Tales from the Quarterdeck

Tag: Bass Strait

  • The search for the Sydney Cove – 1797

    On the night of 2 October 1797, fourteen convicts stole a boat and made their way down the Paramatta River across Sydney harbour and out through the Heads.  When the men were discovered missing, the authorities sent boats in pursuit, but they returned a few days later, having never caught sight of the runaways.    As a storm had swept the area shortly after they had escaped, it was thought the bolters had died at sea.   However, that was no more than wishful thinking.    Their story is one of desperation, betrayal, and ultimately defeat.

    The runaways’ leaders were John Boroughbridge and Michael Gibson.   They had been labouring away in the back blocks of Paramatta when they convinced 12 other desperate men to join them in an audacious escape.    Their plan was to find the remains of the 250-ton Sydney Cove, a ship that had recently been wrecked somewhere far to the south of Sydney.   Boroughbridge and Gibson were sure they could build a new vessel from the timbers and fittings and make for some distant port far from the clutches of British law.   That the Sydney Cove had been carrying a massive cargo of rum and other alcoholic spirits added to its allure.

    Painting of Sydney, Port Jackson. circa 1804.

    Boroughbridge was serving 14 years for some unspecified crime and had landed in New South Wales only four months earlier and was keen to leave at the first opportunity.  Gibson had already spent five long years there, but with nine more to serve, he was no less eager to put the place behind him.     It seems they had little difficulty finding 12 others willing to join them.

    With nothing more than a small pocket compass and the knowledge that the wreck lay somewhere far to the south, they headed out through Sydney Heads and turned right.    A day or so later, the weather turned nasty, but Boroughbridge and his mates ploughed on.   Twice, their boat was driven ashore, and both times, they were lucky to avoid serious damage.  

    In time, the weather eased, and they continued following the coast and unknowingly strayed into Bass Strait.   In 1797, no one knew that a body of water separated Van Diemen’s Land from the rest of Australia.    All Boroughbridge and the others would have known was that the Sydney Cove was aground on an island somewhere off the coast.   They likely had no accurate idea how far they had come or how much further they had to go.   They certainly could not have known that they needed to cross 200 km of open water to reach the beached ship.   By now, the compass would have shown that they were heading in a south-westerly rather than southerly direction as they doggedly follow the contours of the coast.

    Finally, they ran out of food and fresh water.   In desperation, they put ashore on one of the small islands in the vicinity of Wilson’s Promontory.   There, they found a ready supply of fresh water, while seabirds and seals made easy prey for the starving men.    But, the trying conditions took their toll.   By now, many of the runaways would have gladly returned to Sydney to face any punishment short of death if it meant an end to their suffering.  

    Any sense of common purpose they may have once possessed had since evaporated.   They could not agree on what they should do next.   Should they stick to their original plan and continue searching for the elusive Sydney Cove?   Or should they abandon the search and head back north?   Then, one night, in a callous act of betrayal, Boroughbridge, Gibson and five others quietly set off in the boat, abandoning the rest of the men as they slept. 

    After leaving their comrades to their fate and giving up the search for the Sydney Cove, they returned north again.   Bypassing the entrance to Sydney Harbour, they continued on to the mouth of the Hawkesbury River, where it emptied into Broken Bay.   It cannot have been lost on the weary men that after three or four months on the run, they were now barely a day’s sailing from where they had started.   

    After months at sea, their boat was in such a derelict state that they did not trust it to carry them any further.    The men agreed they would continue sailing north, but to do so, they would have to find another boat.     They did not have long to wait.

    Boroughbridge and his men seized a passing vessel and set a course north. Their plan now was to make for Timor in the Dutch East Indies as William Bryant, his wife Mary and others had done some six years earlier.   News that Mary and some of the other runaways had reached England and been pardoned had only recently reached Sydney offering hope for anyone contemplating following in their wake.   

    Nothing more was heard of them for another couple of months.  Then, in late March 1798, they returned to Broken Bay and hailed down a passing boat.  Boroughbridge handed a letter to the boatswain asking him to deliver it to the NSW Governor.   The letter, signed by Boroughbridge, Gibson and three remaining runaways, claimed they wished to give themselves up and begged for clemency.   They wrote that they had sailed about 400 nautical miles (750 km) north, which would have put them on either Stradbroke or Moreton Island.   Then, they claimed, disaster struck.    When they tried to run ashore, their boat was caught in the surf and driven hard onto the beach, where it broke apart with the pounding of successive waves.   They were stranded on an inhospitable stretch of coast.   But all was not lost.   They were able to salvage enough timber from the wreckage to build a smaller craft and put back out to sea.   However, by now, they had all had enough of life on the run.  They decided that rather than continue sailing north, they would return to Sydney and beg for mercy. 

