STEAMER SINKS.

Otago Witness, Issue 3911, 26 February 1929, Page 68

STEAMER SINKS.

SYDNEY HEADS DISASTER.

SURVIVORS’ THRILLING STORIES.

(From Our Own Correspondent.)

SYDNEY, February 14. The sinking of the 600-ton steamer, the Annie M. Miller, off Sydney Heads last-Friday night, occurred with startling suddenness. During the trip up the coast the vessel developed a slight list, but there was nothing in that to cause alarm. Then, with practically no warning, the crew was face to face with stark tragedy, and only six out of 12 members lived to tell the tale—a tale as tragic as any ever told of the sea. All disasters reveal heroes, and this one was no exception to the rule.

The survivors probably owe their lives to the efforts of Able Seaman Kenneth M Rae, who swam to a lifeboat when it wms washed away from the stricken vessel, cleared it of water, and rowed it back to the boat to pick up his companions. M'Rae told a remarkable story of the sinking of the vessel, and of the starting events that followed. “I vias lying in my bunk,” he said, “ half asleep, listening to the thud of the engines, when I heard the mate shout: ‘Get out the lifeboats.’ I pulled on one boot, but the ship’s list to port increased so alarmingly while I did so that I left the other and rushed on to the deck. There Was a strong sea running, and the wind was making it choppy. The ship was leaning over at such an acute angle that there was no chance of getting the starboard lifeboat into the water. Under the direction of Captain Pilling, who was on the bridge, and the mate, Mr Rowera, we therefore worked desperately to get the port side boat out. One end swung clear, but ropes held the other, and I went down to the main deck, which by this time was almost level with the water, and cut the ropes. A big wave lifted the lifeboat out of her chocks and carried it away. I was not sure what happened to me, but I know that I suddenly found myself in the water. PICKING UP SURVIVORS. “ I swam in the direction which I thought the lifeboat had drifted, and very soon I saw it, showing white against the water. I clambered in and baled, Then I rowed in the direction I had come, and found all that was left of the Annie M. Miller —hatches and splintered woodwork. I called out, and a voice answered me. It was Woodbury, the fireman. I helped him aboard, and we picked up in succession Bennett, Wiieatley, Petersen, and the second engineer, Mr Tracy. We cruised about for a long time looking for the others. If there had been any other survivors I am certain that we would have found them I think the captain, the mate and the rest of the crew must have gone down with the ship. When we were lire tliat there were no other survivors we jegan to row up the coast towards the Heads. We saw the lights of the steameis that were searching for us, the Corrimal and the Captain Cook, before they saw us. The Corrimal passed to the windward, and the crew, in consequence, were unable to hear our shouts, but the Captain Cook picked us out with her searchlights I think we would have got safely into Sydney Harbour, as was our intention The boat was unsinkable. Nevertheless we were very relieved when MeameT b ° aid the pilot

CAPTAIN’S BRAVERY. AH the survivors pay remarkable tribute to- the bravery of Captain H. S. Pilling, who in the crisis “ was fine, giving his orders without any fuss, and without any show of fear in the face of certain death.” “ Steady there, boys ■ don t get excited,” he said, as he stood on the bridge, and he added: “ Look out. Spo s going down any minute now.” With a flare that was never lighted in one hand, and with a watchful eye on his doomed ship, Captain Pilling directed his crew to safety when he must have realised that he had not the slightest hope of gaining safety himself. “He was the bravest man I ever met,” was the earnest tribute paid to the missing captain by the ship’s cook, George Wheatley. . Just as the boat was sinking the captain called his last order. It was: “ All hands save themselves.” THE COOK’S) EXPERIENCES. Wheatley also told a thrilling story of the experiences of the crew. “ The deck of the ship,” he said, “ was inclined to port at about an angle of about 75 degrees, and I was on the starboard side, alongside the captain. We had fired one flare, and I was handing the captain a second flare when the boat took its tragic plunge. The captain gave orders to the crew up to the very moment of the sinkii . and then went down with her. It was all over in five minutes. Fully half an hour before she foundered the vessel had a list, and was labouring, and, though I am not a seaman, I knew that we could not reach port safely. The captain ordered all hands on deck about five minutes before the vessel sank, and everybody, with the exception of the captain and the mate, had lifebelts on. I was helping the skipper to send up flares, but we had time to let only one go. All the crew, without exception, were on the deck when the boat went down. As the ship went down I heard one man cry: ‘My God, I’ll be drowned.’ I heard another man speaking of his wife and family.” ENGINES KEPT GOING.

“ When the steamer turned over,” continued Wheatley, “1 vs flung out clear,

but the captain was, I think, thrown the other way, and the boat turn®! over on him. Some of the missing men jumped overboard after the lifeboat, which had got away from them, and the Annie M. Miller must have turned on them too. The engines were going to the very time sho sank, and I think the propellers might have caught some of them as they went down. When I struck the water I commenced to swim, but the suction from the sinking ship dragged me down until my lungs seemed to be bursting, and then suddenly I shot up to the surface. I seemed to be in the water for about a quarter or an hour before I found support in the shape of a hatch. Then I tore off my lifebelt and tried to free myself of my heavy clothes. Every wave buffetted me, and several times I lost ,my grip. I was not worrying so much' about reaching land as I was about sharks. Every time a piece of wreckage grazed me I thought that it was a shark. I could hear the other men calling out, and then M‘Rae came to me with a lifeboat. I could not have held on to the hatch much longer. I was utterly exhausted. It seemed to be an hour before we were picked up.” LOCKED IN CABIN.

Mr J. A. Tracy, the second engineer, was the sole surviving officer of the Annie M. Miller. “ I was called to the deck five minutes before she sank,” he said, “ and I left the engines full on, because I did not have any idea that we were in, such danger. Tho chief engineer was assisting to launch one of the boats. ‘ Where’s your lifebelt, Arthur? ’ he called to me. I told him that it was in my cabin, and he accompanied me to get it. J put on my lifebelt and turned to look for my certificate, when all of a sudden the door of the cabin jammed. Itried my hardest to open it, but I could not, so I called to the chief who had remained outside. He smashed the door < pen and released me. We then returned to the deck. Efforts had been made meanwhile to launch the port lifeboat without success. Suddenly the ship lurched, and th boat was thrown clear. Mr Tracy declared that hfe saw that the side of the boat was stove in, and he did not heed the captain’s order to jump for the boat. Mr Tracy was clinging to the side rail when the ship sank. The chief engineer, Mr Andrews, had his arm around his subordinate’s waist, and Andrews said to Tracy :“ We will go down together, Arthur.” Just then a huge wave struck the ship, which immediately turned over and sank. “ I never saw Andrews again,” added Mr Tracy.

And so ended the career of the Annie M. Miller. The vessel had been only a few months in Australian waters, where she had made an inauspicious start. The vessel' was purchased in Scotland, and on the voyage across the Indian Ocean ran short of provisions and coal. She reached port with an almost starving crew and with considerably less than a ■i of coal on board. Deck fittings had already been used in the furnaces.