Avis Gertrude Dolphin was born in Rotherham, Yorkshire, England, on the 24th August 1902, the daughter of John Henry C. & Alice Dolphin (née Schofield). The family originally came from Feckenham in Worcestershire but in April 1905, had gone to St. Thomas, Ontario, Canada, in a vain attempt to improve Mr. Dolphin’s failing health, which had been ruined by service in the British Army during the Anglo-Boer War. Avis had one brother, John Leslie, and one sister, Reenie Ellen, the latter born in Canada.
On the 19th July 1906, John Dolphin died of heart failure, six months after the birth of his second daughter. Alice Dolphin took up the running of a nursing home, ‘to make ends meet’, and when Avis was twelve years old, she decided that her daughter should have an English education and determined to send her to her paternal grandparents in Feckenham, so that she could put this into effect.
At that time, one of her nurses, Miss Hilda Ellis, had decided to travel home to England for a holiday, with a friend, Miss Sarah Smith, who was returning home to see her dying sister. Thus it seemed to Mrs. Dolphin to be the ideal opportunity to send Avis in their company. Consequently, they all booked as second cabin passengers on the Lusitania and set off by rail to join the ship in New York harbour, for her sailing on 1st May 1915.
The Lusitania’s scheduled 10a.m. sailing was delayed until the early afternoon, when she had to embark passengers, some crew and some of the cargo from the Anchor Lines vessel Cameronia which the British admiralty unexpectedly requisitioned for use as a troop ship.
Once on board, Avis Dolphin was befriended by fellow second cabin passenger Professor I.B.S. Holbourn, a travelling lecturer from Edinburgh, Scotland, who was also the Laird of the Island of Foula in the Shetlands, and an expert on classical literature. Avis and Holbourn very soon became firm friends, walking, talking and reading together.
Then, six days out of New York and only hours away from her Liverpool destination, the Cunarder was torpedoed and sunk by the German submarine U-20. Despite a trying ordeal, Avis Dolphin managed to survive this action, as did Professor Holbourn, although Hilda Ellis and Sarah Smith were both killed.
In 1988, at the age of 85 years, Avis wrote a brief account of her experiences on that terrible day and afterwards: -
My father’s health suffered from his services in the Boer War, so my parents decided to go to Canada, hoping that he would benefit from the climate there. Sadly, however, this did not help and he died young, leaving my mother with three tiny children.
On the advice of the doctor who had attended my father, mother decided to start a nursing home. When I was 12, one of her nurses planned to go to England for her holidays and as mother had hoped I could finish my education in the Old Country, at a school where my mother knew the head mistress, it was decided to send me to my grandparents and my aunt, in the care of the nurse. Of course, if it had been known that the Germans had threatened British passenger ships, neither the nurse nor I would have been passengers on the Lusitania.
I was seasick, homesick and had neuralgia during the first few days of the voyage and spent some time resting in one of the lounges when Professor Holbourn, who had three young children of his own, noticed me and suggested to the nurse, Miss Ellis, that I would be better sitting on the deck. He would sometimes come and talk to me, telling me about his children, points of interest such as the ship’s log, etc..
When the torpedo struck, while we were having our mid-day meal, he came over to my table and took me (with Miss Ellis and her friend Miss Smith, who was also going to England for a vacation) to his cabin to put lifebelts on us. Miss Smith refused hers as he was a family man. The professor said he would keep it if he could put us in a lifeboat, but as it was being lowered, two men jumped in, causing all its occupants to be pitched into the sea. The Professor was a swimmer and dived in.
I was sucked down by the undertow and when I came up, struck my shoulder on a collapsible raft. Before I was picked up, I noticed that my spectacles, that I had worn since an attack of measles, had come off and were caught in my cardigan. I did not bother to save them as I seemed to assume that I would not need them again as I thought I would never see my mother, brother or sister again. However, I was hauled on to the raft and eventually rescued by a small tramp steamer, where I was given a blanket, but I gave this to a lady who had only a towel as I thought that was big enough for me. There was a fire by which some of us were able to dry our clothes and we were given hot drinks.
The survivors were taken to the Irish port then called Queenstown, now known as Cobh. After giving our names to an official, we were able to send messages so I sent a cable to my mother in Canada and to my grandparents in Worcestershire. My aunt was waiting for me at the Cunard office in Liverpool. As she was wearing nurse’s uniform, her services had been in great demand helping other women in their distress when names of their loved ones were not amongst those listed as saved.
I was taken to one of the hotels and was soon tucked up in bed after a drink of hot milk. Professor Holbourn was eventually picked up and brought to the same hotel where I was already asleep. He had enquired whether Miss Ellis, Miss Smith or I were among those brought to the hotel and was informed that I was safe, but there was no news of the two ladies.
The next morning I was taken to see Mr. Holbourn who was still in bed as he was feeling very weak. He told me that he had telephoned his wife in Edinburgh asking her to meet him in Birmingham and that he had sent a telegram to ask my grandparents to meet me there also. Mr. and Mrs. Holbourn intended to travel on to her parents’ home, also in Worcestershire, but my aunt invited them to return with her so that the Professor could have a night’s rest after the long journey from Ireland, before going any further.
