Family:William Jones and Elizabeth Dunn (1)

THE DEATH OF ELIZA DUNN JONES

by James Buchanan Ballard

Old Glade Presbyterian Church cemetery attracts Civil War enthusiasts who visit the grave of Brigadier General W.E. “Grumble” Jones, CSA. The inscription on the towering marble shaft reads:

                  Gen. W.E. JONES KILLED JUNE 5, 1864 AD
                       IN THE BATTLE OF PIEDMONT, VA
                           AGED 40 YEARS & 27 DAYS.

Next to the general’s monument, and dwarfed by its presence, stands a memorial to his beloved bride of three months, Eliza M. Dunn Jones. It not only sums up her tragic fate, but may also explain the emotional mien of her husband:

Sacred to the memory of Mrs. Eliza M, the wife of Lieut. W.E. Jones, U.S. Mounted Rifles. She was born on the 3rd of May, 1834 in Washington County, Virginia, was married on the 15th of Jan. 1852, and was drowned on the 26th of March of the same year when attempting to land from the wreck of the Steamship Independence at Pass Caballo, Texas. She was personally beautiful, had a sweet disposition and an intellect uncommonly brilliant. The early death of so hopeful a sister, child and wife left her friends, parents, and her husband in unspeakable sorrow.

       Many historians regard the maritime tragedy as a turning point in the general’s life. However, only few sources document it with any kind of elaboration. The lack of details gave rise to speculation and rumor. J.E.B. Stuart biographer, John W. Thomason, Jr. wrote “ there is some legend about the death of his young wife, soon after he married.” Mosby biographer, Virgil Carrington Jones commented “there was considerable talk back home (Washington County, VA) about the mysteriousness of her death. Folks recalled Jones’s reputation as a hard cruel fighter, but there the matter dropped.” Another source simply stated that Eliza “was swept away from the arms of her husband by angry waves and drowned.” In a metaphorical sense, this description has an element of truth. Certain families of the community perceived that quixotic recounting to theorize that Jones might have had an active hand in Eliza’s death. In reality, the accusations were groundless. When she drowned, her husband was a helpless and horrified witness. Eliza’s demise was an accident resulting from a joining of human error and the forces of nature.

        William Edmondson Jones, whose maternal grandfather was a Revolutionary War hero from the Battle of King’s Mountain, was born on May 9th, 1824 in Washington County near Glade Spring Depot, Virginia. He attended Emory and Henry College from 1841 to 1843 before entering the United States Military Academy at West Point, graduating in 1848. He ranked tenth in a class of thirty-eight. As a lieutenant, his first assignment was in the U.S. Mounted Rifles in the Oregon Territory. In 1852, he returned home on furlough to marry his 17 year old cousin, Eliza M. Dunn, daughter  of Dr. Samuel Dunn, MD(1805-1888) and Jane Beattie Ryburn Edmiston Dunn (1807-1861. The couple was venturing to Jones’s new assignment on the Western Frontier when the tragedy occurred.

                                                 THE WRECK
      The couple, their cousin, T.B. Edmondson, and four servants boarded ship in New Orleans, Louisiana on March 20, 1852. The Steamship Independence, was a new ship in the Morgan Steamship Lines embarking upon its maiden voyage from New Orleans to Indianola, Texas with a stop in Galveston. Combined passengers and crew numbered 167. After three days at sea, the ship arrived in Galveston where it docked for two days to load and discharge freight. On the final evening, the most prominent citizens of Galveston attended a gala event celebrating the new ship and the new ship line. On Thursday morning, the ship departed for Indianola, Texas, situated on the western shore of Matagorda Bay. Indianola was a growing sea port that would rival Galveston in prominence on the Gulf Coast. A center of operations in the Morgan Steamship Line, Indianola was emerging as a gateway to expansion for Texas and the Western United States.

        Thursday night, the Independence arrived at a point five miles from the entrance to Matagorda Bay at Pass Caballo, the only navigable passage between Matagorda Island to the west and Matagorda Peninsula to the east. To this day, the passage remains treacherous to maritime travel due to strong currents and shifting sandbars that are continually subjected to hydrographic and topographic changes. Captain Stoddard elected to remain out in the Gulf for the night and attempt entry on the following morning.

        At 10:00 AM on Friday, March 25, Captain Stoddard received word that the U.S. Mail steamer, Louisiana, a ship bearing a draft one foot deeper than the Independence, completed a successful entry through the pass without incident. Armed with that knowledge and misinterpreting signal flags on shore for channel markings, he committed the “censurable act” of attempting to enter the pass without the employment of a coastal pilot. The ship headed directly into the breakers, struck a sandbar, and became stranded. They were actually a mile off course.

        The initial strategy to free the ship was to decrease its weight and apply full power. Excess cargo was cast overboard producing a huge floating mass of debris. The effort was futile but, with the weather calm for the moment, there was no immediate sense of danger. By nightfall, they suspended any further attempts.

