Francis John Lucas was born in Bromsgrove, Worcestershire, England, on the 19th September 1892, the son of Joseph and Elizabeth “Eliza” Lucas (née Hanks). His parents ran one of the area's principal butchers' shops at 166. Worcester Street, Bromsgrove, over which, the family resided. Francis was the youngest of eight children.
In 1900, his father died, and for a while, his mother ran the family business before she decided to retire, and moved with Francis to 109. Dibble Road, Smethwick, Staffordshire. Francis was educated at Wolverhampton Royal Orphanage, where amongst other things, he was taught to swim.
On completion of his education, he gained employment at Messrs. Samuel Smith and Sons, and other factories, before training as a moulder in The Wolseley Motor Works.
By this time, one of his older brothers had moved to New Rochelle, New York, in the United States of America, and five sisters to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and he decided to join his sisters in Pittsburgh, and seek work. Consequently, he left England on the 27th September 1914 on the S.S. Campania, and landed in New York on 1st October.
However, once he had arrived in Pittsburgh, he discovered that the war had hit the manufacturing trade in America quite badly and as unemployment was so high there, he was unable to get a job in his trade. As a result he decided to return home to Smethwick, and booked as a second cabin passenger on the Lusitania, sailing from New York on May Day 1915.
He later described his experiences to a reporter of The Smethwick Telephone, which were published in the edition of Saturday 15th May 1915.
He described how he had seen newspaper advertisements warning that the Lusitania would be "interfered with", but took no heed of them and that the 10.00 a.m. sailing was delayed until mid-day to take on board passengers from the Anchor Liner Cameronia whose sailing was cancelled. In fact, both passengers and crew joined the Lusitania from the Cameronia because she was requisitioned by the Admiralty for use as a troop ship.
The Smethwick Telephone went on to describe Mr. Lucas' experiences on the voyage: -
It was beautiful weather and the early hours were spent in sighting warships outside New York, while later, several liners were passed. As usual there was plenty to interest the passengers after the first few days when mal-de-mer was the first concern. On Wednesday night, the members of the Welsh Choir who were returning after a long tour, gave a concert and a famous comedian provided a turn. Some idea of the success of this concert may be gleaned from the fact that in the second cabin there was a record collection on behalf of the Sailors' Orphanage at Liverpool, the amount realised being £36-16s-11d. No one knew how soon the work of the Orphanage was to be supplemented.
On Thursday there were sports and in the evening there was a whist drive. At this, Mr. Lucas won second prize and it will be a treasured relic of the last hours of the fated liner. It is a very handsome pearl handled pocket knife, an exceptionally fine etching of the Lusitania being on the haft.
On Friday morning the vessel ran into a fog and the haze did not clear until noon. For hours there was the intermittent sounding of the horn which now gives some idea that the submarine which was in waiting was not without its aid in carrying out its diabolical task. When the fog lifted the vessel was in sight of land. At 12.30 many of the passengers had had lunch and were in the smoke room. Mr. Lucas was having a hand of cards when there was a mysterious bump. The mammoth liner shook from stem to stern and although there had been no sign of fear, the minds of everyone seemed to instinctively revert to the German caution in which it was said that 'the zone of war includes the waters adjacent to the British Isles'.
The passengers rushed to the deck and every step they took increased their fear for the vessel had instantaneously assumed a serious list. The natural instinct was to get to the high side of the boat. To do that meant to walk up-hill on deck but of course it was not in a passenger's best interest to follow that instinct for many more people were saved from that side of the boat that was near the water. The people who swarmed to the side that was high up in the air found that it was impossible to lower those boats; those who did scramble in were there when the vessel took its final plunge into the
deep.
Mr. Lucas does not claim to be a hero; he is far too modest a man for that; but among the heroism none is more vivid than that he displayed, though he would rather allude to some of the incidents as a matter of course in an extremity. But in the light of after events the part he played was worthy of the best in British annals of the sea.
Here is one story given in the words he used to describe the incident: “I was able to secure a life-belt and came on deck where a woman screamed for it. I gave it her and helped her to adjust it. Then I pulled my jacket and waistcoat off and waited - waited until I could take a dive'.”
It would seem that the Captain was able to give some assurance to the passengers and the order was given that no boats were to be lowered as everything was safe. Mr. Lucas then went about for five minutes trying to comfort the women and fondled the children who could not realise anything except by the anguish on their parents' faces. They were crying and through their tears heard that 'everything was safe'. Some people who were in the boats actually came out of them.
As a matter of fact, Mr. Lucas has not a very high opinion of the present methods of lowering the lifeboats. The Captain and crew were probably right in their assumption that the vessel was safe at that psychological moment. But almost immediately there followed the second torpedo. That sealed the doom of the Lusitania. This deadly blow came a quarter of an hour after the first, and in five minutes the liner went below and the sea was blackened with struggling humanity.
