A.H. Hawkins was a second-class passenger on the Valencia and one of the nineteen survivors picked up 36 hours into the disaster by the City of Topeka. Very little is known about A.H. Hawkins before or after the Valencia disaster in 1906. The Seattle Post Intelligencer reported that he had been a resident of Seattle for about seventeen years. He travels considerably. He lived util a few years ago on Twenty-third avenue near Madison street.
The Valencia Disaster
he Valencia 
2. The Voyage 3. The Boats 4. The McCarthy Boat 5. The Bunker Party 6. On the Valencia 7. The Rafts 8. The Turret Raft 9. The Rescue Ships 10. The Aftermath 11. The Survivors 12. The Lost
The West Coast Trail
Prologue 1: The West Coast Trail 2: When to Hike & Fees 3: Trailheads 4: Getting There 5: Considerations 6: Campsites 7: Shipwrecks 8: Routes 9: Sights & Highlights
The San Francisco Examiner reported that he lived at 14 Fourth Avenue in North Seattle and was homeward bound when the Valencia wrecked. His occupation was unknown, however in the past he worked as a fireman on steamships. His experience on the Valencia was described in amazing detail from interviews he gave the day he arrived in Seattle on January 26th. The Vancouver Daily Province described the condition of Hawkins and other survivors when they arrived on the Topeka.
"As soon as the Topeka moved up to her wharf yesterday, the first man on shore was Dr. Whiting, the attending physician. He was quickly followed by a procession of staggering, wild-eyed men, each clinging to the ropes of the gangway as if for dear life. As they once more felt the hard ground beneath their feet, all of them without exception, some by the spoken word and some thanked a kind Providence for sparing them their lives."
"AH Hawkins whose knees were severely bruised, as he was thrown about the deck like a puppet. Hawkins was so exhausted and suffered so much from shock that his speech halted, and he could hardly utter a word. At times he would stop in his limping walk, gaze abstractedly at the pavement and become entirely oblivious to his surroundings, as he evidently reviewed in his mind the agony of the shipwreck."
A.H. Hawkins and Passenger Survivors from the Topeka Raft
A.H. Hawkins Account of the Valencia Shipwreck
The disaster began in the dead of night on January 22nd, 1906, as Hawkins slept in his berth, partially clothed. At 11:53pm., a violent jolt shook the ship, signaling its collision with the rocks. “I was asleep with most of my clothes on when we ran on the rocks. I was awakened by the loud crash. Snatching a coat, I rushed on deck, meeting many passengers clad only in their night robes,” Hawkins recalled. The scene that greeted him was one of disarray, with passengers emerging from their cabins, some in flimsy nightclothes, shivering in the cold January air. The ship’s captain, Oscar M. Johnson, who had been on the bridge since 6 p.m., issued immediate orders to back the vessel at full speed. However, as Hawkins noted, “the vessel began filling so fast he had to run her on the rocks again,” grounding the Valencia with her bow pointed seaward and her port side exposed to the wind.
The deck became a gathering point for terrified passengers, who huddled together against the biting wind that “whistled through the rigging,” as Hawkins later described. The ship’s precarious position, combined with the darkness that enveloped the deck when the electric lights failed, heightened the sense of panic. Captain Johnson moved among the passengers, attempting to quell their fears. “Captain Johnson went among the passengers telling them there was no danger and keeping them from getting excited,” Hawkins said, though the worsening conditions undermined these assurances.
Catastrophic Lifeboat Failures: “The Screams Were Awful”
With the ship grinding against the rocks, Captain Johnson ordered the starboard lifeboats—on the calmer side of the vessel—to be manned, prioritizing women and children. Hawkins observed a reluctance among the women to board, as many believed the ship offered greater safety than the treacherous sea. “Everyone was huddled, shivering on deck. The ship lay with her head pointing to sea as she had been turned around after being backed off the rocks after striking first, and lay so that her port side was to windward. Captain Johnson immediately ordered the starboard boats manned. The men stood back for the women and children to enter, but they didn’t want to leave the ship, thinking it safer to remain on board,” he explained.
Despite this hesitation, two women boarded the first starboard lifeboat, joined by a few crew members and three or four passengers. As the boat was lowered, the ship’s lights extinguished, obscuring its fate. “Just about then the lights went out and we could not see what happened to her,” Hawkins said, unaware at the time that the boat likely capsized, with no survivors reported.
