The Sinking of Michael and Polly: A 1757 Insurance Dispute
In the autumn of 1757, a small Scottish ship called the Michael and Polly set out on what was meant to be a simple journey. She left Carron Water on October 8 under Captain James Logan. Two days later, bad winds pushed her into the port of Dundee, where her cargo was sold. While waiting there, the owner, John Melvill, agreed that if the wind turned friendly, the ship would go across the Firth of Forth to Burntisland to load lime for Dundee. If Burntisland didn’t work, the backup plan was to stop at Limekilns and take limestone to a place called Quarrel-shore. Think of it like planning two possible routes on a map, depending on the weather.
On November 2, the Michael and Polly sailed out of Dundee with no cargo—this is called “in ballast.” The very next day, strong weather forced her into Anstruther, a small town on the north shore of the Firth. After two or three days there, the crew tried again to move up the Firth. The wind, however, wasn’t right for Burntisland or Limekilns, so they anchored at a spot called Higgin’s Nook. It was Sunday, the tide was low at the Carron’s mouth, and they couldn’t reach Quarrel-shore yet. The captain and crew went ashore right away. The owner learned that evening that the ship was at anchor there.
Here’s the part that matters most: no one stayed on board to watch the ship. Not on Sunday, not Monday, not Tuesday, not Wednesday. By Thursday morning, the Michael and Polly was found sunk under the water. During those days, the owner paid the crew for their past work and even hired them again for a new trip from Higgin’s Nook to Burntisland to fetch limestone for the River Tay. He also told the master on Monday to hire a pilot to bring the ship up to Quarrel-shore. But still, the ship had been left alone, and the sea does not forgive a lonely boat.
Raising a sunken vessel is hard, but with help from other boats and local people, they managed to heave her up. Then Mr. Melvill went to court. He had a policy of marine insurance signed by underwriters—people who promise to pay for certain losses if accidents happen. He asked them to cover the costs of raising the ship and the damage she suffered. The underwriters, including a firm called Stewart and Wallace, refused, so the matter went to the judges.
The underwriters argued three clear points. First, they said the insured “adventure” ended when the ship reached a safe port within the Firth—Anstruther—so any later damage wasn’t covered. Second, they said that by the time the ship anchored at Higgin’s Nook, the owner himself treated the earlier trip as finished, because he paid off the crew and rehired them for a new venture. Third, they said the loss happened because no one was on board to guard the ship, which was careless. The owner replied that Anstruther wasn’t the planned destination, Higgin’s Nook was just an open roadstead, and he had tried to get the ship moved and watched. He said the policy was still running until the ship reached a proper port or harbour in the Firth.
The court sided with the underwriters. In plain terms, the judges decided the insurance did not have to pay. They emphasized that the ship lay at anchor for days with nobody aboard; had any hands been on deck, the sinking probably could have been prevented. They also accepted that the insured voyage was over—either at Anstruther, which was inside the covered area, or at least by Higgin’s Nook when the owner paid off and rehired the crew for a new trip—so the risk the underwriters promised to cover had ended. Because the loss came from leaving the vessel unattended and because the policy no longer applied, the court “assoilzied” (cleared) the underwriters and even ordered the owner to pay their legal expenses. That’s the final word: claim refused, policy treated as void for this loss, and costs awarded against the owner.
