E T MILES
The following memoir was written by Captain Edward Thomas Miles (1849-1944). It is one of a number about his life that he hand wrote and left for his descendants. Some of these exist in multiple copies, transcribed over the years and passed down the family.
This delightful and fascinating note was probably first assembled around 1920-23 as certain passages duplicate those found in other memoirs written at this time. Several copies exist in different branches of the family, including in England.
Many of the Captain's papers are now in the National Archives of Australia in Canberra while copies of others are to be found in the Archives Office of Tasmania in Hobart, and in the collection of the Ringwood Historical Society in Victoria.
MEMOIRS OF MY WIFE
by E T Miles
When H.R.H. Prince Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh, laid the foundation stone of St. David’s Cathedral, Hobart, in 1866, twelve Sunday School girls in white dresses and blue rosettes took part in the Ceremony. One of these rosetted girls, a daughter of Mr. T. A. Reynolds (one of Hobart’s highly esteemed citizens, sometime Mayor of the City) is the subject of these memoirs.
When I first made the acquaintance of Miss Charlotte Reynolds, she was a handsome, lovable girl with beautiful hair hanging in ringlets around her happy smiling face and I, a young ship’s officer having just passed my examination and obtained a Certificate of Competency as Master Mariner, was Chief Officer of the Brig “Jane”, Captain Westbrook master.
The acquaintance blossomed into a friendship which ripened into an enduring love that time could not wither nor the shadow of death destroy. Our courtship days were very happy, my ship away on six to seven week voyages, with about a week in port. That week was a very joyful one for us. The whole of my time when not on duty was spent with my fiancee at her parents’ home, when every member of the family seemed pleased to have their prospective son at home, the sorrow of the partings always mellowed by the thought of the loving welcome when the ship returned to port.
On one of these voyages the “Jane” sailed from Hobart to Adelaide and was there chartered to load flour for Brisbane. The voyage was long and stormy, occupying nearly a month. During the trip I had an unforgettable dream which I related to Capt. Westbrook at the breakfast table next morning.
In my dream our ship was wrecked on a solitary uninhabited island. After landing through the surf, the captain and I wandered inland, searching for water and to our surprise, came across an open grave. Looking into the grave we saw my fiancee’s body lying there fully dressed face upward. The dream alarmed me but Capt. Westbrook jocularly replied “Oh you are crazy, you have that young lady on the brain.” I was very worried, however, and anxious to arrive in Port and get the letters which I knew would be awaiting me there. In those letters, which were three weeks old, nothing unusual had occurred. Still, I was uneasy and cabled our arrival, adding “are all well?” and received the reply, “Charlotte had severe attack of rheumatic fever. Now out of danger, making splendid recovery.” Later, when we came to compare notes, on the night of my dream, the doctors declaring her case hopeless, with the parents’ consent, adopted a drastic course which would probably kill or cure the patient. The result was remarkable, the pulse responding instantly and thereafter, steady improvement continued. When I arrived in Hobart a month later, my fiancee greeted me with a loving welcome apparently little worse for her severe illness.
During my stay in Hobart on this occasion, I was appointed to the command of the Barque “Freetrader”, my first command and the ship on which, a little later, my wife and I spent a very happy honeymoon. The picture of the old ship of happy memories still hangs over my writing desk with the last photo of my dear old wife beneath it.
On being promoted to the command of the “Freetrader” I obtained permission from the owners to carry my wife with me and thereupon pressed my request for an early marriage. My fiancee being very young and still feeling the effects of her serious illness, it was decided to defer fixing a date for our marriage until I returned from the following voyage which was to New Zealand.
My first voyage to Dunedin and back to Hobart occupied only twenty seven days which was a record for a sailing ship, and I was very proud of my success and prouder still when it was definitely decided that our marriage should take place on my return from the following voyage, in about six weeks.
That week in Hobart was a very happy one, the parents making arrangements for our wedding, we the principals in the event selecting a residence, choosing furnishings, discussing where, when and by whom we were to be married, who were to be the bridesmaids, the erection of a large marquee in the garden where the wedding guests were to be entertained and scores of other details that all had to be decided in those few days before I sailed so that the marriage could take place on the Wednesday following my return to Hobart about the end of December. And so our goodbyes on this occasion were said very cheerfully in anticipation of the happy event on my return.
In those days there was no telegraphic communication between Tasmania and New Zealand, consequently, captains unable to communicate with their owners were compelled to use their own judgment in chartering their vessels, doing what appeared to be most profitable for the owners. On leaving Hobart for Dunedin on this occasion, I expected to return in ballast to Hobart and in that case should arrive back in five weeks, towards the end of December. But on arrival at Dunedin I was offered an exceptionally good freight for a cargo to Auckland which was a distinct advantage to the owners and I had to decide between my owner’s interest and the postponement of our marriage. I could have turned the ship round and gone back to Hobart as arranged and said nothing about having refused a profitable charter, the owners, in all probability, would never have been any the wiser, the wedding would have taken place as arranged and there would have been no disappointment but the knowledge that I played the man false who gave me my first command, would have haunted me, so, because “to do right were wisdom in the scorn of consequence”.
I accepted the charter and as a consequence, postponed our marriage for at least six weeks because from Auckland I must go to Newcastle thence with coal to Hobart. Unfortunately, my fiancee and her parents, who were making all the marriage arrangements, could not possible receive a letter advising them of the altered route until about the date originally fixed for the wedding, about the end of December, and there was much disappointment when all the preparations had to be postponed for at least another six weeks. Nevertheless I found a happy smiling girl awaiting me with a loving welcome on my arrival.
I arrived in Hobart on Sunday Feb. 8th 1874 and the wedding was arranged for the following Wednesday Feb. 11th. There was much to do in the intervening three days. I took charge of the erection of the marquee and the flag decorations and busied myself with the house furnishings which my old mother supervised, the parents of my fiancee making all the wedding arrangements.
It was known that there was a number of prospective wedding couples awaiting the consecration of the Cathedral on Tuesday afternoon Feb. 10th, all anxious to be first married in the new Cathedral but Mr. Reynolds forestalled them, for while the “Freetrader” was still sailing up the harbour on Sunday he saw Dean Bromby and arranged for our wedding to take place at 11 a.m. On Wednesday, thus securing the honour of the first marriage in the new St. David’s Cathedral, much to the chagrin of several other waiting couples who missed their opportunity. Dean Bromby and the Revd. C. P. Green performed the ceremony, both making suitable presentations to the bride to commemorate the first marriage in the Cathedral. Around the wharves there was a great display of bunting, every ship in the harbour being dressed from truck to deck and the flags of all the business firms flown for the occasion.
About seventy guests congregated in the marquee and took part in the wedding breakfast, thereafter dancing and singing until nearly midnight. Meantime the ship was being loaded with timber for Adelaide and on Saturday night the Captain and his young bride went on board and when the land breeze came away about midnight, cast off from the wharf and started on their adventurous voyage of life. The wind in the Bay being south-east, several tacks were necessary to clear Bruni Island, the ship plunged into a head sea with a motion very uncomfortable for landsmen and as the Captain walked the deck with his young wife he expected her to be affected by the motion, asked if she preferred to go below to her cabin, she replied that she “was enjoying the motion and never felt better. She was an ideal sailor’s wife, for all our voyages together she was never once troubled with sea sickness. The voyage was fairly good, occupying only eight days. Our agents in Port Adelaide were H. Meucke & Co. During the ship’s stay of ten days in port we were the guests of Mr. and Mrs. Meucke and their kindness to the honeymoon couple resulted in a sincere friendship which continued until death dissolved it. The younger children of the Meucke’s were bonny twin boys, then about eighteen months old; one of them was accidentally drowned while still a boy and the other became Dr. Meucke, who married Australia’s celebrated singer, Miss Ada Crossly.
The “Freetrader” traded a cargo of bark for trans-shipment into the “Lady Jocelyn” lying at the Sandridge Pier, Port Melbourne. The Captain of this 2000 ton ship (a large ship in those days), George Jenkins, was a splendid type of a gentlemanly old sea captain and when he found that the captain of the “Freetrader” had his young wife on board insisted on our leaving the smaller ship and taking up our quarters on board his ship superbly fitted ship where there was every convenience and comfort for saloon passengers and he made our stay on board very enjoyable. It was with much regret that we heard two years later of his disappearance through one of the large stern ports on a voyage from Australia to London, whether the result of accident or design was never known.
