Tales from the Quarterdeck

Tag: Australia

  • The Loss of the Duroc and the rise of la Deliverance

    The French steamer Duroc wrecked on Mellish Reef. Source: Wikicommons.

       On the night of 12-13 August 1856, the French Naval steam corvette Duroc was wrecked on Mellish Reef about 800 km off the Queensland coast. After the ship ran aground, her passengers and crew, numbering 70 people, made it onto a small sand cay where they were safe for the time being. However, they were stranded far from regular shipping channels, and the chance of their being rescued was remote. Captain Vissiere thought their only chance of getting off the islet was to build a new boat from the wreckage of the old.

       The Duroc had set off from Port de France (Noumea), New Caledonia, five days earlier, but on that night she ran aground on a submerged coral reef and could not get off. Each passing swell pounded the hull onto the reef, and she began taking on water. Fearing the ship might break apart during the night, Captain Vissiere ordered the crew to start bringing all stores, provisions, and water casks up on deck. He also had the four lifeboats prepared in case they had to abandon ship during the night. Then Vissiere had an anxious wait until morning, when he could better assess their situation.   

    Daylight revealed the ship was well and truly lodged on the reef, and they were surrounded by breaking seas. But about four kilometres away, there was a small, low-lying sandy islet which seemed to offer a place of refuge. So began the laborious task of ferrying all the ship’s stores and personnel to dry land. Over the next 10 days, they stripped the Duroc of its masts, bowsprit, sails, spars, blacksmith’s forge, a water distillation plant and the cook’s oven. By 23 August, they had emptied the stranded vessel of anything useful and established a comfortable camp on the tiny cay. Captain Vissiere was satisfied that their immediate survival was assured, but they were stranded nearly 800 km from the nearest land, and rescue seemed unlikely.

    Survivors of the wrecked Duroc on Mellish Reef building the La Deliverance. Source: Wikicommons.

       Vissiere prided himself on being a competent master mariner, and he could not account for how his ship had run aground. He took several unhurried astrological observations on the island and would later claim that the reef he had struck was, in fact, some distance from where it was laid down on his chart. Feeling vindicated, the captain then turned his mind to finding a way back to civilisation, for not only was he responsible for his crew, but his wife and baby daughter accompanied him.

       Captain Vissiere felt that his best course of action would be to make for Australia’s east coast, where he could expect to find help from a passing ship. However, the lifeboats could carry only a fraction of those stranded on the small island. So, Captain Vissiere opted to send his First Mate, Lieutenant Vaisseau, off with the three largest boats and about half the crew. He would remain on the island with his wife, daughter, and about 30 others. They would construct a new vessel from the timber they had salvaged from the Duroc and make their escape if no one had come for them in the interim.   

    The three boats set off on 25 August with instructions to make for Cape Tribulation, where, with any luck, they would meet a British ship sailing the Great Barrier Reef’s inner passage. Cape Tribulation was probably chosen because it was easily recognisable and it was where the reef pinched in close to the coast, funnelling any passing ships close to land.

    Mellish Reef. Courtesy Google Maps

       After setting off from Mellish Reef, the three boats encountered rough weather, which threatened to capsize the heavily overloaded craft. Lt Vaisseau tried tethering the three boats together so they would not become separated, but in the rough seas, this proved dangerous, and the lines were cut. After weathering the conditions for two days, Vaisseau decided they should jettison everything non-essential to lighten the load and raise their freeboard.

       Then, one day, while Lt Vaisseau was taking his noon observation, his boat was struck by a rogue wave, tossing him into the sea. Unable to swim against the current to make it back on board his lifeboat, he would have drowned had another boat trailing astern not been able to come close enough to rescue him. Vaisseau had a lucky escape, for he was only plucked from the water as his strength was beginning to fail him.

       After five days at sea, on the evening of 30 August, they crossed through the Great Barrier Reef near Cape Tribulation and anchored in calm waters for the night. The men thought the worst of the ordeal was behind them, and they would soon fall in with a passing ship. Lt Vaisseau noted they still had 72 kgs of sea biscuits, 20 litres of brandy and 60 litres of wine when they reached the Australian coast. However, shared among 36 hungry men, that would last them only another few days.