        On Saturday morning, March 26th, the situation became more precarious because the weather had turned adverse during the night. A constant pounding of the ship against the sand bar produced a hole in the hull through which sea waters flowed and extinguished the fires powering the bilge pumps. The crew lowered their flags to half mast and fired a distress cannon in a general appeal for outside assistance.

        Coastal pilot, Captain William Nichols expeditiously answered the distress calls. He and two assistants anchored a pilot vessel a half mile away. He set out in a yawl with one assistant, Mr. Morgan, and boarded the Independence. Nichols remained on board while Morgan took four volunteer male passengers to the pilot vessel that transported them to the Louisiana docked at Indianola. Upon receiving the news of the wreck, the Louisiana set sail to offer assistance as well.

         Captain Nichols took command of the Independence and began to direct an orderly transfer of passengers. The ship had only four lifeboats and weather conditions made launching difficult. Surging waves smashed the first lowered lifeboat against the hull of the mother ship crushing it to pieces. The second lifeboat became swamped by an unexpected turn of the side mounted paddle wheel but the crew salvaged it for another attempt. Captain Nichols offered to transport the first group of women and children in a lifeboat but with the storm conditions being so hazardous, all declined.

        Assistant pilot Morgan, who had transported the first group of volunteer passengers to the pilot vessel, was attempting to return to the Independence. As he entered the breakers, his yawl became swamped. He lost his oars and began to drift helplessly out to sea in a partially sunken craft. Captain Nichols picked a crew and launched the third lifeboat to save him. Meanwhile, Chief Mate Hubble Hovey and two crewmen manned the salvaged second lifeboat to transport the next group of passengers: Mrs. Charles Eldridge, Mrs. Stephen Minot, two Minot daughters, the Minot governess, and Mrs. Lieutenant W.E. Jones. At the last moment, Mrs. Eldridge declined to board, a decision that probably saved her life. Mr. Horrell of St. Louis took her place.

          Lieutenant Jones and Stephen Minot, an Englishman moving his family from Kingston, Jamaica to Gonzales, Texas, observed the lifeboat with their families being lowered into the water and cast off. Within moments, the lifeboat became swamped and capsized in the rough seas.

Passenger, Charles Eldridge later described the tragedy:

         “Oh fearful to relate, the boat filled with water. I immediately returned to between the decks where I had left Hannah (his wife) and Mother and Oh! My God what gratitude filled my heart they were there - I told them my fears – aided them upon deck – when Oh – horror and horrors—the worst was realized  - the boat swamped – and before our eyes – beyond our reach – all were struggling in the water – the young and beautiful bride of Lieut. Jones  - that excellent Mrs. Minot and her three most lovely children ( he assumed the governess for a daughter) – Mr. Horrel & Crew – and Oh the cries of anguish, the groans – the lamentations – shrieks & prayers of those on board – no tongue can describe them – no imagination can picture the terrible scene – on the bottom and clinging to the capsized Boat we could see some – embraced in each others arms – before they sank for ever – Mrs. Jones caught Mr. Hovey around the neck from which he could not disengage himself – they drowned together – She had on her bridal hat, plume and dress “decked out for the Bridal, decked out for the grave.”

           The fourth lifeboat was lowered for a futile rescue attempt. Captain Nichols, returning from retrieving Morgan, retrieved the two crewmen and passenger Horrell “from the drowning state.” The three men were hoisted back on board to safety but all five women drowned along with Chief Mate Hovey who was pulled under by Mrs. Jones. The drownings may also have been attributed to clothing and possessions. Mrs. Jones’s saturated wedding gown served as a fabric sinker; and the Minot women carried the family’s gold coins in satchels under their lace dresses.

          Eldridge noted a drastic contrast between the two husbands. Minot, who at one fell swoop, he had been robbed of all” went into an anticipated state of shock, while “the calmness of Lieut. Jones was almost fearful”. Jones, a 27 year-old professional soldier demonstrated a remarkable composure under duress.

         Other circumstances distracted the sudden bereavement. Weather conditions deteriorated further and contrary aspects of humanity erupted. Although the excess baggage had been previously been cast overboard, the ship’s liquor cargo remained abundant. A portion of the crew wallowed in the spirits and turned into a drunken piratical mob that began to pillage and rob passengers with threat of force.

          The steamer, J.W. Raybun approached that afternoon and anchored about ¾ mile distant. An attempt was made to tow the Independence off the bar while passengers shoveled 100 tons of fuel coal overboard, all to no avail. By dark, the Raybun weighed anchor and departed for safer moorings in Matagorda Bay.

         The Louisiana anchored three miles away and discharged three lifeboats toward the wreck. Hazardous weather conditions and darkness caused them to abort the mission. They returned to the mother ship that remained in position.

