George William Maylor was born in Liverpool, Lancashire, England, on the 14th day of February 1882, the son of George William and Mary Maylor (née Vaughan). He was the eldest of five children and his father was a publican.
His father was the landlord of the Spekeland Arms, Spekeland Road, and later, the Grapes Hotel at 364. Latham Street, among other establishments; however, there were problems in his parents’ marriage, and in June 1899, his father filed for divorce from his mother, alleging she was having an affair with a neighbour in Latham Street, named Hugh Devine. Mary Maylor denied the allegation, as did Hugh Devine, and Mary Maylor counter claimed that her husband had committed adultery on numerous occasions during their marriage, with numerous women, including some of Mary Maylor’s sisters, and that he was violent and unkind towards her! The case was dismissed in October 1899; however, it would appear that George and Mary Maylor lived separately after this.
On completing his education, George joined the Mercantile Marine, working as a waiter on passenger liners, predominantly those of the Cunard Steam Ship Company, including the Carmania, Ivernia, Lusitania, Saxonia, and Sylvania.
On the 23rd March 1911, he married Margaret Parkinson (née Smith) . His wife was the widow of a ship’s steward and had two children. She was also seventeen years older than him! By 1915, the couple lived at 1, Seafield Road, Orrell Park, Liverpool, with Margaret’s two children. They had no children themselves.
He engaged as a boots in the Stewards' Department on board the Lusitania at Liverpool on 12th April 1915 at a monthly rate of £4-5s.-0d. (£4.25p.) and joined the liner for what was to become her last sailing out of the River Mersey, on the morning of the 17th April. He had sailed on the liner on many previous occasions.
He survived her sinking, three weeks later and having been rescued from the sea and landed at Queenstown, he eventually got back to Liverpool, where he was officially paid off from the liner’s last voyage and given the balance of wages owing to him, which amounted to £4-9s.-6d. (£4.45½p). This was in respect of his sea service from
the 17th April 1915 until the 8th May - 24 hours after the vessel had foundered!
George continued to serve in the Mercantile Marine as a linen keeper for many years. On the 11th February 1943, Margaret Maylor died at Waterloo General Hospital. At that time, the family were living at 13. Kingswood Avenue, Waterloo, Liverpool. Then, on the 4th September 1943, George married Edith Smith (née Curtis) at St. Luke’s Church, Crosby.
Edith had been widowed in the 30th May 1918 when her husband, Lawrence Curtis, lost his life while serving as the 4th engineer on the Cunard liner, Ausonia, which was sunk by a German submarine off the southwest coast of Ireland.
In 1956, he retired with his wife to Parley, in Dorset, about five miles from Bournemouth, and the following year; he related his experiences of the disaster to Ian Severns, a feature writer from the Liverpool newspaper, The Liverpool Echo. These were published in the edition of the 3rd April 1957 edition and stated: -
The tragedy left him suffering from a form of claustrophobia, and until he retired from active service at sea ten years ago, he always slept with his cabin door open. He recalls the fateful day like this: -
“At 5 a.m., the morning was grey and misty as we tumbled out of our bunks. There were four Boots on board. I was the chief. Our job was to go round to all the cabins and clean the boots and shoes, owners had left outside.
The night before had been a gala night. It was the night before we were scheduled to dock at Liverpool and everyone had been making merry, dancing and dining until the early hours. The next morning, few of the passengers - many of them gentry and celebrities - were awake for breakfast. They did not know that a message had come through that a German submarine was lurking in the Fastnet. They didn’t know our skipper had altered course down south.
That afternoon I was in the saloon. It was 2.10 p.m.. Suddenly, a tremendous explosion rocked the ship. At once it listed heavily over to starboard and began to settle. I raced to my quarters on D Deck and grabbed a life-belt. Down below I could hear women screaming. From there I ran up to the lounge, but before I could any farther, I was thrown onto my knees. I watched helplessly as two babies were washed through the door and over the side.
Down by the railing on the starboard side, still sitting in a deckchair where she had been sunning herself, was a woman, clutching two babies in her arms. I threw my life-belt to her, as I was a good swimmer then ran for the stern of the ship and dived 60 feet into the seething mass of floating wreckage. The next time I saw them they lay in the mortuary alongside hundreds of other victims.
The scene in the water was frightful. People were screaming hysterically. Others who had already drowned were floating listlessly on top of the water; some also dead, were still clutching the lifelines. I was in the water about half an hour. I swam round doing what I could before being picked up by a lifeboat. There were about 36 of us in it. They made me skipper.”
Here Mr. Maylor was overcome as he remembered having to turn swimmers away.
“It was no use taking them on board or we would all have gone down. I shall never know how that lifeboat kept afloat for the stern was completely smashed.”
Saloon passenger Laura Ryerson described being in a lifeboat with a hole in one end.
“I am a good swimmer and although there was a good crowd struggling together I got clear and came up against a raft on which were Leonard (sic) McMurray and Mr. Lockhart of Toronto. The raft was sinking with so many on it, so I and others swam to a lifeboat floating near and got into it. There was a hole in one end, but by clinging to the other end we kept the hole out of the water. We were in the water up to our knees for three hours when we were picked up by a destroyer and taken to Queenstown.”
It would seem likely that this was the same lifeboat that Boots Maylor commanded and if it was, then he too, must have been picked up by a Royal Naval destroyer before being landed at Queenstown. The Echo account concluded: -
It was about 20 minutes before the Lusitania sank. I shall never forget the sight of the great ship pivoting vertically in the air before being sucked from view.”
George Maylor died in April 1959 in Ferndown, Dorset, England, aged 77 years.
Register of Births, Marriages and Deaths, Liverpool England Church of England Baptisms 1813 – 1919, 1891 Census of England, 1901 Census of England, 1921 Census of England, 1939 Register, Liverpool England Crew Lists 1861 – 1919, New York Passenger Lists 1820 – 1957, Cunard Records, 1938 Kelly’s Directory of Liverpool and Suburbs, Liverpool Echo, Probate Records, PRO BT 100/345, PRO BT 349, PRO BT 350, Graham Maddocks, David Chamberlain, Lawrence Evans, Geoff Whitfield, Michael Poirier, Jim Kalafus, Cliff Barry, Paul Latimer, Norman Gray.
Copyright © Peter Kelly.
Revised & Updated – 31st October 2024.