       The next day, they made land, filled their water casks, and then bore north, hugging the shore, pushed along by the prevailing southerly winds. They stopped each night in the lee of islands, foraged for roots, greens and shellfish, and cast out lines hoping to catch fish. They only delved into the supply of sea biscuits when their efforts failed to find enough food.

       By 9 September, they had reached Albany Island in the Torres Strait. They continued sailing past Booby Island, unaware that there was an emergency store of food and water there to aid shipwrecked sailors. Having sighted not a single ship while off the Australian coast, they ventured out into the Arafura Sea. Lt Vaisseau decided they should head for the Dutch settlement of Kupang on Timor Island. The three boats finally arrived on the evening of 22 September, and not a moment too soon, for their food had run out several days earlier.

    Construction of a new vessel La Deliverance from the wreckage of the Duroc on Mellish Reef. Source: Wikicommons.

        Meanwhile, Captain Vissiere and the remaining men had been kept busy constructing the new vessel, which they named La Deliverance. Under the directions from the ship’s master carpenter, they sawed the Duroc’s lower masts into planks and fixed them to a frame. The new craft measured 14 metres in length and was completed around the time Lt Vaisseau and his party reached Timor Island.

       On 2 October, La Deliverance was launched, and they sailed away from the island they had called home for the past six weeks. Captain Vissiere intended to make for the Australian mainland, just as his lieutenant and the three boats had done. Once off land, he would decide whether they should head north, through Torres Strait and on to Kupang, or turn south towards Port Curtis (Gladstone), which was the most northerly settlement on the east coast at the time. When he reached the Australian coast, he found the same southerly trade winds that Lt Vaisseau had.

       Despite the seemingly optimistic start, the passage was arduous, hampered as it was by unpredictable weather. Prolonged calms left them stranded for days at a time. The doldrums were only relieved by violent storms that lashed them mercilessly and threatened the safety of the vessel. By the time they were rounding Cape York, the boat was leaking alarmingly. Captain Vissiere pulled in at Albany Island so urgent repairs could be made before they left the relative safety of the Australian mainland. Once the leaks were plugged, they got underway, ready to cross the Arafura Sea. On 30 October, four weeks after setting off from Mellish Reef, La Deliverance sailed into Kupang harbour.   

    Though they suffered greatly during the ordeal, Captain Vissiere did not lose a single person as a result of the wreck or the 4000 km voyages undertaken by the survivors to reach Kupang.

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

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  • Bato to the Rescue – 1854

    Shipwreck survivors take to their boat.. Source: Tales of Shipwrecks and Adventures at Sea, 1856.

       In 1854, the fully-rigged Dutch ship Bato rescued not one, not two, but three separate parties of shipwreck survivors whose ships had come to grief in separate mishaps in Australia’s northern waters. In the space of a few weeks, these three ships all ran aground while attempting to navigate the treacherous waters of the Great Barrier Reef and the Torres Strait.

       The first casualty was the 521-ton ship Fatima. On 3 June, the Fatima left Melbourne bound for Singapore via Torres Strait. She made good time sailing up the east coast until, on 26 June, she was within sight of Raine Island. The low-lying island and its distinctive 20-metre-tall tower marked a channel through the Great Barrier Reef and the start of a well-charted passage through Torres Strait.

       Then, just 12nm (20 km) south of Raine Island, her voyage ended abruptly and violently when she crashed into the Great Detached Reef. The Fatima could not be saved, and her captain and crew were forced to take to the boats to save their lives. A refuge of sorts was close at hand, so they struck out for Raine Island off in the distance. There they remained, subsisting on a plentiful supply of seabird eggs while they waited to be rescued.

       A couple of days after the Fatima left Melbourne, the 391-ton barque Elizabeth also set sail from that same port. She was bound for Moulmein, Burma, and also intended to pass through Torres Strait by the Raine Island passage. However, disaster struck on 28 June when the barque ran aground on a small coral outcrop about 28nm (55 km) south of Raine Island. Fortunately, no lives were lost, and after a considerable amount of effort, the crew managed to get the ship off the reef and back into deep water. However, the hull had been breached, and Captain Churchill realised that his ship was taking on more water than the pumps could remove. Churchill made the difficult decision to abandon his ship, and he and his men took to the boats. They made their way through Torres Strait and arrived at Booby Island five days later. The island was marked on charts of the day as a haven for shipwrecked sailors where a supply of food and fresh water could be found.