The second lifeboat attempt was even more disastrous. Hawkins, stationed on the starboard side, witnessed passengers crowding into the boat despite calls for women to board first. “Right after the first boat got away the second was ordered lowered. Nearly everyone in the boat was a passenger. Again, the women were told to get into it. So many crowded in that the forward davits broke and everyone was thrown into the sea,” he recounted. The aftermath was gut-wrenching: “The screams and pitiful cries for help were awful. It was pitch dark, and the Valencia was rolling and grinding on the rocks.” Among those thrown into the sea was First Assistant Engineer Carrick, who miraculously survived by swimming until he grasped a rope and was pulled back aboard. Hawkins noted, “He was the only one saved out of 20 or 30 people who left in the third starboard boat.”
The third boat’s fate was equally grim, marked by a tragic accident. “The night watchman, who was trying to keep the small boat from dashing against the Valencia, was crushed to death between them when the rope broke, and fell overboard without a cry,” Hawkins said, his voice heavy with the memory of the silent loss.
The fourth lifeboat attempt brought one of the most heart-wrenching moments of the ordeal. Hawkins stood beside a family—a man, his wife, and their infant child—as the boat was prepared. The man pleaded with his wife to board with their baby, but she resisted, saying, “if she had to die she would go down with him.” In a moment of desperate heroism, the man acted decisively. “If there ever was a hero, he is one, for he picked up the little baby, who was wrapped in a blanket, and handed it to me. Then he lifted his wife by force into the boat and I handed her the baby,” Hawkins recounted. As the woman was placed in the boat, she cried out, “Over the noise and crashing I heard her cry ‘goodbye’.” The tragedy deepened when the husband, overcome with grief, “covered his eyes and fell to the deck, where he was washed overboard and drowned a few minutes after.” The boat’s ropes broke, and all aboard, including the mother and child, perished. Hawkins reflected, “That was the worst picture in all that terrible scene. The poor baby and its mother’s white face will haunt me to the day of my death.”
Hawkins himself narrowly escaped death during this attempt. “I was just going to step into the lifeboat when another woman rushed by me and jumped in. Again, the ropes on the davit broke, and this time not a single soul was saved,” he said. Another woman’s desperate plea added to the anguish: “One woman begged for the love of God to hold that boat until she found her little girl. I turned around to look for the child, but could not find her. It was just as well I didn’t, for the mother was drowned within a few minutes.”
Tuesday Morning: A Grim Dawn and a Trapped Survivor
By Tuesday morning, January 23, the Valencia was battered by a strengthening gale, with waves crashing against her hull. “This all took place on Tuesday morning from the time the Valencia struck until daylight. The wind was beginning to blow a gale, and the surf was dashing against the ship so hard it seemed as if she couldn’t hold together another hour,” Hawkins said. At dawn, the survivors spotted two upturned lifeboats on the shore, about 150 yards away, and a lone survivor standing in a cave. “At daylight we saw two of the lifeboats upturned on the shore, about 150 yards away, and one man who managed to reach shore from one of the boats, was standing in a sort of cave. The cliffs were so steep I didn’t believe any man living could climb them,” he recalled.
The survivors, now confined to the hurricane deck—the only part of the ship above water—signaled for the man to move westward, where the cliffs might be scalable. “We all gathered on the hurricane deck, the only place then out of water, and motioned him to go to the westward, where there was a chance to scale the cliffs. He made signs that he couldn’t, as the current running in and out the cave was too strong,” Hawkins explained. Tragically, the man attempted to swim and drowned before their eyes. “But at last he jumped in and was drowned before our eyes. His body came to the surface within a short time and we could see it washing around the mouth of the cave,” he said, the image etched in his memory.
A Day of Desperation: Hunger, Cold, and Failed Signals
The survivors faced relentless hardship as waves swept over the hurricane deck. “All that day we could not do a thing, as a terrible sea was running and every one was crowded on a little piece of deck that was still out of the water, although the waves rushed over us every minute or two,” Hawkins said. Food was scarce, with the little that was salvaged given to the women. “What little food saved was given to the remaining women and the men only had a few mouthfuls since suppertime the night before,” he noted.
Many passengers, seeking refuge from the waves, climbed into the rigging. Hawkins witnessed a near-tragedy when “Miss Van Wyck, who was standing in the shrouds just below me, fell to the deck. She was not badly hurt and climbed into the rigging again.” That night, a glimmer of hope appeared when lights were spotted at sea, possibly from the steamer Edith. The survivors burned blankets, shirts, and mattresses to signal for help, but their efforts were in vain. “That night we saw lights out to sea, which I suppose were from the Edith, and we burned blankets, shirts and even mattresses to attract her attention. She evidently did not see us, for lights soon disappeared,” Hawkins said.
Despair set in as the weather worsened, with snow adding to the survivors’ misery. “Everyone had about given up hope, and we were so numb from cold and hunger that several said they didn’t care what they did and that if they were not saved soon, they would jump in themselves. I believe it snowed that night,” Hawkins recalled, capturing the depth of their hopelessness.