Mr. Lucas was obviously mistaken about the time the ship was struck and the timing of what he thought was a second explosion. Given the circumstances, it is hardly surprising that he was confused. The article continued: -
Mr. Lucas was taken down with the suction and his immersion seemed interminable. However, he owes his life to his good knowledge of swimming. He had taken the precaution of divesting himself of the clothing that would hamper the movement of his arms, and was able to strike out when opportunity occurred for the biggest raft. This chanced to be an upturned collapsible boat on which three had already found a temporary place of safety. With a fair amount of effort he was able to join the trio and then with the aid of an oar they helped others to share this foothold. It was a very strenuous business requiring not a little pluck.
How well this work of rescue was done will be seen from the fact that eventually there were 48 aboard. It was a very cosmopolitan crew that sought to keep the frail craft afloat. One of the women to be rescued by Mr. Lucas was Lady Allen, who was amongst the notable passengers. Her Ladyship owes her life to the gallantry of this young Smethwickian.
There had been others who had been maimed by the first explosion on the Lusitania. One man had the end of three fingers taken off through being pinched between boats. Another poor fellow was hauled from the sea with his arm hanging by a few sinews. He was very brave and never murmured during all the hour-and-a-half that was spent by the hapless folk on the raft.
Eventually, a cargo boat from Havana laden with sugar came into sight. She was due to coal at Queenstown but had been signalled from the lighthouse to give help. The party was taken aboard and one of the first things to be done was to attend the poor fellow who was so severely injured. The final bit of the amputation was performed by a sailor's pocket knife and then the patient was made as comfortable as possible.
The cargo boat from Havana, was identified as the Greek registered steamer Katerina, but was in fact, the Smith and Jones vessel Westbourne, which was flying a Greek flag and had been unofficially renamed Katerina by her captain in the hope that U-Boats would ignore her, thinking she was a neutral vessel. According to another survivor, Saloon Passenger Dr. H.L. Fisher, speaking of the crude operation: -
This arm was amputated successfully with a butcher's knife by a little Italian surgeon.
The little Italian surgeon was almost certainly 27 year old second cabin passenger Silvio de Vescovi.
The crew were hospitable to a degree and helped to dry the clothes of those who could not be rigged out in some way or other. It was midnight before a landing was effected and then everyone seemed to be sending off cablegrams: Lucas sent two to America and one to Smethwick. Later they were taken to a hotel where they were provided with suitable food and beds. On Saturday morning the Cunard Company found clothes for the party who had lost everything except the few things that were in their pockets.
It was while walking about Queenstown in search of friends whom he had made on the voyage that Mr. Lucas chanced upon one of his Smethwick 'chums', Sidney Taft of 144 High Street. The meeting can better be imagined than described. However, the third Smethwickian whom they met on board was not to be found and nothing had been heard of him though Mr. Lucas had spent all the time possible in searching for him at Queenstown and again at Smethwick. This was a Mr. Palmer who was accompanied by his wife and children.
Mr. Lucas and Mr. Taft eventually got their tickets from the Cunard and leaving Queenstown at 3 o'clock got to Kingstown at 9 p.m.. The journey across to Holyhead was reminiscent of the voyage which had ended so fatally; all lights were out. However, there was nothing of great moment and on landing the party were provided with warm rugs and given breakfast. Birmingham was reached early on Sunday morning.
Before coming on to Smethwick, Mr. Lucas went to fulfil a promise made to a fellow passenger - that he would inform his relatives at Aston that he was safe. This was a very pathetic ordeal after all he had gone through for Mr. Frankum - the fellow passenger - had lost his wife and the two youngest children, and the father and eldest boy alone had been saved. This was the news he had to take to Aston. After he had fulfilled this mission Mr. Lucas came to Smethwick and was welcomed by his friends.
The Palmer family referred to by Francis Lucas had been travelling from Toronto,
Ontario, Canada to Mrs. Palmer's mother at Windmill Lane Smethwick. Lucas had been playing cards with Albert Palmer in the Second Cabin Smoke Room when the torpedo struck and although all of the Palmer family survived the explosion, they all subsequently perished. On Monday 10th May, Lucas visited Windmill Lane and although he probably raised false hopes by telling Mrs. Oakes, (Mrs. Palmer's mother) that he thought he might have seen her daughter in Queenstown, this eventually proved not to be the case.
Presumably, Francis Lucas found work as a moulder in one of the factories in the Birmingham area, and in 1916, he married Nellie Mann in Kings Norton, Worcestershire. The couple had two children – Francis John, born in 1918, and Nellie, born in 1920. The family later moved to 17. Highfield Road, Smethwick.
Francis John Lucas died in Smethwick on the 6th November 1945, aged 53 years.
Register of Births, Marriages and Deaths, 1901 Census of England & Wales, 1911 Census of England & Wales, 1939 Register, New York Passenger Lists 1820 – 1957, Cunard Records, New York Times, Pittsburgh Gazette Times, Pittsburgh Press, Smethwick Telephone, Graham Maddocks, Geoff Whitfield, Michael Poirier, Jim Kalafus, Cliff Barry, Paul Latimer, Norman Gray.
Copyright © Peter Kelly.