4 October 1934

TRAGIC WRECK OF STAR OF GREECE AT PORT WILLUNGA 

Had Crew Waited Most Would Have Been Saved

One of the most tragic of all South Australia's wrecks is that of the Star of Greece, "a very fine iron ship, strongly built and well found," on a reef 200 yards from the shore at Port Willunga. There were only 10 survivors of a crew of 27; but had they waited almost all would have been saved.

The Star of Greece, a vessel of 1,257 tons with a length of 227 ft., left Semaphore with 16,000 bags of wheat for England in doubtful weather on July 12, 1888. She was to have left on the previous day (Wednesday), but Captain H. R. Harrower decided against it. and spent the night at anchor. No sooner had the vessel left the anchorage than a heavy gale from the west sprang up, and when the captain was called at 3 a.m., it was impossible to see the shore in the heavy weather. Presently high cliffs loomed near them, and almost immediately the Star of Greece touched the sandy bottom and huge waves began to pound her to pieces. Sixty fathoms of anchor chain were let out, but the anchor would not hold, and the vessel crashed on to the rocks. Tremendous waves dashed over the stricken vessel and very soon the deck fittings were washed overboard. The crew attempted to send up rockets, but they had all been damped by sea water and were useless. 

At dawn it was seen that the vessel was very little more than 200 yards from the shore, and after the ship had broken amidships at 9 o'clock and four men had been lost, plans began to be made for swimming ashore, despite the mountainous seas and the whirlpools among the rocks. Every attempt to drift a line to those who had assembled on the shore, and who were standing helpless, failed. The old ruse of tying a sailor's trunk to the end of the rope was ineffective owing; to eddies and currents. At 10 o'clock, the captain and second mate decided to swim to shore, but were sucked under the waves almost as soon as they dived. 

Meanwhile those on shore had communicated with the authorities at Normanville, and had asked them to send across their rockets and lines to rescue those on board. A tragic aspect of the wreck was that until three or four years previously complete lifesaving equipment had been kept at Port Willunga but on the score of expense it had been removed. Serious delay occurred in the transport of the apparatus from Normanville, although it was but 24 miles from Port Willunga. The equipment had been sent for at 10 a.m., but it did not arrive until after 5 o'clock in the afternoon— half an hour after the last survivor had thrown himself from the vessel. 

On board, men were becoming desperate, fearing that the vessel would break up at any moment, and one by one they dived from the poop and tried to swim ashore. Some succeeded, and were dragged from the water more dead than alive after being pounded on the rocks. Deciding that if they lashed themselves to a raft they would have more chance of getting ashore, a number launched a hurriedly made one, only to be sucked under in the eddies. All were drowned. The last two, who remained on the ship were a young apprentice an an old sailmaker, both of whom were drowned in attempting to get ashore. 

Half an hour later, the rocket apparatus arrived from Normanville, and would have reached the Star of Greece easily, but as it was, there were but ten survivors lying round a big fire which had been started, everyone of whom was badly injured. First news of the wreck came to Adelaide by a telegram which read — 'Want rocket apparatus to save crew. Sea making clean breach over her. Some of crew in mizzen rigging. Masts may go any moment. Main royal mast carried away. Topsails flying.' In a few minutes further word was received that the mizzen rigging had gone overboard, taking four men with it. 

The steamer Defiance was sent, but in the heavy seas could not approach the wreck, and returned to port. The Yatala, which was also sent arrived at the wreck, part of which was still intact on Saturday morning, and a lifeboat's crew boarded the vessel, to find no one there. Had the crew remained, it is probable that many of those who had perished in the swim to the shore would have lived. 

The shore for miles was littered with burst bags of wheat and wreckage from the ship. Bodies which had been washed ashore were buried in a common grave in the Aldinga cemetery, where a monument was erected to their memory. The news of the disaster was received with great sorrow in Adelaide and Port Adelaide, for almost all the sailors had been recruited from South Australia. The two chances the crew had of being saved— by a line from the shore and by another vessel — had both been thrown away by their attempts to swim against mountainous seas; eddies and currents, on a rock-covered shore. As in the case of most disasters there were those who should have been on board, but were prevented.  One man had signed on for the Star of Greece, but two days before sailing had been arrested for stealing a watch. As he was being taken to the cells to serve a month's imprisonment he said to the warder, I am not guilty, but a month's imprisonment is most likely for the best'— C.V.H.

Good Day's Sport

A few years ago three men who were working on the telephone line near Strathalbyn found themselves at a loose end on a public holiday. As they had heard that rabbits were plentiful in the hills nearby they decided to spend the day shooting. Guns were borrowed, and so was a ferret. A large hamper, including half a dozen bottles of beer, was packed, and they set forth.

It was a hot day and the hills were steep. No rabbits were seen during the morning, and the ferret proved too lazy to drive them from their burrows. Still it was pleasant to sit in the shade and enjoy the lunch, especially the beer. 

The empty bottles were used as targets, for the sportsmen were determined to use up some of their cartridges. They were seated on a hill, with the ferret box and billycan nearby on a slanting rock. When a slight breeze sprang up, the billy rolled down the hill with a great clatter. The ferret box quickly followed, and when it was recovered was found to be somewhat cracked; but the ferret quite unharmed. 

