ANDERS ANDERSEN.

Evening Star, Issue 13090, 24 October 1908, Page 4

ANDERS ANDERSEN.

HIS,TRAGIC DEATH. INCIDENTS OF HIS LIFE. [FroJi the ‘ Duller Miner. 1 Anders Andersen, the Norwegian sailor, passed to his long rest at six o’clock on the Wednesday evening; Andersen’s last words were : “ Have you proved mo innocent yet?” . His death may, in great measure, be regarded as a direct result of the fake accusation of murder laid against him and the strain of his subsequent dreadful experiences. He developed epileptic fits while in the .police gaol at Westport. Previously he had keen an entirely healthy man, and medical opinion is that the fatal _ illness was induced by shock and suffering. It is, fortunately, not often that frail humanity is put to the test that Anders Andersen was subjected to and retain sanity. The repressive calmness with which he compulsorily watched the coils being woven round him by Connelly’s terrible story may probably be regarded as a contributing cause to his ultimate breakdown. Halinen, his fellowsufferer, is cast in different mould. While Andersen always kept a stiff upper lip, Nature came to Halinens assistance with tears. Court spectators, convinced of the innocence of the two men, marvelled at the self-control exhibited by Andersen. He told the writer that there were two especial stages of the protracted trials the pressure on him was greatest : at Nelson, when the jury found their long-delayed verdict of manslaughter, and at Hokitika, when he lay awake in his cell, listening to ascertain if the warders would bring Connelly back to the prison on the last night of the trial. At Nelson, strong in the knowledge of his innocence, he could barely realise the meaning of the verdict, and keenly felt the strictures passed upon him by Mr Justice Chapman. If the Hokitika proceedings had failed, he said, he would have gone mad. —‘‘Liberty is Sweet.”— Andersen’s illness returned to him with unexpected suddenness. He had not had an attack for two months. On Sunday last ho formed one of a picnic party rowed up the Duller River. He took an oar, was in bright spirits, and enjoyment of the beautiful spring day and picturesque surrounding, contrasted with his recent dark experiences, forced from him the exclamation “ Liberty is sweet!” Andersen’s last day of health was a happy one, but the sun had not gone down before he was fatally stricken. Walking from the picnic camp to the boat he was again cast down, and that seizure was the beginning of the end.

Chatting with Andersen during the picnic excursion, the writer learnt something of his history, and the opinion from watching him for so many days in the Westport Courts was confirmed that he was a superior class- of man. but one who had been careless of his life. He was born at Arendal, a port on the east coast of Norway, a couple of hundred miles from Christiania, the capital city. His father (a retired-sea captain) and mother are still living at Arendal, a brother holds a responsible commercial post in Buenos Ayres, while other brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts live in Norway. Anders Andersen served a four years’ apprenticeship to the sea, attended a navigation school for nine months and passed his examination for chief officer’s certificate. Then, eleven years ago, he commenced to roam the world as a sailor before the mast. “ I have been a fool to myself,” said Andersen. “ I should have sat for a colonial certificate when I came to these waters. I would have had no trouble to get it, and then I would have been all right.” —“Gone Home.”—• Andersen intended to return to Norway after Christmas, expecting to receive some monetary compensation from the New Zealand Government. When arrested hje l had written to an aunt, informing her that he was in serious trouble, but he was sure everything would turn out alt right, as he was. blameless. He received a reply while in Hokitika Gaol, and he said, referring to the contents of the letter, “Didn’t my aunt give mo ‘what for.’ But I will go home to them all when I get enough money from the Government to pay my lawyer’s expenses and recoup the Vice-Consul for the money he has spent over the case.” And Andersen has gone home—but not to his parents. —Experiences at Sea.— Andersen was a man who did not talk much of what he had done in the world, but one story of a gallant deed escaped him. One stormy night, while running from America to Europe, his ship sighted a big steamer on her beam ends. She had been in that position for seventeen days, a partial wreck, with fifty-two souls aboard. Andersen and four others were despatched to the rescue in a boat. The job was a most hazardous one. Nino men were safely removed, in a howling gale with mountainous seas, but Andersen s skipper forbade the boat to return, as.the conditions meant death for all. The Norwegian ship stood by until morning, but when daylight broke the derelict steamer and her forty-three souls had disappeared in the depths of the ocean. Each member of the rescue boat's crew was awarded a silver medal for his noble deed. The story was told in the papers of the day, and it was interesting to hear it retold in Westport by ono of the participants. —An Unlucky Man.— But Andersen was an unlucky man. An unfortunate step he took in Melbourne cost him a sentence of three years’ imprisonment. A good deal was said in the Nelson proceedings about this event. Here is his story, told with all the impress of truth : He’ was a member of a crew of mixed nationalities. There was an all-round fight. He admitted he had been in numerous fights, but had never struck a man with anything but his fists. “In this row a fireman was hit with a belaying-pin and injured. A number of ns were arrested. I told rny lawyer I would plead guilty along with the rest. But, just as we were going into the court, the shipmate who had used the belaying-pin persuaded me to plead not guilty, as he intended to do. I did so, and thus put myself in the same box as him, and both of us got three years. All the others got off with a fine. I was liberated after serving eighteen months.” —A False Step.— “If you leave the ship to-day you will be sorry for it,” were the prophetic words used by Captain Lobb to Halinen and Andernen when they insisted upon going ashore from the Canopus for a holiday the day before the Bonrke murder. “We have been sorry for it every day since,” remarked Andersen to the writer. And that false step (upon which followed prosecutions for being absent without leave and tobacco dealing, with the false charge ot murdering Ernest Bourke) has ended in Anders Andersen—a good fellow, with human faults—crossing the Great Divide.