This man is a candidate for addition to Keighley's Supplementary Volume under the proposal to add further names in 2024, the centenary of the original roll of honour.
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Supported by the National Lottery's Heritage Fund, our project intends to submit about 120 names for peer review to add them to the book which is kept at Keighley Library. The unveiling of the book with it's new names is planned for November 2024, 100 years after the unveiling of the original war memorial.
Able Seaman. Mercantile Marine.
Early life:
William was born in Keighley on Christmas eve, 24th December 1869 and his birth was registered in Keighley in the first quarter of 1870. His parents were Isaiah Holmes and Dorothy Singleton Holmes née Dewhirst, who had been married in Keighley in 1857. Isaiah was a cabinet maker.
Tragically Dorothy died on 19th December 1870, aged 38 and she was buried at Utley Cemetery.
William was baptised at St. Andrew's Church in Keighley on 2nd April 1871. At the time they were living on Aireworth Street in Keighley and they were recorded here in the 1871 census when William was aged just one.
Isaiah was of course a widower and still working as a cabinet maker and William had siblings Hannah, aged thirteen; Jane aged twelve; Michell aged ten, Ada aged six and Joseph aged four.
It wasn't long before Isaiah remarried at the age of 39, to Elizabeth Wright, a 49 year old widow of Sun Street in Keighley and ten years his senior. They were married at St. Andrew's Church on 8th April 1871.
By the time of the 1881 census they had moved house to 40, Mornington Street in Keighley and Isaiah had a new job, 'Inspector of Nuisances' this interesting title meant that he was tasked with looking for public health risks and over time his title would change to sanitary inspector, which in turn became known as the public health inspector.
Willie was aged 11 in this census and at school. Jane aged 22 and Ada aged 16 were machinists and Joseph aged 14 was a jobber in a textile factory.
Tragedy hit the family again, in 1886 when their father Isaiah died aged 55. He was buried at Utley Cemetery with his first wife Dorothy.
Their step mother Elizabeth died in 1902 aged 81 and she was buried with Isaiah and Dorothy in Utley.
William does not appear in any further census records for 1891, 1901 and 1911 and this is because he'd joined the Merchant Navy, eventually becoming an Able Seaman.
His elder sister Jane Holmes married Henry Smith Hardwick in Keighley. He was a worsted spinning foreman and in the 1891 census they were living with their three children in Kincardine, Perthshire.
By the time of the 1901 census they had moved all the way down to Somerset where they were living at Swallowfield Cottage which is on Springfield Road at Wellington in Somerset.
We know William was serving in the Merchant Navy because after his death there were several records kept about the events surrounding his death and in one of these Merchant Navy records, his last recorded address was at Swallowfield Cottage, Wellington in Somerset, which means that Willie was staying with his older sister Jane, her husband and family, before he went to sea.
This would account for his absence from the 1891, 1901 and 1911 census records, because he was at sea at the time.
Henry, Jane and their three children were still living at Swallowfield Cottage in Wellington in the 1911 census. Jane died aged 84 in 1943 and is buried at Wellington in Somerset.
War service:
William was an Able Seaman aboard the Steamship Alnwick Castle when it was torpedoed without warning on 19th March 1917. As part of the British Merchant Fleet it was helping with the war effort by keeping the country supplied during those difficult times. Many of the crew and passengers managed to get safely into several ship's lifeboats, but these became separated from each other. Not all of them reached shore and those who died suffered greatly from the effects of thirst and the elements on the journey. If William did get into a lifeboat, he and the other survivors in his boat were never seen again.
LOSS OF "ALNWICK CASTLE"
The Captain of the Alnwick Castle made the following report, repeated in similar form in about half a dozen newspapers of the time:
CAPTAIN CHAVE'S STORY
After describing the circumstances in which the ship was torpedoed and the boats were got away, this officer stated:
"The forecastle was now (6.30 a.m.) just dipping, though the ship maintained an upright position without list. The people in my boat were clamouring for me to come, as they were alarmed by the danger of the ship plunging. The purser informed me that everyone was out of the ship, and I then took Mr. Carnaby from his post, and we went down to No. 1 boat and pulled away. At a safe distance we waited to see the end of the Alnwick Castle. Then we observed the submarine quietly emerge from the sea, end on to the ship, with a gun trained on her. She showed no periscope ‑ just a conning tower and a gun as she lay there ‑ silent and sinister. In about ten minutes the Alnwick Castle plunged bow first below the surface, her whistle gave one blast and the main topmast broke off; there was a smothered roar and a cloud of dirt, and we were left in our boats, 139 people, 300 miles from land. The submarine lay between the boats, but whether she spoke any of them I do not know. She proceeded N.E. after a steamer which was homeward bound, about four miles away, and soon after we saw a tall column of water, and knew that she had found another victim.
