TRAGEDIES OF THE SEA

Evening Star, Issue 18399, 6 October 1923, Page 19

TRAGEDIES OF THE SEA

fire Alia smn. THE COSPATEICK HOEEOE. TERRIBLE STORY OF SUFFERING. LOSS OF SHIP DUNBAR Some barrowing and sensational talcs of shipwreck and suffering arc told by “11.5.” in the Melbourne ‘ Arbus'’ of September 22. The narratives are extremely interesting, not only to Australians, but to New Zealanders as well, as several of the ships mentioned were well known in these waters. Over forty years ago the late Mr W. J. Doran began to collect photographs of famous sailing ships. It was a lahor of love for him, for he came of seafaring ancestors, and his father was captain of the Holmdalc. At the time of Ins death ho had a truly wonderful collection, for there is hardly missing any well-known ship—especially if it traded to Australia —in the two massive albums, which contain over a thousand photographs. This collection was acquired by a well-known shipping man, who recognised that if it was valuable now it would become almost priceless from a historical point of view as the years went on, for the old records —photographs, lithographs, wood and steel engravings—are gradually disappearing, so that even to-day it would be impossible to duplicate the collection. At the time of Mr Doran’s decease ho had only commenced classifying his treasures, so the difficult task of completing the classification had to be left to someone else. It was undertaken by Mr J. Morriman, another old seaman with a natural taste for shipping history, and one whoso memory is stored with a remarkable fund of information about an era which has almost completely passed away. Mr Merriman himself has sailed in more ships than he can call to mind off-hand, hut his favorite craft was the famous Loch Maree, the fastest of her line —and one of the unluckicst. On her first voyage to Melbourne, in 1873, she was dismasted off the and had fo put back to Gibraltar under jury rig. But what a sailer she was, for oven in her woefully crippled condition she overhauled and passed a 600-ton barque under royals. In nor brief career, indeed, she seemed to have had the heels of everything she met. An apprentice, in recounting some of her victories to the writer Basil Lubbock, relates how she, with all her kites flying, once camo up with a‘ big barquentine-rigged steamer which likewise was under full sail. This hybrid craft did not fancy being beaten by a windjammer pure and simple, and presently “ volumes of smoke belched in sooty clouds from her two black funnels, as if she was entering a protest against such a seeming indignity. But in vain; she, too, fell away in our wal«x

The end of the beautiful, stately Loch Ma roe is mysterious. On October 29, 1881. she left Geelong, Homeward (bound. A day afterwards she was spoken by the Gerfalcon off Kent’s Group. And that was the last heard of her. The North American, another large vessel, disappeared at the same time, and just as mysteriously. But of all the tragedies of the sea Mr Merriman thinks that none is more poignant than that of the Cospatrick. On September 11, 1874, she sailed from London for Auckland (New Zealand). She carried 429 passengers and a crow of forty-four men. Captain Elmslic was in command. Off (ho Cape Henry Macdonald, second mate, and one of the three survivors, told afterwards how ho was aroused from sleep that night by the cry of “ Fire !” Rushing on deck, he found dense clouds of smoko were issuing from the, fore peak. Tho bosun’s locker, full of oakum, rope, varnish, and paint, was ablaze. The fire engine was rigged, and soon the forepart of the ship was deluged with water. They had already got her head before the wind, but presently, by 'Dine extraordinary mischance, and one that was never explained, she came head to wind; and then (he smoke was driven aft in suffocating clouds. Flames burst out ’tween decks, and in an hour and i-half tho Cospatrick was doomed. Dreadful scenes followed, for a panic broke out among the emigrants. One boat was launched, but was immediately swamped by the crowd of demented man and women that jumped into it. Tho long boat caught fire; and in tho end only two boats got away safely—tho port and the starboard lifeboats. They stood off, and, helpless to assist, watched tho tragedy to the bitter end. The main and mizz.cn masts fell, and many of those who had crowded aft were crushed to death. Then the stern was blown out. That was the end, and tho shrieks of tho survivors were silenced suddenly in the ron’- ; -~

