Tales from the Quarterdeck

Category: New South Wales

  • The Loss of HMS Sirius – 1790

    “The melancholy loss of H.M.S Sirius off Norfolk Island” by George. Raper. Courtesy: National Library of Australia 136507434-1

    When HMS Sirius was wrecked off Norfolk Island in 1790, the loss was keenly felt back in Sydney. She was one of only two ships available to Governor Phillip, and he desperately needed both of them. Sydney had so far been unable to grow sufficient food to feed itself and was now facing starvation. The loss of the Sirius only compounded the colony’s problems. 

       HMS Sirius had sailed from Portsmouth on 13 March 1787 as part of the First Fleet, a social experiment to rid England of its most troublesome and unwanted folk. They arrived in New South Wales in January 1788. A month later HMS Supply sailed for Norfolk Island with a small number of convicts and a detachment of guards to establish a penal settlement there. By October of the same year, Governor Phillip realised that Sydney would soon be facing starvation unless something was urgently done. He ordered Captain John Hunter to sail HMS Sirius to the Cape of Good Hope and purchase livestock, grain and other provisions for the fledgling colony.   

    Some months after her return, the Sirius, in company with HMS Supply, was ordered to sail for Norfolk Island with desperately needed provisions along with additional convicts and guards.

    First Fleet entering Sydney Heads January 1788. By E. Le Bihan, Courtesy State Library of NSW.

       They reached Norfolk Island on 13 March 1790, and over the next few days, they disembarked their passengers; however, the sea conditions were such that neither ship was able to land its stores. On 15 March, the unrelenting gale-force southerly forced them to leave the island. By the 19th, the wind had moderated and shifted around to the southeast, so Captain Hunter made landfall again, hoping to begin unloading.

       As Sirius neared the island, Captain Hunter saw the Supply already anchored in Sydney Bay, and there were signals flying on shore that longboats could land without danger from the surf. Hunter took his ship in as close as he dared, loaded the boats and sent them away, but then the wind freshened.

    “Part of the Reef in Sydney Bay, Norfolk Island, on which the Sirius was wreck’d. 19 March 1790.’ by William Bradley.

         Hunter ordered his men to haul up the anchor and make for open water, but before he could do so, the Sirius was driven onto the rocks. Powerful surf crashed around the stricken ship. Soon after they struck, the carpenter reported that water was pouring into the hold. The masts were cut away in the hope that the lightened vessel might be driven higher onto the reef, where the crew would have a better chance of saving their lives.

       By now, it was about 11 a.m. The provisions were brought up from the hold and stacked on deck so they might be floated ashore if the opportunity arose. However, the sea conditions continued to deteriorate. Towards evening, Hunter received word from shore urging him to abandon ship as it would be too dangerous to remain overnight. A rope was tied to an empty barrel and floated through the surf to waiting hands ashore. Then a seven-inch-thick hawser was sent across the narrow stretch of reef and surging seas and tied to a tree. Now the crew could be hauled ashore three or four at a time. Most sported cuts or bruises by the time the reached land from being bashed against the rocks on the perilous passage. The operation stopped only when it became too dark to continue safely, and the remaining men were taken off the following day.

       A couple of days later, two convicts volunteered to go aboard the Sirius to get the livestock ashore. They got a number of pigs and some poultry over the side and the current did the rest. However, as evening turned to night, the two convicts refused to leave the ship. They had found a cask of rum sometime during the day, and by evening, they were drunk as lords. Probably in an effort to keep themselves warm, they lit two fires, but they soon got out of hand and did significant damage to the ship. The following day, guards were sent out to the ship to forcibly return them to shore, where they were clapped in irons for their troubles.

       When the weather finally eased, Hunter sent some of his men across to begin ferrying the remaining provisions ashore using the hawser. Other stores, sealed in timber casks, were thrown into the water with the hope that they would wash ashore through the surf. Some made it. Some sank to the bottom.

       While the Supply had managed to unload its provisions on the sheltered side of the island, with so many additional mouths to feed, rations for everyone on Norfolk were cut in half.

    The Settlement on Norfolk Island, May 16th 1790 / George Raper. Courtesy State Library of NSW, FL541331.