    Their plea for mercy fell on deaf ears, for the Governor had learned that Boroughbridge and the rest of the men seeking clemency had callously abandoned half their mates to die on the island in Bass Strait.   In an unlikely turn of events, they had been found by George Bass while he was endeavouring to prove the existence of the body of water which now bears his name.   Unable to carry all seven back to Sydney on his small boat, he ferried five across to the mainland, gave them a compass, a musket and as much food as he could spare and told them to follow the coast north to Sydney.   They were never heard of again.   Two men, too weak to walk, remained with Bass.   He returned to Sydney on 25 February and handed the pair to the authorities and they reported what had befallen them.     

    In April, Boroughbridge and the four remaining runaways were returned to Sydney, where they were tried for piracy and found guilty.   Jonathon Boroughbridge and Michael Gibson were hanged, while their three companions were only given clemency at the last minute as they stood before the gallows contemplating their final moments of life.

    © Copyright C.J. Ison / Tales from the Quarterdeck, 2024.

    Please enter your email address below to be notified of future blogs.

  • The Foundering of the S.S. Alert – 1893

    Foundering of the SS Alert. Source: The Queenslander 13 Jan 1894, p. 71.

       On Friday, 29 December 1893, around 11 o’clock in the morning, two ladies were strolling along Sorrento Ocean Beach on the Mornington Peninsula when they discovered an unconscious man washed up on the sand. He would prove to be the sole survivor of the steamer Alert, which sank during foul weather.

       The SS Alert had left Bairnsdale on Victoria’s southeast coast at 4 p.m. two days earlier, bound for Port Albert and Melbourne. But a little more than 24 hours later, she would be lying at the bottom of Bass Strait off Jubilee Point.

       The Alert was a 16-year-old 243-ton iron screw steamer owned by Huddart and Parker. She had recently been refurbished and, for the past two months, had been carrying passengers and cargo between Gippsland and Melbourne. Prior to that, the Alert had been a favourite of the excursion fleet, which ferried passengers between Melbourne and Geelong.

       From the moment the little steamer cleared the Gippsland Lakes, she felt the full fury of a storm lashing the Victorian coast. Nonetheless, Captain Albert Mathieson thought the sea conditions were nothing his ship could not handle. They stopped briefly at Port Albert, 150 kilometres down the coast, to deliver some cargo and then continued on towards the entrance to Port Phillip Bay and respite from the atrocious weather.

    S.S. Alert. Source: Leader, 6 Jan 1894, p. 30.

       By 4 p.m. Thursday, they were off Cape Schanck, just 30 kilometres short of Port Phillip Bay. Owing to the trying conditions, Captain Mathieson had remained on the bridge the entire trip. Such were the conditions that it required two men at the helm to keep the steamer pointed on its course. Then disaster struck.

       About half an hour later, the Alert was struck by a massive rogue wave that swamped the deck with tons of water and pushed the steamer over onto her side. Then, they were hit by a second large wave before the water from the first had time to drain away. The saloon skylight and a porthole window were smashed, and the sea poured in. The helm was unresponsive by now, and the ship’s lee rail was pushed underwater. Another wave swept over the bridge as seawater snuffed out the struggling steamer’s engine fires.

       The captain ordered everyone to don their lifebelts as he vainly tried to head the stricken steamer into the wind, but to no avail. He ordered the lifeboats to be lowered, but one had already been swept off its davits, and the other had seas continuously sweeping over it. There was nothing anyone could do now.

    The Herald, 30 Dec 1893, p. 2.

       Robert Ponting, the ship’s cook, joined the rest of the crew on deck, and minutes later, the Alert went to the bottom. Ponting climbed onto a hatch cover, but in the turbulent seas, it kept turning over and flipping him into the water. He eventually lost hold of it altogether and began swimming. He spotted the ship’s steward nearby and kept pace with him. Ponting and the steward remained together until the poor fellow could no longer keep his head above water and drowned. Around this time, Ponting spotted Captain Mathieson swimming strongly, but lost sight of him again shortly after.   

