Mary ‘May’ Maycock was born in Southport, Lancashire, England, on the 5th March 1892, the daughter of Thomas and Mary Maycock (née Humphreys). She was a trained hairdresser and beautician and had lived at 14. Russell Road, Wallasey, Cheshire, before moving back to Buxton and 50, West Street.
By 1911, she was working as a cashier in a branch of Boot’s chemist shop, and then, in April 1913, she sailed for New York City on board the Cunarder Franconia, accompanied by an older sister, Elizabeth. They were travelling to Harrison, New York, where their brother, Thomas, was working and living.
By the spring of 1915, working as a maid in domestic service - one account states that she had been a companion to the Astor family - she decided to return home. At that time, she was engaged to be married and was perhaps coming back to be wed.
Whatever her reasons were, she booked second cabin passage on the May sailing of the Lusitania and boarded the vessel on the morning of 1st May 1915 in time for her scheduled 10 o’clock sailing. She then had to wait until just before mid-day, before the Lusitania left the Cunard berth at Pier 54 and sailed out into the North River, and her date with destiny. The delay was caused because she had to wait to embark passengers, crew and cargo from the Anchor Lines vessel Cameronia which the British Admiralty had requisitioned for war service as a troop ship.
Six days later, the vessel was torpedoed and sunk by the German submarine U-20, off the coast of southern Ireland and only hours away from her Liverpool destination. May Maycock was fortunate to be counted amongst the survivors, and having been rescued from the sea and landed at Queenstown, she eventually made it back to Buxton. Before then, she wrote of her experiences, to her sister, a Mrs. Howard who lived at 14, Russell Road, Wallasey, and parts of her letter were published in The Wallasey & Wirral Chronicle on Saturday 22nd May 1915. They stated: -
It is the greatest miracle in the world that I am here. I was just finishing writing to you when the vessel was struck. It was impossible for me to get a lifebelt as she began to list right away, and there would have been no hope of my getting up again.
I managed to get out on the top deck and get in a lifeboat, but as soon as we were all in, some of the crew came along and told us to get out as the ship had settled and would be towed to Liverpool. However, we had no sooner got out than there was another explosion.
It was impossible for me to get in the boat a second time so I climbed up to the top deck of all and clung to the rail. I was right by the funnels when the engines burst. I hung on until I should think I was almost the last one. Then, as the boat was sinking, I had to let go or be pulled down with her.
It seemed I was under water for an eternity, although I suppose it was only for a few minutes, I felt around and managed to get hold of a piece of wood about as big as myself. I got on top of this and lay flat on it. I floated about in this way, with no lifebelt, for about four hours, and was picked up about 6 o'clock by the Indian Empire (an Admiralty patrol boat), reaching Queenstown about 9.30.
The people I was most intimate with on board were picked up by the same rescue boat. It was a happy meeting, and we all came here together and
were accommodated in the same room. They had great difficulty finding room for us all. It was wonderful the way we met, as I never saw them while the boat was sinking or while I was on the water.
The crew of the Indian Empire were most kind, doing all they could for us. You would have laughed any other time if you had seen us sitting round a big can of tea, with a chunk of corned beef in one hand and a ship's biscuit in the other. I guess I have come through a lot luckier than some. There was no panic on board.”
Once she was back in Buxton, May Maycock applied to The Lusitania Relief Fund, for financial help to replace clothing lost in the sinking. This fund had been set up immediately after the liner had been sunk, by The Lord Mayor of Liverpool and other local businessmen to help second and third class passenger survivors and the relatives of those who had perished, who had become financially distressed as a result of the sinking. It was thought that saloon class passengers were wealthy enough not to need help and each claim was met on its merits.
In granting her the relatively low sum of £5-0s-0d., the awards committee commented: -
To replace clothing. Lost trousseau - Expected to be married, broken off engagement & going into service.
While recovering from her ordeal, May Maycock received a letter from Mrs. Margaret Prichard, whose son, Richard Preston Prichard, had been a second class passenger on the Lusitania, and who was presumed lost. His mother, and brother, Mostyn Prichard, wrote to all the survivors they could obtain addresses for, seeking any information about him. Miss Maycock replied: -
50. West St.
Buxton
Dear Mrs. Prichard,
I rec. you (sic.) letter this evening, & altho. I seem to know your son’s face, I feel entirely at a loss as regards anything he did during the voyage. I only wish I could tell you something as I can well understand how you feel.
