4 August 1932

OUR BIGGEST MARINE DISASTER

LOSS OF THE ADMELLA RECALLED

Tomorrow will be the 73rd anniversary of the biggest marine tragedy which has occurred on the South Australian coast. It was on August 5, 1859, that the Admella was wrecked near Cape Northumberland with a loss of 85 lives. The details of that disaster are recalled below.

Wreck of the Admella.

— Tomorrow will be the anniversary of the wreck of the Admella. Although 73 years have passed since Australia was shaken to its very soul by that terrible disaster, there are few living today who remember the circumstances. The Admella used to travel between Adelaide and Melbourne. In the fifties she was classed as a fine steamer. One of her owners (Mr. Isbister) lived in Adelaide. I was told he invented her name. It was made up of three syllables, Ad-mel-la. The first refers to Ad-elaide, the next to Mel-bourne, and the third to La-unceston in Tasmania. She was built in Scotland. Captain McEwen was in charge of her. She had made exactly one hundred voyages between Adelaide and Melbourne without mishap. She was to have been put out of commission after the trip which proved to be her last. At 5 o'clock on Friday morning, August 5, 1859, she left Port Adelaide. On board were 106 people, 19 of them women, and 15 children. There was also a large number of well-known men going to Melbourne to a race meeting. and they were taking several valuable horses with them. The Admella was in smooth water until she reached Backstairs Passage. Then she met a heavy sea, which, dashing against her side, made her unsteady. One of the racehorses, Jupiter by name, cooped up in his horse-box on deck, fell on his back and could not be raised. Captain McEwen ordered the ship to be turned, so that she faced the waves. This steadied her, and the grooms were able to stand Jupiter on his hoofs.

At 5 o'clock on Saturday morning the ship crashed on a reef. In a few minutes she was broken in three parts. The middle portion, holding the engines, sank, the fore and aft were fixed on the reef about 50 yards from each other, each crowded with passengers. Many persons were drowned in their cabins— and perhaps theirs was the happier ending. The mainmast and funnel fell when the ship struck, and smashed two of the boats. The parts of the deck which remained above water were tilted like the roof of a house, and were very slippery. At 6.30 a.m. there was light enough to see. The coast was about a mile distant. The Admella had struck the Carpenter Rocks, near Cape Banks. Late that afternoon the shipwrecked people saw a distant sail, but the ship passed without the wreck being seen. Again, as night fell, their hopes were raised for a brief time, for they saw about a quarter of a mile distant the lights of a large steamer. They could even hear the throbbing of the engines. It was the English mail boat going from Melbourne to Adelaide. But on the wreck were no rockets or lights, so the steamer passed in the darkness, without knowing anything of the suffering people. There was little food on the Admella. The men managed to get about 10 1b. of meat, 20 lb. of cheese, six bottles of preserved fruit, five bottles of milk, and several bottles of brandy and beer. This was all the food and drink between the sixty people now left on the wreck.

Two sailors made a rough raft cut of a mast, using a meat chopper. Their object was to drift ashore to summon help. One rich man offered £500 if he was allowed to go on the raft, but the sailors refused. The make-shift was too frail to carry more than two. They reached the shore, made their way to the light house at Cape Northumberland, which they reached on Monday morning. When they told their story the light house keeper mounted his horse and rode to Mount Gambier, 20 odd miles, which was the nearest telegraph station. Soon the sad news was known in Adelaide and Melbourne. Three steamers from different ports hurried to the wreck. The Cairo was the first to reach the wreck. She lowered a boat, but the sea was too rough for it to get near the reef. Next day it was again impossible, and that night several passengers died of cold and hunger. On Saturday, however, the sea went down, and the long agony of eight days was ended. A boat from Mount Gambier took four men off, and then the lifeboat came near enough to permit the others to jump into her. There were only 19 saved. Eighty-five lives were lost. — 'K.I.,' Kangaroo Island.

[See also Wikipedia article]

[See also similar article 30 Aug 1934]

A Little Excitement in Emu Downs.

— Usually nothing happens in Emu Downs. But once something did. Let me tell you about it.

Some years ago a queen competition was held in Robertstown. Many people went to it from Emu Downs. Three friends, Charlie, Harry, and Jack were among them. They left their cart at a friend's place en route, and travelled the rest of the journey in a friend's motor car.

While they were away a neighbor's mongrel bull crawled into the yard. When Jack returned alone at midnight the bull roared at him. but he got safely into the stable. The bull made himself 'at home' in front of the gate where Charlie's' turnout was.

About an hour later Charlie came from the show and found the bull in possession of the gateway. As he refused to move, Charlie took a rail and 'passed him one.' The next second Charlie found himself scrambling for dear life up a strawstack, with the infuriated bull on his heels, trying to help him with its horns. Harry fled to a dark corner.

Jack had gone to bed, but was roused by a terrified yell, 'Jack, Jack; bring a gun.' He went to investigate and found Charlie on the stack with the bull watching every motion. Nothing could induce the animal to go away.

