THE STORY OF THE WRECK.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 25, 22 June 1907, Page 22

THE STORY OF THE WRECK.

Nine of the survivors of the ill-fated steamer Kia Ora, all members of the crew, arrived in Auckland, via Onehunga, by the s.s. Rarawa on Saturday. They were taken off the beach by the Rarawa’s boat on Friday afternoon, and, after running down to New Plymouth, were brought back to Auckland, where most of them reside. From them the story of the disaster was gleaned. None of the officers or engineers came on, preferring to remain with the survivors, who are still encamped on the ■beach. Those who arrived on Saturday arc: W. Hayes (assistant steward), Thomas Chambers (A. 8. W. Hodgson (fireman), W. Dunning (fireman), W. Symes •( fireman), D. Forbes (A. 8. J. Morris (A. 8. W. Betts (cook), F. Martensen (A. 8.

From the details secured from them It appears that the plight of the survivors was by no means as serious as was at first indicated, and their- hardships were less severe than earlier news led the public to believe. Still, as one eaid, it was no drawing-room ping-pong party, and all are very glad that it is over. '

A severe shock, which threw many of those on board out of their bunks, was the first indication of disaster. The vessel was steaming full speed ahead at the time, and she struck with great force on the jagged rocks which form the riritoki Reef. This reef stands about half-a-mile from the shore, just awash, with deep water on either side. It is not very long, and had the Kia Ora been but a few yards on, either side of her then course, she would have passed clear of all danger, and the tragedy would not have been written.

With a rending shock she crashed into the middle of the pile' of jagged mushroom rocks, and he;' plates, torn like so much admitted floods of Water into the hull.

Passengers and crew realised their peril from the moment of the shock, and streamed up on to the deck. Women were there, and children, but there was no panic, nd hysteria, all whose duties did not call them to the launching of the boats waited with the utmost calmness, and orders were given and carried out. with almost military precision. The night was calm, there was NO WIND AND LITTLE SWELL. But for this, not a sou! would have lived to tell the tale, say the survivors, rough weather would have meant the doom of all. Captain Blaeklock Was in his cabin ■when the shock canted and a second after he was on deck and was directing bis erew as to the taking of measures for the preservation of the lives of those aboard. The large lifeboat was quickly swung out, but when the crew came to lower her they found that just below her was the point of a huge jagged rock, upon ■which she would have been crushed to splinters. While she was still swung outward, the Kia Ora rolled, and the boat crashed against her side, and was so badly crushed by <ne blow' as to be rendered useless. This was A SERIOUS MISHAP, for the lifeboat would have comfortably held all on board. No time was wasted in vain regrets, however, and attention van immediately paid to the smaller