    Ponting spent the night swimming about in the cold Bass Strait waters within view of the Cape Schanck Lighthouse. The cold water chilled him to the bone, and he eventually passed out. He continued drifting with the current, slowly pushing him towards land. Then, around daybreak, he felt himself being tumbled ashore and used the last of his strength to drag himself away from the pull of the surf. He had spent over 12 hours in the water and would spend another five or six hours passed out on the beach.

    Robert Ponting. Source. Weekly Times (Melb), 6 Jan 1894, p. 19..

       When, around 11 o’clock, he came too, he found he was surrounded by a group of ladies and a gentleman who had been walking along the beach. The first ladies to discover the unconscious man had called on the others to come to Ponting’s aid. Among his saviours was Douglas Ramsay, a doctor on holiday from his practice in Elsternwick. At first, Ramsay thought that Ponting was dead. He had tried to find a pulse but could not. and “his eyes were shut and all sanded over, his nostrils were also clogged with sand, and his body was stiff and cold,” he later recalled. The doctor didn’t give up, though. He opened Ponting’s mouth and poured some drops of brandy down his throat while vigorously working his arms “to restore animation.” After about ten minutes of this bizarre medical attention, Ponting began to show signs of life.

       Ramsay then dragged him behind a rock to shelter him from the cold wind and one of the ladies removed her jacket and wrapped it around his frozen feet. A couple of the other ladies began the long walk back to their carriage and headed to Sorrento for assistance. Meanwhile, Dr Ramsay continued with his ministrations. While they were waiting for help to arrive, another man happened on the scene while walking his giant St Bernard dog. He had his huge canine nestle up against Ponting for warmth. That, and a steady administration of medicinal brandy, brought some colour back to Ponting’s cheeks.   

    After a while, he was able to tell his rescuers his name and what had befallen him. He also asked that someone send his wife a telegram to tell her he was alive. He did not want her to think he had perished with everyone else when news of the shipwreck broke. Eventually, he was taken to the Mornington Hotel in Sorrento, where a couple of local doctors cared for him. As apparently was best practice in such cases during the late 1800s, the good doctors rubbed his entire body with mustard and poured hot brandy down his throat. In response – or perhaps despite it – Ponting made a full recovery.

    The Argus, 30 Dec 1893, p. 7.

       Over the next couple of days, several bodies and much wreckage washed up on Mornington Peninsula’s rugged ocean beaches. In all, 14 men lost their lives: 11 crew and three passengers. Robert Ponting was the only one to survive the catastrophe.

       A marine board inquiry concluded that the Alert had insufficient ballast for the prevailing sea conditions, which had made her ride higher in the water and less stable on her final voyage. The board also felt that Captain Mathieson should have found shelter in Western Port rather than continue down the coast to Port Phillip Bay. It chose not to give an opinion on the captain’s handling of the vessel in its final minutes due to insufficient evidence.

    © Copyright C.J. Ison / Tales from the Quarterdeck, 2024.

    Please enter your email address below to be notified of future blogs.

  • The Cataraqui: Australia’s deadliest shipwreck – 1845.

    Cataraqui wrecked off King Island in Bass Strait. Image courtesy State Library of Victoria.

        Australia’s worst shipwreck occurred off King Island on 4 August 1845. The 803-ton barque Cataraqui, carrying 409 people, slammed into rocks during foul weather. Only nine people made it ashore alive.

       The Cataraqui sailed from Liverpool on 20 April, carrying 366 assisted migrants who were escaping poverty in England, and hoping to make a better life for themselves in Australia. Many of the passengers were women and children accompanying their menfolk, who had been guaranteed employment in the labour-strapped colonies.

       The voyage had largely been uneventful until they were passing to the south of St Paul’s Island about halfway between the Cape of Good Hope and Australia’s west coast. On 15 July, the ship was struck by powerful winds and mountainous seas. For the next fortnight, there was no respite from the atrocious weather, as they steadily pushed east along the 40th parallel. They are not called the “Roaring Forties” for nothing.   

    By Sunday, 3 August, the Cataraqui was only one or two days’ sailing away from Melbourne and still the strong winds and high seas had not abated. At 7 p.m., Captain Charles Finlay estimated their position at 39° 17’S 141° 22’E or about 100 kilometres south of Cape Nelson on the Victorian coast. By 3 o’clock the next morning, the wind had begun to ease, and Captain Finlay bore northeast, expecting the distinctive profile of Cape Otway to come into view off his port bow. That would have given Finlay his first accurate position since passing St Paul.

    Report of the loss of the Cataraqui. Source: Port Phillip Patriot, 14 Sept 1845, p. 5.