The journey was continued till a stream and some large, shady trees were found. Here they decided to lie down and were soon fast asleep. They had forgotten to give the ferret a drink, however, and it was thirsty. It could smell the water, and soon got out of its broken box. 

After drinking its fill it crawled into a rabbit warren and slept also. When it woke up later in the afternoon it set about getting its supper, and it was the rumble of the hunted rabbits underground that awakened the three sleepers. 

The guns were loaded, and the sportsmen waited, not knowing what to make of the noise. A rabbit bolted out of the warren, then another, followed by several more. Luck favored the hunters, as they shot two. 

Finally much squealing was heard near one entrance, and a rabbit's ears appeared. They were quickly seized by a member of the party, but some difficulty was experienced in dragging the animal out. 

When it came it was with a rush, and the ferret came too, with his teeth firmly planted in the rabbit's flank. The little hunter was shaken off into his box, and the workmen returned to camp, very proud of themselves, and pleased that they had borrowed the ferret.— D.C.W.

Sharpened His Teeth 

While rabbit shooting in the hills near Strathalbyn, a friend of mine met a woodcutter at work. After talking to him for some time, the axeman remarked that he wished the carter would arrive soon, as he was out of bread. My friend suggested that he should ride back to town and get the provisions needed among which were butter and some steak. 

On arriving back at the camp, he found the axeman awaiting him with a blazing fire, and an invitation to stay and share the meal. The woodcutter was evidently rather hungry, for the steak was immediately placed in the frying pan and allowed to sizzle at a great rate. 

When the meal commenced the meat was found to be particularly tough. The woodcutter took his knife, sharpened it on the grindstone, and then returned to the battle. However the steak when cut proved too tough to chew, so another trip to the grindstone was made. 

This time my friend was interested to see what was to be sharpened next. The wood cutter took out his false-teeth and carefully ground them, feeling their edges once in a while till satisfied about their cutting ability. 

Then he set to work again on the meat and this time victory was his, his share of the steak being consumed within a few minutes.— D.C.W., Norton's Summit.

Earthquake Incidents Recalled

During moments of great mental stress people do and say most humorous things. This was shown when a severe earthquake shook the South Eastern districts of South Australia on May 10, 1897. The most marked effect of the disturbance was noticed between Robe and Kingston, at which towns considerable damage was done.

The first tremor was heralded by a deep rumbling not unlike thunder. At the Robe Canning Works, one of the employes, under the impression that the works were about to blow up, dived head first down a chute into a cart load of offal that was standing below. 

A man who lived a few miles from Robe, was met by some school-children making post haste for the town. He paused in his stride long enough to call out, "My goodness! Whatever you do, don't go out my way! It isn't safe. All the ground is opening up." Despite this, he had left his wife at home to look after things. 

A well-known Adelaide man who was surveying near Robe at the time, was talking to a road contractor when the first shock occurred. The contractor had remarkably protuberant eyes, and when a long deep rumble broke out, he glanced at the sky to see if there were any thunderclouds about. Then, as the ground started to tremble beneath his feet, his prominent eyes seemed to start from his head. Believing the end of the world to be at hand, he turned to his gang of work men and, gesticulating wildly, roared "Down on your knees, you cows! Down on your knees".

That night the surveyor stayed at the Robe Hotel, where most of the guests had decided to sleep to the open air. The surveyor thought he would show his courage by sleeping in the hotel. Shortly after he had retired there was a grating sound, and a crack about six inches wide suddenly appeared in the wall of his room. The surveyor then suddenly decided that it would be cooler outside, so he went into the hotel yard and slept in a buggy.— A.H.B.

A Resurrection

The recent fatality at Yatala, where a prisoner hung himself in his cell, recalls a similar incident that happened some years ago at a south-eastern police station. The man concerned had been arrested for drunkenness and was suffering from the effects. He attempted to commit suicide by hanging himself to the bars over the door of his cell with a strip of his blanket. 

He was discovered in time, however, and his blankets were taken away from him. Some time later another inspection of the cell was made, when it was discovered that he was hanging from the same place by his braces. Once again he was rescued before he became unconscious, and his braces were taken from him, leaving him with only his shirt and trousers. 

A policeman was then instructed to inspect the cell every five minutes. He did so for a while, but he and a visitor got talking and the time slipped by without him noticing it. 

When he made his next inspection he found the prisoner on his bench with a portion of his shirt tied tightly round his neck. He was black in the face, and to all appearances was dead. The policeman was very frightened at the result of his neglect, and began to curse the prisoner profusely. 

Attracted by the noise, the visitor went to the cell and took in the situation at a glance. Tearing the rag from the man's neck, he began to attempt to resuscitate him. He was assisted by the policeman, and, after some time, their efforts proved successful. The prisoner revived. At first he gasped, then he breathed normally, and finally he sat up on the bench and cursed him violently for bringing him back to life. 

The story of the incident was subsequently told to an Irishman, who laughed immoderately when he heard it. When he was asked what there was humorous about it, he replied— "I have always been told that when a man commits suicide he goes straight to hell; but this fellow could not have done so, or he would not have been so annoyed at being brought back to life." — 'Tanta-Tyga.'