"I got in touch with all the boats, and from the number of their occupants, I was satisfied that everyone was safely in them. The one lady passenger and her baby of three months old was with the stewardess in the chief officer's boat. I directed the third officer to transfer four of his men to the second officer's boat to equalise the number, and told them all to steer between east and E.N.E. for the Channel. We all made sail before a light westerly wind which freshened before sunset, when we reefed down. After dark I saw no more of the other boats. That was Monday, March 19th.
"I found only three men who could help me to steer, and one of these subsequently became delirious, leaving only three of us. At 2 a.m., Tuesday, the wind and sea had increased to such a force that I deemed it unsafe to sail any longer; also it was working to the N.W. and N.N.W. I furled the sail and streamed the sea anchor, and we used the canvas boat cover to afford us some shelter from the constant spray and bitter wind. At daylight we found our sea anchor and the rudder had both gone. There was too much sea to sail; we manoeuvred with oars, while I lashed two oars together and made another sea anchor. We spent the whole of Tuesday fighting the sea, struggling with oars to assist the sea anchor to head the boat up to the waves, constantly soaked with cold spray and pierced with the bitter wind, which was now from the north. I served out water twice daily, one dipper between two men, which made a portion about equal to one‑third of a condensed milk tin. Fortunately I had made a practice of keeping in the boats a case of condensed milk, a case of beef, two tins of biscuits, and a skein of amberline and some twine and palm and needle, besides the regulation equipment; also I had provided a bundle of blankets for each boat. We divided a tin of milk between four men once a day, and a tin of beef (6 lb.) was more than sufficient to provide a portion for each person (twenty‑nine) once a day. "
It must have seemed to the passengers at least, if not to the seamen, that their chances of surviving were small. The captain of the enemy submarine had shown no mercy, but had left them to their fate. They were confronted in small boats with all the unchained forces of nature, and it would have been small wonder if some of the survivors had abandoned themselves to counsels of despair. But Captain Chave's narrative reveals in glowing terms the manner in which these men and women, belonging to a seafaring race, maintained the highest British traditions:
"At midnight Tuesday‑Wednesday the northerly wind fell light, and we made sail again, the wind gradually working to N.E. and increasing after sunrise. All the morning and afternoon of Wednesday we kept under way until about 8 p.m., when I was compelled to heave to again. During this day the iron step of our mast gave way and our mast and sail went overboard, but we saved them, and were able to improvise a new step with the aid of an axe and piece of wood fitted to support the boat cover strongback. We were now feeling the pangs of thirst, as well as the exhaustion of labour and exposure and want of sleep. Some pitiful appeals were made for water. I issued an extra ration to a few of the weaker ones only.
"During the night of Wednesday‑Thursday the wind dropped for a couple of hours, and several showers of hail fell. The hailstones were eagerly scraped from our clothing and swallowed. I ordered the sail to be spread out in the hope of catching water from a hail shower, but we were disappointed in this, for the rain was too light. Several of the men were getting light‑headed, and I found that they had been drinking salt water in spite of my earnest and vehement order.
"It was with great difficulty that anyone could be prevailed on to bale out the water which seemed to leak into the boat at an astonishing rate, perhaps due to some rivets having been started by the pounding she had received.
"At 4 a.m. the wind came away again from N.E. and we made sail, but unfortunately it freshened again and we were constantly soaked with spray and had to be always baling. Our water was now very low, and we decided to mix condensed milk with it. Most of the men were now helpless, and several were raving in delirium. The foreman cattleman, W. Kitcher, died, and was buried. Soon after dark the sea became confused and angry; I furled the tiny reefed sail and put out the sea‑anchor. At 8 p.m. we were swamped by a breaking sea, and I thought all was over. A moan of despair rose in the darkness, but I shouted to them to bale, bale, bale, and assured them that the boat could not sink. How they found the balers and bucket in the dark, I do not know, but they managed to free the boat while I shifted the sea‑anchor to the stern, and made a tiny bit of sail, and got her away before the wind. After that escape the wind died away about midnight, and then we spent a most distressing night. Several of the men collapsed, and others temporarily lost their reason, and one of these became pugnacious and climbed about the boat, uttering complaints and threats. The horrors of that night, together with the physical suffering, are beyond my power of description.