Thence we sailed to Hobart in ballast and there loaded a cargo for Dunedin. There being no steamers in the trade between Hobart and New Zealand ports, all sailing vessels had their meagre passenger accommodation crowded. The “Freetrader” had berthing accommodation for six passengers in addition to the captain and officers but it was quite common to have a half a dozen additional passengers sleeping in shake downs as best they could. Some of these passengers became firm friends of the captain and his wife, the friendship becoming stronger with the growth of years. Our agents in Dunedin were Gibbs & Co., Timber Merchants, the principal being an old Tasmanian.
We spent many pleasant evenings at their house meeting them at Whist Parties – Mrs. Andrewartha, an old Tasmanian, mother of Mr. Gibbs, Mr., afterwards Sir Robert Stout, Captain Orkney, Mr. Bridger and others.
There is an incident in connection with this voyage to Dunedin worth relating as it demonstrates the young wife’s absolute confidence in her husband’s ability to handle his ship and the coolness and courage she exhibited in all the later dangers by storm and shipwreck. The run to Dunedin heads in six days was very good but on arrival at the heads with a S.W. gale blowing, the tug boat would not come out. After waiting two days the Captain decided to start at daylight and beat his ship into the harbour under sail, a somewhat difficult proposition as the channel inside the heads was very narrow. When the ship was under weigh, the tug came out and took in tow another ship, the “Southern Cross” also from Hobart and in towing tried to pass the “Freetrader” in the narrowest part of the channel with the result that a collision occured, the stern of the “Freetrader” being smashed and the steering gear destroyed and the vessel run aground on the opposite side of the channel.
The captain’s wife was sleeping in her berth at the extreme end of the cabin and the impact awakened her and she sat up in bed. A passenger, Mrs. Clark, rushed down and told her “the vessel’s stern was all smashed and the ship ashore”. The captain’s wife asked “Is there any water coming in?”. The answer was “No”. “All right, I am going to sleep again” came from the wife.
As soon as the captain could leave the deck he went below and found his wife fast asleep. When awakened she said “I wasn’t alarmed, I knew you were on deck and would let me know if there was any danger”, thus illustrating the confidence, coolness and courage which were her characteristics all through life. It might be worthy of note here that when an enquiry was held, The “Southern Cross” and tugboat were held to be in default and paid for all the damage.
On returning to Hobart we loaded for Lyttleton and there my wife made the acquaintance of many old friends who welcomed her to their homes, among them being members of the Derbridge family who have been our firm friends during all the years that have since passed.
On the return trip from Lyttleton to Hobart an incident occurred which narrowly missed becoming a tragedy. Beating through Foveaux Straits on a beautiful fine day with a light breeze from the westward, ship on the port tack heading towards the West Cape. As we approached the shore the wind got lighter and when about five miles from the shore and about to tack to the southward, it fell calm. From 4 until 8 P.M. there was not a breath of wind and the flood tide which ebbs very strongly towards the shore, was carrying the ship into a very dangerous position. With 50 fathoms of water under us there was no possibility of anchoring and a precipitous rocky shore to which we were fast drifting less than a mile distant, the position was critical, unless we got a breeze sufficiently strong to give the ship steerage way, we must inevitably strike the rocks and become a total wreck. To remain on board until the ship actually struck and smashed up would probably result in the loss of life but until she actually struck there was always the hope that a breeze would come and save her.
The long boat was put over the side and preparation made for a hurried exit at the last moment. I had previously told my wife what the position was and suggested that she pack a few useful articles of clothing which could be thrown into the boat at the last moment. This done, she sat on her bundle on the hatch combing ready to get quickly into the boat when ordered, the coolest, most collected and apparently the least perturbed of any person on board. The captain and crew were watching intently what appeared to be a light breeze coming along and rippling the water; if it reached us before we actually struck the rocks. we might possibly drag off. Fortunately when it reached us, the yards were on the right cant and as the sails filled, the vessel moved ahead, and though so close that the white foam of the back wash from the rock was all around her, she gathered way and dragged off the shore. This incident is related as another illustration of the coolness and courage in times of danger that characterised my wife all through a very eventful life.
After making a few more voyages between New Zealand ports and Hobart, Mr. C. W. Turner of Christchurch, owner of a large fleet of foreign going vessels, offered me the Command of his latest purchase the “Rio Loge” which I accepted. On handing over the “Freetrader” to my successor in Hobart, my wife remained with her parents and I proceeded to Lyttleton to take over my new Command. I was very proud of my new ship, the first iron ship I had sailed in, a beautiful model, well sparred, and in excellent order.
My route was to Auckland, Whangaroa, and back to Lyttleton, thence via Auckland to Port Blakely, Puget Sound, North America, for a cargo of oregon. Needless to say, I was pleased at the prospect of making my first foreign voyage as Commander and more pleased that I had a very commodious cabin in which I could make my wife more comfortable than she had been in the “Freetrader”. To join me in Lyttleton my wife had to travel in the schooner “Angus Jessie” (no steamers in the trade then) which was already overcrowded, the only accommodation available being a settee in the open cabin, with not even a curtain for a screen. Consequently, with a full cabin, undressing was out of the question, and even enough water to wash in was obtained with difficulty, and she had to spend nine days in that filthy little cabin without once having an opportunity to change her clothing. Needless to say she was overjoyed at the prospect of meeting her husband again, and leaving the surroundings and conditions of the previous nine days for the comfortable and commodious quarters of the “Rio Loge” of which she soon became the Queen.
Before saying farewell to our honeymoon ship “Freetrader”, an incident at the Bluff, N.Z., is worthy of notice. About six months after our marriage, the “Freetrader” was chartered to load timber at the Bluff for Sydney. The Bluff was then a very small port difficult of access and with limited wharf accommodation. The township consisted of a few workman’s houses scattered round the hills, and in the main street two or three agents’ offices, an Hotel, and a small wooden store with the name “J. Ward, Grocer” over the door. The proprietor, in white apron costume, served his customers and with basket on arm, delivered the goods to the ships, closing his shop door during the delivery process. Later on the grocer married the Hotelkeeper’s daughter and launched out as a grain merchant, eventually becoming a Member of Parliament, Treasurer in the Seddon Government and finally Sir Joseph Ward, Premier of New Zealand. In the interval he became bankrupt and retired from Parliament, but his old confrere Seddon stuck to him, assisted to get him back in Parliament and recommended him for a Knighthood.
It was a bitterly cold wet winter and while lying at the wharf my wife had a severe recurrence of rheumatic fever. As there was no doctor at the visit and under his treatment for a fortnight she was so much improved that he advised it would be quite safe to make the trip in the vessel to Sydney, advising against the suggestion of sending her by steamer. At sea she was the patient, I the doctor and the combination together with the warmer weather as we approached Sydney so improved her condition that on arrival she was able to go ashore and visit her friends. It was however an anxious time but the young wife never complained and bore her suffering with the same courage that she faced danger.
After a happy week with our friends in Lyttleton we started on our long voyage to North America, The prospect of a sixty days voyage without a female companion (the sole occupants of the Cabin being ourselves and the ship’s officers) would have caused a more self centred wife to place her own comfort and pleasure before her wifely duty, but her loyalty and love for her husband which never wavered until she closed her eyes in death surrounded her with a halo that endeared her to all on board from the Chief Officer to the boy and of whom would have risked their lives in her service.
The voyage had the usual changes incidental to a long voyage in a sailing ship, strong westerly gales, running the easting down, strong South East Trades in the tropics, when the little ship ran 3000 miles in 12 days, strong westerlies in the North Pacific, arriving at our destination, Port Townshend, Pugit Sound, in 58 days. Thence we were ordered to Port Blakely 200 miles further up the Sound to load a cargo of oregon, While hundreds of ships flying the Stars and Stripes loaded lumber there for American ports, no vessel had ever before arrived there from New Zealand which in those days was known chiefly as a land of Maories. Port Blakely was a mill port only, all vessels arriving there loaded lumber, the only residents being those connected with the mills.