    Captain Hunter and his crew would be stranded on Norfolk Island for several months before they could return to Sydney. Meanwhile, Governor Phillip was stunned to learn of the Sirius’ loss. He had been relying on her to go on another resupply mission to keep the struggling colony fed.

       His problems just kept mounting. The second fleet had recently arrived, delivering 800 extra mouths to feed, many were already in a terrible physical state when they came ashore. They were too ill to help cultivate crops or contribute in any other meaningful way. One of the fleet’s two supply ships, HMS Guardian, had been wrecked in the Southern Ocean, placing a greater strain on the settlement’s already meagre provisions. Food was tightly rationed and no distinction was made between the lowest convict and the Governor himself. Everyone received the same ration, one and a half pounds (700 g) of flour, two pounds (900 g) of salt pork, one pound (450 g) of rice and one pint (500ml) of peas per week.   

    The few privately owned boats in Sydney were requisitioned and sent out to catch fish. Hunting parties roamed the outskirts in search of game, and guards had to be stationed around the public vegetable gardens to prevent theft. HMS Supply was sent to Batavia for supplies, leaving Sydney without a single ship at its disposal. One hundred forty-three people died of sickness or malnutrition in Sydney that year. There was probably no other time when the existence of the settlement looked so tenuous. 

    © Copyright C.J. Ison / Tales from the Quarterdeck, 2023.

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  • The Life and Loss of HMSC MERMAID

    HMSC Mermaid off Cape Banks, Dec. 4, 1820, by Conrad Martens. Image Courtesy National Library of Australia.

       Between 1818 and 1820, the small survey cutter HMSC Mermaid played an important role in charting Australia’s vast coastline. So, it is perhaps ironic that her last voyage should have been cut short on an uncharted reef off the north Queensland coast.

       The Mermaid was an 84-ton cutter launched in Calcutta in 1816. She arrived in New South Wales the following year and was soon purchased by the Government to undertake survey work requested by the British Admiralty.

       Lieutenant Phillip Parker King was dispatched to Australia to carry out a detailed survey of the Australian coastline, particularly those areas bypassed by Matthew Flinders. The son of former NSW Governor Phillip Gidley King, he had been born on Norfolk Island in 1791. On the family’s return to England and completion of his schooling, the young King joined the Royal Navy. He was given command of the Mermaid and got to work.

    Lt Phillip Parker King. Unknown artist. Courtesy State Library of NSW,

       HMSC Mermaid made three extensive voyages under King. They sailed from Sydney on 22 Dec 1817, bound for Australia’s northern and northwest coasts via Bass Strait and Cape Leeuwin. The crew included two sailing masters, 12 seamen and two boys. On board were also the botanist Allan Cunningham and Bungaree, a Kuring-gai man from Broken Bay who had also circumnavigated the continent with Matthew Flinders on the Investigator.

       At Northwest Cape, King surveyed and named Exmouth Gulf before continuing north along the coast until they reached Van Diemen’s Gulf and Cobourg Peninsula. From there, they sailed to Kupang on Timor Island to resupply, where they remained for two weeks. King then set sail for Sydney, returning down the West Australian coast. The return trip was marred by rough weather and a shortage of manpower. Several of the crew had become seriously ill shortly after leaving Timor, and one of them subsequently died. Despite the hardships, the Mermaid arrived back in Sydney on 29 July 1818 after an absence of seven months and seven days.

       Between December 1818 and January 1819, King sailed to Van Diemen’s Land and undertook a survey of Macquarie Harbour, which would soon become the site of one of the convict era’s most brutal places of punishment. Their work done there, the Mermaid was back in Sydney in late February, and in May she was off again.

    Lt King’s survey cutter ‘Mermaid’ Photo courtesy State Library of Queensland.

       The third voyage, and King’s last in the Mermaid, saw them sail up the east coast of Australia on a circumnavigation of the continent. On 20 July, while sheltering in a bay he named Port Bowen at latitude 22.5 S (not to be confused with the present-day township of Bowen), the Mermaid ran aground and became stuck. It was only after considerable effort that the crew were able to warp the vessel into deep water, but she sustained serious hull damage in the process. The full extent of the injury would only become apparent months later.

