28 February 1935

GIRL PASSENGERS CAUSE TROUBLE WHEN VESSEL IS WRECKED 

Nashwauk Goes Ashore In The Dark At Port Noarlunga

Among the many wrecks which have occurred near the mouth of the Onkaparinga at Port Noarlunga that of the Nashwauk in 1855 is remarkable in a number of respects. She was an immigrant ship, and had more than 300 immigrants on board, including 130 single girls. At 3 o'clock on the morning of May 13 the vessel went aground opposite the house of a farmer named Harriot, two miles south of the mouth of the Onkaparinga, not far from the wreck of the Tigress. At the time of the wreck, the sea was calm, but there was every indication of heavy weather. 

The news reached Noarlunga at day-break, and at about 10 a.m. disembarkation began. The future settlers were lodged in mill cottages and empty houses, and the local residents, by baking bread and killing sheep for them, did everything to make the immigrants comfortable. The girls, however, did not appreciate the hospitality offered. A newspaper report of the incident states that 'most of the girls behaved in a discreditable manner, showing plainly that they either should not have been selected as immigrants or that they had been sadly corrupted on the voyage.'  [see http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article49309110 ]

The same night Captain Douglas, harbor master at Port Adelaide, arrived in the Government schooner Yatala, and the Melbourne also came to the rescue of the Nashwauk. The following day the immigrants were sent back to the beach. The captain's worries were not at an end there, however, as the ship's doctor, who had four sick persons in his charge, was found on shore drunk and another doctor had to be hastily summoned from one of the nearby townships. 

The sea also came up strongly from the south, and as there was already 12 ft. of water in the ship's hold, the heavy weather pounded the vessel considerably. It was considered to be too great a risk to try to get the immigrants on board the Yatala and the Melbourne from the point where they had landed, as a heavy rolling swell had set up. 

They were therefore ordered to walk along the beach to the top of the cliffs near the mouth of the Onkaparinga. Only half of the immigrants obeyed the instructions; the others, thinking they would be safer on land, said they would get to Adelaide as best they could. 

After they had been taken across the Onkaparinga, they were rowed out to the waiting vessels from Port Noarlunga. The Melbourne arrived at Port Adelaide the next day with 60 women on board, one of whom caused some excitement by falling overboard after surviving the shipwreck at Port Noarlunga. She was rescued after having been in the water for five minutes. 

One can imagine that Captain McIntyre was extremely pleased to see the last of his passengers as they left for Adelaide in bullock drays to take up temporary quarters in the British and German hospital, near St. John's Church, Halifax street. 

The captain explained that the officer on the bridge at the time mistook a light on the land for that of the Semaphore lightship, and steered for it. That the two positions were about 40 miles apart on his charts was, apparently, unimportant. 

A Trinity Board enquiry was held, and the captain was censured as a result. The wreck and cargo were bought for £684 9/ by the farmer near whose house it was wrecked; the doctor, who was on his first voyage, was paid his gratuity, and the school master, George Doolette, who was travelling with his family, was given £5. 

Such is a story of the wreck which caused considerable trouble, but ended more or less happily.— H. 

An Old-time Thunderstorm 

My great-uncle, Joseph Hawdon, was the first man to bring cattle overland from New South Wales through Victoria to Adelaide. 

He and his brother, John Hawdon, financed the expedition and supplied the cattle from their station Oolong, on the Hume River, now Howlong on the River Murray. 

Joseph Hawdon started with the cattle early in January, 1838, and during the journey met with a terrific thunderstorm, which he describes in these words: — 

'We arrived near the waterhole when a tremendous peal of thunder burst over our heads. The electric current passed along my head, causing me to feel as though struck with a heavy bludgeon. Two of the bullocks near us were killed on the spot, one of them standing stiff and dead some seconds before he fell. Another peal roared and crashed round us, killing another beast about 15 yards away. To prevent the whole heard being killed we galloped among them to scatter them in all directions. One fell, struck with lightning whilst I was on the point of striking it. 

'We dismounted for the purpose of bleeding those that had fallen, and whilst doing go the tree under which I stood was shivered to pieces. The thunder continued rattling round us like a constant fire of cannon, branches and limbs of trees falling in all directions. Two hundred of the cattle had huddled closely together each trying to get shelter behind his neighbor. The rest, in groups of 30 or 40, were tearing about in the greatest state of alarm, now running towards us, then bounding away as each successive peal of thunder burst.

'When the storm had subsided it was fearful to see the havoc it had caused. The noblest trees were shattered to fragments or uprooted and hurled prostrate on the ground. Three of the cattle which we thought had been killed were restored by bleeding, but the others were quite dead. About two miles further on we came to the place where the storm had raged with the greatest violence. Every tree was levelled to the ground, and had we been there at the time our loss of cattle must have been very severe.' — C.H.G. 

Native Killed By Hawk 

Cases of birds having caused the death of human beings in Australia are very rare. 

For all its size, the wedge-tailed eagle is a coward, and makes no attempt to defend its nest and young. The pugnacity of plover and magpies when defending their nests is well known, and at least one man has been killed through having his skull pierced by a wing-spur of an enraged plover, while two others have lost the sight of an eye when attacked by a magpie. 

