By Jo Stanley, author of the new Seafaring Women Through History, explores evidence about SASH at sea in the nineteenth and early twentieth century
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March 10, 2026
'I came to work as a stewardess, for my husband and my children … I had not come to be his mistress,’ Isabella McKenzie told a law court as she complained of abuses by her captain. Sounds familiar? Yet Isabella’s struggle had happened in 1860. And she had no Safer Waves to support her. It was 160 long years before Gisèle Pelicot in Avignon refused to be silent about multiple denigration, asserting ’shame must change sides’; before Virginia Guiffre’s revealed the systemic trafficking of minors to wider attention and started the Speak Out, Act, Reclaim organisation; and before stewardess Paige Bell’s 2005 Bahamas murder connected #MeToo to yacht industry malpractice as never before and spawned new protective initiatives. The sexual violence that Isabella alleged (I am legally obliged to use that formulation) seems to have been what is now recognised as usual: not a matter not of desire but of an entitled man’s repeated opportunist misuse of power over trapped, less powerful, women in an isolated place. Between Liverpool and the US, the setting was the Glasgow, a 1,962-ton emigrant ship. Isabella was the only woman working on board. But she knows Captain James Bates Thomson went to at least one woman passenger’s room too; Miss Mangan said she would tell her brother, a priest. Afterwards. And seemingly didn’t. Newspapers used euphemisms such as ‘take liberties’ and ‘violate her person’. So we can’t tell if Isabella was claiming rape or relentless verbal and physical harassment. ‘He said he had never had a stewardess but would yield to him….He said there was no use in this mock modesty … he was bound to have his desires’ in the end. The captain invaded her cabin, stripping back her bedclothes, as well as attacking her in his quarters. She’d begged ‘Do take me and throw me overboard, for it is preferable to this.’ He had even got the crew to hose her down on the deck. Later he tried to bribe her silence. Why had she not called out, or protested earlier, doubters asked. She explained her sense of responsibility. Aware of passengers nearby, ‘'I did not want the ladies to know that he treated me so, for the sake of the company'. Also, she ‘did not wish to … deprive him of a situation [job]’. Later, back home and angry, this Isle of Man breadwinner for four children and a sickly husband spoke out at Liverpool’s grand new Assizes. Going public - fruitlessly Isabella’s revelations of her abuse came about because Captain Thomson was seeking damages for wrongful dismissal. After she had told the company of his behaviour the Inman Line had removed him from command just as he was about to get a prestigious new ship and a 25% rise. He claimed her reports were just malicious revenge by an alcoholic prostitute whom he’d had sacked for drunkenness. But the court let him get away with it, awarding him £250 damages. He got his £500 p.a. job. There’s no evidence about whether Isabella sailed again, or how she recovered from what would now be seen as complex PTSD. Why wasn’t Isabella believed? Because she was lowly and female. Because juries were composed of elite males (for another 59 years). Because a cabin boy witness didn’t corroborate her story. Because some of her shipmates testified that she drank. They didn’t claim that she was often drunk, but that she did that thing that further confirmed Woman’s lack of any right to be respected: occasionally had a brandy. No-one asked about men’s alcohol consumption patterns on board. We can’t know how many other were in Isabella’s situation. Newspapers carry scores, but not hundreds, of reports of differing degrees of gendered male denigration of the women on ships. But in the period 1860-1879 alone I’ve already found eight published accounts. They include assault, one rape, and several reputationally destructive acts by spurned shipmates. Seawomen – and some husbands on their behalf – fought back. But winning was something else. ‘Extraordinary Case.- Alleged Immorality by a Captain’, Northern Daily Times, Liverpool, 26 December 1860, p3. Seawomen – and some husbands on their behalf – fought back. But winning was something else. How easy to overlook Newspaper stories of SASH are the latest part of my 40-year exploration of women’s maritime history. I’ve been gathering women’s oral testimony and officers’ reports, and detecting clues in company records. Since I finished updating the book that’s just out, I seem to increasingly find material about SASH that I hadn’t noticed enough before, included behaviour with enslaved women and convicts. Collecting antique ‘funny’ postcards has showed me how much cultural scaffolding there is for the idea that Jack Tars are ‘naturally’ charmingly naïve philanderers, and the boast that women love being the prey in this non-criminal ‘sport’. Initially I had the usual idea: ‘that perpetrator was just an odd bad apple’. Then I thought ‘What a lot of dodgy types these women encountered; why were so many on ships?’. It would have been more useful if I’d asked ‘What is it about sea travel that makes SASH so much more common and intense there?’ And finally I saw what I don’t want to see: that there is critical mass: SASH is and was the norm. As a #MeToo person reeling from the Pelicot assault stories I look back and face the everyday cultural climate in which sexual violence continues to not be recognised as part of ongoing hegemonic acceptance of masculine oppression. Manon Garcia has interestingly discussed this mix in her work on the Pelicot case. ‘How much has been going on for so long!’ I keep realising. Ordering crew to hose down Isabella like an animal seems such an indication of a masculine cultural assumption of the right to bully ‘the feminised’. he body content of your post goes here. To edit this text, click on it and delete this default text and start typing your own or paste your own from a different source.