    The Wreck of the Thomasine. Courtesy State Library of Queensland.

       The third ship, the Thomasine, departed Sydney on 8 June bound for Batavia. She also intended to cross through the Torres Strait. But she ended her northerly run up the coast on 19 June when she struck an uncharted reef about 270 km east of present-day Port Douglas.

       Her master, Captain Holmes would later recall that around 8 o’clock on the evening of the 19th, the ship grazed a submerged reef where no such obstruction should have existed. He had been on deck at the time and had immediately gone to his cabin to consult his chart, to confirm what he suspected. While he was standing at his chart table, still consulting his map, the look-out called, “Breakers ahead.” Captain Holmes raced back on deck to the daunting sight of a long line of breaking waves ahead that extended around to his left and right, almost completely encircling the ship.

       Holmes and his crew kept the Thomasine from running aground during the night by tacking back and forth in the open water between the reefs. The next morning he saw how dire their situation was. The ship was trapped by an almost unbroken ring of breaking waves, denoting the presence of submerged coral reefs. Reefs that were absent from the charts but have since been added and bear the name Holmes Reefs.

       The wind began to rise and Holmes realised his only chance of escape was to try to make it through one of the narrow gaps he could see in the otherwise extended line of surf. He selected one, hoping it would allow his ship to reach the safety of deep water beyond. Unfortunately, the channel proved too shallow, and the Thomasine struck heavily, becoming stuck. Unable to get the Tomasine free, the captain made the difficult decision to abandon ship. The crew then readied two boats with as much food and water as they dared carry.

       Captain Holmes was doubly concerned as they tried to escape the ship and the surrounding reef. Not only did he feel responsible for his crew, but he was also accompanied by his wife and three children, the youngest of whom was just four months old. He divided his crew evenly between the two boats for the voyage north to Booby Island and a cache of stores. However, one sailor died during the struggle to get the boats through the roiling seas surging around the ship. Holmes   

    Over the next fortnight or so, the 18 castaways steadily made their way north, surviving on short rations and less than one litre of water per day from a small cask taken from the ship. But by 6 July, they had covered about 800 km and had reached Bird Island in the Torres Strait. Captain Holmes calculated that it would only take them another one or two days to reach Booby Island.  

    Map showing location of the three shipwrecks in Torres Strait. Courtesy Google Maps.

       It was around this time, the Dutch ship Bato was passing through the same waters. She had sailed from Hobart on 10 June and steadily made her way up the east coast of Australia. As Captain Brocksmit approached the Raine Island entrance, he sighted the Fatima castaways camped on the island. Ten men were taken on board while the rest followed in the Bato’s wake in their own boat until they had reached the Middle Bank well inside the Great Barrier Reef.

       The next day, 6 July, the Bato’s captain came across the survivors from the Thomasine off Bird Island and made room for them on his ship as well. Finally, the following day, the castaways from the Elizabeth were spotted on Booby Island, where they had landed four days earlier.

       Now carrying as many as 60 additional people, the Bato put the dangerous waters of Torres Strait behind her. Captain Brocksmit made his way along the Indonesian archipelago, arriving in Batavia on 25 July 1854. The survivors were disembarked, and the captains were faced with the unenviable task of notifying their respective ship owners of their losses.

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

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  • The Loss of the Convict Ship Neva – 1835

    Loss of the Neva. Source: Tales of Shipwrecks and Adventures at Sea, 1846.

       Between 1788 and 1868, more than 162,000 convicts were loaded onto transport ships and banished to the colonies to serve out their sentences. Such were the living conditions onboard some of these vessels, coupled with the hazards of sailing such vast distances in isolated waters, perhaps as many as one in one hundred perished before ever setting foot on Australian soil. When the Neva struck a reef in Bass Strait, of her 226 casualties, nearly 150 of them were convicts.

