John Francis Luker was born in Abingdon, Berkshire, England, on the 23rd September 1881, the son of Joseph and Hannah Luker (née Bowden). He was the eight, of eleven known children, and his father was a bricklayer. The family home was at 50. Spring Road, Abingdon.
On leaving school, Francis became a boot maker, and it is thought that he first travelled to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada, in 1908, although no record of this has been found. By 1911, he was the landlord of the “Queens Head” Inn, Sutton Courtenay, a village just outside Abingdon.
By 1912, the “Queens Head” was acquired by the British Prime Minister, H.H. Asquith. Mr. Asquith acquired three adjoining building, including the “Queens Head”, and renovated and expanded them into a complex of buildings, called “The Wharf”, “Walton House” and “Mill House”, which he used as his country residence, and where he retired to and died in 1932.
In April 1912, Francis Luker immigrated to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada, where he found work as a postman at the local post office, and boarded with the Smith family.
In the spring of 1915, he decided to return to England as he required surgery and was on sick leave from his work. As a result, at the end of April, he travelled to New York in the United States of America where he joined the Lusitania as a third class passenger - with ticket number 6057 - at Pier 54, in New York harbour, on the morning of 1st May. He was on board when the liner left the port for the very last time, just after mid-day. The Lusitania had been scheduled to sail at 10.00am., but this was postponed because she had to embark passengers cargo and some of the crew of the Anchor Lines vessel Cameronia, which the British Admiralty had requisitioned as a troop ship.
Six days later, the vessel was torpedoed and sunk off the southern coast of Ireland and only hours away from her Liverpool destination, by the German submarine U-20. Francis Luker managed to survive the sinking, however, and after being rescued from the sea, he was landed at Queenstown, from where he made it back to England. He resided for a time at 50. Spring Road, Abingdon, Berkshire. From this address he wrote to the Cunard offices in Queenstown making enquiries about his fellow-passenger, Jack Bevan, who did not survive. Perhaps both men shared a cabin.
An account of his experiences was published in The Saskatoon Phoenix on the 2nd June 1915. The account was from a letter written by Mr. Luker to his friends in Saskatoon. It states: -
“During the voyage I picked up with two young fellows with whom I shared a berth and all three travelled together. My two friends went below to get a nap, but I stayed on deck. About 2.30p.m., as I was standing in the covered alley-way on the third class deck, the periscope of the German submarine was seen about 150 yards ahead. The “Lusitania” immediately turned aside to avoid the oncoming torpedo, but was not quick enough. The torpedo struck her amidships, and almost immediately a second torpedo struck the after part of the great vessel. Both explosions took place almost simultaneously. The noise of the explosion was as loud as a big gun. Smoke and steam came up the side of the ship in clouds.
Francis Luker, like many others, was mistaken about there being a second torpedo. He
continued: -
“The passengers all rushed over to the side of the ship to see what had happened, and the lurching of the great wounded liner threw them all in a heap. Another violent lurch of the ship threw hundreds of the people into the sea. I held on to a piece of iron fixed to the woodwork on the deck, and was thus able to save myself from being carried away as the people were being thrown past me.
I made my way to the second class cabin to see if I could find a lifebelt, and, passing by the nursery, I noticed a little baby inside which had evidently been left there while the mother went to look for help, intending to come back again and fetch the child. I went forward to get hold of the child, but as I did so, the ship gave another terrible lurch, and the door of the nursery was jammed tightly, so that I was unable to save the child.
“Unable to find a lifebelt, I made my way back to the second class deck, where the crew were making attempts to launch some of the boats. Owing to the heavy list that the ship had taken, the operation was most difficult, and the boats had to be swung so far out in order to avoid the ship, that it was most difficult to get the people into them. The first boat was to full to take me. Another was capsized through the ropes breaking, so that he passengers were thrown into the sea. The boat was afterwards righted, and the people were got back into it. The list of the ship was so great that I had to take a tremendous jump, which I successfully accomplished. I then grabbed a boat hook and pulled the boat in nearer to the great liner,, when more passengers were able to get into it.
“It was then that I was able to save Mrs. Wicking-Smith’s baby. She was trying to get into a boat with her baby, but they were holding her back, when I shouted at her to throw the baby to me, which she did. I caught the child, and handed it over to the care to some of the other occupants of the boat. I also caught another child safely, but had no idea whose it was. Mrs. Wicking-Smith was fortunately saved, but I had no idea of this until two or three hours later.
