12 November 1936

WRECKED ON FIRST LAND SEEN FOR THREE MONTHS

Tragic End Of Scottish Barque

It hardly seems possible that a vessel could be wrecked with a loss of 31 lives within little more than 100 miles of Adelaide, and for nothing to be heard of it for a fortnight. But that is what happened in the case of the Loch Sloy, an iron barque from Glasgow, which went ashore on the south-western coast of Kangaroo Island in May, 1899, only four persons out of a complement of 35 passengers and crew reaching the shore alive.

The first that was heard of the wreck was a fortnight after it happened, when George May, son of a settler at Rocky River, arrived exhausted at the Cape Borda lighthouse, 20 miles away. He told the lighthousekeepers that the previous day a seaman had turned up at his father's homestead, suffering terribly from hunger and exposure. He had said that he and three other men were the only survivors of the wreck of the Loch Sloy, and that for 15 days they had been searching for a settlement of some kind. That was all young May could tell them. He had left home the previous afternoon, but had missed the track, and had spent the night in the bush.

On this scanty information, search parties were sent out. The news was telegraphed to Adelaide, and the tug Euro, manned by seamen from the Protector, and equipped with life-saving gear, left Semaphore under Captain Cresswell to pick up the survivors and to help the others, if possible.

The story of the disaster, reconstructed from reports of the survivors, is that the Loch Sloy, bound for Adelaide from Scotland, had not been with in sight of land since leaving Glasgow, and passengers and crew were looking forward eagerly to reaching Port Adelaide, for they had already been more than three months on the journey. A keen watch was kept for the Cape Borda light. One morning, just be fore 5 o'clock, land suddenly loomed up in the darkness, and before the barque could be turned it was on the rocks. Heavy seas, which surpassed those round Cape Horn, were running, and the vessel, once on the rocks, was doomed to destruction.

There were two women among the few passengers— Mrs. Leicester, wife of Captain Leicester, who was a passenger on the ship, and Mrs. Cartlidge. They climbed the rigging with the other passengers and the crew. In the heavy swell, it was not long before the masts started to crash over the side. The main mast was the first to go; then the foremast crashed like thunder to the deck. The mizzen mast remained standing for 20 minutes, but eventually shared the same fate as the others, throwing those on it into the boiling surf. The captain did not leave his post and was washed over board with the rest. There were 35 people on board when the vessel struck, but only four ever reached land alive.

To Mitchell, one of the survivors, it was no novelty to be wrecked. It was the third disaster of a like nature during his seafaring career. Simpson, however, was a young apprentice on his first voyage. McMillan, another of those saved, was also a member of the crew. Kilpatrick, a man in poor health who was on a health trip, was the only passenger to reach the shore alive. When the mizzen mast, on which Simpson had sought safety, went overboard, he managed to hoist himself on a whisky cask— there was a part cargo of spirits on board — and was washed ashore within two feet of where McMillan, Mitchell, and Kilpatrick came ashore, which seemed the only place along that rocky coast where a landing was possible with safety.

After the mizzen mast went over board, Captain Nicol, master of the vessel, saw that the end was near and spoke to the members of the crew who had stayed near him, 'Now, boys,' he said, 'you had better have a drink before you go; you will need it.' Of the 'boys' on deck, only Mitchell remained to tell the story.

The difficulties of the survivors had only just begun when they reached the shore on pieces of wreckage, for there were cliffs hundreds of feet high to be climbed if they ever hoped to reach civilisation. They knew that they must have been miles off their course to Cape Borda. Actually they were near Cape de Couedie, on the south western coast, instead of on the north western corner of the island.

The four survivors waited some days at the bottom of the cliffs, subsisting on whisky and cornflour washed ashore from the wreck. Tins of herrings were also welcome additions to the larder, and when Mitchell found water on the top of the cliffs some of their troubles disappeared. Kilpatrick, never really strong, could not climb the cliffs and was left on a ledge of rock about half-way up for three days, until the others of the party could half-drag, half-lift him to the top.