          Captain Nichols took control of the last lifeboat, designated a crew, and rowed three passengers including the wife and mother of Charles Eldridge to safety. The remaining passengers took matters into their own hands by ripping up hurricane planks from the ship’s deck to construct makeshift rafts. They gathered other buoyant objects in the way of furniture, boxes, and crates. That night, the well armed, intoxicated band of crewmen seized possession of the best raft and announced they were going to abandon all others at daylight. During the late hours of the night, a group of passengers and loyal crewmen organized themselves and squelched the mutiny by surprising the gang members in their sleep. They held a pistol against the head of the leader who persuaded his followers to capitulate.

         By Sunday morning, the Independence broke into two pieces as waves were crashing over the second level decks. Knowing that the tide would ebb by 11:00 AM, a decision was made to have each man take a child, tie himself to a makeshift raft or floating device, and attempt to swim to shore with survival being a long shot. They were approximately five miles from the nearest body of land, Pelican Island.

          Eldridge, feeling he would not survive, wrote what he thought would be his final words on paper and placed it into a corked bottle. However, to the delight of everyone, the Raybun returned, along with three lifeboats from the Louisiana. A series of launches transported all remaining passengers safely to the Raybun. The rumbling sea eventually fragmented and sank the abandoned Independence.

          On the way to Indianola, the passengers witnessed another negative aspect of humankind. Rather than offer assistance, the crew of the New York Schooner Clinton had seized the opportunity to plunder the cargo cast overboard Friday morning. As the rescued passengers on the Raybun passed by, they observed the “schooner covered with the fruits of her baseness”

         Jones and his fellow passengers felt a great deal of gratitude towards the individuals who risked their lives to save them. They wanted to reward them with money but the deliverers declined. The laconic reply was, “We labored to save lives-not for money.” With that being accepted, the group raised contributions to procure medals for future presentment to Captains Lawless of the Louisiana; Kerr of the Raybun; and Nichols. Lieutenant Jones joined 26 petitioners in signing a declaration to the rescuers stating, “You have done your duty for which the sailor takes no reward.”

                                      Epilogue
          The wreck of the Independence did not make national headlines. Only those six persons in that ill-fated lifeboat lost their lives: Eliza Dunn Jones, Mrs. Minot, the two Minot daughters, their governess, and Chief Mate Hovey. Had passenger Charles Eldridge not written his detailed eye-witness account, most of the details might have been lost to history.

The loss was considered a minor setback for the Morgan Steamship Line that expanded and prospered. Between 1882 and 1885 it was gradually absorbed into the Southern Pacific Railroad Company.

          In 1857 the rescue ship, Louisiana, exploded and sank in Galveston Bay, resulting in the loss of more than 40 lives.

          Indianola, Texas overcame epidemics of yellow fever and Union occupation to thrive and prosper during Reconstruction. In 1875, a major hurricane devastated the town resulting in the loss of significance as a port city. Another hurricane in 1886 finished the city off for good. Today, Indianola is a barren coastal prairie acknowledged only by a few monuments and historical markers depicting the grandeur of what once existed.

          Captain Nichols, his wife, and five of six children perished in a tidal storm surge with the 1875 hurricane that struck Indianola. Their bodies and property were never accounted for. Ironically, his medal, a commemorative silver cup, washed up on the beach at Matagorda Island after the 1886 storm. It bears the inscription: To Captain William Nichols from the Passengers of the Steamship Independence 1853. His great-great grandson, William Nichols of Houston, Texas, has the cup in his possession today.

          According to legend, passenger Stephen Minot’s hair immediately turned white as he witnessed his family drown. He continued his solitary migration to Gonzales. He later re-married, fathered a new family of five children, and lived to age 86 in 1898. Descendants of his second family reside throughout Texas.

           As for Lieutenant William E. Jones, life was never the same again. “Whatever there was of gentleness in his heart seemed to have been destroyed. After arriving at Indianola, he continued on to his new assignment in West Texas. Embittered, complaining, suspicious, he resigned from the army in 1857. He toured Europe before returning to start a vineyard on his father’s estate and live out his life as a semi-recluse. He never remarried. Terminating his self-imposed exile to serve the Confederacy with the outbreak of the Civil War, he received a commission and organized the Washington County Mounted Rifles. Jones rose to the rank of Brigadier General in a career that was both distinguished and controversial. Possessing the disposition of a vehement malcontent, he earned the nickname “Grumble”. Finally, in a tragic end to a tragic life, Jones himself was killed by a bullet to the head in the Battle of Piedmont on June 5, 1864.

Written June 28, 1996 by James Buchanan Ballard

James Buchanan Ballard lives in Houston, Texas. His maternal great grandfather, James Clark (1830-1911), grew up in Glade Spring before settling in Rich Valley. He knew General William E. “Grumble” Jones and came to some erroneous conclusions about him, which he passed on to the next generation. Ballard’s interest in finding out the truth about Jones was fueled when he was introduced to his daughter-in-law’s family. He discovered that her great, great, great, great grandfather, Captain William Nichols, was involved in the rescue of the Independence passengers. The article is the result of his research. It was published in The Historical Society of Washington County, VA Bulletin – Series II, No. 34 1997.