THE WRECKAGE

Greymouth Evening Star, 8 May 1931, Page 9

THE WRECKAGE

WHAT HE DID WITH IT. My father used to tell me sometimes when I was a small boy that our family had “wrecker’s blood” in our veins (writes “The Wrecker” in the “Sydney Morning Herald”). He came from a small port in the south-east of England. My mother was a daughter of the vikings through a strain of Scotch. So that ought to be an ideal mixture to produce at least a longshoreman with a slight dash of sea pirate-wrecker. Be that as it may, I must feelingly acknowledge a simmering thrill of excitement when the wreckage began to come in. Never in the whole of my waterside experience' on this coast has there been such tremendous excitement among shore-living people of ocean suburbs as in the days following the wreck of the Malabar. The dramatic breaking of the vessel into pieces “facing three ways” within a few hours of the stranding was in itself exciting enough, in all conscience; but, when, added to that, the sea-gods began to strew a most varied assortment of riches in thejnost amazing quantities ever seen on the coast, a simmering excitement rapidly rose to fever heat. Within an hour or two of the discovery of this rich craft of every description—and much-that was nondescript—Were dotted along the sea-face. Launches, big and little, some seaworthy and many not, sailing and rowing boats, canoes and everything that could keep its nose above water; they were all there, gathering their strange harvest. Not only were the regular “waterslders” thefre, but, it being the Easter holidays, many ordinary city dwellers had also begged, borrowed, or possibly) stolen something that could float, and had joined the strangest flotilla that Sydney has seen in the whole of its days. Even the fishermen gave up their ordinary avocation, notwithstanding that the mullet season was on, and joined the “Argonauts.”

TIDAL RICHES.

Only twenty-four hours after the Malabar had broken her back, many miles of coastline were littered, and the water whitened, with; thousands of bags of flour. The water was literally white as many,of the bags had been burst open and the flour washed out and diffused, so that large areas here and there looked like liniewash. Then at varying distances from the Wreck and up to twenty miles or so away,' were lambs that had been frozen, hundreds of boxes of butter, tins of biscuits, condensed milk, tins of dripping,' tinned meats and cheese, lactogen, boot-cleaning paste, and all sorts of edible and inedible “necessary commodities” as well as barrels of beer and whisky'(as we are teetotal* lers here I apologise for not including these with the necessaries). The most extraordinary and unexpected thing was to see the number of things that floated—just barely so, through the buoyancy of their cases. Judging by the remains of thousands of smashed condensed milk cases born ashore by the ocean waves there ought to be a rich haul for some trawler, which, seeking fish, finds tins of milk. Butter, too, The tins by themselves slowly sink, and most were obtained just awash at the ocean’s surface, in their original cases; but there must be several thousands at the bottom spread over a few miles of coast at this moment.

On the night of April 3, during the stilly watches, a motley flotilla left Watson’s Bay and Manly and put to sea, or just zigzagged about the entrance; 'returning now and again, loaded to the gunwales, with sea treasure. It was easy work for a time until’ backs and arms were weary with the lifting of heavy cases, tins, and barrels over the sides of the craft. Then followed mysterious and unwonted sounds in quiet streets through the night as billy-carts, baby carriages, and what-not were pressed into the salvage service by the amateur wreckers. To be strictly honest, I fear that there were not many residents of old Watson’s Bay that night who were not possessed by at least some slight semblance' of the ancient spirit of those forbears of some of us, who used to gaze seaward nightly, while, in all devoutness, they prayed that their beacon lights might attract a fine large-sized, well-laden ship to its doom.

ROOMBOTER. /

And now, Watson’s Bay is literally wallowing in wreckage. Roomboter grace’s the table at every meal. “Roomboter,” by the way, may be a Dutch label on a tin, but it signifies good Australian butter, and everyone who found a tin, found on the average four pounds weight of it. One neighbour close by brought in no less than one ton of it, and then his arms, back, and legs gave out! . Some collected far more than this, and added to it, condensed milk and cheese and many other commodities; while the floating timber is finding its way into house repairs, chicken and pigeon houses. Sad to relate also, some of the residents appear to have been wallowing in something else which did not come in tins: and, maybe, the hollow rumbling caused by the trundling of sombre casks along the highway at dead of night, may be linked up with a . certain unusual exhibition of “spirits.” Many and varied were the tricks resorted to by the amateur salvors in their efforts to swell their stocks. One of these must be specially mentioned. This was the trailing over the sea bottom of a stout magnet on the end of a line to attract the separate tins of butter. Many were obtained in this ingenious manner. One very remarkable thing about the drift of the wreckage was the way much of it practically hung together in long raft-like sheets, ,so that, driven as it was by a' southerly breeze, on the ‘inside northerly set” of the current, it is not surprising that great quantities brought up on the shore almost in one spot. One boatman who collected his catch on the beach at Little Manly was credibly reported to have “made” in the vicinity of two hundred pounds for a few hours’ work among the drifting butter and dripping—for which he found (as did all others) .an immediate sale at highly remunerative “bargain”, prices. Tn the distribution by current and wind, of the contents and pieces of the ship itself, niany very interesting things have been noted. The finding of the ship’s butcher’s block within thirty-six hours, stranded at Newcastle, is efuite remarkable, and is one of the most extraordinary instances of current and wind drift combined

that has come under notice on this <oa ( «t. Within twenty-four hours of the breaking-up of the ship, ’portions o’*, the flooring of the freezing chambers were washing up cm the rocks just inside Port Jackson: yet only now, eight days afterwards, are the broken cork remains of the sides of those chambers washing around, the same spot. Sometimes the inside set of the current from the south—normally a series of compensating eddies working back against the great south-flowing current —is much stronger than at other times. Whatever it was at the time that the vessel struck, there is convincing evidence in tbo distribution of the wreckage that it Was unusually strong immediately following the accident.