Lying in the Cove was a U.S. Naval Surveying vessel engaged in making a survey of the Sound, which was officered by U.S. Naval officers, several of whom had their wives on board. When it became known that a New Zealand Maori vessel had arrived, with a N.Z. Maori captain in charge, who had with him a N.Z. Maori wife, some curiosity was exhibited by the survey ship’s officers and their wives who appeared very anxious to meet the Maoris.
The “Rio Loge” anchored in the Cove in the afternoon and there being nothing but a mill to see on shore, my wife and I took our boat and a couple of hands and went out salmon fishing, this place being noted for its salmon. On our return about dusk we found that the captain of the U.S. survey vessel had called and left cards. We were a little surprised at this hurried call.
The next morning an invitation was received to a dinner that evening on board the survey ship, with an apology for the hurry as the survey ship was leaving next morning for a cruise. Although neither my wife nor I were anxious to attend a dress dinner so soon after our arrival, we were in a U.S.
port and could but be courteous and accepted the invitation. When we pulled alongside in our boat at 8 P.M. it was quite dark; an officer was in attendance at the gangway who looked a little surprised when we went on board and the ladies in the cabin also looked surprised when I introduced my wife. Then the cat came out of the bag and they (explained) that they had been led to believe that the Captain and his wife were full blooded Maoris and were curious to see what type of people the Maoris were. The ladies made profuse apologies, all had a hearty laugh and we spent a very enjoyable musical evening on board. This trip was memorable because across the Sound from Port Blakely was a fishing village where coal had just been discovered. On Saturday afternoons my wife and I would cross to this village, returning next morning with fresh meat and other stores. This small village in 1874 is now the City of Seattle the largest northern city in the United States.
We had a lengthy but pleasant passage back to Lyttleton occupying 74 days. About midway we hove to under the lea of Raratonga Island and my wife and I went ashore in our boat, saw the native children in school in the early morning, and loaded our boat with mangoes, bananas, pines, eggs and poultry, returning to the ship about noon and proceeding on our voyage, arriving in Lyttleton towards the end of November.
After discharging our cargo, having nothing special for the vessel to do until Christmas, Mr. Turner commissioned me to proceed to Hobart and purchase a cargo of timber for Lyttleton, which was very cheerful news for the young skipper and his wife who was naturally anxious to see her parents again after their long voyage and more especially so as they would in all probability be in Hobart for Christmas.
The reunion of friends in Hobart was very pleasant. My wife’s parents who had seen very little of her since our marriage suggested that she should stay back with them for a trip and after some consideration, though neither of us looked forward to parting with any pleasure, we decided to please the parents and I sailed away alone for the first time since our marriage.
After discharging our cargo in Lyttleton we made several inter colonial trips finally arriving in Brisbane where I received advice that my wife had developed an attack of the old Rheumatic complaint that nearly cost her life prior to our marriage, and was still seriously ill. I cabled my owners the circumstances and asked to be relieved of the Command on my arrival at Newcastle so that I could go to Hobart. My Chief Officer relieved me at Newcastle and as there was no steamer for Hobart for some days and the “Malcolm” brigantine was leaving that day I left by her and arrived at Hobart after an anxious passage of six days much relieved to find that my wife’s health was improving rapidly.
We had a happy month together in Hobart when I was offered and accepted the command of the barque “Natal Queen” by my former owner H. B. Evans. In that ship, serving his time as an apprentice, was Walter J. Rogers who later was second officer and chief officer in different ships under my command and still later was in command of both sailing and steamships owned by me. He was a capable and trustworthy officer and commander, as brave as he was capable. For many years he was a personal friend of my wife and myself. One of the last letters written by my dear wife was to “her dear friend Captain Rogers” who alas had crossed the Bar before the letter reached his home. I have referred to him here because he was closely associated with us in latter happenings which are unforgettable.
Signs of approaching motherhood made it necessary for my wife to stay on shore and a suitable dwelling was selected, furnished and occupied and I found plenty to do in my spare time getting the garden in order before sailing in my new command.
After several trips to different ports I arrived in Melbourne to find my owner bankrupt and a receiver was put in charge of the ship. While in Melbourne I was advised by cable of the birth of our first born son and as the receiver was in charge of the vessel I left for Hobart by the first steamer and on arrival found my wife and her baby both doing well. Needless to say the father was delighted to see the mother looking so happy cuddling her little baby son.
I had not been long in Hobart when my former employer, C. W. Turner of Christchurch, offered me by cable the command of the barque “Queen of the South” which was then his largest ship. Accepting the offer I left shortly after by steamer for Lyttleton leaving my wife and baby son in Hobart.
Shortly after taking command of the “Queen of the South” she was chartered for a voyage from New Zealand to Adelaide thence to Capetown, South Africa, thence to Mauritius to load a cargo of sugar for New Zealand.
My owner being agreeable to my wife travelling with me, the spacious saloon which had been originally fitted to carry passengers between London and South Africa, was suitably altered and rearranged and when finished the quarters were equal to anything afloat in those days. The partitions were removed and three of the original cabins converted into one sufficiently large to take a full size double bedstead in the centre, a baby’s cot, toilet table and two chests of drawers with an adjoining bathroom and one of the old cabins was reconditioned to accommodate Miss Mary Neal who was to accompany my wife as companion and nurse to the baby son. It was arranged that my wife, son and Miss Neal should join the vessel on arrival in Adelaide and Walter Rogers, who had completed his apprenticeship and obtained a Second Mate’s Certificate, travelled with them and joined the “Queen of the South” as Second Mate. I was delighted to have my wife with me again and our Adelaide and Port Adelaide friends gave us a right royal welcome and made our stay at Port Adelaide most enjoyable.
The voyage round the Leuwin into the S.E. Trades and thence on towards South Africa was without special interest until we reached the South African coast in the vicinity of Algoa Bay when disaster nearly overtook us.
Towards midnight standing to the S.W. on the starboard tack with a hard gale from the N.W. a sudden squall struck the ship and threw her beam ends (she was a very cranky ship at the best). She was so far over that although we cut the topsail halyards the yards would not run down. The lee bulwarks were entirely under water, the sea over the hatches and covering the doors of the lee deck house prevented the watch below getting out until they smashed down the partition and got out on the weather side, with the sea pouring down the cabin companion and skylight it looked as if another few minutes would end the career of the “Queen of the South” but the almost impossible happened. A sudden heavy squall shifting to the S.W. struck the sails aback and straightened her up the topsail yards came down by the run on to the cap. Nothing but what happened, that sudden squall from the opposite quarter, could possibly have saved the ship which was in about the position where the S.S. “Waratah” was supposed to have founded some years later. If that sudden shift had been delayed another five minutes the fate of the “Queen of the South” would have been as mysterious as the “Waratah”.
After putting the ship on port tack, stowing the topsails and making things secure about the deck, I went below and saw my wife and child sleeping as calmly as nothing had happened. I did not disturb them but at the breakfast table that morning when my wife remarked how wet the cabin floor was, I told her how narrowly we had escaped eternity during the night. She replied quite calmly “How fortunate we were on board”. Because if the ship had gone down we should still have been together”.
The weather settling down, a few days later we arrived at Cape Town. Our Agents in Cape Town were Van Der Byl & Co. I drove up to their office with my wife and there met the afterwards celebrated Cecil Rhodes and Jamieson, who had just arrived from what is now known as “Rhodesia”, with the first parcel of diamonds from that locality. Van Der Byl was their Agent and was discussing with them their value when we arrived. Rhodes and Jamieson were introduced to my wife and were very elated about their diamond find and taking one small diamond out of the parcel handed it to my wife telling her it was one of the first discovered, suggested that I should have it set in a ring for her. It was afterwards set and is still in possession of the family. We had lunch and many pleasant chats with Rhodes during our stay in Cape Town but never met him afterwards.
From the Cape we went to Mauritius to load sugar for New Zealand. Our Agents there were Ireland, Fraser & Co. Mr. Davidson, the senior partner, had a very fine home on the windward, cool side of the island about 12 miles from the port known as the “Castle” and my wife and I were invited to stay with them. It was a lovely place on which money had been lavishly spent.