       The 337-ton barque Neva set sail from the Irish port of Cork on 8 January 1835, bound for Sydney, New South Wales. On board were 153 female prisoners of the crown, 55 children and nine free female emigrants. The crew, under the command of Captain Benjamin H. Peck, numbered 26. During the passage, three people died and one baby was born, so by the time they were nearing their destination, the ship’s complement numbered 241, passengers and crew.

       By 12 May, the Neva had rounded the Cape of Good Hope, stopped briefly at the island of St Paul for fresh supplies and was about to enter Bass Strait. At noon, Captain Peck calculated they were about 90nm (170 km) west of King Island. As daylight faded into night, he posted a lookout to warn of any dangers lying in their path. He would remain on deck through the night, but for a two-hour break, as his ship negotiated that dangerous stretch of water.   

    A stiff breeze was blowing, and the ship was being pushed along under double-reefed topsails. Around 2 o’clock in the morning, the lookout sighted the dark silhouette of land against the lighter night sky in the distance. Peck ordered the course altered a little to the north to ensure he safely cleared King Island. Then, about two or three hours later, the frantic call came from the lookout, “breakers ahead,” as a line of white water emerged from the pre-dawn gloom. 

    Neva Shipwreck. illustration from The Capricornian, 26 May 1927.

       Captain Peck immediately gave the order to tack, but it came too late. As the Neva was turning into the wind, she struck a rock and lost her rudder. With the wheel spinning freely, the stricken ship was now at the mercy of the wind and current. They had likely struck Navarine Reef about three kilometres northeast of Cape Wickham, the northernmost point of King Island.

       Suddenly, the Neva struck hard a second time. She hit on her port bow and swung broadside against the reef and immediately started taking on water. Below decks, the prison cages collapsed under the violent force of the collision, and the terrified female convicts rushed on deck.

       The gig, one of the four available lifeboats, was lost as it was being lowered into the water. Captain Peck then ordered the pinnace over the side, and he, the ship’s surgeon, several sailors and some of the female passengers climbed in. But before they could put away, it was overwhelmed by a deluge of terrified women, frantically trying to escape the ship. The boat sank under their weight, and everyone was spilled into the churning water. Only Peck and the two seamen made it back to the ship alive.

       The captain then set about launching the longboat. However, this time, as he boarded, he made sure his panicking passengers were kept at bay. But this time, as soon as the boat was lowered, it was swamped by the surging seas crashing around the ship. Everyone was tossed into the water. Only Captain Peck and his first mate made it back to the ship this time.

       After the loss of three boats, the cutter was their only remaining lifeboat. It is not clear from reading survivor accounts why it was never launched. Considering the sea conditions it would likely have met with the same fate as the longboat. The most likely reason the cutter was never launched is that the Neva began to break up before it could be lowered.

    Account of the Neva shipwreck. Courtesy, State Library of NSW, FL3316306

       Part of the deck sprang away from the superstructure and then split in half, effectively forming two rafts. Captain Peck, some of the crew and several women made it onto one of them while the first mate and several other people were lucky enough to find themselves on the second. The two rafts drifted clear of the wreckage, leaving the remaining convict women clinging to those parts of the ship still jutting out of the surging seas.

       The rafts and several other pieces of wreckage with people clinging to them drifted with the currents for several hours before they came to ground in a sandy bay at the northern end of King Island. The mate’s raft rode the surf in and washed up high on the beach, and most of the people who had clung to it survived.

       The captain’s raft was not so lucky. The timber platform had come away with a large section of the foremast protruding below the surface. As they entered the shallows, the mast caught on the bottom some distance from the beach. Waves swept everyone from the raft, drowning anyone who could not swim. Only the captain, a seaman and one woman made it through the pounding surf to reach shore alive.

       Twenty-two people made it onto King Island, but seven of them died within 24 hours either from exposure or from injuries sustained during their escape from the wreck. The remaining 15 survivors used sails and spars washed ashore to build makeshift shelters, and then they began collecting what provisions had been washed ashore. Over 100 bodies were found scattered among the debris, and they were buried in several mass graves in the coming days.

