12 March 1936

CHINESE INVASION OF 80 YEARS AGO

Fourteen Thousand Landed At Robe In Six Months

The pursuance of the White Australia policy has rendered the Chinaman a curiosity in this State, and now one is rarely seen either in the city or in the outback. It is a fact, however, that 14,000 of them landed in South Australia in the first half of 1857.

Detailed records show that 22 vessels which arrived at Robe between January 17 and May 3 of that year landed 10,154 immigrants— all Chinese. Three vessels were driven ashore, and became total wrecks. The reason for this enormous amount of immigration was that Victorian gold mines were being opened up, and the Chinese, lured by supposed easily-made fortunes, flocked to the fields.

From the first they were ill-treated by the other miners on the fields, who could see no reason why they should be allowed to land, and to compete with them in their frantic search for fortune. Goldfields' morality was such that it was not considered wrong in the least to stun a Chinaman sitting in his tent, and rob him of his gold. The assumption was that he had no right to be there.

There was further panic when it was hinted that the Chinese would bring cholera and leprosy to Australia, and although the health authorities in Melbourne stoutly denied that there was any justification for the belief, there was considerable uneasiness that the diseases might break out.

Repeated requests from the miners stirred the Victorian Government, and in 1855 it imposed dues of 1/ a ton on every vessel (half-yearly), and 5/ for each passenger other than Chinese, for whom £10 had to be paid. Besides, only one Chinese passenger could be landed for each ten tons of the boat's tonnage. The £10 impost curtailed the immigrant trade for a time, but then it was realised that if the Chinamen were landed in South Australia they would not have to pay anything.

Guichen Bay (on which Robe is situated) was the nearest suitable harbor, and every few days about this time ships would land their passengers, who had been packed into the vessels. This can be seen from the fact that the 22 ships referred to above averaged about 500 Chinese immigrants each, although the crews averaged only about 30 per vessel.

The people of Robe did not mind the immigrants coming there as they spent a few pounds before they left on foot across the long stretch of country to Ballarat, Ararat, and Bendigo. Robe prospered with this inflow of Chinese immigrants, as is shown by contemporary reports.

Local townspeople, too, acted as guides to the Chinese, and used to go down to the beach to meet them, and then haggle over a price to escort them to the goldfields. In many cases they were driven along the roads like cattle, and sometimes when only a short distance from Robe, their 'drover' would wave his hand in the direction of the gold fields and tell them to go on their way. Some 'drovers' kept to their contracts and escorted the Chinese to within a few miles of the gold fields— as near as they dared go.

The Chinamen would then creep into the fields under the cover of darkness and rely on their compatriots to teach them the art of goldmining. For fear of violence from the Australian diggers the Chinamen did not dare to show themselves even in a body in the day time, and, as may be imagined, new Chinese arriving were even less popular than those who had established themselves there.

Others went to Port Adelaide, but from there they had a longer walk— unless they could afford a means of conveyance. Some entered Victoria by taking a boat up the Murray, and on this entrance there was no dues to be paid, though a communication from the Victorian to the South Australian Government, asking this State to impose some restriction, said that if something were not done, impositions would be put on Chinese immigrants entering along the Murray. The whole matter was loosely enforced, and Chinamen had little difficulty in landing in Australia.

Guichen Bay (Robe) was by no means a safe harbor, and between February and June, 1857, no less than three vessels were wrecked but with surprisingly little loss of life . The Phaeton in February, the Sultana in April, and the Konig Willem in June were all lost. Like all the other immigrant vessels to Robe, these had come from Hong Kong, eager to land their passengers and return to China for another batch. It is known that there were between 30,000 and 40,000 Chinese in Victoria in June, 1857.

The Phaeton, the first of these vessels to be wrecked, was described as a fine American clipper, and was on only her second voyage. Captain Morrison, the skipper, had his wife and children with him. The Cornwall, a barque, and the schooner Vixen had struck without serious damage a fortnight previously, and had attracted attention to the dangerous nature of the bay. At 7 a.m. on February 1, the captain sighted the obelisk on Cape Dombey, but while he was tacking, a beam swell caught the ship and ran her aground on a sand bank. The stern was firmly stuck, although there were 41 fathoms of water under the bows. There was a freshening breeze, and in ten minutes the Phaeton had 9 ft. of water in the hold. The boats were got out, but the sea was too heavy for them to be launched, and a raft was made. The ship was settling rapidly on its port side, and with 3 ft. of water in the between decks, the position was becoming serious. At the critical moment, however, the wind moderated and the passengers were put off in boats. By 2 o'clock the following morning disembarking had been completed. Several of the boats capsized, but there was no loss of life. The vessel was abandoned.

The Sultana, which was wrecked on April 27, was of only 558 tons — about half the size of the Phaeton. The master of the vessel had died on the journey from Hong Kong and the mate had charge. While manoeuvring the vessel into the bay she struck a reef off Cape Lannes and anchors were immediately let down. Finding that the vessel was making water, the mate decided that the only way to save her was to beach her, and he ran her ashore. His passengers (400 Chinese) and crew scrambled on the shore with out casualty. Both these vessels had been lost be cause there was no pilot at the bay to show captains a way through the sand banks and reefs, but the appeals of the residents of Robe went unheeded.