Within sight of the “Castle” was a spacious natural lake. Mr. Davidson had a Ne’er-do-well Engineer brother, very clever in his profession, and the found him employment building a miniature railway round the lake equipped with carriages and engine running under steam, also a model steamer fitted with every detail that made the circuit of the lake under steam with a self-adjusting rudder which was set at the start and brought it back to the starting point. But while these mechanical devices interested me, my wife was more interested in a thickly wooded glen a short distance from the lake where monkeys in the hundreds jumped from tree to tree catching the branches with their tails. It was her first experience of the monkey tribe and she was greatly amused at their antics and chatter.
During our stay at the “Castle” Miss Neal had charge of the baby son on board the ship and together with the officers took every care of him, but mother-like she tired of the “Castle” and was anxious to get back again to her baby son and after a very enjoyable week we went back to the ship and lived on board during the remainder of our stay in port. While there we made the acquaintance of Capt.Arthur Walker of Adelaide who had left his ship ill and had been some time in hospital. Anxious to get back to Australia, I offered and he accepted a passage back with us in the “Queen of the South”.
On leaving Port Louis, in addition to the crew, the occupants of the Saloon comprised Capt.Arthur Walker, Miss Neal, Hugh Raddon, Chief Officer, Walter Rogers 2nd Officer, my wife, her baby son and myself. Many years afterwards one of our sons was named Arthur Hugh Walter after the three abovenamed.
After losing the trade winds we met heavy westerly gales. During the gale we discovered that the main mast was badly broken under the spider band below the main top. Upon examination it proved to be so far gone that the whole of the masts and yards above it might come down with a crash with any extra roll and in falling pierce the platting below water line thus sinking the ship. The safest course appeared to be to choose a convenient opportunity to cut the rigging away and let the whole lot, mast, yards and rigging go over the side clear of the hull. It was a tricky and dangerous course to adopt but by having everything ready to cut away and choosing the exact moment to bring the ship up to the wind and dropping the whole lot over the lee side there was the probability of the spares falling clear without damaging the hull. The safety of the ship and the lives of all on board depended on its successful execution for we were in 40 degrees South, thousands of miles away from the nearest land.
In consultation with my officers and Capt. Walker, it was decided of “two evils to chose the lesser” and cut away the mast. Everything was prepared, the lighter stays and lee rigging cut and men with axes standing by to cut away at a given signal. I took the wheel, and although it was dangerous to be anywhere on deck while the spars were falling, my wife, without any atom of fear, stood near me keenly interested in watching the operation. With all ready I watched an opportunity between two seas to bring the ship to the wind and gave the order to cut away, everything was cut simultaneously and the main mast head, Topmast, Top Gallant Mast, Main, Topsail, Top Gallant and Royal yards with all their sails and rigging went over the sided with a crash. As they fell I put the helm hard over which had the effect of bringing the stern and rudder up to windward clear of the wreckage, which in a few minutes was clear astern. It was an act of desperation but undoubtedly it saved the lives of all on board. Six hours later it would have been an impossibility for the wind increased to hurricane force and the seas were the heaviest I have ever seen in the Southern Ocean. With only the sails on the foremast, the ship could not be hove to and must send before it and did so under topsail and reefed foresail.
After a very wearying night during which I had never left the deck, I went below at 8 a.m. to call the Chief Officer leaving the Second Officer and helmsman at the wheel and had just reached the foot of the cabin stairway when a huge sea came rolling over the stern taking everything before it, wheel, skylight, companion, poop railings and the two men at the wheel, the whole lot was carried along the main deck to the foremast, filling the cabin to such an extent that my wife, who was sitting up in bed feeding her baby son, had to stand up on the bed and hold the baby up above the water and Miss Neal, who was in an adjoining cabin, scrambled up in the top bunk to escape the water.
Capt. Walker, who was below at the time, with the aid of the steward, succeeded in lifting the lazaret hatch which allowed the water to go from the cabin to the hold. Seeing the skylight and companion gone and huge seas pouring down the cabin my first impulse was to drag a sail out of the sail locker to cover the openings and with the Mate’s assistance rushed on deck carrying the sail with us. On reaching the deck I found the ship scudding before enormous seas (fortunately she did not broach to or that would have been the end). The Second Mate who had been washed away from the wheel to the foremast, realising that there was nobody at the wheel, staggered back through the water in a most miraculous manner and as I reached the deck, was taking hold of the two remaining spokes of the wheel to steady the ship with one hand, the other arm was broken and one of his eyes was gouged out on his check, his head cut and bleeding freely. Taking hold of the broken pieces of the wheel I said “For God’s sake get below and I will come as soon as possible and see what can be done for you”. The most important thing at the moment was to keep the ship before the sea with the broken wheel and patch it up at the same time Huge seas were rolling over the main deck making it impracticable for the crew to get along the deck and the Chief Officer and I had to steer and repair the wheel at the same time which we succeeded in doing with a coil of wire and some lashings. Fortunately she did not take another heavy sea over the stern until we had nailed the sail down over the skylight and companion.
This done and the wheel made useable I went below to attend to the Second Mate’s injuries and see how my wife had fared when the cabin was flooded. Although exhausted with her efforts to keep the baby clear of the water and thoroughly drenched, she was quite calm and fearless, remarking “It might have been much worse if Capt.Walker had not succeeded in getting the hatch off”. The skylight and companion being battened down excluded all light and made the wet cabin more miserable than it otherwise would have been, fortunately there was a trunk of spare clothing in a top bunk that was dry which enabled them to get a dry change.
“Rogers” who knew something of surgery had worked his eye back into its place and together with Capt.Walker had got the splints from the medicine chest and were binding up the broken arm, his head which had been badly cut was bleeding freely. The other helmsman who was at the wheel when the sea broke on board, was disabled and unable to walk and although much cut and bruised did not appear to have any broken bones. For another 48 hours we sent before the gale which eventually moderated enabling us to open up the companion and skylight and get some wind down to dry up the saturated cabin.
With the ship in this disabled condition we shaped a course for the nearest port to effect repairs, which was Hobart, then distant about 1000 miles. Trouble was experienced in shaping a course as both our standard and binnacle compasses had been washed overboard and we were steering by a temporary compass of which the deviation was an unknown quantity.
The South West Cape of Tasmania was made in fine weather and moderate N.W. wind. When the sea swept over the decks and flattened the iron bulwarks on both sides level with the deck, it took the longboat and covers from the main hatch overboard and rolling over the top of the crew’s house smashed up the No. 2 boat, the third boat hanging in the davits had two planks stove when a block from aloft went through her when the mast went overboard Expecting to reach Hobart on the following day, when a boat would be required to run lines out, I instructed the carpenter to get the boat on deck and patch it so that it could be used if required. It was fortunate that we did so for before daylight we needed the boat to save lives. As we approached the channel the wind was right ahead. Moderate but threatening we stood over Bruni Island on the Port Tack and about midnight tacked and stood over towards the Actaeon Islands. At 2 a.m. we tacked again and headed for Bruni and when according to our defective compass we had the outlying sunken reef about three or four miles to leeward of us, we struck the reef.
Backing off we commenced to make water rapidly and it became a question of getting all hands out of her before she sank. The boat repaired the previous afternoon was lowered. My wife, child, and Miss Neal were hurried from their beds in their night clothes with rugs thrown round them and with the two cripples were lowered into the boat. Capt.Walker and two seamen manned the boat and pulled away from the sinking ship. Meantime the remainder of the crew got the other damaged boat down on deck and patched her so that with one man continually bailing with a bucket she would keep afloat. By this time the water was over the deck forward, the ship on the point of sinking.
When everybody was in the boats but myself I went below to examine the chart and select a spot where the boats could land. Then a strange feeling came over me. Unconscious of everything else I simply wanted to stay where I was. The boat was hanging on by a rope under the stern waiting for me and the crew calling aloud for me to come quickly as she was sinking, still I felt no inclination to move. The Chief Officer jumped aboard and called down the skylight “Come quickly sir, she is sinking”. Still I made no move. He rushed down the cabin and said “Go quick sir for God’s sake, your wife and child are in the boat and need you, if one must stay, you go I stay here.” It was the action of a brave loyal friend.
