Almost any Seattleite alive in the ‘40s and ‘50s can recall the large, black, four-masted schooner Fantome (ex. Flying Cloud). She sat, anchored, in Portage Bay like a centerpiece, visible from both bridges and numerous points along the shore. More than one duffer at the old University golf course tried to drive a ball onto her decks. At more than 280 feet long and 1,200 tons, she looked closer than she was.

Fantome came to Seattle as much by an accident of history as anything else. Originally she was ordered for the Italian navy but before completion was purchased by the Duke of Westminster, who finished her as a yacht (launched in 1927). Westminster used her only a few years before she changed hands twice in short order. Ultimately she was acquired by Irishman A. E. Guinness, heir to the brewing fortune that bore his family’s name.

Guinness had taken her into the Pacific in the late ‘30s and when war broke out in Europe in ’39, she was in Alaskan waters. Reluctant to cruise further or return to Ireland, he elected to lay her up in Seattle for the duration of hostilities.

Fantome carried a complement of 30 crew when underway, domestic help not included. Laid-up afloat, she was cared for by no more than two or three. The caretakers, Mr. and Mrs. Long, landed their tenders at the Seattle Yacht Club. They and the schooner’s owners were afforded guest privileges throughout their stay. The Longs made numerous friends at the club, primarily among the small circle of members who lived aboard their yachts on club docks.

At war’s end, Guinness had no immediate plans for Fantome, so she lingered in Montlake until being sold to local owners in 1951. After a layover in Lake Union, where much of her opulent interior and equipment were removed, she sailed away in 1953. It is said that when Aristotle Onassis purchased her a short while later, it was as a wedding gift for Princess Grace of Monaco (the former Grace Kelly of Philadelphia). Legend has it that Onassis was left off the invitation list for the royal wedding and decided to keep the ship instead. She sat in Spanish and German ports, unused, for almost 17 years.

Windjammer Barefoot Cruises purchased Fantome in 1969 for service as flagship of its Florida-based fleet. After a $6 million refit, she accommodated up to 128 passengers for pampered tropical cruising. Topsails and two more foremast cross yards were added to her rig. Fantome served well for almost 30 years and developed a following of repeat passengers that especially enjoyed her casual Caribbean charm.

Captain Guyan March was a 10-year veteran with Windjammer but had only been aboard Fantome for a year when late in the 1998 season, he steered her out of the tiny Honduran harbor of Omoa with 100 paying passengers aboard. The driving rain reminded the crew that a large hurricane, Mitch, was brewing 1,000 miles to the east. Assuming Mitch would follow the typical northwest track of so many late-season storms, March first headed for the Bay Islands off the coast of Honduras—a safe choice at that point.

On Oct. 25, March altered course abruptly when it became obvious that Mitch was not following any typical pattern. The skipper was making a dash to Belize City, where the passengers and some crew could be put ashore, but where no shelter could be assured for the vessel.

Hemmed in to the west and to the south, Fantome had limited options when the storm deepened and stalled. The following day, the National Hurricane Center reported that the prevailing air currents, the “steering winds” that usually guide tropical storms in predictable ways, had evaporated and Mitch’s path could lead anywhere. By Oct. 26, Mitch was classified a Category 5 hurricane.

Captain March had laid a course to the island of Roatan to lie in its lee, but soon it was obvious that Mitch was headed due west, not up toward Belize and the Yucatan. By Wednesday, Oct. 28, Fantome was at a position that was rapidly becoming ground zero. It was already blowing 100 knots.

Over the four days, March had been in radio contact with Windjammer offices in Miami Beach, working out various strategies with owner Michael D. Burke. Their last decision had been to head due east, sailing broad under bare poles, to narrowly slip under the storm into a weaker quadrant of the spiral mayhem. At that point, there was no other choice.

Fantome was never heard from again. A few life jackets and some loose gear were all that remained of the proud ship and the 31 souls aboard—no rafts, no EPIRBs, no bodies. Whether she capsized, pitch-poled or her steel hull failed, Fantome had no watertight bulkheads and once stricken, was gone in a hurry.

Her 32 year-old English skipper might have done something else to save the old schooner, but that is debatable. Most agree that he and Fantome had very little opportunity to escape once Mitch started running them down.

J. Scott Rohrer is a boater and marine insurance agent who regularly writes on Pacific Coast yachting history. He lives in Seattle with his wife and four golden retrievers. He can be contacted at scottr@rhins.com or 206.634.9328.