       Having resigned to waiting it out until they could be rescued by the next passing ship, Peck and the others began foraging for food to supplement the provisions that had washed ashore from the Neva. But unbeknown to them, there was another party of castaways on King Island. They had been shipwrecked earlier on the south-eastern end of King Island and had come to investigate when they saw wreckage drifting down the coast. They eventually came upon the Neva survivors. A short time later all the survivors were discovered by a sealer and his Aboriginal wife who lived permanently on the island. They cared for the castaways until help finally arrived.

       After being marooned for a month, the castaways were found by Charles Friend, the master of the schooner Sarah Ann. He had touched at King Island on his way back to Launceston after delivering provisions to a whaling station elsewhere in Bass Strait. He took off all the survivors except two of the Neva’s sailors and a convict woman, who had been out foraging for food at the time. Unable to find a safe place to anchor, he was not prepared to risk losing his ship waiting for them to return.

       The Sarah Ann reached Launceston on 27 June, and a cutter was immediately dispatched to King Island to collect the remaining three castaways. In all, just fifteen of the 241 passengers and crew survived, making it one of Australia’s worst maritime disasters.

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

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  • The Krait’s Remarkable Career

    MV Krait anchored at Darwin. Courtesy AWM.

       The small fishing vessel MV Krait holds a special place in Australian maritime and military history. Named after a small, deadly snake, it played an important part in Operation Jaywick, which saw commandoes sink several Japanese ships anchored in Singapore Harbour in September 1943.

       The MV Krait started life as a Japanese fishing vessel named the Kofuku Maru, which was launched in 1934. She was a motorised gaff-rigged ketch measuring 20 metres in length, with a two-metre draft and a displacement of 23 tonnes. At the outbreak of the Second World War, the Kofuku Maru was owned by a Japanese fishing company based in Singapore. They used the vessel to ferry water, food, and other supplies to fishermen working in the Riau Archipelago and to bring their catch back to the city’s seafood markets.   

    When Japan entered the war, the British authorities seized the Kofuku Maru. As Japanese troops advanced down the Malay Peninsula, an Australian merchant mariner, Bill Reynolds, used the fishing boat to evacuate over 1000 civilians to Sumatra in the Dutch East Indies (present-day Indonesia).

    Singapore shortly before the Japanese landed on the island. Photo Central Queensland Herald, 26 Mar 1942, p. 20.

        Then, in January 1942, when it was clear that Singapore was about to fall, Reynolds sailed the Kofuku Maru to Colombo in Ceylon (present-day Sri Lanka). There, some officers from the Allied Intelligence Bureau saw the potential of having a Japanese fishing vessel at their disposal. With any luck, they thought, the Kofuku Maru might be able to traverse enemy waters without raising suspicion. Reynolds had likely told them that Japanese aircraft had ignored the vessel while he had been operating around Singapore. The Kofuku Maru was then sent to Australia, where she was made ready to begin her clandestine career.

       The Krait, though still going by its Japanese name, Kofuku Maru, was chosen to take part in Operation Jaywick, an audacious mission to destroy enemy shipping moored in Singapore Harbour. It was a high-risk, high-reward mission, but with any luck, the Japanese would not suspect the Krait of being anything other than one of the numerous small Japanese fishing vessels plying the waters around Malaya and Indonesia.   

    A 14-man team was selected for the operation under the command of Major Ivan Lyons, a British Army officer attached to the Z Special Unit, better known simply as Z Force. The men chosen were a mix of British and Australian Army and Navy personnel. After completing specialised training and rehearsals at Refuge Bay north of Sydney, the Krait then made the long voyage up the east coast, through Torres Strait, past Darwin and down the Western Australia coast to Exmouth Gulf.

    A group on board MV Krait enroute to Singapore during Operation Jaywick. Courtesy AWM.

       The 7500 km long passage was not without problems. The engine quit while they were off Fraser Island, and the Krait had to be towed to Townsville, where she remained until a replacement could be found and installed. More repairs had to be made before they finally reached Exmouth Gulf, further delaying the operation.

       But on 2 September 1943, the Krait left Exmouth Gulf with the Z Special Unit men on board. The plan called for the eight-man naval contingent to sail the vessel to within striking distance of Singapore Harbour. Then six Army commandos would take to three folding kayaks, paddle into the harbour, and sink as much Japanese shipping as they could by attaching magnetic “limpet” mines to their hulls below the waterline.