       The Mermaid continued north, passed through Torres Strait and King again started making a detailed survey of the north-west coast. However, the cutter had been taking on water ever since its beaching at Port Bowen. By September, she was leaking so badly that King was compelled to careen the vessel and attend to the leaking hull. With repairs completed as best they could, he then cut short his survey and ran down the west coast, across the Great Australian Bight, returning to Sydney in December. However, the Mermaid was very nearly wrecked within sight of her home port.

       As they passed Jervis Bay, the wind was blowing strongly from the east-south-east and visibility was much reduced by heavy rain. Lt King steered a course that he thought would find them off Sydney Heads the following morning. But at 2 o’clock in the morning, King, thinking they were still 30 km from land, was surprised when a bolt of lightning revealed they were sailing directly towards Botany Bay’s south head. The Mermaid only just cleared that hazard but lodged on a rock off the north head before being lifted off by a large wave. She ploughed through breakers within metres of the rocky promontory with the sea surging and foaming around them. It was a very close call, but they were soon safely inside Sydney Harbour without further incident.

       Lt King made his fourth and final survey in the Bathurst while the Mermaid underwent much-needed repairs.   But that was not the end of the little cutter’s adventures.   She was decommissioned from the Royal Navy and taken over by the NSW colonial government, where she continued to serve with distinction.

    Mermaid being repaired during King’s voyage. Engraving by John Murray 1825. Image courtesy National Library of Australia.

       In 1828, the Mermaid received a major overhaul, including re-planking, new copper sheathing, and, most importantly, being re-rigged as a two-masted schooner. Then, in early 1829, she was tasked with helping dismantle the failed settlement at Raffles Bay on the Cobourg Peninsula. Once done there, they were to make for the remote settlement of King George Sound (present-day Albany) to deliver stores and dispatches. Under the command of Captain Nolbrow, the Mermaid departed Sydney on 16 May and headed north, keeping to the inner passage inside the Great Barrier Reef.

       Tragedy struck at 6 o’clock in the morning on 13 June when, about 35 km south of present-day Cairns, the Mermaid ran grounded on a reef not recorded on King’s recently published naval chart. At 8 p.m., Captain Nolbrow and his crew, 13 men in all, took to the lifeboat with the hold bilged and water already over the cabin deck.

       Twelve days later, as they continued north towards Torres Strait, the castaways were picked up by the Admiral Gifford. The Admiral Gifford was a 34-ton schooner on a speculative voyage through Australia’s northern waters and was ill-equipped to carry so many additional passengers. On 3 July, Nolbrow and his crew were transferred to the much larger Swiftsure, possibly in the vicinity of Pipon Island. Unfortunately, the Swiftsure was wrecked two days later near Cape Sidmouth and her crew, along with the Mermaid’s, were rescued by the Brig Resource.

       Captain Nolbrow and his men eventually made it back to Sydney via the Swan River settlement (present-day Perth) in November 1829. The remains of the Mermaid were discovered on Flora Reef in 2009.

     © Copyright C.J. Ison / Tales from the Quarterdeck, 2023.

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  • Matthew Flinders and the loss of HMS Porpoise – 1803

    Loss of the Porpoise & Cato. Courtesy Wikipedia.

       

         Shortly after Matthew Flinders completed his historic circumnavigation of Australia, he was farewelled from Sydney to return to England as a passenger on board HMS Porpoise. To everyone’s astonishment, he returned to Sydney a month later to report that the Porpoise and another ship had run aground on a reef far out in the Coral Sea.

       HMS Porpoise, under the command of Lt Fowler, along with the merchant ships Cato and Bridgewater, departed Port Jackson on 10 August 1803, intending to remain together as they sailed north through the remote waters of north Australia. Ships regularly travelled in company, so one might come to the other’s aid should they get into difficulty. After all, the next European outpost after leaving Sydney was Kupang on Timor Island, 2,000 km west of Torres Strait and over 5,000 km from Sydney.