Soon a neighbor's car, carrying the 'queen' came along. It was stopped, and the driver asked to turn the lights on the bull. This was done. The bull roared, put down his head, cocked his tail and flew like a dart for the lights. The car decided to move on.

But the red tail light provided a new attraction for the bull. The rescued party shouted, 'Step on it; he's on your heels.' The driver did 'step on,' but the bull was out to make former records look silly. The roar of the old 'Scripps Booth,' [the car] the screamings of the women passengers, and the defiant remarks of the bull, provided more excitement in half an hour than Emu Downs had before known in its history. The Scripps Booth won in the end, but to this day it is not safe for that motor car to pass within half a mile of that bull. — 'Woodbine,' Emu Downs.

Emu and the Dog.

— One morning, several years ago, an emu was seen cropping the wheat a short distance from the homestead. This could not be allowed, for the emu leaves a pad of trodden down wheat along its path. The cattle dog was whistled up, and sent after the big bird.

At first it ran swiftly. Then, as the dog barked at its heels, it turned upon him, striking out with its powerful legs. The dog, delighted at this performance, darted round it in circles. The emu became enraged. It rushed at the dog with its head down, and struck again and again with its feet. Fortunately the dog was too smart to be caught. As the bird stubbornly refused to leave the paddock a horse was mounted and upon the approach of the rider the emu headed for the bush. — 'Sunny Skies,'' Kimba.

Early Fowler's Bay.

— Forty-four years ago, before the country was cut up, Fowler's Bay was one of the liveliest towns imaginable, although the population was under a dozen people. Yalata Station, six miles away, carrying 150,000 sheep, had a few white people on it. There were also about a dozen white men kangaroo hunting. These comprised the whole white population for hundreds of miles.

Blacks were numerous. Once a year a large tribe would visit the bay to obtain blankets. The wants of the people were served by two schooners from Port Adelaide, one about every six or eight weeks. The hunters used to come in for supplies when one of those boats was expected, and among the supplies was always a good variety of grog. When some of those chaps got outside a couple of bottles of Irish or Scotch, the fun started. Fowler's Bay was a miniature Donnybrook for a week or two. Among the hunters was one hard case, but a real good fellow.

On one occasion this man had to shift camp from one rock hole to another. Usually he drove six donkeys in a large buggy, and two horses in a spring cart. On this occasion, when he went to harness up at sunrise, he found the horses had slipped their hobbles.

But he was a resourceful chap. He put the donkeys in the buggy with his wife and a black boy to drive, and harnessed ten strong blackfellows to the cart to move his chattels. He said later the niggers were better than horses for getting over the rough country. This same man used to feed his blacks on damper made of pollard. They thrived on it, and their skin shone like polished bronze. — 'M.JA.,' Coorabie, W.C.

Encounter With Natives.

— Many years ago my father, Elijah Broadbent and his brother, Luke Hosken, went to the West Coast in search of land. They took rations enough to last a few weeks, packed in a dray. They made a camp near Chandida, and put up a tent where the scrub was not thick, as the natives were treacherous and wild. They would sooner kill, cook and eat a white man than kangaroo or any other marsupial. In fact, 'white man' was considered to be a great delicacy.

After the men had finished making camp. Broadbent went for a walk. When he had gone about a mile he sighted a mob of natives, making and sharpening spears. They could not possibly have seen him, because the scrub was so dense. But he knew their wonderful sense of hearing and smell, so he stopped dead. Deeming it wise to make a hasty retreat, he said, 'Now, good legs, run.' But before he had gone half a mile, he could hear the cracking of sticks behind him and a very loud shout, like 'Whoop.' This whoop meant stop. He knew that they always carried spears, and if he did not stop they would spear him, and the spear might be poisoned. A moment later he felt their heavy breathing upon him. It felt like engines pouring steam on his back.

This was the time to turn, so he stopped and faced round, to find himself gazing at the biggest giant he had ever seen, accompanied by another shorter one. Both were out of breath. Broadbent demanded, 'What you want?' After they had regained their breath, the giant exclaimed, 'Which way wheelbarrow sit down?' (Wheelbarrow meant dray or cart.) My father answered, 'You go ahead, I follow.' He knew one should never let a native get behind him. When they reached the camp about 18 more natives had arrived. They demanded tea, sugar and baccy, which they were given. But as they would have taken all the stores, my uncle and father had to show them their firearms. — 'Ethel Wynne,' Paskeville.

The Gallows.

— A unique but almost unknown spot is the old hanging-place at Cowell. In the early days the natives were very troublesome spearing and stealing the stock. After one big corroboree, and incidentally a large loss of stock, the local policeman decided it was time to put a stop to the ravages.

So he captured half a dozen of the ringleaders, erected a temporary gallows in the main street, and strung the fear-stricken blackfellows up. Crowds of natives from the surrounding district were present to witness the last struggles of their countrymen. They thought it great sport to see the poor fellows kicking in mid-air. The Commercial Hotel now stands over this spot. When the foundations were being dug the bones of the unfortunates were unearthed. — 'Delby,' The Oakes,' Cortlinye.