       Four days after leaving Exmouth, the Krait motored through the narrow Lombok Strait with a Japanese ensign flying from her mast. Once clear of the strait, they bore west through the Java Sea towards their intended target. The men had stained their skin so they resembled local fishermen and were meticulous about what rubbish they threw overboard.   

    Towards the end of September, the Krait had made it to the small island of Pulau Panjang, just 30 km away from Singapore Harbour. The six commandos then set off in their two-man kayaks and island-hopped north to a small island where they could observe the entrance to the harbour. Meanwhile, the Krait made for safer waters near Borneo but not before agreeing on a rendezvous point with the commandos for the night of 2 October.

    MV Krait’s route from Exmouth Gulf to Singapore. Courtesy Google Maps.

       On 26 September, the six men paddled into the harbour and planted their mines on seven Japanese ships. Singapore’s early morning quiet was shattered by a series of loud explosions as the mines went off. One failed to detonate, but six ships were sunk or badly damaged. But by then, the commandos were long gone and were holed up on a small island to await the return of the Krait.

       The Japanese did not realise that the attack had come from the sea, thinking instead that it was the work of local saboteurs. Several local Chinese and Malays, along with some prisoners of war and European civilian internees, were suspected of the bombings. They were rounded up by the Japanese Military Police and interrogated. Most were tortured, and some were executed in the aftermath, an unfortunate and unforeseen consequence of the raid.

       Meanwhile, the commandos rendezvoused with the Krait as planned without incident. The Krait then set off for home. Two and a half weeks later, they were safely back in Exmouth Gulf. Major Lyons would lead a second similar raid on Singapore Harbour the following year, but Operation Rimau would end in disaster.

    MV Krait in Brisbane 1943. Courtesy AWM.

       Following the success of Operation Jaywick, the Krait was based in Darwin and used to support coast watchers and other intelligence operations, which reported on Japanese activities to Australia’s north. Commissioned into the Royal Australian Navy (RAN) in 1944, she was officially renamed HMAS Krait and, in September 1945, was present for the local Japanese surrender at Ambon.

       After the war, the Krait was employed by the British administration in Borneo until it was sold to a British-owned timber sawmill and renamed Pedang, meaning sword in Malay. In the late 1950s, a pair of Australian businessmen recognised the vessel’s historical significance and began fundraising to purchase her and have her returned to Australia.

       In 1964, the Krait came back to Australia, where it was operated and maintained by the Royal Volunteer Coastal Patrol. Then, in 1984, the Krait was handed over to the Australian War Memorial and berthed at the Sydney Maritime Museum. It is now on display at the Australian National Maritime Museum in Sydney.

    MV Krait at the Australian National Maritime Museum, Sydney. Photo CJ Ison.

    Sources: 

    Australian National Maritime Museum: Articles on the Krait and Operation Jaywick.

    Royal Australian Navy: Article on the Krait and Operation Jaywick.

    Australian War Memorial: Article on Operation Jaywick.

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

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  • The Loss of the Saint Paul and its Horrific Aftermath– 1858

    Stranding of the Saint Paul, on Rossel Island. Auguste Hadamard, Le Tour du Monde, volume 4, 1861.

       In September 1858, the French ship Saint Paul was wrecked off Rossel Island, east of mainland New Guinea, with as many as 370 people on board. Of those, fewer than a dozen escaped with their lives. One of those was Narcisse Pelletier, who made it to Cape York, where he lived with the Uutaalnganu people for the next 17 years. His story is told in the next chapter. All the rest were massacred while they waited to be rescued.

       The Saint Paul was a French merchant ship of 620 tons under the command of Captain Emmanuel Pinard. In July 1858, she set sail from Hong Kong with an estimated 350 Chinese passengers bound for Sydney to try their luck on the New South Wales goldfields.

       The ship made slow progress from the outset due to adverse weather conditions. By the time she was somewhere north of New Guinea, the captain was concerned they would run out of food before reaching port. Rather than stick to the regular shipping route, east of the Solomon Islands, Captain Pinard chose to shorten his voyage and save time by sailing through the risky reef-strewn waters between the Solomons and New Guinea.

