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Issue 8 - Murder most horrid

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Scotland Magazine Issue 8

Scotland Magazine Issue 8
May 2003

 

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Murder most horrid

LOUISE NICOLSON REVEALS THE GORY GOINGS-ON ABOARD THE RIFLEMAN ON HER VOYAGE TO AUSTRALIA IN 1873

Murder most horrid (Issue 8)
March 16th 1873, 4.30am, middle watch. George Morgan, chief officer, walks briskly along the wooden deck. Something is wrong aboard the Rifleman. The helmsman says that most of the crew were violently sick during the night. Puzzling.

“Sir, the captain needs to see you,” says the new steward, William Krauss. Quickly draining his coffee, Morgan strides to the captain’s cabin, “Do you want me sir?”

Instead of Captain Longmuir’s reply, Morgan receives a vicious thud to the left temple. Turning, stunned, Morgan sees Krauss deliver the second blow with a 5lb-iron bolti. He is struck with such force that the wooden beam above his head is scarred. Despite his world spinning, Morgan grabs his attacker, thrusts him against the Captain’s bed and calls frantically for boatswain John Nichols. A struggle of hands, and a gun is pulled from Krauss’ pocket. Nichols falls with a bullet lodged in his neck. A second shot misses Morgan’s head and burrows deep inside a wooden beam. Second officer Newton hurries in, and after a sweaty wrestle, Krauss is disarmed. “What have you done to the Captain?” Silence. Morgan orders Newton to lift the Captain’s counterpane. Bedding, mattress and berth are saturated with red. The Captain’s warm body is covered in blood from a deep clean cut on his right temple and a thin length of log line knots wound twice round his neck. Newton quickly cuts the dead man free. Morgan bursts out, “You scoundrel, you have killed the captain!”

"It wasn’t me!” But Krauss has no answer for the second pistol, dagger, knife and 24 cartridges found buried in his clothing and five lengths of line hidden in his cabin. Krauss is secured in the deckhouse, while a shaken George Morgan takes command of the Rifleman. His friend, Captain James Longmuir, whose obituary describes “a man of superior intelligence and attainments, a brave, robust, and skillful seaman”ii, is below deck, preserved in a cask of Scotch spirits. All flags are respectfully lowered to half-mast as the grieving ship sails onto Sydney.

This account of murder at sea was pieced together using sworn witness statements from the ship’s log and transcripts of the trial at Sydney Central Criminal Court. The Rifleman’s voyage was supposed to be a routine affair.

Built by William Duthie Esq. of Aberdeen and crewed by Scots from the north east of that country, the Rifleman sailed from Aberdeen to London, thence to Sydney, Australia. Aboard, it carried valuable mixed freight and a smattering of passengers. Leaving London on 27th January 1873, her log book records Krauss under the name of “Jahn Schelee”iii. Later, it became clear that he had many aliases: Julius Prouts, Wilhelm Krauss, William Cross. The new steward came without references, chosen at the last minute in place of the Captain’s favourite. Krauss was in the perfect position to execute his plan. He gave the crew poisoned lime juice, grog and bread, causing widespread sickness and drowsiness.
Then he crept into Captain Longmuir’s cabin … With the ship’s log and Morgan’s testimony as evidence, the Australian legal system swung into action. Insanity became Krauss’ only defence. Mr Dalley, assigned by the Sydney court for the defence, appealed to doctors to come forward “in the interests of humanity and justice” to examine Krauss’ claim. In a climate of press hysteria, Mr Dalley’s request to the medical establishment was mocked and misinterpreted by newspaper Empire;

It is desired to prove an alleged murderer insane and for so noble and interesting an object we feel sure that every medical man who values the importance of his profession and his own reputation will be happy to exert himself to the utmost. There will be no fees to be sure; but what are fees to men of feeling, anxious only for the explosion of vulgar error and the triumph of science?

The paper was fined for cheek, and a plea of insanity was dismissed by Sydney Central Criminal Court. Krauss was charged with ‘willful murder’;

Carefully considering all the merits of the case, the jury were of the opinion that [Krauss’] insanity was not proved … In one sense, every man who commits a crime is mad. If he were to calmly consider all that must follow as the natural consequences of his act, we should not hear of passion, greed and revenge triumphing so frightfully over every moral feeling – at least so far as crimes of this magnitude are concerned. But the world is full of madmen of this kind, who would be glad to seek immunity from punishment, but who must not be encouraged to hope for such.

Three years before the invention of the telephone, accurate news about the murder, motive and suspects took weeks to arrive in Scotland. The newspapers improvised;

That the wretch Krauss failed in the accomplishment of his infamous design is probably due only to accident or want of skill. The poison administered to the crew failed to produce its intended effect, or was arrested by timely antidotes; and the knife which was intended to destroy the officers of the ship at one fell swoop, dealt a deadly stab only in the case of the captain.

Newspapers whispered about Krauss’ ambitious desire to seize the Rifleman, sail to Brazil, plunder her riches and abandon her. The crew, hyped up by surviving the poisoned grog, fuelled rumours that the murder was revenge for the captain’s vigorous criticism of Krauss’ cleanliness. Morgan’s level headed witness statement dismissed such speculation. He said that he “had no reason to suspect from anything the steward said or did that he had any ill-feeling towards the Captain”v. Krauss’ motive followed him beyond the gallows. On the scaffold, Krauss claimed, one last time, that he remembered nothing of the murder, before “his fortitude gave way a second or two before the drop”vi. Amessy end to a scandal at sea.

Captain Longmuir was buried in Australia, leaving a grieving widow and family of six, of which two sons followed their father’s seafaring example. Revered for his bravery aboard the Rifleman, Morgan was awarded a handsome gold watch.

On his return from the Rifleman voyage, Captain Longmuir was to receive command of the Ann Duthie ship. Instead, command of Ann Duthie passed to George Morgan on his promotion to captain, as a sombre tribute to a tale of two friends.