Although they had water, they realised that it was quite useless to stay where they were to await a rescue party, for, as far as they knew, no one was aware they had been wrecked. Kilpatrick, who was incapacitated, was the only one of the survivors to have any boots. He gave them to McMillan, who went off daily into the bush to try to find some signs of settlement.

On one occasion he was away for three days, and Mitchell and Simpson, who were with Kilpatrick at the water hole, decided that it was useless to await his return. They therefore set out them selves to seek help. Fortunately for them, however, McMillan was not lost. He had struggled to the May homestead by following the Rocky River. He was emaciated from hunger and exposure, but was able to tell his story.

Kilpatrick refused to go far from the waterhole, and his two companions were obliged to leave him, almost helpless, while they went for help. As soon as young George May struggled to Cape Borda lighthouse with the news of the wreck, gleaned from McMillan, the second lightkeeper at Cape Borda, W. T. Smith, set out to look for the other three. He came across Mitchell and Simpson some miles from Cape Borda. As he searched for them he shouted out at intervals. After a while he heard a groan. Following the sound, he saw a man lying on the ground, trying vainly to prevent his head dropping on to his chest. The man's companion was nearby. Smith refreshed them with brandy and food. Both had been subsisting on the remains of penguins which they had found on the beach. They had wandered for either three or five days— they were not certain which — and had been living on limpets and, more recently, on the penguins. Without foot covering of any kind, their feet had been dreadfully torn, but the enterprising Smith used the penguin skins to bind up their lacerated feet. He tried to get them to walk, but they were too weak. Indeed, he had difficulty in getting back to Cape Borda himself , having lost the way, and being obliged to spend a night in the bush.

The next day he went with George May on horseback, and they brought in the two men, who recovered slowly. They were almost speechless at first, and their hands, feet and bodies were badly cut. It was then nearly three weeks since the night of the wreck.

Ted Boko, the only Australian aborigine on the island, was engaged as a tracker to try to find Kilpatrick, and many other search parties were organised to try to discover him and to bury the bodies of the victims of the wreck as they were washed ashore. Mr. May, senior, and a neighbor, Hosking, found 11 bodies before even the first search parties arrived. When Kilpatrick was eventually found, he was dead. He had struggled on a little way, but had collapsed in the end. He was buried on a stony rise near where he was found, a month after the wreck. Whisky which had been left with him was used to polish a headstone which bore the inscription;— 'David Kilpatrick, aged 25 years, wreck of the Loch Sloy, 18/5/99.'

When the Euro reached the Loch Sloy it was much closer inshore — about 300 to 400 yards— but had become almost a total wreck. Along the coast, wreckage was piled up in heaps in places 20 ft. deep, some bodies may have been beneath this lumber. Most of it had been broken into matchwood by the force of the waves, and the rocks. The search parties had an unenviable experience, and some of them walked tremendous distances. Roberts, Buck, and Boko in their searches covered 160 miles of comparatively unknown country.

A marine enquiry which followed the wreck attributed it to a number of causes. The finding was that the vessel was 25 miles out of its course; that it was proceeding at night at a high rate of speed, which was unsafe, considering that land had not been sighted for more than 100 days; that an insufficient lookout was kept; that the cables and anchors were not ready for use; and that if the vessel had been put on the port tack instead of the starboard it might have got clear.

A relief fund started in Adelaide for the survivors and the relatives of those drowned amounted to £1,774. The sale of the wreck and its cargo (valued at £30,400) had its comic side. Mr. W. C. Chapman paid £35 for the valuable cargo, and £1 for the ship, furniture, instruments, and all other appurtenances, other than cargo. A little later it was reported: — ''The syndicate which obtained possession of the wreck of the Loch Sloy, not having done as well out of its bargain as was expected, the property was put up for auction at the mart on Friday.' By half-crown bids, starting at half, a-crown, the wreck, cargo, and every thing else was sold for £3 to Mr. J. Sheridan, a Port Adelaide fisherman, who was credited with a good knowledge of Kangaroo Island. When the Customs Officer went down, all he could find were several barrels of whisky, but these had been tapped previously by thirsty islanders. — C.V.H.

Real Life Stories Of South Australia (1936, November 12). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 16. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article92349328