       On the afternoon of 17 August, the three ships passed a small island marked on the chart, which confirmed their position about 160nm (300 km) NE of Sandy Cape at the northern end of Fraser Island (K’gari). The chart showed no other obstacles in their path until they were ready to pass through the Great Barrier Reef, much further to the north.    As night took hold, they continued bearing NNE under reduced sail, pushed along by a southerly breeze. The Porpoise was out in front with the Cato and Bridgewater off her port and starboard quarters, respectively. Then, around 9.30 pm, the Porpoise’s lookout called “breakers ahead.” The Porpoise tried to veer off but without success, and she struck the uncharted reef. Likewise, the Cato attempted to steer away from the line of white water that indicated danger. However, she had insufficient room to manoeuvre and ran aground about 400m from where the Porpoise struck.

    The 430-ton Cato by Thomas Luny cira 1800.

         Fortunately, the Bridgewater missed the reef that claimed the other two ships. Her captain spent the rest of the night and the following morning trying to return so they might help any survivors. However, contrary winds and large seas hampered him, and he could not get close to the reef without risking his own vessel. He reluctantly continued on his way, leaving the survivors from the Porpoise and Cato to their fate.

       Meanwhile, the men on the stranded ships waited out the night. HMS Porpoise had gone aground broadside to the reef and heeled over so her strong hull took the brunt of the crashing waves. The Cato was not so lucky. She had also run aground broadside to the reef, only her deck lay exposed to the full force of the powerful waves, and she soon started breaking up. Her crew spent an anxious night clinging for dear life to the inner forechains.

       The next morning, the Porpoise’s small gig and a six-oar cutter were used to ferry the crews of both ships to a small sandy islet a short distance away. Over the next several days, they salvaged as much as they could from the two stranded wrecks. Casks of water, flour, salt meat, rice and spirits, along with live sheep and pigs were all brought ashore. They found they had sufficient provisions to feed the 94 castaways for the next three months. Most shipwreck survivors fared far worse.

    Captain Matthew Flinders, RN, by Toussaint Antoine DE CHAZAL DE Chamerel. Courtesy Wikipedia.

       On the morning of the 19th of August, Captain Matthew Flinders took command as the most senior naval officer present. Flinders, in consultation with Lt Fowler and the Cato’s captain, John Park, decided he should take the largest cutter and return to Sydney to get help. The three also agreed on a contingency plan should Flinders and his party fail to reach Sydney and alert the authorities. The ship’s carpenters would begin building two new boats from materials salvaged from the wrecks. If, after two months, the remaining survivors had not been rescued, Lt Fowler and the rest of the men should try to make for Sydney themselves in the new boats.   

    Flinders’ cutter was fitted out with a deck to make it better handle the rough seas on the long voyage ahead. She was christened “Hope” and, on 26 August, nine days after striking the reef, Flinders, Park and twelve sailors set off to three loud cheers from their shipmates lining the shore.    They took sufficient provisions to last them three weeks, and Flinders set a course west so they would strike the Australian coast. On the evening of 28 August, they made land near Indian Head on K’gari Island and headed south, hugging the coast until they reached Sydney ten days later.

    Map showing Wreck Reefs where the Cato and Porpoise were wrecked in 1803. Courtesy Google Maps.

       Meanwhile, the carpenters got to work building the first of the two new boats. They named it Resource and had her afloat in about two weeks.  However, as they were working on the second boat, their supply of coal for the armourer’s forge ran out, halting construction. Lt. Fowler ordered that the Resource be sent with a work party to an island to the south to produce sufficient charcoal to complete the second boat.

    But, before they set off, the welcome sight of three rescue ships sailed into view. Flinders had made it to Sydney and returned with the fully-rigged ship Rolla, and the colonial schooners Cumberland and Francis, to rescue the survivors. Flinders might have got there a little earlier, but he had spent a couple of anxious days trying to find the uncharted reef. Most of the men were put on to the Rolla, which was on its way to China, while Flinders returned to Sydney on the Cumberland. Much of the stores and salvage from the wrecked ships were taken back to Sydney on the Francis and the newly built Resource. Remarkably, only three men were lost during the ordeal. The site of the disaster is now known as Wreck Reefs.