The mention of my wife brought me back to earth. I went up with him, dropped down a rope into the boat and we were not fifty yards from the ship when she gave a huge roll and went down head foremost in 30 fathoms of water. A week before at the breakfast table my wife asked “How does a ship sink?” I said “Many ways depending on circumstances. Why do you ask?” She replied “I saw a ship sink last night, she went down after a heavy roll, head first with her stern high up, the last I saw of her was her rudder as she disappeared.” In the boat that morning she saw her dream in reality.
All hands were now in the boats having saved nothing but what they were wearing. There was a pull of nine or ten miles to a landing place in a bay at the back of the lighthouse where I knew a good whaleboat was kept. Our boats were leaking badly and with the wind freshening, it was a question whether they would reach the shore. I directed Capt.Walker to steer his boat, in which was my wife and son, towards the Bay and I would try and land on the cliffs under the lighthouse, and get the lighthouse boat to go out and meet them. My boat was backed into the rocks, I scrambled out and climbed the cliffs to the lighthouse only to find that the whaleboat was away in Hobart for repairs. After two hours anxious waiting the two boats came round the point into the bay. By this time the sea was rolling in and breaking heavily on the beach. My boat reached the shore first, the Chief Officer who was in charge, took her through the surf and when she grounded all hands jumped into the surf and waded ashore, but an attempt to land the two females, the baby son and the two cripples in that way would probably end in drowning them. I waved the boat to stand off until instructed what to do.
In consultation with my Chief Officer and the Lighthouse Keeper, who was an old Shipmaster, we decided to watch a chance when a big roller came in and take the boat over a flat rock. It was a risky proposition but appeared to be, if successful, the only way to land them safely and we took the risk. My boat’s crew and the Lighthouse men stood by ready to take hold of the boat and drag her to safety. I shouted to Capt.Walker what we intended to do and told him to stand by and pull for their lives when I gave the signal to come on.
Anxiously watching the breakers I saw a huge roller coming along and wave. All hands grabbed her and dragged her and her precious crew over the rock to safety. The next moment the sea had receded and fell six feet below the rock over which the boat had floated. We carried the females and cripples ashore above the action of the waves. When I saw my wife on the beach faint and ill but still cheerful, I was thankful for our providential escape although we had lost everything but our lives.
To reach the Light Keeper’s quarters, about a quarter of a mile away, was the next problem. The track was scrubby and rocky and they were barefooted. The Superintendant sent one of his men for a hammock on which first my wife and child and then Miss Neal was carried up to the quarters where everything possible was done for their comfort. There was no telegraphic communication with Hobart and the only way to get there was to walk across the Island about three miles to another bay where there was a boat and pull from there to Hobart about 45 miles.
After having breakfast and seeing my wife was comfortable as circumstances permitted I started off with four of my crew to cross the Island and row to Hobart for assistance. Unfortunately we had to row all day against a head wind and did not reach Three Hut Point until midnight. There we got the assistance of the local policeman, an old sailor, to assist us in rowing the boat. We got a slant of wind part of the way and succeeded in reaching the end of the New Wharf at 5 a.m. November 9th. after 21 hours hard pulling in the boat, all very weary. Being a public holiday there was no one about on the wharves or the streets. I walked up to the home of my wife’s parents. The younger members of the family had gone off at daylight for Mt. Wellington, leaving the back door unlocked. Walking in I called out “Anyone awake?”.
My wife’s father recognising my voice rushed out and said “Where is the ship?” I threw on the table an envelope containing the ship’s papers saying “That is all that is left of her”. Information and explanations were given as quickly as possible and I hurried off to the wharf again to engage a steamer to go to the lighthouse for the crew.
One of O”May’s steamers chanced to be there with sufficient crew on board to make the trip and started off at once. My old friend and shipmate, Tip Matthews, then Chief Officer of the “Lufra” lying at the New Wharf, hearing what had happened, saw the steamer start and rushing to the end of the pier, coatless and hatless, hailed the steamer, which stopped and took him on board.
Being one of my wife’s oldest friends, she was very pleased to meet him and have his assistance and company on the way to Hobart.
At 7 o’clock that evening my weary looking wife landed and was driven to her parents’ home thankful to be there once again after all the trouble and anxiety instead of being amongst strangers. During the day I had cabled my owner the particulars, reported the wreck to the Marine Board and arranged with the Master Warden, who happened to be Admiral Barnard, for holding an enquiry at an early date. My wife arrived hatless in a dress and stockings borrowed from Mrs. Hawkins at the lighthouse with her wee boy wrapped in a shawl, so had to set about getting an outfit for herself and son. I also had to wear a borrowed suit until my tailor fitted me out. All our clothing and wedding presents were 30 fathoms deep, the only articles saved from the wreck were the ship’s papers and an album which no one can remember how it got in the boat, but Capt.Walker, who had been making some drawings in it had it in his berth and unconsciously, must have thrown it in the boat. It still remains with the family, a reminder if any were necessary, of a disaster whose redeeming feature was no loss of life. The Marine Board exonerated the Captain and Officers from all blame, returned their certificates and complimented the Captain on his skill in saving all the lives.
After a few weeks in Hobart Mr. Turner cabled me to come to Lyttleton and again take charge of the “Rio Loge” on a trip to Foochow for the new season’s tea until a vessel purchased in London to replace the “Queen of the South” arrived. My wife unperturbed by recent events insisting upon still travelling with me, we took a steamer for Lyttleton and rejoined the “Rio Loge” there, loading for Sydney thence to Foochow. My old officers Raddon and Rogers (now both across the Bar) also rejoined me. We had an excellent trip 38 days to Foochow (a record) sailing in company with the clipper “Cutty Sark”, we beat her three days on the voyage. Our maximum speed was 10 knots, the “Cutty Sark” probably 14 or 15. We elected to take different routes and I was favoured with exceptional winds missed by the “Cutty Sark” which accounts for the slower ship arriving first.
I sold our cargo of coal to the Chinese Naval Department and in doing so made the acquaintance of Admiral Le Bow then in command of a very fine frigate lying in the harbour. A gentleman whom my wife and I have the sincerest regard and very happy remembrances, for it was his advice and assistance that was the chief factor in my wife’s recovery from an attack of a disease common to the natives but rarely attacking Europeans.
We were too early for the new season’s tea and waited about two months for our cargo. Ashore the port was in a filthy condition and afloat in a small ship, with the hot sun blazing on it all day, life was most uncomfortable.
There were no hotels or boarding houses, the only Europeans resident at the Pagoda Anchorage were the Doctor, Consul and Ship Chandler who had very fine houses away up in the hills. I was obliged to go ashore on business and when my wife could leave her little son with the Armah, she accompanied me but was obliged to deluge herself with Eau de Cologne to counteract the stench of the streets and I commenced to smoke cigars and went about in a cloud of cigar smoke for the same purpose. The Agents of all the European firms in the tea trade lived at what was known as the Godowns on the hills about 12 miles up river from the Anchorage and several miles from the old walled city of Foochow, their only visits to the Port were on the arrival or departure of a vessel consigned to them.
We had been at Anchorage several weeks when my wife became very ill, the Doctor came to see her twice daily and prescribed for her but she continued to get weaker. Everything she ate caused her to vomit and hearing of the deaths among the natives from a similar complaint, I was much alarmed. At this stage Admiral Le Bow paid me a visit and was much concerned at my wife’s condition and discussing it said “This iron ship is too hot. I have a cool wooden ship with plenty of spare accommodation, bring your wife on board and my doctor, though Chinese, understands this complaint and if your wife will accept his advice and treatment, I am sure he can cure her, if she stays here under the present treatment she will die. Come on board and see my accommodation”. I went on board his frigate (5000 tons), he offered me two large commodious rooms, each with large open windows, (not ports) with Punkahs automatically going day and night, with both rooms attached, introduced me to the Doctor who spoke good English and said “Yes I understand this disease, ‘tis very prevalent here among the natives but we have a potion for it that cures unless there are other complications, but your wife may not care to be treated by a Chinese doctor.” I replied I think she is too ill to be fastidious about the nationality of the doctor and thanking him said I would discuss it with her.
