9 April 1936

THREE WRECKS IN A FORTNIGHT 

South Australian, Solway, And John Pirie Driven Ashore At Encounter Bay

From the very earliest days of South Australia, Encounter Bay and Victor Harbour have played a prominent part in the history of the State. In fact, many early colonists, including the first Governor, Captain Hindmarsh, would have liked to have seen the capital established in that district, so that it would have been near the mouth of the River Murray. 

Victor Harbour's claim to be a safe port were jeopardised, however, when three ships were driven ashore there within a fortnight in 1837. 

The South Australian Company's vessel South Australian went ashore in a gale on December 8 at Rosetta Harbor, near the company's whaling station, situated near what is now known as The Bluff. The South Australian had been waiting there for a fortnight for the Solway, which had been delayed, and although her master, Captain MacFarlane, had done his best to ride the heavy seas, the vessel was ultimately driven ashore. 

Only a month previously the South Australian had been used as a prison ship — for one man, 'Black Aleck.' The account sent to the Governor by the master of the vessel tells its own story:— 

For securing, provisioning, watching and attending on the prisoner Black Aleck on board the barque South Australia from July 21, 1837, to November l: 101 days at 2/ a day ... £10 8 0 To topmast studding sail given prisoner to sleep on, 80 yards of canvas damaged to the extent of 1/6 a yard ... 6 0 0 To four padlocks broken by him at 1/6 ... 0 6 0 To charge by mate for himself and ships boys watching and attending on prisoner for 15 weeks ... 10 0 0 [Total] £26 14 0. 

This charge, however, did not satisfy the local manager of the company, Mr. David McLaren, who complained strenuously against a prisoner being "confined on the barque by order of the late Colonial Secretary and the Advocate General." 

"With every disposition to consider the needs of the legislative authority in this province," he wrote, "I cannot consent to any of the company's vessels being again employed as a gaol. The responsibility connected with the guarding of prisoners I cannot sanction being imposed on the company or their ships' officers, as it places the company in a very improper and dangerous position." 

Mr. McLaren pointed out that if a revengeful prisoner escaped or was released, it would be a comparatively easy thing for him and his fellows to murder the company's officials at Encounter Bay, and then set fire to the stores of whale oil there. Mr. McLaren did not seem to think that this was at all unlikely. 

The South Australian had had only one month's freedom — as it were — when she ran aground. She was eventually sold as a wreck. The stranding of the South Australian was a heavy loss to the company, and before the other two vessels, the Solway and the John Pirie were driven ashore, Mr. McLaren stated in a letter to the head office that "the load of responsibility on my shoulders is almost overpowering, and the accumulation of unfavorable occurrences at the present moment is very distressing." 

A week after he wrote this, two other vessels were aground — one a total wreck. The John Pirie was loaded ready to go to Hobart when news reached Adelaide of the South Australian's grounding, and she was sent to assist at Rosetta Harbor. The John Pirie, which was one of the first vessels to come to South Australia with colonists, and the Solway, were riding at anchor near Rosetta Head on December 21, with light breezes from the south. 

At one o'clock the following morning the sky became overcast and the wind rose slightly. More anchor chain was let out in case of a sharp blow. By 9 a.m. it was obvious that a storm was coming. The rigging was secured, and everything on deck was prepared for a heavy gale. At 10 o'clock heavy seas began to break over the John Pirie, and tore the bows out of the sealing boat she was towing. The vessel was pitching heavily in tremendous seas, and was straining for'ard. At half -past 11 the storm had in creased in violence so much that the Solway parted from her outer anchor. Half ah hour later her other anchor was lost, and she went on the reef. She was afterwards brought ashore, but was useless. 

A whale boat came out from the shore to the John Pirie's assistance and took off Captain V. Duff, who had been concerned in the wreck of the Sir Charles Macarthy at Glenelg a few days previously, and Mr. Mann. Returning, the whale boat took off the six children of Captain Martin, who were travelling with their father, the master of the John Pirie. 

The storm steadily became worse, and by 1 o'clock, the John Pirie was going bows under in the heavy seas. The cables were unshackled close to the windlass, so that they could be slipped if one of them parted, as it was realised that it was impossible for the vessel to ride at anchor much longer, and the only course was to run her ashore before any serious damage occurred. 

Tremendous seas threatened to send the ship under, and some of the great waves broke half-way up the foremast. All the hatches and the companion way had been fastened, and canvas put over the skylights. Part of the bulwarks was washed away at 2.30, and half an hour later, when the vessel dived bows under, the port chain snapped seven or eight fathoms from the hawse hold. The crew then slipped the starboard chain, hoisted the stay foresail, hauled at the aft try-sail (both of these had been kept ready), and hoped for the best. 

The John Pirie seemed to be going to her doom on a small island, but she just missed it. Straight ahead was a reef, and the only chance was that the vessel might be carried safely over the top of it. There was no other way of escape. With a heavy crash she hit the reef and continued across it, bumping badly and losing her rudder; but she at last got over, and the captain sent her straight for the shore. 