       Captain Flinders’ adventures did not end there. By the time he next left for England, Britain was at war with France. When his ship stopped at Mauritius, he was placed in detention until the end of hostilities. Flinders did not return to England until 1810. His book “A Voyage to Terra Australis”, detailing his voyages, was published in 1814.

    © Copyright C.J. Ison / Tales from the Quarterdeck, 2022.

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  • The Dunbar Tragedy – 1857

    The Dunbar shipwreck, by Samuel Thomas Gill, courtesy the State Library of New South Wales.

    The loss of the Dunbar in August 1857 was one of the more tragic and distressing shipwrecks to occur in Australian waters.   On the morning of Friday 21 August people living in Sydney’s East awoke to find wreckage and mutilated bodies dotted along the rugged coast and inside the harbour mouth.   A large ship had come to grief, but its identity would remain a mystery for much of that day.

    The weather on the night of 20 August was thick with heavy rain, strong winds and a powerful swell creating mountainous waves.    The Dunbar had sailed from London 81 days earlier and was making its way up the New South Wales coast nearing the end of its voyage.  

    She passed Botany Bay around 8.30 in the evening.  Then Captain James Green headed out to sea on a starboard tack under closely reefed sails.    They then changed course again heading towards the entrance to Sydney Harbour.   The captain sent the Second Mate to the forecastle and asked him to keep a good lookout for the North Head.  

    By Day and Son; Thomas Goldsworth Dutton; William Foster – http://collections.rmg.co.uk/collections/objects/140576, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=63202217

    Suddenly the Mate called out “breakers ahead,” as churning white water at the base of the cliffs materialised out of the inky gloom.   It was now a little after midnight.  Captain Green ordered the ship round but the surging seas drove her broadside onto the rocks before she could respond.  

    Passengers were jolted awake by the violent impact and streamed on deck in panic, most still dressed in their night attire.    But before any thought could be given to getting them into the lifeboats another wave smashed the Dunbar into the cliffs and she immediately started breaking up. 

    Passengers and crew alike were swept into the surging sea and dashed against the rocks.  Others were crushed between heavy timbers and splintering wood.  

    There were 122 people on the Dunbar as she neared Sydney Harbour.   She had a crew of 59 and was carrying 63 passengers.   Most of the passengers, including families with young children, were residents of Sydney returning home after spending time in England.  

    Incredibly, one of the crew managed to survive.    As the ship broke apart John Johnson grabbed hold of a plank with three other men to keep themselves afloat as they were tossed around in the turbulent white water.   Two of their number soon lost their hold but Johnson and the ship’s Boatswain were dumped high on the rocks by a large wave.    Johnson scrambled higher but before the other man could do likewise, he was caught by another wave and sucked back out to sea.    Johnson continued climbing until he reached a narrow ledge and could go no further.   

    The Sailor Rescued. Courtesy the National Library of Australia 211620415-22

    The next day he heard people on the clifftop above him and saw several ships pass by but failed to attract anyone’s attention.   He remained a second night on the ledge before a young lad spotted him from near Jacob’s Ladder.  The boy, Antonio Wollier, volunteered to be lowered down to the ledge by a rope to rescue the survivor.  

    Meanwhile, the grim work of recovering bodies began.    Some brave souls were lowered over the cliff at the Gap where as many as 20 bodies had collected among the rocks.   They had been so badly battered that none were ever identified.    Other bodies were found inside Sydney Harbour where they had been swept by the current.   Most were buried in a mass grave in the Newtown Cemetery.

    Sydney Harbour. Courtesy Google Maps.

    An inquiry concluded that Captain Green, hampered by the foul weather, had either thought he was approaching the North Head or mistook the Gap for the entrance to Sydney Harbour.   As a result of this catastrophe and another similar shipwreck nine weeks later a lighthouse marking South Head was built.       

    John Johnson was later employed as a lighthouse keeper in Newcastle and in 1866 he rescued the only survivor of the steamer Cawarra when it sank trying to enter that harbour.

    © Copyright C.J. Ison / Tales from the Quarterdeck, 2022.

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