boat. In this the women and children were placed; she was. lowered away, under the charge of the; second officer, and went clear of the ship. Meantime, others were at work on the life-raft at the stern of the vessel, while the male passengers and crew put on lifebelts, released lifebuoys, and took whatever steps were possible to save their lives. By some means the liferaft became entangled, and before shu could be freed, within twenty minutes of the first shock, the vessel parted and sank, disappearing from sight. She had gradually slipped backwards off the reef, and when she sank, all on board were left struggling in the water. Efforts were made to save these, but some were unable to keep afloat, and it was then that the fatalities occurred. Some were left floating on the sun deck, which parted from the vessel as she sank and floated clear of the wreck. AT THE MOMENT OF SINKING the rigging and the mast gave way; the rigging parted, and the raft, released from its entanglements, floated to the surface, a number of those in the water clambered aboard', and those on the floating sun deck also transferred to the safer craft. When all who could be found had been picked up the life-raft was take* in tow by the boat. The latter was overloaded, having sixteen aboard, when she was supposed to take thirteen, but the smooth water enabled her to float with ease. Through the night she drifted down the coast, carried that way by the set of the current and the wind, and when day dawned she was six miles below the scene of the wreck. Here a strip of sandy beach was observed, and for this the survivors made, a landing being effected without any great difficulty. The life-raft went ashore first, being safest in the surf. It was followed in by the boat, and the party were all soon on the col<l, inhospitable beach. Fires were quickly lighted, the matches in the hermetically sealed tins provided under the Government regulations rendering this possible. Mr. de Wolfe, chief officer, and another, went in search of assistance, and, after some time, they found' a farmhousg,-’ where assistance was obtained. A’man was sent to Marakopa to notify the . wreck, and to bring further assistance. About three o’clock next morning the settlers reached the castaways with food and clothing, and at daylight it was decided, as it was impossible for any rescue tto be effected from seaward where they were, to go further North to l Nukuharaki Bay. One man, whose leg was broken, was carried to the top of the intervening range, and rode down on a pack horse, and an old lady of seventy, who had received a severe scalp wound, was tenderly assisted over the rough journey. Rough it was indeed, over a Maori bridle track knee deep in mud, through dense bush, and over mountainous country. Half a dozen miles, perhaps, from point to point, but involving (seven hours of hard walking. Just before the bay was reached, the welcome sound of the Rarawa’s whistle was heard, and the beach was reached as she dropped anchor. A boat containing Dr. Wylie, of New Plymouth, was sent ashore from the Rarawa. a safe landing being made through the surf. The doctor worked like a Trojan, and, after getting ashore, set the injured man's leg, stitched up the scalp wound in the lady passenger’s head, and attended to the remainder. The trip back to the Rarawa through the surf was a trying one, and only nine of the crew decided to face it. The remainder of the survivors were taken to Kawhia by the s.s. Rothesay on Sunday, and those not booked to that port came on to Onehunga by the s.s. Muritai on Tuesday. FIREMAN HODGSON’S GRAPHIC ACCOUNT. Mr Walter Hodgson, a fireman of the ill-fated steamer, had a thrilling experience to relate of the terrible interval through which the Kia Ora and her human freight passed before the maw of the Pacific claimed her shattered hull as its own. Standing near the rail, hatless and haggard, with one hand clasping a singlet—the only relic of his sea kit —he presented, as the Rarawa worked into the wharf on Saturday, a true pre-

of the shipwrecked sailorman, and to-Jiim accordingly a “Star” representative, made his confident way. • “Can I tell you anything?” he answered, with a grim smile, to the pressman’s first query. “Can I tell you anything ?- and his hand went up to the back of his head ruminatively. “Well, I was there, you know, so perhaps—” but here he broke off to receive the congratulations of numerous friends.

Presently, however, he was persuaded to return to the burning subject of the moment. “Yes,” he said, picking up the thread, “I was in bunk at the time; fast asleep, and suddenly woke up grabbing at my blankets, which seemed to be falling off. Shock! No, there was very little shock at first, or I should have felt it. She must have just got pretty well broadside on to it, and immediately heeled over. But then eame a succession of terrible lurches, and all of us below rushed up on deck, nearly naked as we were, and still half asleep, and not knowing what to make of it.' LAUNCHING THE BOATS.