There she went aground quite close to the South Australian, the vessel she had come to assist. The trysail and the stay foresail were kept in position to hold the vessel steady, and it was found that, despite her bumping on the reef, she was drawing no water. Then, as the chief officer puts it, 'We cleared up the decks, sent the crew below to get some refreshment, and put on some dry clothes.' The John Pirie was eventually re floated, and saw service for many years. 

Head Drover For A Week

A friend of mine once sold a large flock of sheep to a visiting buyer, who paid a substantial deposit, produced first-rate references, and signed an agreement to pay the balance within a specified period. He said he had to depart at once, and took immediate delivery of the sheep. 

The seller happened to mention the deal to the local storekeeper, who showed him in confidence a 'black list' supplied to many country suppliers. 

To his consternation, my friend observed that the purchaser was bankrupt, that his mortgagor was about to foreclose, and that the bank had a lien on all live stock. Obviously his man intended to clear out and make a fresh start with the flock he had purchased, possibly over the border. 

Hastily, a drover and two boys were engaged, with orders to reclaim the sheep, wherever they could quietly get away with them, and disappear into 'smoke' with them until legal action of some kind could be undertaken under the Bankruptcy Act. 

The drover found the flock a day's journey out of town, and judiciously shared a bottle of whisky by the camp-fire with the two men the new purchaser had left in charge of them. 

Under cover of this, the two boys quietly let the rails down at the other end of the paddock, drove the sheep through, and made for a rendezvous the head drover had previously indicated. 

They had a week's start, for the disgruntled shepherds who had awakened to find their charge 'duffed,' failed to report the matter, reckoning that they only had a two days' cheque due, and that the best thing to do was forfeit it and disappear. 

Finally, the new owner found that his sheep were missing, and set the police on the job. A mounted, constable and a black tracker set out in search of the animals, and rapidly overhauled the droving party. 

The head drover saw them coming, and put one of the boys, a lad named Jack, up to say that he was in charge of the party. The constable promptly arrested him, and told the 'subordinates' to turn the flock back to a certain paddock, where the sheep would be held pending further investigation. The fictitious head drover was taken to the lock-up. 

During the night, the true head drover again 'duffed' the sheep from the police paddock, and was well on towards the mountains by breakfast next morning. 

On the way he ran into the original owner, who was coming up on horseback in search of him, with news that an injunction had been obtained, and that there was no further danger of funny business from the purchaser. The flock was hurriedly turned back and was installed in the police paddock before the sergeant came out at noon to see if all was still well. 

The boy, meanwhile, spent a week in gaol before the various charges and counter-charges could be heard and settled by the S.M. He was finally released, with a strong dressing-down from the magistrate for his 'high-handed' conduct, which, was particularly reprehensible in one so young! 

When the owner came to pay off his drovers, once the sheep were safe again in his own paddock, and the deposit in the hands of the Official Receiver, he added an extra pound to the lad's cheque, in appreciation of his services. 

The young fellow looked at the cheque and said, "No good to me, boss. You forget that I was head drover for a week!" The owner, still in a good humor at the successful end of his adventure, laughed and tore up the cheque. He wrote out a fresh one for the amount claimed, and promptly offered the enterprising young man a permanent job. The youth took it, and saved up and bought a property of his own. The last time I met him, he was 'head drover' and owner of a nice little station.— 'Warrigal.' 

Saved By A Miracle

I am not a fisherman, and I never did care for the sea, but, while spending a holiday at a seaside town in North Queensland, I was persuaded to make one of a party on a fishing expedition. 

All told, there were eight of us, and the craft at our disposal were two ordinary rowing boats. It was intended to row out about three miles to where a reef existed, said to be a splendid fishing ground. 

After a rather tough pull, both boats arrived and anchored near the reef, and soon we were all busy fishing. The morning was intensely hot, and the sea as calm as a mill-pond, but, as a slight breeze arose after we reached the reef, conditions were not too bad. 

Shortly after we had eaten lunch, I noticed the clouds of dust being blown along on the mainland to the east of us, about one and a half miles from where we were. Heavy clouds were massing in the same direction, and, not being at all enamored with the sport we were having, I suggested that we ought to make back to the jetty before the rain came. 

The others, who seemingly were getting plenty of bites if they were not catching many fish, would not think of leaving, one remarking that the scud would soon blow over. 

It seemed as if that 'scud' came in answer, for, within a few minutes, cyclonic winds were sending waves feet high. The wind was blowing directly from the east, and, noticing that those in the other boat were using their oars, it appeared to be the one in my boat who was running the show— self-appointed captain, as it were— that the men in the other boat were endeavoring to row to the mainland, they being much closer to it than we were. 

With one bow anchor only, our boat was tossing and rolling in all directions, and I had visions of a swim. Oars had been brought into action, and were being used to keep the nose of the boat into the wind, but this did not suit our skipper. He told me to pull up the anchor, and we'd row in like the others were doing. 