I told my wife what I had seen and heard and she said “Let us go on board at once. I am sure Le Bow would not take all this trouble unless he was anxious to see me recover. I have every confidence in him and will accept his advice.” So we shifted our quarters from the small iron Brig to the large wooden frigate and discarded the European doctor for a Chinese. After an examination the Doctor said that there were no other complications, she will be quite well in a week or ten days. Under the new treatment and improved accommodation she began to improve almost immediately. Vomiting ceased and within a fortnight she was fairly well.
Mr. John Bathgate, son of Judge Bathgate of Dunedin, was our agent. We had only seen him once, on the day of our arrival. Hearing of my wife’s illness, he came down to port, (We were then on board Le Bow’s frigate) and invited us to go and stay at his bachelor’s quarters at the Godowns as soon as we could make the trip. After leaving the Frigate we went to stay with Bathgate. The trip up the river 12 miles in a open Sampan with a baby, was anything but enjoyable but on arrival the comforts of a luxurious home compensated for the discomfort of the Sampan trip. We stayed with Bathgates until the ship was loaded, spending our time travelling in pallengrins to and from the walled city seeking rare antiques. More than half a century has passed but those Foochow purchases form a portion of a valued and unique collection of antiques gathered from all parts of the world.
Nothing exceptional occurred on the return trip to Dunedin. One little incident was amusing but might have been tragic. My wife and I have had many a laugh over it. Coming through the tropics in exceptionally fine weather, the crew had been over the side on stages painting the bulwarks.
Having finished for the day the pots were emptied into a five gallon drum of black paint standing near the hatch. After tea the baby son who could now run about well, went out of the cabin and wandered along towards the drum of paint. I followed almost immediately just in time to see his heels in the air and his head in the paint drum. Rushing along I pulled him out and stood him on his feet, his little white head had been down in the paint to his mouth and he would have smothered in a few minutes if I had not seen him. He was dressed in white and when I stood him on his feet the paint ran down from his head and hair over his white clothes making the most grotesque sight imaginable. We sponged him down with kerosene and put in a hot bath, he was very sick, having swallowed some paint and his ears were full and eyes were inflamed but in a day or two he was apparently all right again.
Arriving in Dunedin on a Sunday, my wife, baby son and self started to walk up the wharf on the way to a friend’s house when the boy saw for the first time women dressed similar to his mother and other white children coming down the wharf. He ran after them shouting “More Mummies, more Leslies” in such a ridiculous fashion that I was obliged to hail a cab and get him out of the traffic.
Some time later with signs of approaching motherhood we decided to make a home for a time in Lyttelton. I purchased and furnished a comfortable cottage and on the arrival of the barque “Thurso” took command of her and loaded for Cape Town, South Africa. Leaving my wife under the circumstances was distressing but I was somewhat relieved by the knowledge that her mother was coming from Hobart to be with her prior to and sometime after maternity. Before I met my wife again a daughter was 6 months old. In the meantime the “Thurso” had been dismasted in a hurricane after leaving Mauritius, put back for remasting and repairs, when I purchased the American ship “Messenger” and fitted her out sending the “Thurso” back to New Zealand in charge of Chief Officer Raddon.
After a very difficult and troubled time the “Messenger” arrived at Lyttelton with a cargo of coal from Newcastle and was welcomed by my dear wife, who in addition to the son I had left behind had a dark haired daughter 6 months old which naturally I was very pleased to see. It was a very happy home coming after a long absence and a sequence of very worrying events of which the end was not yet. When I first met my wife her youngest brother then learning to talk called her “Dong”. No one seemed to know why and this name was adopted by me, I always called her “Dong” and she called me “Ed” but when our young son began to call his mother and father “Dong” and “Ed” we thought it time to change our names and thereafter we always spoke of and to each other as Father and Mother and our children have been taught to do likewise. In all references to my wife hereafter I shall use the name so dear to me for half a century “Mother”.
Mr. Turner was very pleased with the ship I had taken the responsibility of purchasing in Mauritius at a cost of about 3000 pounds and we agreed to become joint owners. The ship was chartered to load wheat for London but being early for the wheat season we decided to make a Newcastle trip in the interval. It was arranged that Mother would accompany me to London, staying in Lyttelton with her two children while I made the trip to Newcastle. The parting after a short time was softened by the prospect of again making a home on the ship.
After leaving, light head winds prevailed and little progress was made. After a week we were still in Cook Straits. On the ninth morning we were abreast of Farewell Spit Lighthouse, distant about 5 miles heading W.N.W., wind light northerly, glass falling, every prospect of a change to the S.W.
When midway between the Spit Lighthouse and Cape Farewell we were becalmed. Then about 6 miles seaward of the Spit, there was nothing to cause alarm, the wind was evidently coming from the S.W. When on the port tack we could stretch away to the N.W. but a strong flood tide and heavy swell was gradually getting us towards the Spit and if the wind failed to reach us within a few hours we would be dangerously near the Spit. Two hours passed, perfectly calm, ship drifted 3 miles nearer the Spit and the position was causing anxiety. Two hours more still no wind and the ship 11/2 miles of the Spit in great danger. Orders were given to get the anchors ready to let go. To anchor on the weather side of the spit with a gale from seaward approaching was futile, but if the ship had drifted ashore with the anchors still on the bows the captain’s certificate would have been endangered. When within half a mile of the Spit orders were given to let go both anchors and pay out 50 fathoms of cable on each which brought the ship up and the swing with flood tide head to sea and stern towards the Spit, only a few hundred yards distant, but before the sails could be stowed the approaching gale struck her, and the anchors dragged until the stern struck the Spit, smashing the stern post and rudder and the ship was doomed. In a very short time it was blowing a gale, with the sea breaking so heavily that we were obliged to slip the cables and let the ship fall broadside on the beach to make a lee for the boats. By this time the sea was breaking so heavily that it was impossible to land on the beach through the surf. The alternative was to watch a chance and pull out round the stern to sea, thence about 8 to 10 miles round the end of the Spit to the Lighthouse. One boat was smashed and sank alongside the ship, the other two got away safely with all hands on board about 1 P.M. and after a hard pull for ten hours arrived at the Lighthouse about midnight.
A doctor from Nelson had ridden on horseback to attend a patient at the Lighthouse and returning along the beach, saw the wreck on the Spit and boats pulling out to sea. Reading the ship’s name on the bow, on arriving at Nelson that evening, reported the “Messenger” ashore on the Spit, boats pulling out to sea. This news appeared in all N.Z. papers the following morning and Mother’s first intimation was when she open the papers and read the report, but with her unassailable faith in her husband, although much worried and anxious for news, was satisfied the boats would turn up all right.
But Mr. Turner had heard something unsatisfactory about the crew (who were a bad lot) that caused him to notify the police that if the boats arrived anywhere on the coast without the Captain to arrest the lot. There was no telegraphic communication between the lighthouse and the mainland and as it blew a gale for three days no boat could leave the lighthouse for Nelson, the nearest port, consequently no one could hear of our whereabouts. Eventually the Government sent a steamer out to search for the missing boats, which on the third day arrived at the lighthouse and found us there. On her arrival at midnight at Nelson the cables announced that the boats with all hands had arrived safely at Nelson. For three weary days and nights the dear Mother nursed her anxiety and though she believed we would arrive safely on the coast somewhere, hearing the gale blowing and looking into her sleeping babes’ faces she realised the possibility that they might be fatherless. My cable from Nelson relieved her for although my ship had gone, I was safe. An enquiry was necessary which exonerated the Captain and officers from all blame and I made my way home as fast as a steamer could carry me. Mother met me with her loving smile unperturbed by what had happened and the loss of our prospective trip to London.
Only the day before the vessel was wrecked Mr. Turner paid for a temporary cover for the Newcastle trip for 3000 pounds which just about repaid us what the vessel had cost, but I began to think seriously about my wretched luck in having two ships dismasted and two wrecked within 18 months and discussed with Mother the question of going back to Hobart and trying my luck in some other business ashore. After a few happy weeks at home with Mother and our two babes we decided to sell our house and go back to Hobart where my brother had offered me a partnership in his business.
