Thomas Adamson was born in Paterson, New Jersey, in the United States of America on the 31st August 1880, the son of Thomas and Hannah Emily Adamson (née Cornuaud). His parents were from England, and his father was a master mariner. Despite being born in the United States of America, Thomas was a British subject by virtue of the nationality of his parents. He had at least six siblings.
At a young age, young Thomas and his family returned to England and settled in Liverpool. After leaving school, he became an apprentice joiner, but later followed his father to sea. He became a waiter with the Cunard Steam Ship Company Limited, and although his permanent home was at 70. Leggett Avenue, Long Island, New York City, when he was in England he lodged in Southport, Lancashire, at the parents of his friend and fellow Mercantile Marine waiter, Bill Edgar, at 27, Virginia Street. On his Seaman’s Discharge Book, Thomas stated that he was born in Macclesfield, which was the birthplace of his father.
On 12th April 1915, he engaged as a first class waiter in the Stewards' Department on board the Lusitania at Liverpool, at a monthly wage of £4-5s-0d., (£4.25p.). He joined the vessel at 7a.m., five days later, before she made her last ever departure from the port of Liverpool, on her regular passage to New York.
Three weeks later, he survived her torpedoing and sinking when she was six days out of New York and only hours away from her home port, off the coast of southern Ireland. He was rescued from the sea and having been landed at Queenstown, although injured, he was still able to cable Bill Edgar’s parents: -
LIST OF SURVIVORS INCOMPLETE, BUT HAVE NOT YET SEEN BILL.
Bill Edgar was in fact killed in the sinking and his body never was found.
Thomas Adamson was hospitalised after being brought to Queenstown as he had suffered a compound fracture of his right leg and also suffered less serious rib and chest injuries.
While recuperating in hospital, Thomas Adamson wrote to his mother, giving his account of his experiences, and the contents of one of the letters was published in the 3rd July 1915 edition of the Macclesfield Courier & Herald: -
“We were just busy with the lunch when we got the first shot, we knew they had got us. There was a general rush for the stairs to get to the lifeboats. The Lusitania immediately listed to starboard to such an extent that it was almost impossible to get up the companionway. It was terrible to see the people trying to struggle to their feet. We did not get a minute’s notice, for immediately there was another shot, which came almost on top of the other. When we got to the boat deck, the forward part of the ship was completely under water.
I did my best to get as many women and children in the boats as I could. Captain Turner and the staff captain were on the bridge giving orders, “women and children first,” and not until the water was over the bridge did either of them desert the old ship. When they jumped into the sea, there was no further work to do, as the ship was almost completely submerged. I then jumped as I saw no one around me. As I went over the side one of the life-boats, fastened to a davit, swung over against the side of the ship, catching me in between, right across my legs, crushing them terribly. As the ship went down I was drawn under by the suction, which seemed to draw me down and down; I felt sure that my end had come, as I kept going further and further down, and was gulping mouthfuls of water. Fortunately I saw a rope which I grabbed and after several seconds was able to drag myself to the surface. The rope I discovered was attached to a lifeboat which had been overturned by the suction of the sinking ship. All the women and children in the boat were probably drowned.
I grabbed a floating box which kept turning over and over beneath me; I kept hold first underneath, then on top of the water. Looping the loop is child’s play compared to it. The water was very cold, and although I went in about ten minutes after two I was not picked up by the trawler Bluebell until after eight o’clock.
All I could see around me all these hours was nothing but human beings struggling in the water, many with lifebelts, shouting and crying for help, but none came from the shore for some time. We could plainly see the smoke from the two torpedo destroyers and some trawlers in the distance. When help eventually reached the scene those aboard had an awful job and hardly seemed to know where to start as there were poor creatures, alive and dead, strewn all over the water. It was terrible to hear the cries from the poor little kiddies, I saw quite a number just on their last effort to save themselves, but I was powerless to help them, as I hadn’t even a lifebelt to help me float with my two mangled legs. I kept hold of one saloon passenger who asked me to save him. He was terror stricken, and cried like a child. I saved the poor fellow, but it was some job, even though he had on a life belt, as each time I came to the surface after being bowled over on my box by the waves, he carried on and I would scramble to get hold of him, as the waves would toss him over too, even though he wore a life belt. I had the satisfaction of seeing him saved, but never knew who he was, as we were separated. He asked me for my name in the water, but I didn’t manage to give it to him.
The crew of the Bluebell were very kind to us, they gave us hot tea and took what clothes we had on and dried them for us. They brought us to Queenstown and I was carried ashore on a stretcher. The place was crowded when we came ashore, everybody busy attending to the survivors. It was 11 o’clock at night when we landed. A military doctor examined me, called an ambulance and sent me to the General Hospital. Besides being crushed, my right leg has a compound fracture. The left leg is not quite so bad. I expect to be able to leave here soon.”
He eventually returned to Liverpool and was paid the balance of wages owing to him in respect of his time on board the Lusitania, which was counted from 17th April until 8yh May 1915; 24 hours after the liner had gone down. This balance amounted to £4-
9s-6d., (£4.47½p.).
In late 1916, Thomas married Gertrude Day in Ormskirk, Lancashire, and the couple travelled to the United States of America on their honeymoon. Thomas’ widowed mother was residing at Long Island, New York, at this time.
Thomas Adamson continued to serve as a waiter with the Cunard Steam Ship Company Limited for many years, serving most of his time on the Lusitania’s sister ship, Mauritania. For convenience, he moved with his wife to Southampton, Hampshire, to be close to where the trans-Atlantic liners sailed to and from the United States of America. The couple had no known children.
Thomas Adams died on the 18th October 1945 at The Borough Hospital, Shirley Warren, Southampton, aged 65 years. Administration of his estate, which amounted to £348-16s-8d. (£348.83p), was granted to his widow, Gertrude, on the 22nd December 1945.
Register of Births, Marriages and Deaths, New Jersey Births and Christenings Index 1660 – 1931, 1891 Census of England, 1901 Census of England, 1920 U.S. Federal Census, Cunard Records, UK World War I Pension Ledgers and Index Cards 1914 – 1923, Cork Examiner, Macclesfield Courier & Herald, Probate Records, PRO BT 100/345, PRO BT 348, PRO BT 349, Graham Maddocks, Joe Devereux, Michael Poirier, Jim Kalafus, Cliff Barry, Paul Latimer, Norman Gray.
Copyright © Peter Kelly
Revised & Updated – 1st December 2022.