       Unfortunately, the strong winds had pushed the Cataraqui along faster than he had calculated. Unbeknown to him, his ship was further east and further south than he realised. So, rather than making towards Cape Otway with deep water ahead, the ship was heading towards the rugged west coast of King Island, hidden behind a blanket of thick weather and inky darkness.

       At 4.30 a.m., the ship struck rocks near Fitzmaurice Bay. First Mate Thomas Guthrie provides a harrowing account of those first few hours, which was published in the Port Phillip Patriot on 14 September 1845.

       “Imagine 425 [actually 409] souls,” he began, “of which the greater part were women and children, being suddenly awakened from a sound sleep by the crashing of the timbers of the ship against the rocks. The scene was dreadful, the sea pouring over the vessel—the planks and timbers crashing and breaking—the waters rushing in from below, and pouring down from above—the raging of the wind in the rigging and the boiling and hissing of the sea—joined to the dreadful shrieks of the females and children, who were drowning between decks.”

       “The attempts of so many at once to get up the hatchways blocked them up, so that few got on deck uninjured, and when there, the roaring noise, and sweeping force of the sea was most appalling. Death stared them in the face in many forms— for it was not simply drowning, but violent dashing against the rocks which studded the waves between the vessel and the shore.”   

    “When day broke, they trusted to find a way to the shore, but no, the raging waves and pointed rocks rendered every attempt useless. The sea broke over the vessel very heavily, and soon swept away the long boat and almost everything on deck.”

    Cataraqui wreck site. Courtesy Google Maps

       In those few desperate hours, it was estimated that some 200 people lost their lives. Another 200 were faced with the stark reality that, even though the land was tantalisingly close, there was no safe way to reach it. The ship had struck a rocky reef running parallel with and a short distance from the coast. Captain Finlay ordered the masts cut away. He hoped the powerful waves might then carry the lightened ship over the rocks and closer to shore, where the survivors might stand some chance of reaching land. Unfortunately, it had no effect. The ship remained firmly stuck on the jagged rocks. Finlay then tried floating a buoy ashore, but the rope became entangled in kelp long before it could be used as a lifeline.

       Around mid-morning, Captain Finlay ordered their only surviving boat over the side. He, the boatswain, the ship’s surgeon and four seamen set off in her in a desperate attempt to get a line ashore. However, the boat overturned in the tumultuous seas. Finlay was the only one to make it back to the ship alive.

       At midday, the Cataraqui broke amidships and the aft sank, taking about 100 terrified people with it. By now, there were only 90 people still clinging to the wreckage. By midnight, 12 hours later, they were down to 50. Overcome by fatigue and the freezing cold, one survivor after another dropped from the wreck into the raging sea.

       Thomas Guthrie clung on for as long as he could. But then he was finally swept from the last vestige of the wreck as it sank below the surface. Somehow, he avoided being dashed against the rocks, and the surf deposited him on the beach to join eight other survivors. One was Solomon Brown, a 30-year-old labourer who had joined the ship with his wife and four daughters. He was the only passenger to make it off the ship alive. The other seven, like Guthrie, were members of the crew.

    Memorial to the Cataraqui shipwreck on King Island. Source: Australasian Sketcher, 29 Dec 1887, p. 197.

       The next day, on 6 August, the survivors were discovered by a party of sealers. Likely alerted by the debris being washed ashore near their camp, they had gone to investigate. Finding the nine survivors in a desperate state, the sealers built a shelter for them, started a fire, and fed them with provisions brought over from their own camp. Guthrie and the other Cataraqui survivors stayed with the sealers for four weeks. On 7 September, the cutter Midge arrived with fresh provisions. When she returned to Melbourne with a cargo of seal and wallaby skins, the survivors went with her.

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

    To be notified of future blogs, please enter your email address below.

  • 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.

    To be notified of future blogs, please enter your email address below.

  • The Loss of the Sydney Cove – 1797

    A barque caught in heavy weather. Source: Tales of Shipwrecks and Adventures at Sea, 1856.

       In May 1797, a fishing party returned to Sydney with more than their daily catch. They had found three shipwreck survivors south of Botany Bay who told them that the merchant ship Sydney Cove had been wrecked somewhere far to the south. The survivors had trekked over 600 km along New South Wales’s rugged southern coast seeking help for their captain and shipmates who were still stranded with the ship.