We found a purchaser for the house, auctioned the furniture and took the first steamer thereafter for Hobart where we received a very hearty welcome from our relatives and friends. We stayed for a few weeks with Mother’s parents, eventually purchasing and furnishing a cottage on the Glebe with a large piece of ground on which we later on had a new house built.
About this time there was a great stir in Tin Mining both in the Blue Tin district and on the West Coast at Mt Hemskirk and I became a member of the Stock Exchange and dealt largely in Tin stocks, little thinking that half a century later Tin Mining would be my principal source of income.
Dissatisfied with the sameness and monotony of my brother’s business we dissolved partnership and for some considerable time devoted the whole of my time to Stock Jobbing and cultivating the flower garden of our new home which had just been completed. We had been very happy and contented in our home life ashore, but the sea was calling again and I longed for the quarter deck. Mother thoroughly understood the restless feeling of her husband and although reluctant to break up the happy home life, realised that it was my profession and our means of gaining a living and so after our third child was born (Augustus Temple) I went to Melbourne in search of a suitable vessel within my means and there purchased from the Orient S.S.Co. the barque “Heather Belle”, then discharging a cargo from London, for 3000 pounds. My credit balance at the time was 1700 pounds, the Commercial Bank assisting me to the extent of 1300 pounds enabled me to pay cash.
After completing the purchase I chartered the vessel to load a cargo of bark at Portland Bay for London and went across to Hobart to settle my business there and get my charts and chronometer. Mother and I decided to let the house furnished and take the whole family with us to London. Mother was delighted with the prospect and began to make preparations for the voyage expecting to join me in Melbourne in about six weeks when the ship would be loaded ready to sail. Returning to Melbourne a hitch had occurred and the charterers were unable to load the ship and desired to cancel the charter. I objected, and to avoid the possibility of a claim for damages they decided if practicable to purchase the vessel and offered me 10 per cent profit on my purchase (3300 pounds). My only expenditure up to date had been the employment of a watchman for a few weeks, but I refused to sell for less than 4000 pounds, which they eventually agreed to pay, and the vessel was resold.
I returned to Hobart having made 1000 pounds on the transaction and repaid the Bank its advance. The Manager complimented me on my good month’s work and promised to assist me again when necessary.
Mother was of course pleased that had made 1000 pounds so quickly but was very disappointed at again missing her life’s ambition to see London, and singularly though she had travelled with me to Asia, Africa and America, she never had an opportunity to visit Europe.
The craze for Tin was still the ruling passion in Tasmania and hearing of a new find in Flinders Island I decided to try my luck in prospecting. Going thence in a small cutter from Launceston, at the Settlement I made acquaintance of Alan Smith who leased the northern portion of the Island for kangaroo hunting purposes. I stayed with them for a day or two and after getting all the information available about the Island and its mineral prospects, set out alone with my swag up on a nine miles journey across very rough country to Killiecrankie Bay, arriving there towards evening, pitched my tent near the beach, boiled the billy, had a rough meal and turned into my opossum rug very tired. At daylight the billy was again boiled and after a hasty meal started off, taking my lunch with me, to prospect a creek about half a mile away. Splendid Tin specimens could be found almost anywhere but there was no depth of wash over a rocky bottom.
After spending nearly three months on the Island working from daylight until dark, I decided that there was nothing payable on that portion of Flinders Island and went to Alan Smith’s to await a cutter for Launceston.
Apparently the time and money had been wasted but it had its compensations later. I was very glad to get home again after a most trying time and the dear Mother welcomed me with a loving greeting in which the children joined, all well pleased to be together again. Needless to say my trip was unprofitable except that I had gained some experience that was useful to me later.
I had only been home a few days when I received a telegram from Alan Smith who had just arrived at Launceston with the crew of the Norwegian barque “Notero” which had been wrecked on Flinders Island, advising me to proceed to Launceston at once to attend sale by auction of the wreck.
The next morning I arrived by train and met Smith who informed me of the position and condition of the wrecked vessel, which induced me to bid up to 1500 pounds and become the purchaser. Immediately after the sale I engaged a crew and chartered a small steamer to take us to the vicinity of the wreck, arriving there on the following evening. The vessel was a new ship on her maiden voyage, had landed a cargo of Baltic timber at Melbourne and was on the to Lyttelton in ballast to load wheat for London when in a heavy gale her sails were blown away to and to avoid drifting on to the rocks was beached in a very snug spot and her masts cut away. She was a splendid type of ship about 600 tons register, the hull apparently uninjured, with the masts, sails. yards and rigging laying alongside her on the beach, covered with ten feet of water at high tide and practically dry at low water.
The weather favoured us and after a week’s continuous hard work, we had all the rigging, sails and undamaged spares on board, ran one of her anchors out 100 fathoms and at spring tides hove her off the beach into deep water. The following day the S.S. “Avon” came alongside and took us in tow for Launceston where we arrived and berthed at the wharf ten days from the date of the auction sale. There we fitted new masts and rerigged her and when finished loaded with produce for Sydney. When docked there the only damage to the hull was a few sheets of copper chafed off the keel.
This adventure took me away from home again as I had to find work for the vessel to do until I could find a purchaser for her. After making several trips to New Zealand ports at remuneration freights I sold the vessel in Auckland for 5500 pounds, having made a nett profit on the whole business of 4000 pounds, out of which we paid for our new home on the Glebe and named it “Notero” and flew the “Notero’s” burgee on our flagstaff for several years and with it flying over our heads spent many happy days together.
The Tin trade on the East Coast was growing and I decided if practicable to purchase a small steamer, with draft sufficiently light to negotiate the George’s Bay bar. Some time after I purchased in Melbourne the S.S. “Athletic” and put her in the Hobart, George’s Bay and Launceston trade and made several profitable round trips. On the fatal trip from Launceston I had been on deck all night and at daylight left the bridge in charge of the Chief Officer (who was an experienced, certificated shipmaster). Seeing a clear passage marked on the Admiralty chart inside Foster Island, to save a few miles he altered the course to pass inside and when half way through struck an unchartered rock, tearing several plates out of her bottom resulting in the total loss of the vessel. Nothing was saved but the boats and our personal belongings and a passing steamer took us back to Launceston.
An enquiry was held before the Collector of Customs, T. T. Watts, the finding being that the officer was justified in attempting the passage as the Admiralty chart showed it to be safe. All the certificates were returned without censure. My hopes again blighted I returned home again not quite as happy as on the previous occasion for although the vessel was insured the loss exceeded the insurance by 2500 pounds but the dear Mother’s love, sympathy and confidence in her husband remained unchanged and unchangeable which was of greater value than the money lost.
Still having in view the East Coast Tin trade which did not take me far away from home and unable now to finance another steamer, I purchased the ketch “Gertrude” and put her in the trade. The vessel was very suitable for the trade and did good work paying for herself in six months. Having done six months hard work working the vessel with only three men and myself I felt due for a month’s rest and sent her away in charge of my mate Cracknell.
Three days after she left Hobart received a telegram that “Gertrude” was “ashore on George’s Bay bar and likely to become a total wreck.” Although I had given 600 pounds for her she was only insured for 400 pounds. Started off with the Insurance Surveyor by train and coach for George’s Bay the same evening arriving the following evening, examined the vessel, found her lying between two rocks, full of water, several planks stove on each bilge, at high water the decks were awash. As she lay I purchased the vessel from the Insurance Co. for 100 pounds and after some risky work succeeded in floating her off the rocks and getting her into the harbour still full of water and beached her for repairs, which occupied several weeks and Mother with her usual pleasantness and helpfulness came up to St. Helens and stayed with at the Hotel while the work was going on which made an arduous job more enjoyable. When the vessel was repaired I took her to Hobart and sold her to Johnson Bros. for 700 pounds, so that in the end a profit was made out of the venture.
Some time after I went to Melbourne and purchased from Harper Bros. the barque “Kassa” for the intercolonial trade. Leaving Hobart with her on one occasion for Lyttelton about three weeks before Christmas, Mother thought it would be a more pleasant Christmas for all of us if we spent it together with our friends in Lyttelton, so we decided to let the house for four months and with Mother and the four children on board we sailed away expecting to arrive a week before Christmas. Unfortunately, we had head winds and did not arrive until December 28th having our Christmas dinner on board in sight of Dunedin heads, but on the voyage we had a very narrow escape from ending the career of the whole family. This vessel was the tightest wooden vessel I had ever sailed in.