The most disastrous wreck followed in June when the Konig Willem was lost. She was a Dutch ship of 800 tons, and after having landed 397 Chinese passengers, a south-west gale caught her while she was riding with only a 60 fathom chain. The chain cut her windlass and she lost her cable, and she was driven ashore four miles- east of Robe, although Captain Grezer had ordered sails to be run up. Terrific seas broke over the vessel, which seemed doomed. Two 12-year-old Dutch boys turned to the Customs officer (Mr. Crossland) and asked in broken English whether he could swim. They could not, and pointed to the water significantly. A boat was launched, and the crew of 24 scrambled into it. Just as the captain was going to take his place the painter broke and the skipper was left alone on the vessel.

The lifeboat was swamped in the heavy seas, and the sailors struggled frantically in the water. A chain of hands was made from the shore, and eight sailors were rescued from the overturned boat. The captain could be seen pacing the deck, apparently doomed to die when the vessel broke up— as she appeared likely to do at any moment. It was useless for those on the shore to try to reach him through the terrific seas, and there was no live-saving equipment.

Efforts were made to float a line to the ship, but these were unsuccessful. A small boat was carried to the spot, and John Omerod offered £50 to the crew that would man it and rescue the captain. An aborigine from Encounter Bay agreed to swim to the wreck with a life line, but while preparations were being made the wind veered, and brought to the shore a drum to which the captain had attached a line, by means of which he was hauled ashore. Records vary as to whether 15 or 16 were drowned, but several large coffins were made from the wrecked vessel and the victims were buried in nearby sandhills. The uncovering of these graves by the wind a few years ago recalled memories of the disaster.— C.V.H.

Working For The Bank

I remember a station owner who, in my youth, used to dash past our place with the glamor of a meteor. His retinue comprised a string of stock ponies and a couple of blackboys, the whole cavalcade alternating between a bushman's jog and a gallop, as it rushed on at a pace of 80 miles a day. The old fellow, whom I shall call Burns, was reputed to be very wealthy, and he had to move to get round his holdings.

Many tales were told of his extreme thrift, the end and object of his saving being the future of his two sons. Even when he was well off, Burns could never free himself from the fear of poverty that had haunted his younger days, and he was determined to give his boys a good start in life. I was at the University with the boys, but afterwards lost touch with them for many years.

One evening recently, I ran across old Burns fishing at a seaside resort, and enquired after them. He had a long tale to tell. During the war, he said, the boys had practically doubled the old freeholds with shrewd purchases, mortgaging one place to buy the next. The cattle slump caught them and everything went to the banks and stock companies except a small weekly allowance for the family. They were living on this by the seaside, while the ancient glory had departed for ever.

As old Burns finished his age-old tale of youthful over-confidence, a clerk from the local bank strolled by, with a girl on his arm. Bums glared after them and, in tones that Wolseley might have used after his fall, said, with a vicious gleam in his eyes, 'If that young fellow ever works one tenth as hard for his bank as I did all my life they ought to make him managing director in the first twelve months!'— Mac.

The Sardine-Tin Clue

Old Mac was a lone-wolf fisherman; he never employed a helper and sailed his cutter single-handed around the gulfs. The other fishermen in the fleet him little love, for he used to watch what other men did and would then sail over to where their boat was anchored and fish on the same bit of ground.

Sarcasm was wasted on him, and threats and abuse he ignored; through his powerful, telescope he would watch what other boats were doing, and if he saw that another man was hauling in fish he would sail straight over.

One day, however, Mac came into port with his boat loaded with fine big snapper, but no other fisherman had made anything of a catch. That night Mac set sail again, and next evening he was back once more with another load of big snapper. The other fishermen were still having a lean time, and to all their enquiries as to where the fish came from Mac replied with a terse, 'Oot o' the sea, of coorse. Did ye think I caught 'em perched in trees?'

Mac sailed out again that night under cover of darkness; one of the other fishermen also sailed, but he anchored in a little bay, waited until near dawn, and then climbed to the top of Stamford Hill with his binoculars. At 10 the following morning he saw a distant sail, noted the course which the cutter was sailing, and thus obtained the first clue. On the following evening he anchored under an island and again kept watch, to see old Mac coming in once more.

As soon as the other cutter was out of sight he heaved up his anchor, sailed off towards the spot from which old Mac had come, and then cruised about with trailing lines, trying to pick up the ground from which old Mac had been getting the big hauls. For several hours he cruised about without luck, then Fate played right into his hands. Over the lee side of his boat, shining brightly through five fathoms of water, he saw a new sardine-tin on the bottom. He remembered old Mac's fondness for sardines, dropped anchor, and almost immediately saw one of his lines jerking. Mac's secret snapper ground was a mystery no longer.

He stowed his sails as quickly as he could, grabbed at the line, and as soon as he felt it he knew that a big fish had been hooked. By the middle of the afternoon he had made a record catch, but he waited on the ground for his rival to appear. Sure enough, Mac's cutter came up at daybreak next morning, and Mac was greeted with, 'How do you like your own medicine?' Mac did not like it at all, and he liked it still less when he found a dozen boats on the ground next day.

Later on he found a nice whiting patch, but as if by magic the other fishermen found that too. They dogged him all the season, but not until he retired a few years later did he discover the reason why he could not keep a ground secret.

'It's no mystery,' said the man who had first tracked him down. 'How can you expect to keep a ground secret when you keep dropping shiny new sardine tins over the side to show where you've been fishing? All we had to do was to watch you coming in, sail out to where we thought you had come from, and then cruise about on all the likely spots, looking for shining tins on the bottom.' Mac's reply was unprintable.— 'Bogaduck.'

Real Life Stories of South Australia (1936, March 12). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 16. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article92337721