You asked me if the boat listed, ‘Yes’, it did very much, & altho. It was all so sudden, everyone kept wonderfully calm, & had great faith that the boat could never sink. There were 5 lifeboats filled with women & children, which there seemed some difficulty in lowering, when one of the officers came round & and told us all to get out as the boat was settled, & was going to be towed in. Oh! how (sic.) the people believed this, it was too bad, for we were no sooner out than there was a big explosion of some kind, the water getting to the boilers, I should think, & in less than 5 minutes after that the Lusitania was under water, it’s impossible to realize how quickly she sank, it was impossible to get lifebelts as there were none
on deck, & it was a thing not to be thought of to venture down below, as one would never have got up again. I’m afraid many went down with the boat, it is a miracle that anyone was saved at all, as really there was no help of any kind & the rescue boats were so long coming. I myself was 4½ hrs. floating around on a piece of wood, I held onto the boat ‘til the part I was on touched the water, & I was under quite a time to my idea when I came to the top. I managed to get a piece of wood, which I scrambled on after lots of struggling & this I drifted on until I was picked up. I had no lifebelt. I very often wonder how I was saved. I must say the men passengers were very good, they went in the nearest rooms for lifebelts for the women & children, so unselfish they were, it certainly was one cruel thing & I think the worst that ever happened during the war, so many children & old ladies, it’s almost too terrible to think about. I hope you’ll excuse this hurried note as my time is so taken up at present but if there is anything you wish to ask me, I’ll be only too glad to answer, & I should write to Mrs. Henderson
Haslemere
Durham Rd.
Altringham.
She is one of the survivors & might know him.
Trusting you are getting over this terrible shock.
I’ll remain,
Yours faithfully,
May Maycock.
No trace of Richard Preston Prichard was ever found.
Whether or not May Maycock’s broken engagement was of long duration, is not known after such a long passage of time, but she did eventually marry her fiancé, a Yorkshireman named Arthur Wood, in 1919, after another stay in America. In October 1915, she had returned to New York on board the American Lines ship St. Louis, arriving there on the 14th.
Her ordeal on the floating piece of wood did take its toll on her health, however, and she was never able to walk very far for the rest of her life, as her legs were permanently affected by their immersion.
May Maycock and her husband, had at least two daughters – Marjorie, born in 1920, and Barbara Mary, born in 1924. Her husband was a motor body builder, presumably in a car assembly plant.
May Wood died in Saltney, Flintshire, Wales, on the 31st December 1967, aged 75 years, having accomplished another journey to America - but this time by air!
In 2015, a century after the sinking of the Lusitania, May’s daughter, Mrs. Barbara Thomas, then aged 90 years, sold a silver bracelet at auction which had belonged to her mother. According to Barbara Thomas, May Maycock had been given the bracelet as a ‘thank you’ gift from a fellow survivor of the sinking. The story related by May to her daughter stated that the man was an American, named ‘Bill’, and whereas he survived, his wife and daughter were lost. He found himself in Queenstown, penniless, and May used money she had in a neck belt, to help him, until he could have funds sent to him from America. On receipt of these funds, he purchased the bracelet, which was inscribed with the words – “Bill to May”, and gave it to her in gratitude for her kindness towards him.
Register of Births, Marriages and Deaths, 1901 Census of England & Wales, 1911 Census of England & Wales, 1939 register, New York Passenger Lists 1820 – 1957, UK Incoming Passenger Lists 1878 – 1960, Cunard Records, Liverpool Record Office, British Broadcasting Corporation, Sheffield Daily Telegraph, Wallasey News (Photo 22/05/1915), Wallasey & Wirral Chronicle, Seven Days to Disaster, IWM GB62, UniLiv D92/2/231, Graham Maddocks, Geoff Whitfield, Michael Poirier, Jim Kalafus, Cliff Barry, Paul Latimer, Norman Gray.
Copyright © Peter Kelly.