Wednesday: The Final Raft and a Narrow Escape
By Wednesday morning, January 24, the Valencia’s condition was critical. Captain Johnson urged those willing to risk their lives to board a life raft. Hawkins assisted in launching the first raft, which carried twelve men. “When daylight came, Captain Johnson told those who wanted to leave the ship to take to the life raft. I helped them put the first one overboard. Twelve men got on her and shoved off,” he said. The women, still refusing to leave, remained aboard. The raft quickly vanished from sight, its fate unknown to Hawkins. “We soon lost sight of it and I don’t know whether anyone was saved or not,” he added.
A catastrophic event soon followed: “Shortly before the raft put out the spar fell with about 20 people, a number of whom were crushed between it and the deck.” Hawkins, in the rigging, was caught in the collapse. “I was in the rigging and was caught between the mast and some timbers and both my kneecaps are fractured. If the timber beneath had not broken, my legs would have been broken off like pipe stems,” he said, his voice tinged with the pain of the memory.
At around 9:30-10a.m., the final life raft was launched, carrying 19 men, including Hawkins. The second mate, Mr. Peterson, joined them after a desperate swim. The raft was perilously overloaded, with survivors standing knee-deep in water. “There were so many on it we were standing knee deep in water and the seas were so heavy we thought we would all be drowned right there,” he said.
Navigating the raft was a grueling task. “With only a pair of oars and such wreckage as we could pick up, we tried to paddle the raft away from the ship, and for a long time it was a question whether we would be crushed against the Valencia or not. Oftentimes the raft was almost perpendicular and we formed a chain, the man on the upper side holding to the edge and we holding him,” Hawkins explained. The group spotted the steamer Queen in the distance but received no response. “Someone caught sight of the Queen, but they did not see us, or if they did, did not think they could reach us. We soon lost sight of her,” he said.
Exhaustion overwhelmed the group, and some suggested drifting to shore—a fatal decision given the cliffs and surf. Hawkins, however, spotted another vessel. “We were so exhausted we simply could not do another thing. Some wanted to let her drift to the shore, which would have been certain death. When we were on top of a big wave, I caught a glimpse of another tug and yelled ‘There’s a boat’, but no one would believe it,” he recalled. Rallying a few others, he urged one final effort. “Two or three of us persuaded the rest to make just one more effort, but they were so worn out and cold they simply could not do anything,” he said.
The City of Topeka initially mistook the raft for wreckage, but a cabin boy nicknamed “Bones” alerted the crew. “The people on the City of Topeka thought we were wreckage or a log, and if it had not been for ‘Bones’, the cabin boy, we would not have been picked up,” Hawkins said. A lifeboat from the Topeka reached the raft, towing it to safety. Hawkins, physically and emotionally spent, concluded, “Well, it’s all over now, and never, never, do I want to go to sea again.”
Valencia Second Life Raft January 24th, 1906
A Lasting Trauma: “Burned Too Deep in My Memory”
Hawkins’ account underscores the systemic failures that compounded the Valencia disaster: faulty davits, inadequate equipment, and a lack of organized leadership. His prior experience as a marine fireman on U.S. Army transports during the Spanish-American War gave him a maritime perspective, yet the horrors he witnessed aboard the Valencia shattered his desire to return to sea. “No, no! My God, no! I never want to see a ship again. I am a marine fireman, but the scenes on board the Valencia I can never forget. They are burned too deep in my memory. To the end of my days, I’ll see that old ship pounding, pounding on the rocks, women and children standing, freezing, on the decks or clinging to the rigging, despair written on their faces, the cold wind whistling through the rigging,” he declared.
The Nineteen Topeka Raft Survivors
The Valencia survivors with A.H. Hawkins on the second life raft, which became known as the Topeka Raft were: waiter Charles Hoddinott, baker Charles Fluhme, passenger Cornelius Allison, first assistant engineer Tom Carrick, fireman William Doherty, passenger George Harraden, passenger Cornelius Allison, third cook John Johnson, coal passer W.D. Johnson, first assistant freight clerk Frank Lehn, passenger Joseph McCaffrey, waiter Patrick O’Brien, second officer Peter Peterson, fireman Paul Primer, messman Walter Raymond, quartermaster Martin Tarpey, waiter James Walsh, and fireman John Segalos.
Valencia Second Life Raft January 24th, 1906
The Valencia shipwreck prompted significant reforms in maritime safety, including improved lifeboat standards and the establishment of coastal rescue stations. Hawkins’ story, rich with vivid imagery and raw emotion, serves as a powerful testament to the resilience and tragedy of those who faced the disaster. His memories—of the mother’s “goodbye,” the baby’s blanket, and the cries of the drowning—remain a haunting reminder of the human toll exacted by the sea.