“Before reaching land I changed boats five times, in order to leave room for wounded passengers and women. One boat I got into had a defective plug and it was nearly waist deep in water. The first boat I was in was so close to the ship that they had to hold on to the wireless masts and push the wires away in order to prevent the boat being dragged down by them when the liner sank. She went down with very little suction, but when the boilers exploded the passengers were covered in soot and looked like niggers.
After the ship had disappeared, the water all around was just as if it was boiling, and everybody thought that their last moments had come. However, we managed to get safely away from the whirling waters, and started to render as much assistance as we could to others who were still in the water.
“Commander Jones was in charge of the boat in which I was finally rescued, and the boat became so full that we had to refuse to take any more on board. I was able to render assistance to a lady, a Miss Liepold (sic.), who had escaped from the ship but had both legs injured. She came alongside the boat, and I reached out my hand to her, and for some time
towed her along in this manner, afterwards having to grip her by the shoulder when she became exhausted. Eventually they managed to make room for her in the boat by getting some of the men to lie down in the bottom.
Commander Jones was First Officer Arthur Rowland Jones, and Miss Liepold, was second cabin passenger, Miss Catherine Leipold, both of whom survived. First Officer Jones was in charge of Lifeboat No. 15. His account continued: -
“During the time I was helping this lady, a gentleman clung to the side of the boat. He was carrying a bundle of papers. I held out my hand to him, but he cried, “For God’s sake, take this! It is my life’s work!” I took the papers, and the man became so exhausted that he said he could hold on no longer and said good-bye. I gripped him with one hand, however, and held him up until they were able to drag him into the boat. When he was landed at Queenstown he was still unconscious, so I was unable to gather any particulars as to his name or destination.
“And so things went on in this way until we were sighted by a fishing smack and were taken on board. About 100 from the different boats we got on board this vessel. After we were safely on board we could just discern the smoke of the other vessels which were coming to our assistance. We remained on the trawler for about an hour, during which time the sailors did everything they possibly could for our comfort, attending to the wounded and giving them whiskey, etc. We were then transferred to the paddle steamer “Flying Fish” and taken to Queenstown. We arrived at Queenstown about 11.30p.m., or nine hours after the “Lusitania” sank.
From Queenstown, Francis Luker managed to make his way back to his home in Abingdon, and shortly after his return home, he applied to The Lusitania Relief Fund, administered by The Lord Mayor of Liverpool and other local dignitaries, for financial aid in respect of property he had lost in the sinking. This fund had been set up shortly after the liner had foundered, to help second and third class passengers who had suffered financial hardship as a result of the loss of the ship. It was believed that saloon passengers would be able to look after their own interests. It is not known whether or not the Fund was able to give Luker any help!
To return to Canada, Francis Luker booked passage from Liverpool to New York City on the Orduña, arriving in New York City on the 20th September 1915. On disembarking, he commenced his long journey, overland, to Saskatoon.
Francis Luker’s fellow postmen corresponded with the Royal Humane Society in an effort to have his deeds in the aftermath of the sinking properly recognised, and have a medal bestowed upon him. Their appeal was rejected as the Society did not handle Canadian cases, and also they deemed it unfair to recognise one individual, when so many survivors did all they could to save others!
Francis Luker returned to work as a postman, and then on the evening of the 17th July 1917, he went swimming with some friends in the Saskatchewan River in Saskatoon, and disappeared after diving into the water. Another bather noticed that he hadn’t resurfaced after his dive, and alerted his friends, who called the police. He was found under the water about 25 minutes later, but efforts to resuscitate him failed, and he was pronounced dead. He was aged 35 years. He was buried in Woodlawn Cemetery, Saskatoon.
On the 17th August 1917, at Oxford, probate was granted to his brother, Benjamin Luker, who was described as a clothier. His effects amounted to £123-10s.-5d. (£123.52p).
Register of Births, Marriages and Deaths, 1891 Census of England & Wales, 1901 Census of England & Wales, 1916 Canada Census of Manitoba, Saskatchewan and Alberta, Canadian Passenger Lists 1865 – 1935, New York Passenger Lists 1820 – 1957, Cunard Records, Liverpool Record Office, Faringdon Advertiser and Vale of the White Horse Gazette, The Saskatoon Phoenix, Probate Records, UniLiv D92/2/144, UniLiv D92/2/431, Graham Maddocks, Stuart Williamson, Geoff Whitfield, Michael Poirier, Jim Kalafus, Cliff Barry, Paul Latimer, Norman Gray.
Copyright © Peter Kelly.