove to (‘lay upon our oars’) for a while and began to think that the gunshot was a distress signage, rather than a hostile act, and so it proved when they gingerly approached the Sophia a little later in the morning darkness, the brig being ‘fast aground, her bows lying East’.

The vessel turned out to be a Spaniard, but as the newspaper reported ‘me no tendy Engle’ was the call of one of the crew that English was not understood. Regardless, Jack and most of his men went on board and in the ship’s hour of distress, ‘as soon as we were on deck, the Captain, Supercargo and crew received us very kindly and offered us cigars, brandy and anisette’. Smoke and drink aside, the Bermudians got down to the job of getting the Sophia off the rocks, which was accomplished in 25 minutes, around four in the morning of Sunday, 2 July. By this time, one of the other pilot boats had returned and while Jack Simmons advised them that they were not wanted, they came aboard anyway and negotiations started for the salvage of the vessel, but no conclusion could be reached. Meantime the other gigs went looking for the 30 bales of cotton that had been thrown overboard to lighten ship: some were found and some appeared for local sale thereafter.

The supercargo (the owner’s representative) ‘put down $8,500, $4,500 for the Cargo, and $4,000 for the Vessel’, which at five percent of the value of the latter would give Jack Simmons and his crew a salvage fee of $200, but Simmons wanted $400. The captain offered only $75, so the matter came to a standstill. Thereafter, Jack’s men warped the Sophia through the reef to the east of Long Bar and brought the ship to anchor off Wreck Hill, where the captain demanded his cotton back. That was after the captain thought he was free of the reefs, so he cut the warping hawser in an attempt to go to sea, but ended up on the rocks and had to be pulled off again.

The matter of the salvage payment was taken to officials in Hamilton, where $400 was settled upon and Jack Simmons ‘agreed to pilot the vessel to sea … and left her clear of the reefs about 1pm [on Tuesday 4 July 1843]: in quitting the vessel the Captain gave him and his men cigars, shook hands with him very good humouredly and appeared quite satisfied’.

Jack and Uti no doubt enjoyed their cigars, overlooking the sea from their homes near what is now Hog Bay Park. Uti’s first name was Eutychus and in the newspaper his last is given as Simon, while later texts refers to him as Simons. Some years after the Sophia incident, he bought land in the Hog Bay area, some of which he sold to John ‘Jack’ Simmons, his pilot colleague and on some of which stands “Wentworth Homestead” today, an historic home noted in the book Sandys, which is one of the volumes in the Bermuda National Trust’s “Architectural Heritage Series”. Hopefully, unlike the Biblical Eutychus, Uti did not fall asleep while smoking and fall off his veranda to an early death.

Edward Cecil Harris, MBE, JP, PHD, FSA is Director of the National Museum at Dockyard. Comments may be made to director@bmm.bm or 704-5480.