THE GREAT STORM.

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXVI, Issue 20649, 25 June 1935, Page 15

THE GREAT STORM.

Amazing Experience of Three Fishermen. ORDEAL ON A ROCK. (Special to the 44 Star.”) SYDNEY; June 19. For the first two days of this week, the New South Wales coast was swept by a cyclonic storm of tremendous power. Happily lor us, the centre of the cyclone did not reach the shore. For, according to Mr Mares, our chief meteorological authority—if it had struck the city—it would have been the most disastrous storm experienced in recent history. As it was, the people safe on land enjoyed a magnificent display of crashing billows and widespread stretches of “ flaming foam.*' But for those whom business or pleasure had induced to “ go down to the sea in ships,” it was a very different matter. We got our first intimation of the coming tempest when the Monowai crept late into port, showing evident sign of a desperate struggle, and later the Mariposa arrived from Auckland nearly twelve hours overdue. Those on board told of mountainous seas and violent gales, and though the disturbance then raging far out in the Tasman was still a long way off, we soon had ample evidence of its force and fury. Gigantic Surf. The heaviest surf known for the past 25 years broke upon our coast, pounding with gigantic power on all the beaches, and inflicting damage already estimated at many thousands of pounds. From Bronte, Googee, Bondi and Manly, from every seaside resort between Port Hacking and Newcastle, have come startling tales of the wrack -and ruin that the great seas left in their train—netting and platforms and boat sheds swept away or broken up, enclosed baths silted or filled with loose rocks and shingle, boats and yachts and launches stove in ot destroyed. The tremendous onrush of the surf undermined and shattered stone-faced embankments on all the waterfronts and choked the beaches with debris. A single instance may give some idea of the almost irresistible power of the storm at its height. At Cpogee a huge mass of rock estimated to weigh at least 20 tons was carried bodily over the surrounding crags and lodged in the middle of one of the enclosed baths near the beach. Amid this gigantic conflict of wind and water, shipping was almost helpless, and most of the smaller vessels made headlong for the nearest shelter. A few boats, regardless of the menacing tempest and heedless of all warnings, ventured out on Sunday, bent on business or pleasure, and they all had cause to regret their temerity, which led in some instances to most tragic results. # Two Lives Lost. In one case, two lives were sacrificed. A yacht was being towed down along the coast from Newcastle to Sydney, where it was to be delivered to a new owner. It had put into Terrigal—a little north of the Hawkesburv—for the night. At daybreak on Monday, the yacht left its shelter, towed by a launch manned by two Terrigal fishermen. Soon after it had started on the southern course, it was seen to be in difficulties. But those watching on shore could do nothing to help. A tug, sent out from Newcastle in response to an SOS message, was unable to make headway: and after a splendid exhibition of skilful and courageous seamanship, the two boats foundered in sight of shore and those on board disappeared. But an even more dramatic story centres round the adventures of another boat’s crew, who, after facing the last extremity of peril, were rescued after terrible suspense from seemingly inevitable destruction. Last Sunday morning three men set out from Gunnamatta Bay (in Port Hacking, south of Cronulla) on a fishing trip. They were John Lynch (40 years). John Sanders (23) and Edward Parker (21), all used to the sea and good swimmers. They went outside Port Hacking and a little southward, and off Wattamolla (a scenic reserve, now in process of being roaded by relief workers) they had good luck. Engrossed in their fishing, they did not notice the rising sea, and did not observe that they had been carried by the drift close to a “ bombora ” (the name given by our Italian fishermen to the tremendous eddy over half-hidden rocks, not far from the river mouth. A Terrible Experience. Lynch saw a great wave lifting, but before he could warn the others or do anj-thing to save them, the launch was swamped and they were struggling in the water. When they rose to the surface they were close to a kerosene tin. which had floated up from the wreck, and to this for the moment they all clung. But it evidently could not support them all, and, in spite of the heavy surf. Lynch, as the oldest, and the best swimmer, let go and tried to reach the shore. “By hell! He was a hero,” said one of his comrades, as he told the story later. For though the rocks were about a hundred yards away. Lynch was wearing two suits of clothes and a heavy coat to keep out the cold: the surf was breaking furiousl)': and it was only by a desperate effort that he reached the foot of the cliffs. Parker and Sanders, clinging to the kerosene tin, were washed on to the rocks after him. and, by almost miraculous good luck, the wave lifted them on to a fiat ridge of rock about thirty feet above the sea level —the only ledge, apparently, on which they could have found safety within many miles of that spot Lynch was still lying exhausted on the edge of the rocks, with the waves washing o\*er him, and his companions, by a great effort, dragged him out of their reach. For the time they were safe, but they had lost or thrown aside most of their clothing in the fierce fight I for life, they had no food or shelter, 1 and the heavy sea seemed to shut off all hope of rescue. The cliffs at the foot of which the castaways had lodged are about 250 ft in height and almost unscalable. Pai-* ker made a desperate attempt to reach ' the top. but was beaten and had to return. Then Sanders, climbing up about fifty feet, reached another ledge, with loose soil, where, burrowing in the sand, he found shelter, covering hims?lf with the coarse and prickly scrub which is the only vegetation there. But Lynch and Parker could not manage the climb and spent a wretched night at the foot *ol the cliff, huddled together for mu-

tual warmth. Of course the alarm was given, two aeroplanes were sent out to scour the coastal waters, and the destroyer Voyager was dispatched from Garden Island to assist in the search. But, though the wreckage of the launch was discovered near Wattamolla, no sign of the crew was found, and they had been given up for lost when, eighty hours after the)' had reached the rocks, their signals were seen from the top of the cliff and a rescue was effected.