flames. The captain was seen to seize his wife and throw her overboard. Then he sprang after her himself. Bat mere is a tradition that he shot her first, and clasping her in his arms leapt overboard. Neither was over seen again. The rendition of those who had escaped in the boats was well nigh desperate. Had they known what was in store for them doubtless most of them would have ■ re i'erred a morn merciful death on the burning ship. They had neither water, food, masts, nor sails; and in the starboard lifeboat, which was commanded by Macdonald, they had but one ora 1 . “ The two boats kept company on the 20th and 21st November,” said 'Macdonald at the inquiry; ‘'then it commenced to blow, and wo got separated. I whistled and shouted when daylight came, but could sco nothing of tke other boat. Thirst began to tell severely on all of us. Bentley, who was steering, fell overboard and was drowned. Three men became mad that day, and died. Wo threw the bodies overboard. On the 24th four men died. Wo wore so hnncrv and thirsty that we—[hut' what they did is best left untold]. On the 25th we were reduced to eight, and three of thorn out of their minds. Early on the morning of the 26th a boat passed dose to us. Sho was not more than 50vds away. She was a foreigner. Wo hailed, but got no answer. I think she must nave heard us. One more died that day [and ho then again relates the dreadful expedients that they were compelled to re-sort to in order to quench their agonising thirst]. On the 27th it was squally all round, but wc never caught a drop of water, though wc tried to. Two more died that day. We threw orio overboard hut were too weak to lift the other. There were then five left—two able seamen, one ordinary, ono passenger, and myself. The passenger was out of his mind. All had drank sea water. We were dozing when the madman bit my foot. I woke up. Wc then saw a ship bearing down upon us. It proved to be the British Sceptre, from Calcutta to Dundee. We. were taken on board and treated very kindly. I got very bad on board of her. . I was very nigh at death’s door. Wo had not recovered -when we got to St. Helena. ” So ends this terrible story. The passenger and the ordinary seaman died a day or two after they had been rescued, so that out of 473 souls on board the Cospatritjk only three were saved —the mate and two able seamen. WRECK OF THE DUNBAR.

A wreck which made a profound sensation in Australia was that of the Dunbar, a fi.no Blackwall frigate, literally smashed to pieces in the Gup, which is a short distance from Sydney Heads. This was on a black night in August, 1857. Captain Green, who was in command, evidently mistook the Gap for the Heads. The ‘Dunbar had been picked up by the Signalman, Packer, at South Head just before dark, and ho signalled her to the post office. Then he signalled the ship as follows What ship is that? Where do you come from? How many days are you out?” For the fifty years that he lived ho would always declare that he got answers to all three questions. However, it seems doubtful whether he did, because some horn's after the wreck was discovered it was supposed to be either the Duncan Dunbar (another Blackwaller). the Vocalist, or the Zomandar. In spite of the pitchy darkness of the night, Captain Green decided to enter the Heads, thinking to shelter in Watson’s Bay, The only survivor, the late Mr

James Johonstone, at the inquiry said that for some reason the South Hoad light was kept on the starboard instead of on the port bow, and that in consequence the ship was steered straight for the dent in the cliffs known as The Gap. It was the second mate who discovered the fatal mistake. “Breakers ahead!” he shouted, and an attempt was made to go about. But it was too late. A minute or two later the Dunbar was dashed against the rocks. The passengers, who had nearly all retired to their berths, alarmed at the shock, made an attempt to get on deck, only to be forced back by the tremendous surf which was now sweeping over the stricken hull.

Johnstone, dazed with the buffeting, could give but a hazy account of the end. He thinks that the Dunbar broke up in about an hour after she had struck. He remembers that he, the bosun, and another seaman were the last left alive on the wreck. But presently they were swept off. What became of the third man ho could not say; but ho remembered that he and the bosun were hurled by the breakers on to a rocky ledge. The bosun, an old man, was too weak to hold on, and presently Johnstone was left alone. He got some shelter on this lodge, because the Dunbar acted as a breakwater. But when she broke up ho had to seek a higher ledge. “ I managed to scramble from one ledge to another,” he said, “ until I reached one about 20ft higher. It was midnight on a Thursday when I first caught the rock, and -1 remained there until noon the following Saturday, On the Saturday the sea went down, and I dropped from one ledge of rock to another until I could see the top of the cliffs overhead. I saw one man there in the morning, but before I could attract his attention I was forced to return to my retreat, for three big seas wore following each other, and they looked as though they might wash me .away.” The next morning, ’when a very heavy sea was still running, and. when the spray was blowing over the top of the lighthouse, which was 75ft high, Graham, the signalman, and a mate of his looked over the edge of the cliff, expecting to see a ship hove to. But there was no ship there; only something like a bale of wool tossing about in the raging surf. This proved to be the bodies of two passengers —Mrs Egan and her daughter. Mother and daughter were locked ip each other’s arms. Then they saw what remained of the ship. A signal was sent to Sydney. Before long crowds of anxious people had assembled on tho cliff where it overlooked The Gap. As the great waves thundered against the rocks below wreckage could be seen, and now and then the terribly mutilated bodies of tho drowned. Mr Daniel Egan, tho Postmaster-General, wrote the following account to the Sydney 'Morning Herald’: —“At The Gap a brave fellow volunteered to go down and send up some of the mangled bodies. . . . One figure—a female, nude, tightly clasping an infant to her breast—was seen for a moment. Then legs would leap from tho foaming cataract, with feet seen upwards. . . . We provided a isppo, and