Before leaving Queenstown, the Professor had made enquiries about Miss Ellis and Miss Smith and had been to the mortuaries to see if they were among the dead. Sadly nothing was ever discovered about them. My mother had written to the family of Miss Ellis, but no more was heard of her or Miss Smith.
Having eventually got to Worcestershire, Avis was told of a supernatural experience which had happened to her grandfather, David Dolphin. Curiously, both Ian Holbourn and his wife Marion had also had similar supernatural experiences before the disaster had occurred.
These were reported in a 1990 edition of The Titanic Commutator, the official journal of The Titanic Historical Society. Mr. Dolphin’s story was that: -
After they arrived, Mrs. Holbourn asked the elderly Mr. Dolphin when it was that he learned of the Lusitania disaster. She was surprised by his statement that he had known about it on May 6th.
“But it did not happen ‘til May 7th!” exclaimed Mrs. Holbourn. “Yes,” replied the old gentleman, “but I knew it on the previous day.” “Do you mean you ‘saw it?’, she asked. “Yes,” he replied. “I saw a small boat capsize, and a little girl came to the surface, and I said to my wife: ‘Depend upon it, that’s our Avis!’ “
Mrs. Holbourn inquired what time it had been when Mr. Dolphin experienced his vision, and he told her it had been about 11 o’ clock. This was almost exactly the same time Mrs. Holbourn had experienced her own vision of the tragedy, and Mr. Dolphin was not at all surprised to hear that she, too, had “seen” the sinking of the Lusitania before it happened.
Once in England, Avis Dolphin completed her education, as intended, and kept in regular contact with Professor Holbourn. In fact, not long after the sinking, she had complained to him that girls’ book were dull, and in response, he wrote a book specially for her, an adventure story called The Child of the Moat, which was published in America in 1916.
They then continued to keep in regular contact and she actually met her future husband, Thomas ‘Tom’ Charles Foley, at the Holbourn’s Edinburgh home while on a visit.
Tom Foley was a journalist who had originally been apprenticed to Merseyside newspaper The Wallasey News and then worked in Fleet Street. He also lectured on socialism and like Holbourn, was a pacifist. He and Avis were married in Bromsgrove in 1926 and had two children, Gavin, who became a family doctor on the Wirral Peninsula and a daughter, Ann who worked in refugee camps.
Avis Foley spent her last days in a bungalow in a little village near Dolgellau in North Wales, where, widowed in 1979, she lived with her daughter, and pet cat!
Interviewed there by Daily Post journalist Peter Saunders in December 1992, she told him of her experiences nearly 80 years earlier and said: -
When a nurse who helped my mother announced plans to travel to England for a holiday, mother decided to send me with her so I could have an English education. The idea was that I should initially stay with my grandparents in Worcestershire, but my mother hadn’t realised that passenger ships were being torpedoed.
She was a beautiful ship and for a girl of 12 it was a big adventure to be sailing on her. The captain said that the ship was fast enough to get away from the submarines. But there was one waiting for us off the south-west coast of Ireland.
It was getting on for 2 pm and we were in the second sitting for lunch. I think we were waiting for our sweet course when the torpedo struck. She sank very quickly for such a big ship. She went down in 20 minutes.
There were two explosions. The ship began to list, and we had to hold firmly on to the banisters to pull ourselves up the stairs to the deck. I didn’t see any panic. As far as I could see, people were behaving quite orderly.
Prof. Houlbourne (sic) took us to his cabin. He got two lifebelts, put one on me and gave one to the nurse. He put us into a lifeboat, but as it was being lowered a couple of men jumped into it and it overturned. We were all tipped into the sea. I believe I was the only survivor from that particular lifeboat. The nurse and her friend both drowned.
I was pulled down by the suction of the sinking ship. When I came to the surface again, I saw a liferaft. There were two men on it, and they pulled me aboard. I was not in the sea for long.
Asked by Peter Saunders if the disaster had cast a shadow over her childhood, she replied: -
I seem to have taken it in my stride, although I felt very sad for the nurse and her friend who had died. I thought I had been very lucky. I still do!
Avis Foley died on 5th February 1996, aged 93 years.
Register of Births, Marriages and Deaths, 1911 Census of Canada, 1939 Register, UK Outward Passenger Lists 1890 – 1960, Canadian Passenger Lists 1865 – 1935, Cunard Records, Birkenhead High School, Last Voyage of the Lusitania, Lusitania, Redditch Indicator, Seven Days to Disaster, Titanic Commutator, Graham Maddocks, Avis Foley, Catherine Tyrrell, Peter Saunders, Geoff Whitfield, Michael Poirier, Jim Kalafus, Cliff Barry, Stuart Williamson, Paul Latimer, Norman Gray.
Copyright © Peter Kelly.