I had been watching the movements of the crew in the other boat, and was convinced that they had not moved at all. My opinion, however, did not count with the skipper, now thoroughly excited. 'Pull up the anchor,' he yelled. 'We'll get swamped soon.' I might as well have tried to bail the ocean dry; the anchor was evidently caught firmly on something, and I could not budge it at all. 

'Here, cut the rope!' came from the skipper, tossing along a knife. My efforts in this direction were futile also; the blunt old blade used for cutting bait was useless. 

I'll admit that my feelings were rather mixed, and to give myself a reasonable chance of swimming ashore, I divested myself of boots and clothing, and then assisted the man who was not using the oars to keep the boat's head into the wind to bail out the water that kept coming over in gallons. 

Suddenly something happened that looked like the finish for some of us; the anchor started to drag. Our skipper completely lost his head, but we restrained him from jumping over board. It seemed only a matter of seconds before the drifting boat would smash into the reef, showing about two feet above the water, but a miracle, or, rather, two miracles, happened. 

The anchor caught on some thing, stopped our drift, and, without warning rain fell in torrents. It would be safe to say that within 30 seconds of the anchor catching the wind ceased, and as a result of the rain the sea became as calm as it had been in the morning. 

Rain or no rain, I had had quite enough, but no persuasion was needed to get our skipper to make for the jetty. What would have been our fate had those two miracles not happened just when they did, I dread to think; that one occasion was enough deep sea fishing for me.— M. A 

Bush Experiment 

In the autumn of 1925 a mate and I were driving a mob of ewes and lambs from the Narrawarra homestead to one of the out-stations along the northern overland track, when an incident occurred which might have had serious consequences for one at least of our party. 

I was nineteen at the time, and my companion, Frank Beauchamp, was a year my senior. We were accompanied by a black boy, Chinta, by name, and being of an age with us, he was always a party to the pranks and jokes we were always playing on each other.

On this occasion we arrived at our night camp fairly early, and after we had yarded the sheep in the brush yards, we had used on a previous trip, we began to choose a suitable spot to make our camp for the night. 

'Here's a find!' cried Frank, pulling a shining petrol tin from the shade of a low bush, into which it had been thrown by a passing overlander. 'Now I can have my tucker in comfort.' 

'Come on, Chinta, make the fire and get the billy on,' I said, and Chinta soon had a fire going on the same site as had been used by the traveller to boil his mid-day billy that day. 

'There's still some petrol in this tin,' said Frank, holding up the tin, and the rattle when he shook it proved this statement to be true. 'Here, Chinta, you want to hearum big fella bang?' he cried. 'You strike a match and drop him longa tin.' 

'Wait a bit,' I said to Frank in an undertone, 'we'll have some fun with this. See if we can get Chinta to sit on the tin, and see what happens.' 'Good idea,' said Frank. 'Come here, Chinta. Plenty fun longa this tin d'rectly.' 

Chinta came up eagerly, and we proceeded to outline our plan to him. 'You sit on the tin here,' said Frank to Chinta, 'and then you hereum hig bang. If you don't sit on him there won't be any bang. You keep him down, see?' Chinta seemed a little dubious, but finally we prevailed upon him to follow our instructions. 

'Now Harry, quick, you strike a match. and drop it in,' said Frank, 

'You're robbing the coach, Mr. Kelly,' I said, 'I'll watch.' 

'You're windy,' said Frank. 'Nothing much will happen.' 

'Perhaps not,' I said, 'but all the same, if you think nothing will happen, you carry on.' 

Frank looked a bit dubious, and then he brightened up. 'I know, I'll get a long dry stick, light it in the fire, and stick the lighted end in the hole. That's the idea.' This was no sooner said than done, and within a few minutes Frank was applying the flaming end of the stick to the hole in the tin. 

There was a bang all right, also a yell, for with a roar the tin exploded, and lifted poor Chinta about six feet into the air. His yells drowned every other sound. As soon as he hit the ground again he made for the nearest scrub, and no amount of coaxing would bring him near our camp. 

We were very anxious to make friends again with him, too, because we were as badly frightened as he was. 'Do you think he'll die?'' asked Frank turning a white face to me. 'I don't know,' I said, 'I think I'll see if I can get near him after sundown.' 

When we did placate him next day, we found to our relief that he had been more frightened than hurt; but all the same, he walked and led his horse all the rest of the way to our destination. 

When the boss heard of our joke, he refused to allow Chinta to accompany us again, so that our joke recoiled on our own heads. Chinta was a fine drover, rider, and tracker, and it is not nice to have to knuckle down and do all the dirty jobs which crop up on a droving job. 

Although many years have passed since this incident happened, I am very careful with petrol, and the one bone of contention between my wife and myself is the harmless and very useful domestic petrol iron. I don't trust it. I have seen petrol explode before— 'PAPERWONGA.'