"Before daylight, however, on March 23rd, the wind permitting, I managed, with the help of the few who remained able, to set sail again, hoping now to be in the Bay of Biscay and to surely see some vessel to succour us. Never a sail or wisp of smoke had we seen."
"When daylight came the appeals for water were so angry and insistent that I deemed it best to make an issue at once. After that had gone round, amid much cursing and snatching, we could see that only one more issue remained. One fireman, Thomas, was dead; another was nearly gone; my steward, Buckley, was almost gone, and we tried to pour some milk and water down his throat, but he would not swallow. No one could now eat biscuits, it was impossible to swallow anything solid, our throats were afire, our lips furred, our limbs numbed, our hands were white and bloodless. During the forenoon, Friday, March 23rd, another fireman, named Tribe, died, and my steward, Buckley, died, also a cattleman whose only name I could get was Peter, collapsed and died about noon."
FRENCH GENEROSITY
Not until early on the afternoon of Friday, March 23rd, did the French steamer Venezia, appear on the scene. A swell was running, and in their enfeebled state Captain Chave and his companions were unable to manoeuvre their boat alongside the French vessel. But Captain Bonifacie proved equal to the occasion, handling his vessel with the greatest skill, and then, leaving the four dead bodies in the boat, the twenty‑four survivors, too weak to climb the ladders, were hoisted with ropes, one by one, until they were all on board. This story of the sinking of the Union Castle liner would be incomplete without Captain Chave's tribute to the reception which he and his companions met with on board the Venezia.
"I cannot speak with sufficient gratitude of the extreme kindness and solicitation which was shown us by all on board. Our wet clothes were at once stripped off and dry ones put on, hot tea with cognac was poured down our parched and swollen throats, then we were put to bed in steam‑heated first‑class cabins. Our feet and hands were swollen to twice the normal size, and several of us narrowly escaped frostbite. In the evening we were given a light meal of soup and boiled beef with potatoes, with claret, and during the night the stewards were kept busy providing water for our unquenchable thirst. Every possible want was anticipated by the captain, officers, engineers, and stewards, who placed freely at our disposal their wardrobes, toilet articles, tobacco, etc."
Post war:
William Holmes's name appears in a number of records connecting him with Keighley and also with the Merchant Navy:
He is listed in the 'Registers of Deaths of passengers and Seamen at sea.'
This record ledger states he was born in Keighley. and was a sailor who died on the S.S. Alnwick Castle on 19th March 1917.
A record from the National Archives - 'British Armed Forces And Overseas Deaths And Burials which records Deaths At Sea between 1891 – 1972' gives us the information that the last shore address of Seaman W. Holmes was at Swallowfield Cottage at Wellington in Somerset. It also states that he was born in Keighley and died on 19th March 1917 aged 42 after the sinking of S.S. Alnwick Castle.
The Commonwealth War Graves Commission records William's name on the Tower Hill Memorial in London. This memorial commemorates almost 12,000 seaman, sailors and fishermen of the First World War and nearly 23,800 of the Second World War who have no known grave but the sea.
The CWGC record gives details of William as :
Able Seaman HOLMES, W. Died 19th March 1917 aged 42. Ship: S.S. "Alnwick Castle" (London)
Mercantile Marine. Born at Keighley.
There is also a Book entry for him at the Mercantile Marine memorial:
HOLMES, A.B. W. S.S. "Alnwick Castle" (London). Drowned, as a result of an attack by an enemy submarine, 19th March, 1917. Age 42. Born at Keighley.
Note:
As there were no members of William's family in or around Keighley when the Roll of Honour was being created in 1924 and Jane was living in Somerset at the time, we believe that nobody was available to come forward to add his name to the list of Keighley's war dead.
Information sources:
England & Wales, Civil Registration Marriage Index, 1837-1915
England & Wales, Civil Registration Birth Index, 1837-1915
West Yorkshire, England, Church of England Births and Baptisms, 1813-1910
England & Wales, Civil Registration Death Index, 1837-1915
West Yorkshire, England, Church of England Marriages and Banns, 1813-1935
1871 England Census
1881 England Census
1891 Scotland Census
1901 England Census
1911 England Census
The National Archives
Registers and Indexes of Births, Marriages and Deaths of Passengers and Seamen at Sea, 1891-1922
British Armed Forces And Overseas Deaths And Burials - Deaths At Sea 1891 – 1972
Commonwealth War Graves Commission
Gro Marine Death Indices (1903 To 1965)
Account of the loss of the Alnwick castle from the British Newspaper Archive.
Find-A-Grave.com