       Unfortunately, the gamble did not pay off. They were plagued by more bad weather, and thick mists enveloped the ship, barring Pinard from making any solar observations so he might accurately plot his position. The captain was sailing blind as he tried to thread his way through the treacherous Louisaide Archipelago when disaster finally struck.

    Saint Paul.

       On the night of 10/11 September, the Saint Paul struck a reef off Rossel Island on the eastern edge of the archipelago. The ship was beyond saving, so the next morning, the passengers were ferried ashore with what stores and provisions could be salvaged.

       They set up camp on a small rocky island about two or three kilometres off Rossel Island. A couple of days later, Pinard sent his first mate with half his crew across to Rossel to look for water. Islanders attacked the water party, and several of Pinard’s men were killed. The rest returned empty-handed.

       Pinard would later report that he then took the longboat crewed by most of the surviving seamen and set off for the Australian mainland to find help. He also claimed that he had only done so after consulting with his Chinese passengers and receiving their approval. Leaving behind most of the food, firearms and the second boat, he and his men set off. Years later, the cabin boy Narcisse Pelletier would contradict his captain’s statement, claiming they had fled in the dead of night, leaving the Chinese passengers to their fate.

       Pinard and his crew, including Pelletier, landed near Cape Direction after a nearly two-week passage. There, they received food and water from the local Uutaalnganu people before putting back out to sea in their boat. However, when they left, Pelletier was not with them. For some reason, he had been deliberately left behind.

    The crew of the Saint-Paul attacked by natives of Rossel Island. Auguste Hadamard, Le Tour du Monde, volume 4, 1861.

          Meanwhile, Captain Pinard and the Saint Paul’s crew were found by Captain McKellar of the schooner Prince of Denmark. He agreed to take them to the French settlement on New Caledonia, but he could only do so after he first delivered provisions to a party of beche-de-mer fishermen camped on a remote island. By now, the Chinese had been marooned for over a month, and it would be mid-December before the Prince of Denmark reached Port-de-France (Noumea).

       When Pinard finally reported the loss of his ship, the French immediately dispatched a warship to rescue the stranded passengers. The Styx reached Rossel Island on 5 January 1859, but when Lieutenant Grenoult and his men went ashore, they made a shocking discovery. Of the 350 or so people left on the island, they found only one survivor. Through sign language, he seemed to convey to Grenoult that everyone else had been massacred. Still, the shocking details would only come to light after they arrived in Sydney a few weeks later, and an interpreter could translate his story. What follows is drawn from the survivor’s own words and Lt. Grenoult’s official report.

       For a little while, the Islanders left the Saint Paul survivors alone. Then some of the Chinese ventured across to Rossel Island in the Saint Paul’s boat, and they were never seen again. A few days later, several Islanders paddled over to the castaways’ camp, offering food to anyone who returned to Rossel Island with them. When they also failed to return, the Chinese grew suspicious, and no amount of encouragement would compel them to leave their island despite their growing hunger.

    Detail from an 1829 Marine Chart showing Rossel Is. Courtesy NLA.

       Then, after the Chinese had been stranded for about a month and were in a feebly weak state, the Islanders descended on them in large numbers. Some of the castaways put up a fight, but they were easily overpowered. The camp was ransacked, and the Chinese were forced into canoes and taken to Rossel Island. The castaways would soon learn the grisly truth about what had become of those previously missing men.

       The Saint Paul survivors were corralled in a large clearing and carefully watched. Over the next several weeks, a few men at a time were separated from their comrades, beaten to death, butchered, and their flesh cooked over a fire. This horrific spectacle was apparently played out in full view of the dwindling number of survivors.

       By the time the Styx steamed into view, just half a dozen Saint Paul survivors were still alive. On seeing the French warship, the Islanders fled into the mountainous interior, taking with them four Chinese and a European sailor. Only the single man was left behind because he had been too weak to bother with. He had hidden among some rocks until the Styx’s boats landed and the French sailors stepped ashore.   

    Lt Grenoult and his men spent three days on Rossel Island trying to find the others, but without success. The Styx then delivered Captain Pinard, his men, and the young Chinese passenger to Sydney.   

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

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