27 December 1934

SIXTY MILES IN AN OPEN BOAT WITHOUT OARS, SAILS OR RUDDER

Shipwrecked Sailors' Unenviable Experience On South-East Coast

Nearly 90 years ago, on June 6, 1846, Captain Emanuel Underwood sailed through Backstair's Passage en route for Rivoli Bay south in the schooner Victoria, belonging to the South Australian Company. 

He had a crew of three besides himself, and carried a cargo of merchandise for the settlers at Mount Gambier and at the port itself, for the latter was then a busy place with a shipping office, boiling-down works, and a public-house, named the Bird-In-Hand. 

A north wind gave them prospect of fair passage until they were in the vicinity of Cape Jaffa, when a thunderstorm developed, and nearly laid the small vessel on her beam ends. 

The wind chopped round to the west, blowing a furious gale. The vessel was hove-to under reefed topsail and double-reefed mainsail, but the fury of the gale drove it towards the coast with a heavy sea running. 

At sunset the low land in the vicinity of Cape Jaffa was dimly visible. The gale continued with fury and heavy squalls of rain, and, fearing that they would not be able to hold her off until the morning, the captain gave orders to have all chains and cables ready in case of emergency and determined to make for Lacepede Bay. The breakers roared incessantly about a mile away now right astern. 

Captain Underwood himself was at the masthead to look out, and gave orders to keep the vessel off the wind, with now only the foresail set. While the captain was aloft, a terrific wave struck the vessel and laid her on her broadside. Being on the lee side of the mast the captain was plunged beneath the waves, and years after, when he referred to it in jocular vein, he said it was a case of 'Underwood under water.' 

He let go the rigging and struck out for the surface, and saw the vessel with her lee side under water to the hatches. He happened to come up near the dinghy which was attached to the schooner by the latter's stern ring. He scrambled into the dinghy which was about half full of water, and endeavored to release it, but found the lashings jammed. While he was fumbling for his knife an extra large wave separated the two craft, and he found himself adrift in the storm without sail, oar, or rudder, or even a baler. 

While he was considering what he should do, an enormous sea broke over the capsized schooner, which for a time disappeared from view. It also submerged the dinghy to the gunwale. When he was about 30 yards from the schooner the captain saw one of the sailors swimming towards the boat, and he called to him to come and roll into the dinghy. He was a Frenchman named Pascoe. The other members of the crew were drowned. 

Underwood had on a tam o' shanter, and the other a painted sou'-wester, and with these they started to bale the water out of the boat. The captain's headgear soon went to pieces, but the sailor continued baling. 

Eventually they found a pannikin in the bottom of the boat, and after about half an hour's hard work they got the water out of her. Though the boat was now free of water the two men found themselves drifting before the gale without anything by which to steer. 

The captain, however, tore up a board from the bottom of the dinghy, and with this steered the small damaged boat for the shore, which was only visible when they were on the crest of the waves. 

As they neared the shore the sea became smoother, and they landed about 10 or 11 o'clock at night. The captain had on only a shirt and a pair of trousers, and no hat. They wandered about for a couple of hours hoping that they might find some help, but finding none, they lay down at the foot of a sheaoak tree amidst the pelting rain and howling wind. It was a long and cheerless night for them, and they got up at daybreak soaked, and benumbed with the cold, with nothing to eat or drink. A little water collected in a hollow in the bark of a tree sufficed to moisten their lips. 

Before the sun rose they wandered along the beach northwards from where they had landed, hoping to find something. After they had gone about five miles they remembered the fate of the survivors of the Maria about five years before, so they retraced their steps and went in the opposite direction, still travelling along the beach. 

A few miles further on they left the beach and, while following one of the shallow valleys which skirt the coast, they came across a few fungi which they mistook for mushrooms. They ate them, with almost disastrous results, for, as they discovered afterwards, they were toadstools. They soon afterwards became dim-sighted and delirious, with pains in their stomachs, and saliva flowing freely from their their mouths. But coming upon a native well they drank copiously there from, and soon vomited freely, which considerably relieved them. 

Still following the valley they came across wheel-tracks— the first sign of civilisation. These they followed until they were surprised by the barking of a dog, some distance behind which was a man. They were still in a delirious condition, and had strange hallucinations when they saw the man approaching them. 

He proved, however, a friend indeed, and was none other than Mr. Grieves, overseer for Stirling and Elder, probably the first squatters in that part of the South-East. It was then about sunset. They were provided with food and drink, and made comfortable for the night, with the result that much of the ill-effects of the fungi poisoning wore off. 

After resting for a couple of days they borrowed a horse and dray from the station and went to the scene of the wreck to see if anything in the shape of food had come ashore, for Mt. Grieves had told them that the station was not too well supplied with provisions, and would not have any more until the drays came from Adelaide. 

They found that only a few wooden articles had come ashore from the hold of the vessel, which they estimated was lying about four miles off the shore. The dinghy was still where they had left it, but was showing signs of damage from the knocking about it had received. But no oars were to be seen, so they could not go out to the wreck. 

They returned to the hut, and on the following day made a pair of rough oars. The next day they again went to the scene of the wreck and paddled out to it. They found the vessel upside down, with her masts broken off and hanging by the rigging. Her stern was about four feet out of the water and the fore part about six feet under it, but the vessel was still intact. 

Captain Underwood divested himself of his clothing, but when he was about to dive over to try to get his money from the cabin a large shark sailed in just where he would have dived, so he did not bother about the money. 

He formed the opinion that the anchors had fallen from the bow and held her fast, though she appeared to have drifted about four miles from where she had turned 'turtle.' 