“It was pitch dark, with a heavy mist covering everything, so it was impossible to see where we were. So we all set about launching the boats. Everythi»g on board was quiet. It seemed to me —- looking back —that it was too quiet. No one quite yet realised how bad our case was. This very' likely accounted for the fact that there was no such thing as panic, or even very great alarm to start with. We just worked at the boats, while the women and children waited. “Orders! No, there didn’t seem to be any ordering. The skipper was working at'the boats with the rest of us.” STARBOARD BOAT SMASHED. “ She was all this while lurching terribly. and just as our boat was swinging "out we could see rocks below in the ebb of the wash. It was too late, however, to pull her back, and crash she squelched on to ’em. That was the end of her, and it was no use watching her bits swill off. A RESPITE. “So, as she still appeared to be clinging together fairly well, some of us rushed back below to get our clothes on. It was deadly cold, and to remain naked out in it was pretty well as bad as being drowned below. The other boat had been got out, and was loaded with women and children, none of the men going in her that I know of. KIA ORA BUCKLES UP. “ And then things happened fearfully sudden. The boat had got away, lifebelts were being served out, and some of us were trying to get clear the raft, which was lashed astern. It didn’t come easy, though, having got caught somehow, and in the middle of it her back broke. The grinding and lurching had been terrible for what seemed quite a while, and -suddenly up went the fore part almost at right angles it seemed, at first, and then the after part sagged away and almost immediately began to slip off. The sea had swung her round so that the stern hung over deep water, just before she broke a lead thrown aft, showing seven fathoms with no bottom.” THE RAFT. “ A number of the crew and passengers were near the raft, and as the stern disappeared they went with it. Luckily for them, the mast gave away almost at the same moment, and this released the raft, which floated up, and was soon seized hold of by the struggling men in the water. Another very lucky thing was the fact that tlie vessel had filled with water before sinking, otherwise the suction would have taken them all to the bottom, and probably drowned most of them. The sea was also dead calm, although a big swell was up. AT THE FUNNEL. “ I was, at this time, near the funnel, and the captain, Bill Symes, and 1 clung to the funnel stays and signal halyards, which had got twisted round it. Just a little way off was the little pantry boy, who was clinging to the mast span, which had sagged down, and the poor little beggar was screeching horribly, and crying to us to save him. “ The skipper turned to me, and said, ‘ I would give my life to save the boy,’ but just then we could do nothing but cling to the halyards, every moment expecting to see the end of it. The water was surging up and down,'and in between

the washes we could see pretty well hcV whole length, buckled right up in a bow. But she was gradually slipping baek-into deep water. The skipper said, ‘My God, this is awful! ’ You see, the whole show seemed to be up for us, and we were helpless. I had a lifebelt on, the skipper was grasping a buoy, but Symes had nothing. The skipper refused, however, to get into the buoy when Bill advised him to do so, saying that it would hold up the two ot them. LAST OF THE CAPTAIN. "We had been clinging about ten minutes to the funnel, I suppose, when the end came. Just before she disappeared, the captain began to put his legs through the buoy, but at that moment we were all hurled into the water by the falling funnel, and he must have got caught and held head downwards by the floating buoj’. No one saw him again, the last I heard, just before we went over, was his voice encouraging the boy. IN THE WATER. As the vessel went down the water, inside her burst open the decks and hatches and floated off the big fore and after, on which several climbed, including the pantry-boy. I had seen the collapse coming, and had just said “Goodbye” to Symes, when I found myself in the water. It was too dark to see anything or to know what was happening to the others, but presently I heard Symes’ voice calling to me, and I answered him. I couldn’t swim, and he yelled out, “Can’t you hold out any longer.” I forget what I called back, but I was in no danger of sinkin" right away as I had a belt on. There was no wreckage about, and I saw nothing else for what seemed a fearful while, and then the boat suddenly came along. It was half-past five, so I must have been in the water for about two hours. The boat shortly after picked up the raft. We could see the land every now and again, and then it went out of sight again. The first to get ashore was the raft, in charge of the chief engineer, and we followed about half-an-hour later. SAFE ASHORE. When we landed it was under a steep hill covered with flax, too rough to elimb over. All we knew of our locality was a general 'idea where Marakopa lay, so we immediately set about to light a fire and make the women and children as comfortable as possible, while the chief engineer and chief mate set off to seek assistance. We had no food save one tin of fish and a few hard biscuits, with' a little water, while several of the party were more or less hurt, one man having a broken leg, while an old lady, Mrs. Cox, of Raglan, was in a pretty knocked about condition. OVER THE HILLS. At half-past seven next morning two others and myself started off over tho hills. We were told that it was not much more than four miles to the nearest settlement, but it seemed like forty to me. “I wouldn’t do it again for £30,” he ejaculated emphatically. We got there in the afternoon, dead beat, just in time to see the Rarawa steaming round the headland on her way, back after picking up those of the crew left on the beach. None of us can speak too well of the rescuers, as they did everything possible for us, while one of them, who carried the man with the broken leg up the cliff from the beach, accomplished a feat little short of marvellous.