The slender iron screw steamer - measuring 326 feet long and 40 feet wide - was distinguishable by her graceful clipper bow and two brigantine rigged auxiliary masts. She was renowned for her reliability, relative speed, and, most of all, for the sheer luxury of passage she offered whilst servicing the exotic South American trade between Southampton and Buenos Aires.

Her voyages took her past Lisbon, Madeira, Sao Vicente, Pernambuco, Bahia and Rio de Janeiro, and were characterized by elegant company, fine food, music and laughter. Most of her passengers travelled First Class, although there was a small amount of cabin space for Second and Third Class travellers. The Douro was indeed most popular with diplomats, nobility and the fashionable, champagne-drinking elite, drawn to her comfort and plushness.

In addition to her passengers, officers and crew, the contract-bound Royal Mail ship carried sizeable quantities of letters and newspapers on her South American run. She also carried a precious cargo the dream of many a would-be treasure hunter or latter day collector, her holds containing the finest high-value products and goods from both continents.

To make up for the lost time, she sailed full steam ahead, under a fresh force 5 to 6 N-N-E wind, heading swiftly north off the west coast of Portugal. A day of sailing followed, and when night fell that evening - April Fool's - she passed Cape Finesterre, a rocky stretch known also as the "Coast of Death," under a full moon. Although the night was beautiful and calm, the sea was a little rough. It had just gone 10.30p.m.

By 11pm the Douro's lights were usually turned off and most of the passengers were expected to be in their cabins. However, while some were soundly sleeping, others were enjoying a last breath of air on deck. But, at approximately 22.45p.m, catastrophe struck.

The Fourth Officer, whose watch had started at 8.00p.m, had identified the bright light of a ship some two miles in the distance, but was confident that this second ship would pass behind the Douro's stern. The ship's course was the responsibility of the Officer on the bridge, not his own, and the Fourth Officer seemed certain that the appropriate calculations had been made.

However, the Chief Officer would not have wished his ship to slow down or change course unnecessarily, because she was already behind schedule. What's more, the mail ship had its reputation for punctuality to uphold. A few minutes later, when the Chief Officer shouted to the helmsman to put the wheel hard to port, it was already to late. Far too late.

The Spanish steamship Yrurac Bat - a passenger liner out of Corunna on route to Havana - ploughed into the starboard side of the Douro, at full speed, in the area of her main mast, leaving a gaping tear in its wake. Yet another deep gash was torn in her side when the sharp bow of the other vessel again lunged forward, propelled by the immense force of the rebound and the regaining momentum of her engines.

The violent lurching of the Douro and the subsequent pounding of panic-stricken feet heading to the deck woke up most of the slumbering passengers. Confused and very frightened, they were rounded up from their cabins, or other areas of the ship, and immediately directed to the lifeboats. There was no time to consider their personal belongings, and some of the passengers barely had time to pull on adequate clothing.

There was pandemonium on deck, with many unsure to which lifeboat they belonged. Furthermore, as the boats were lowered, it was realized that there was no knife with which to sever the ropes, to free them from the severely listing ship. Eventually a pocket knife was found, and the passengers' hopes of reaching safety at last a reality.

The rule of women and children first was strictly abided, as witnessed in the final death toll. Only one woman died, however; a lady's maid who, terrified, had refused to get into the boat and drowned when the ship was submerged. It took only 30 minutes for the once proud vessel to sink, with tons of seawater surging through both gaping holes in her side.

In the lifeboats, panic still governed the cold, drenched survivors as they witnessed the other ship, the Yrurac Bat, slowly succumb to the same fate as the Douro, swallowed up by the sea.

When her tangled wreck was finally discovered, and her treasure brought to light for the first time since 1882, many years of fruitless searching had already been undertaken. In 1993, Sverker Hallstrom his own long, arduous search, but which was to prove an unqualified success!