The pumps were sounded as a matter of form morning and evening but never a bucket of water was pumped out. Judge then my surprise when hove to in a heavy gale the Chief Officer called me at 4 am and informed me that though all hands had been pumping since midnight there was three feet of water in the hold and it was increasing. It was a mystery, apparently there was nothing wrong with the vessel. She had not been straining heavily and no seas of sufficient weight to do damage had been shipped, still the water was increasing. The ship was then on starboard tack, to try and find out on which side the leak was I hove round on the port tack where we found we could just about keep it down. I then put her before the wind to see what effect that would have. As the water did not increase I concluded the leak was not forward. I tried her again on starboard tack and the water again increased, evidently then the leak was on the Port side, and I again hove ship. By the time the day had gone, night was coming on, three to four feet of water in the hold, all hands had been pumping for 20 hours and could not go on much longer. If they stopped the ship would fill and sink, we were 800 miles away from the nearest land in a gale of wind with seas no small boat live in, even if we got Mother and the children in them safely, which was doubtful. I explained the position to the dear old Mother. She saw I was worried and putting her arm round my neck and kissing me said “It might have been worse for we are all here together”. Not a murmur, not a regret. That night was agony, once I slipped below and found Mother had collected the four children out of their berths and had them together with her in the cabin, and they all lay sleeping. The men at the pumps were exhausted, gale still blowing furiously and I mentally calculating how many hours more we could keep afloat.
Daylight came, I was leaning over the weather rail with my arms folded, thinking, when a heavy sea rolled the vessel to leeward. I naturally stretched further out over the weather side to balance myself and in doing so caught sight of the cause of the cause of the trouble. A sheet of copper tow courses down under the main rigging was forced out six or eight inches from the ship’s side and I knew what had happened.
Originally when the ship was carrying passengers to South Africa she had a large fore cabin. When it was dismantled the pipe through the side from the W.C. was plugged from the outside with a three plug and coppered over.
This plug protruded several inches through the inner skin and could be seen between the planks of the lining which were about four inches apart. When the ship was loaded with timber in Hobart the stevedores had stowed the last few loads athwart the after hatch abreast of this plug. With a heavy roll this cargo shifted to leeward and one piece of timber slipping through the lining caught the end of the plug forcing through the ship’s side, thus leaving an opening through which the water was entering. On the starboard tack with this opening through well under water it simply streamed into the ship, on the opposite tack with the opening occasionally out of the water the volume decreased. I rushed down the cabin and told my wife that I had discovered the leak which could be stopped in an hour or two and there was no cause for alarm. Later in the day when the leak was stopped and the ship pumped out I asked Mother why she had taken the children into her room. She replied “that she had a presentment that something would happen to save the ship, but if not I knew you would be on deck until the end and if the children and I were together we should be buried in the same grave”. But for that heavy roll and the accident of being in a position that I could see well down the ship’s side, another ship with all hands would have been added to the list of the missing and this story would never have been written.
We had a pleasant time in Lyttelton with our friends, thence to Auckland and Whangaroa, where we loaded timber for Sydney. Thence Mother and three of the children went home by steamer leaving Gus who wanted to stay with his father on board. During his stay on board he very nearly ended his career. Lying in Brisbane River taking on ballast from another vessel along side, on board of which was the Captain’s wife who frequently had Gus on board with her. One day while the crew were all below at lunch, Gus having finished lunch went out on deck as usual. Following later I missed him from the deck but thinking he was on board the other ship with the Captain’s wife, made no search for him. Presently I heard a distressed voice from the stern of the adjoining ship calling “Papa, papa come quick.” Rushing to the stern of the ship I found him hanging on for his life to a rope over the stern, his feet in the water. The ship’s boat was hanging astern by a long painter and he had hauled the boat close up under the stern and attempted to climb down into the boat, but the tide running 5 knots floated the boat away leaving him hanging on to the painter half between the ship and the boat, unable to get to either. Had he let go the rope his career was ended, he would have gone under and floated away with the tide unseen, and we should never known how he got in the water. I gave the alarm, two of the crew jumped into another boat to pick him up in case he fell into the water, while I carefully hailed up the painter with a white little face clinging to it, until I could reach down and pull him aboard, scared and exhausted. After being on board for several months he arrived home safe and sound, but it was my last experience having any of the family with me at sea except when we were all passengers together.
(Forty years later; Yesterday July 31st 1930, I attended a service at St. Paul’s Ringwood, when the Dean of Melbourne dedicated a new organ to the Glory of God and to perpetuate the memory of my beloved wife. It was her wish for some time before her death to replace the old organ with an improved modern organ, and if there is Communion of Saints nothing here will give her greater pleasure than the installation of an organ in the little church she loved. The organ is a joint contribution from her husband and children as a memoriam of their love for a devoted wife and mother.)
The following is a cutting from a Newspaper, dated 31st July 1930.
MEMORIAL TO LATE MRS. MILES.
FINE ORGAN DEDICATED.
`In the faith of Jesus Christ, we dedicate this organ for service of the parish in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost.” Such was the prayer offered up by Very Rev. Dean Aicken on the occasion of the dedication of a beautiful organ installed in St. Paul’s Church of England to the respected memory of a beloved wife and devoted mother by Captain Edward T. Miles and members of his family. The late Mrs. Miles had in her lifetime always a most affectionate regard for her parish church St. Paul’s.
On Wednesday evening the church was filled to capacity with a congregation which included Captain E. T. Miles, Cr. and Mrs. A. T. Miles, and Mrs. R. F. Miles, Mr. and Mrs. J. W. Barrett, Mr. and Mrs. A. C. Howe, Misss. Miles, Colonel and Mrs. McPhee, senr., Rev. F. Reynolds, Mrs. Reynolds and Mrs. Strover; while among the grandchildren were E. T. Miles, Joan Miles, June Miles, Margaret Barrett, Jack Miles, John Barrett and Ken Barrett.
Evensong was conducted by the vicar, Rev. E. E. Robinson, whilst Mr. J. W. Barrett read from 3rd chapter of Wisdom: “But the souls of the righteous are in the hands of God ... They shall not faint.” The hymns, “The radiant morn hath passed away,” “Let saints on earth in concert sing,” “Abide with me, fast falls the eventide,” and “For all the saints who from their labours rest,” were sung by the congregation and choristers, Messrs. A. Beatty, W. Dwight, J. Barrett, K. Barrett, W. H. Whiter, A. Hodgetts, Miss Rossiter, Mrs. Glenhill, Mrs. Davidson, Miss J. Elliott, Miss Hargrave, Miss Covell, Miss Cooper, Mrs. Hansen, Miss Hann, Miss Davis, Miss Pollard, Masters W. Corbett and S. Pain.
The Dean offered up prayer for the bereaved in the words: “O Lord, our Heavenly Father, Almighty and Everlasting God, we pray that Thou wilt console all those who have been bereaved in the years of war or in the days of peace. Give them a living faith in our Saviour Jesus Christ, who has abolished death and has brought life and immortality to light through the Gospel.
Comfort them with assurance that death shall never be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” A dedicatory prayer also was expressed by the Dean:- “O God, who for our joy hast given unto us the music of human voices and of various instruments of man’s divising, inspire us ever to use these gifts of melody and harmony to set forth the glory, to express our graver thoughts on life, duty and hope eternal, our radiant moods of light and laughter, so moving us to serve God and be cheerful for the sake of the Light of the World, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.” The anthem. so well rendered by the choir, with Rev. John Briggs at the organ, was “Thou wilt keep Him in perfect peace.” The occasional address was delivered by the Dean, who spoke most eloquently on “Music.” The preacher referred to the special qualities of all instruments in an orchestra and their combined association in an organ. How that even discords contributed ultimately to melody and harmony. Just so it should be with human life, a combination to a grand ensemble of life in all its richness.
At the conclusion of the helpful service, Rev. Mr. Briggs gave a fine rendering of “An Offertorie” on the beautifully toned new organ.