3 Nov 1932

LAST HOURS OF THE LOCH SLOY TRAGEDY OF THIRTY YEARS AGO

The coast of Kangaroo Island has claimed many a ship. One of the most tragic stories of wreck was that of the Loch Sloy of over thirty years ago. The few survivors encountered extraordinary difficulty in reaching civilisation.

Tragedy Of The Loch Sloy.

— It Is now 33 years since the barque Loch Sloy was wrecked on Kangarooo Island. She sailed from Scotland in January, 1899, with a crew of 32 men and four passengers, two ladies and two gentlemen. Some weeks had passed and not a sign of land had been seen. On April 23 the captain told the passengers that next morning he expected to see Kangaroo Island, and that they would soon be at Port Adelaide. The vessel was then making splendid head way before a strong south-west wind. The evening passed away and all who could went to bed in anticipation of seeing land when they arose in the morning:. The barque sailed on through the darkness. The wind increased, and a lookout was kept for Cape Borda light.

But the light was not seen, as they were 20 miles too far south off the correct course. At 4.40 the lookout called out there were breakers ahead. The captain gave orders to bring the ship about, and head her out to sea. The ship came round, but as she only had her square sails set, the wind caught the sails aback and drove the ship on a reef of rocks. It was not long before the main and fore masts came down. Day broke. Passengers and crew were helpless. All the boats had been washed away or smashed. The deckhouse, in which they were sheltering, began to give under the strain. The ship began to break up. Those who were left on board climbed the last standing mast.

It was not long until they were all thrown into the sea. One sailor was thrown on a rock. A little later another sailor came in and was assisted on to the rock by the man already there. Eventually there were four persons on the rock— three sailors and a passenger (Mr. Kirkpatrick). Many others were seen struggling in the sea, but nothing could be done for them. An attempt to reach the top of the cliff by one of the sailors was successful, and he found a bundle of flannel with which he made a rope, and hoisted the others to safety. The four survivors found some food, and then set off to find assistance. Mr. Kirkpatrick was the only one who wore boots. After travelling for some time he became exhausted, and could not go on. He gave one of the sailors his boots and told them that if lie died to get his scarf pin and send it to his mother.

The three sailors got lost in the bush, and it was about a week before they reached the hut of a trapper. As Mr. Kirkpatrick had been exposed to the weather, and without food, for a week, little hope was felt for him. The trapper walked 40 miles to Kingscote, where he reported the news. A large party went but with horses, rocket tackle, and other things to aid a rescue attempt. But no other survivors were found. It was about a fortnight before they found the body of Mr. Kirkpatrick. His wish that his pin should be sent to his mother was fulfilled. — 'Red Bill,' Penneshaw.

Lost In The Scrub.

— Some years ago, when my people lived at Clayfields, near Tumby Bay, my grandmother came to stop with us. One evening she took my elder brother and sister in a peram. to find a fowls' nest in the scrub. The bush being too thick to get the peram. through, she left the vehicle and the children on the edge and went on by herself.

After some hours, my mother became anxious. She began a search. She found the peram. and children, but could not find grandmother. Her calls got no response, and the search was fruitless.

When it started to get dark, mother went over to the main road and sent word into Tumby. A number of people came out to help, but failed to find the missing woman.

Next day was terribly hot, but the search went on. Finally the helpers began to give up hope. Towards the middle of the day a man came along and said he would find grandmother. Taking a bottle of water, he stood where she went into the scrub and found her tracks. He stayed there, and every body thought it a queer way of looking for anyone.

But after a long wait, grandmother came through the scrub, staggering towards the man. She was famishing for water. The man explained to the party that when people are lost they go round and round in a circle, and the best way to find them is to wait on their track. — 'OM.' West Coast.

Hero Of The Drought.

— Men have proved their strength in many ways, but few in a matter of life and death. One of those who did was Donald Young. Though long called home by his Maker, he is still remembered by the old residents of Franklin Harbor.

About 65 years ago [c.1867], when a drought was raging on Eyre Peninsula, Mr. Young and another man set out to walk from Middleback Station to Wangarleednie, near Franklin Harbor.

Their water supply lasted until they reached the south side of the Moonaby [Minbrie?] Range, where they expected to replenish it. But they found the soak had dried up. The two men, driven on by disappointment and the fear of death, set off towards the Salt Creek Spring, 12 miles distant. After they had travelled about two miles, Young's mate became delirious and later unconscious.

When he awoke he found Mr. Young bathing his forehead. On asking where he was he found he was at Salt Creek Spring, and that he had been carried ten miles by Mr. Young through the burning heat and over waterless country. The rescued man weighed about 12 st,

Mr. Young worked on Wangarleednie for many years, and later took up farming. — 'Dad Wayback,' Cowell.

Blind Evangelist.

— I am not sure of the date, but it was about 1892. The late Mr. Fry (of Marshall & Co., of Adelaide) brought out, at his own cost, from Ireland Thomas Houston, a blind evangelist.

We were then living at Mallala. It was arranged to hold a fortnight's evangelistic services in the institute. Although blind, Mr. Houston was a most acceptable preacher and a splendid tenor singer.

A request came from Windsor that the evangelist should go there for one night. We arranged that the evangelist should ride in the waggonette, but when he heard that I intended going on horseback he expressed a wish to ride, too. I told him I would find a leading rein for his horse.

He said, 'No, if the two horses are chums that is all I want.' He told me that when, after an accident, he lost his sight, his father said to him. 'Never ask anyone to do for you what you can do yourself.'

He had a watch by which he could tell the time by feeling the hands. It was wonderful how soon he found his way about. — 'T.E.P.,' Wayville.

Story Of A Dog.

— Many years ago we had an old house dog who was very fond of my mother. When she was suddenly taken ill with pneumonia the dog, not seeing her about, thought there was something wrong. He howled so continuously that we had to take him to a neighbor's house, for everything had to be kept very quiet at home.

The ninth day came, and mother was very ill, not knowing any one. Suddenly there came a mournful howl from outside. The old dog had broken his chain and come home. Next day mother was feeling a little better, and the dog was taken into the bedroom to see her. This satisfied him, and he never howled again. — 'O.M.,' West Coast.

Black Man's Devotion.

— Some years ago my father, then living on the Far West Coast, took a black boy to assist him in catching several sheep, which had gone wild on a rugged headland, running into the sea.

Precipitous cliffs rose straight from the waters' edge, with jagged granite boulders submerged and awash at their base. In its flight, one of the sheep my father was chasing ran down the cliff, and nothing would induce it to return. He endeavored to clamber down in the opposite direction, in order to drive the animal back to the top.

While making a precarious descent, he lost his foothold, and could not regain a firm footing. While calling desperately for assistance, he felt the tufts of grass, to which he was clinging, slowly giving way. Had he fallen he would have been dashed to death on the rocks, 40 feet below.

Fortunately, the black boy came bounding to his help. When he saw the predicament my father was in, he scrambled down, at the risk of his own life, and dug out a firm foothold for him. On reaching the top, my father was well nigh exhausted. The black boy was unaware that he had done a very noble deed, but my father never forgot his courage and devotion. — D. B. McLeod, Buckleboo.