The next afternoon, with the rough oars, a sail made from an old woolpack, and a rudder made out of a ten-inch board, they started for Rivoli Bay, from where they had come ashore on the night of the wreck. To reach there they would have to make a perilous journey of about 60 miles along the rocky southern coast. 

The wind was about south-east, and they had approximately one pound of damper to see them through, and no fresh water, for they had nothing to carry it in. As the wind was very light they got only as far as what they guessed was about opposite Stirling and Elder's station, so they decided to land. This would be on the northern side of what is now called 'Bosun's Point.' 

In landing they lost both oars in the surf, but the waves carried them up on the shingle with the boat half full of water. In their weakened condition they could not pull it up the beach, so they fastened it to a stake and, once more, in a very wet condition, made their way to the hut of their benefactors. 

During the night they decided to give up the trip home by sea, and walk overland from station to station, but the next morning broke fine and they decided to continue the sea journey. They made two more oars, and thus equipped they made far the shore, accompanied by Mr. Grieves. 

Two old flour bags were added to the sails, and all being ready, they once more launched the little boat, pushing her through the surf. The wind continued light all day, and they made very little progress, and they had continually to have recourse to their paddles to help the boat along, stopping occasionally to bale her out, for she was very leaky. 

They landed on an islet on the north side of the bay, after having narrowly escaped being swamped by the waves as they rolled towards the shore. From the Islet they gathered a few stones for ballast, and about three dozen shags' eggs, staying there about half an hour. Starting again on a calmer sea, they had to paddle across the bay, which took about three hours. 

Getting ashore just before dark on a high tide, they made fast the boat presumably near where Karatta House now is. They found a well on the edge of the beach, but the high tides from the recent storm had filled it up. 

Captain Underwood wandered about the 'township' in the early morning in the hope of finding the wells lately used by the party which had surveyed the town. (The township of Robe had then just been surveyed, and the party had left.) He could find no sign of a well, nor other fresh water, but with a scallop shell he dug a hole about 15 inches deep on the shore of Lake Butler (not then named), and got a supply of muddy water, for which he said they were thankful. 

After a breakfast of shags' eggs and tea, supplemented with a modicum of damper, they made another start, and with a stout breeze soon rounded Cape Lannes, now marked by the obelisk. The wind was favorable until they turned southward along the coast. 

A heavy surf was breaking on the successive shores as they progressed, and the 'mate' looked as if he was not appreciating the voyage, which was perhaps not surprising considering the experiences through which he had recently passed. At times they were perilously near dangerous rocks, and at other times just skimmed over kelp-covered reefs not far below the surface. 

After several perilous experiences they eventually sighted what had only a couple of years previously been named Penguin Island at the north end of Rivoli Bay, and later called 'Whalers' Point, as the Hentys once had a whaling station there. 

As they now had a head wind they lowered the sails and had recourse to the paddles for the rest of the way. They steered the boat into the haven where Beachport now is, landing about seven o'clock. They collected some dry wood, got a fire going, built a 'wurley,' and lay down on some light brushwood for the second time on the voyage with out bed or bedding, in what the captain called 'very uncomfortable lodgings.' 

The following morning they started off across the bay for the south end, where, too, only recently had been surveyed the township of Greytown, which was once a thriving town with a boiling-down works, a shipping office, and a public-house. 

After a week's spell Captain Underwood left Davenport's station on horseback for Adelaide with a Mr. Jones, taking ten days to do the trip, which is now done in about as many hours. — Tanta-Tyga.

See also https://www.kipioneers.org/history/captain-underwood  

Woman's Great Swim For Freedom

Kangaroo Island has a unique history. Many years before the foundation of South Australia it was inhabited by white men— wild, primitive fellows, who had left whaling and sealing ships and established a kingdom of their own on the island. 

George Bates was perhaps the first white man to land on Kangaroo Island. [Incorrect : Flinders and Baudin were there in 1802]. He arrived in 1824, and was engaged in sealing and hunting and occasionally making trips to Encounter Bay in search of bones of stranded whales. It was in 1835 that William Thompson, a seaman, landed on Kangaroo Island from the cutter William. He joined a man named William [sic] Walker [a.k.a. Henry Wallen], who had been there some time. When Thompson arrived there were about seven white male settlers. But one of the first settlers was Walker, who had assumed the role of governor of the island, and he ruled with all the primitive dominance of a hard, savage adventurer. 

Some of the men had colored women living with them, and it was one of these women who made history by a remarkable swimming feat in a desperate bid for freedom. She crept away from the camp one day and plunged into the sea. 

With powerful strokes she swam across the narrow straits, nine miles wide at the narrowest part, battling against the powerful currents, and passing in safety through the sharks, for which this passage (now called Backstairs Passage) was notorious. She eventually landed safely on the mainland, exhausted but happy to be back in her own territory. The swim was the subject of much comment for years afterwards. The women was described as having been a fine specimen of her race.— E. E.  [This story is based on hearsay and cannot be substantiated, and is almost certainly unlikely.]

Old Time Hanging

During the South African War public feeling often ran high, and there were many arguments, friendly and otherwise, amongst local residents of a northern town, where many of the inhabitants were Germans. 

When, however, news went round the town that an old German settler had been hanged a few miles out on the North road, opinion immediately swung the other way, and punishment was demanded of the perpetrators of the crime. 

The local mounted constable, with visions of Sherlock Holmes perhaps, galloped to the scene of the tragedy, only to find that the corpse was but an effigy, life-like, but filled with straw.— 'Unome,' Carrieton.