The natives had a wholesome respect for both magpies and plovers at nesting time, but they really feared the duck hawk. As these birds nest in high trees growing in swamps, there is nothing to fear from those unless one actually climbs the tree to the nest. Then the birds attack with mad fury, as the natives well knew. Many years ago one of the young men of the Tatiara tribe disregarded the warning of the old people with regard to the danger of robbing a duck hawk's nest, and this is the story of his fate, as handed down by that pioneer surgeon, Dr. Penny. 

"The young man, though warned by the old men of the tribe as to the savagery of a hawk when protecting its nest, announced that he would rob the nest of a hawk situated in a high tree in the Mundalla swamp. He went up to the tree and, aided by a tomahawk to cut steps, mounted the trunk with proverbial agility. 

The nesting hawks took little notice of him at first, but when he drew near the nest they began to fly at him, as if to scare him away. The lad broke a stick with which to defend himself and mounted higher. As he drew close to the seat the hawks redoubled their efforts to drive him away; then one of the birds circled a few times to get above him and dived to the attack. 

So sudden was the hawk's onslaught that the native had no time to use his stick. The bird struck him heavily in the face and then flew off slowly, evidently badly hurt. The young native screamed, put both hands up to his face, which had been badly gashed by the bird's talons, lost his balance and fell to the ground from a height of forty feet. He was killed instantly."

That may be an isolated instance of a human being's death being caused by a duck hawk, but the fact remains that nobody in the South-East at tempted to rob a hawk's nest for years after that lesson.

— 'Bogaduck.' 

Expensive Fortune 

To come from America to South Australia to claim a fortune, and, after having gained it, to find practically all of it absorbed by law costs, was the misfortune of a Kapunda resident a little more than 50 years ago. It is the type of story one might expect to find between the covers of a book. 

A man named James Whittaker lived at Kapunda in the early days, and invested in property in the town-ship. He was unmarried, and, as far as was known, was without relatives. Failing health caused him to take a trip to Melbourne. He left in 1859 by the ill-fated 'Admella' and was drowned. He died intestate. For several years nobody appeared to claim the estate, which was administered by the Public Trustee. 

In 1864, however, a Mr. William Whittaker, who claimed to be a first cousin of James, arrived from America, where he had had a farm in Kansas. William Whittaker made a claim for the estate, but, as the court could not hear his case, the claim was held in abeyance for some years. 

On March 25, 1874, William Whittaker filed a petition in the Supreme Court for an order to convey to him the estate and accumulated rents, but it was dismissed, on the ground the court had no jurisdiction to entertain the petition. 

Whittaker decided to appeal, and on December 6, 1875, his case was heard before the Court of Appeals, which revoked the order of the Supreme Court. The Appeal Court held that the petitioner was substantially entitled to the order prayed, provided that he gave security for £5,000, and undertook to hand over the accumulated rents and profits of the estate to anyone proving, within six years, to have better title. 

No claimant appeared within the six years, and consequently in 1881 — 17 years after his arrival in South Australia— Whittaker took possession of the property, which was then valued at a little more than £5,000. 

Law costs, however, amounted to £5,300, and it was not until two days before Whittaker's death in 1886 that his sons finished paying the costs incurred in the court action.— K.R. 

Practical Jokes At Robe 

An old resident at Robe was noted for his inability to take a joke. For this reason he was made the victim of more practical jokes than any other person in the neighborhood. 

Night after night his door-knocker would rap. If he went to see who was there he usually found nobody. If he ignored the knock the chances were that there really was a visitor. 

His front door mat was never at home. No sooner would he get it home from the other end of the town than away it would, go again. 

One night he left a dressed sheep, which was covered over with a huge white bag, hanging under a tree near his house. On rising next morning he found that sheep, bag, and rope had all disappeared. A fellow-townsman informed him that if he went further down the street he would find them. Sure enough, he found them. There was his sheep, still covered over with its white bag, swinging like a corpse in a shroud from the top of a telegraph pole. 

The old man got very angry. "I'm not going to get it down. Indeed, I'm not going to get it down," he kept on repeating. But, strangely enough, it did not seem as if anyone else was going to get it down either, and the news soon spread round the town that someone had committed suicide. Finally, a ladder was brought, and the old man carried the corpse home and hung it up again; but not under the tree. 

On one of his birthdays he was the recipient of a beautifully decorated birthday cake, which arrived by post. 'Ah! That shows that somebody thinks of me,' he said. On cutting the cake he said a great deal more, for it had been formed by icing over a cardboard box. 

New Year's Eve he considered an abomination. Always, on that particular night, his gates, mats, and sundry other moveable articles seemed to be smitten with an overwhelming desire to wander away. 

On one particular New Year's Eve he invited the local policeman along, and they sat out on the front verandah till long after midnight. The constable then decided to go home, and the old man remarked, 'The young fellows don't seem too bad tonight. I think they've all gone home.' He then went inside. A few minutes later he thought he would just have a last look round before going to bed. 

As he stepped out through the front door there came a muffled explosion from under the mat. On investigating the mystery he decided that the 'young fellows' couldn't have gone home after all. There were the remains of several ancient and very odorous eggs under the mat.— A.H.B.