in this manner some mutilated remains were hauled np to the top of the cliff, until a huge sea came, nearly smothering those on the cliff.” It was still thought that the wrecked ship was tho Duncan Dunbar; but at length a gangway panel, with a lion rampant carved upon it, was discovered jammed in the rocks. It was the Dunbar, not tho Duncan Dunbar. The PostmasterGeneral fell insensible. His wife and child had been on board! Not until Saturday was Johnstone discovered. He was then lying exhausted on the rocks. Whether ho was alive or dead was not known at the time. In any case, the task of rescuing him was a most perilous one. It was a young Icelander (a watchmaker’s apprentice!) who volunteered. They offered him money, but lie refused it. They let him to almost certain death by means of a derrick. Then tho welcome signal came from below to haul up. The load was heavy—much heavier than the youth they had lowered. Presently a head appeared over tho cliff and then a powerful body. It was Henry Johnstone, the sole survivor of tho 122 that had embarked on the Dunbar.

By a strange coincidence Johnstone years afterwards took part in the rescue of the sole survivor of the Cawarra, an A.S.N. paddle steamer that was wrecked off Newcastle, N.S.W. This was Hedges, a foremast hand. He had been washed up on to a buoy, and from this he was rescued by tho quartermaster’s boat. Johnstono was the coxswain. For many years Johnstone was chief lighthouse-keeper at Newcastle. He died in 1915.

“The funeral,” says Basil Lubbock in his ‘Blackwall Frigates,’ “was long remembered in Sydney. A lino of hearses, headed by a band playing the ‘ Dead March,’ and followed by every kind of vehicle, from private carriage to omnibus, v.T.un cl if. 3 way along George street. Every ship half-masted her ensign, minute guns were fired, bells tolled, and all Sydney mourned.” FOUNDERING OF THE LONDON. On February 26, 1866, the advertisement was published in the shipping columns of tho ‘Argus’: The magnificent new steamship Loudon, 1,700 tons, specially constructed for the Australian trade to form one of tho above (Money Wigram) select line of packet ships, which comprises the Lincolnshire, Essex, Yorkshire, Suffolk, Norfolk, Kent, and True Briton, is announced to sail for London on April 10. For plans of cabin and dietary scale, apply to W. P. White and Co., 10 Elizabeth street. But when this was published the London was lying fathoms deep in the Bay oi Biscay, and 220 souls had gone down with her. Tho London was as staunch a. ship as skill and money could make her, and though sho was a full-powered steamer, she wan very heavily sparred. If her engines should break down it was believed that she could make a passage under fail alone which would not have shamed even the famous clippers of these days, But tho London was from the beginning an unlucky ship. On a previous voyage she had lost a whole boat’s crew in an attempt to rescue a passenger, and when sho commenced her last voyage her pilot was drowned. Many years ago I heard it said by those who had seen her that she "looked” unlucky, and there may be some tenth in this, for, judging by the illustration, there is something sinister and ill-omened in her appearance, in spite of her lithe lines and the proud swell of her canvas

The London left Gravesend on December 30, 1866, with 239 persons all told aboard. Owing to tempestuous weather she put into St. Helens Bay on January 1. On January 2 she was aele to proceed to Plymouth, where she took in passengers. She left Plymouth for Melbourne on January 5, and the weather had then moderated. But the lull was only temporary. A gale sprang up on January 8, and the next day this had incre-asedr-'o a hurricane. While she was proceeding under easy steam, but making very bad weather, "tiro jibboom, fore-topmast, and foretop gallant mast carried away, and the lifeboats were smashed. Tire violence of the storm increased, if that were possible, and her commander, Captain Martin, judging that she was laboring dangerously in the .formidable sea that was running, decided to put about and make for Plymouth under full steam. When her course was altered tire London rolled more violently than over, and at the same time she shipped tremendous seas. One of these canned away the engine room hatches. That was the beginning of the end ! Great volumes of water now flooded the engine room and stokehold, extinguishing the fire, Then the London lay quite helpless, gradually settling down. On January 11 Captain Martin announced that all hope of keeping her afloat must bo abandoned. An attempt was made to launch the remaining boats, but all save one—an iron pinnace—were stove in. Captain Martin instructed the chief engineer and assistants to enter her. as according to the way bill it belonged to them. Ho_ gave them their course to Brest. In all nineteen persons crowded into the pinnace, though she vra-s intended to carry only twelve. They stood by to the last, watching the London gradually settling by the stern. Presently -this and her bows, rising high above the raging sea, waved for a moment and then slid beneath the

surface. As she went down tho suction nearly carried the pinnace down with her. Among these who were aboard were the Revs. Dr Woolley, Draffer, and Kerr, and Die famous tragedian, G. Brooke. They and the crew, undo!' the distetion of Captain Martin, worked gravely at tho pumps, but there was really no hope.