       On 10 November 1796, the 250-ton Sydney Cove had sailed from Calcutta with her hold full of Indian goods and produce the owners hoped to sell in Sydney. The crew, numbering close to fifty men, was a mix of Indian and European seamen under the command of Captain Guy Hamilton. About a month out, as she cleaved her way south through the Indian Ocean, the Sydney Cove was caught in a terrible storm and began taking on water. Initially, the leak was easily managed with the pumps, so Hamilton continued on his course to round Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania) before heading north again and on up the New South Wales coast to Sydney.

       By January, as they sailed into the latitudes south of Tasmania, the ship was caught in the grip of another powerful storm. The leak began to worsen, and soon the pumps had to operate continuously to prevent the ship from sinking.

       As they headed up Tasmania’s east coast, they encountered yet more wild weather and heavy seas. By now, water was pouring into the hold faster than the men at the pumps could clear it. The barque was slowly filling with water. Captain Hamilton ordered all non-essential gear to be jettisoned to lighten the load, but that only put off the inevitable.   

    By 9 February, the water in the hold was lapping at the lower-deck hatches. Captain Hamilton realised he had no choice but to beach his ship to save her from foundering in deep water. If that were to happen, he would not only lose his ship and its precious cargo but also much of his crew, for they would not all fit on the Sydney Cove’s two boats. He found a sandy beach on what is today called Preservation Island in the Furneaux group and ran her ashore. Although Hamilton had saved the ship from sinking, his troubles were far from over.

    No illustration of the Sydney Cove exists but it likely looked similar to this example. Source: Nautical Dictionary by Arthur Young, published in 1863.

       Exhausted from constant bailing and battling through rough seas, Hamilton got the crew unloading much of the ship’s stores and cargo onto Preservation Island. But then the weary men discovered the casks of rum stacked among the cargo. Hamilton had to have the liquor taken to a neighbouring island to prevent his men from pillaging it. Captain Hamilton then organised his crew for a prolonged stay, for they had come ashore at a very remote part of the world. The crew erected shelters using sails and spars to give them refuge from the elements. Hamilton rationed everyone to one cup of rice per day, and though they sank a well and found water, it proved so brackish it was barely drinkable. However, their immediate needs were met. Then he turned his mind to their rescue.

       If they were ever to leave Preservation Island, they would have to send for help. It was agreed that the First Mate, Hugh Thomson, with 17 men, would sail north, keeping close to the New South Wales coast until they reached Sydney. Captain Hamilton and the remaining crew, numbering about 30, would remain with the ship.

       Several days after setting off, the longboat was driven ashore on Ninety-Mile Beach and smashed to pieces. Thomson and his men escaped with their lives, but they had little else. With no way to return to the Sydney Cove, their only chance of survival lay in continuing to Sydney, 600 km away, on foot.

       Thomson hugged the coast, knowing that as long as they kept the sea on their right, they would eventually arrive at the young settlement. However, that meant crossing many wide river mouths and scrambling over numerous rocky promontories along the way. The journey was gruelling and took a heavy toll on the men. Encounters with the indigenous peoples varied in nature. Some provided the castaways with food and water, while others were less sympathetic but allowed them to pass unhindered. Yet others set upon the interlopers on their land. Their numbers dwindled as some drowned crossing rivers or otherwise fell victim to the harsh and unforgiving terrain.

    The Sydney Cove party as depicted by Smiths’ Weekly in 1939. Smith’s Weekly 30 Sep 1939 p. 8.

       By late April, there were only three men left. However, they had managed to reach within 20 km of Botany Bay when fishermen finally discovered them. The fishermen took the survivors the rest of the way to Sydney in their boat. On learning of the loss of the Sydney Cove, Governor Hunter ordered vessels to be sent to rescue the remaining sailors and salvage the ship’s cargo.

       After being marooned for some four months, Captain Hamilton and the rest of the crew were in dire straits. Winter was fast approaching. Successive storms had mercilessly battered their shelters, and now they had gaping tears, offering the men little protection from the bitter weather. While they had been able to supplement their rice ration with seabirds nesting on the island, their diet still barely sustained life. To add to their sense of abandonment, they had seen several ships pass in the distance but had been unable to alert any of them to their presence.

       Then, on 10 June 1798, salvation arrived when the sloop Eliza sailed into view and dropped anchor a short distance off the beach. It was later joined by the schooner Francis, under the command of Lt Matthew Flinders. Both ships had left Sydney 10 days earlier under Governor Hunter’s orders. The crews loaded as much of the salvaged cargo as they dared, leaving five volunteers behind to watch over the remaining goods until it could be collected at a later date. Captain Hamilton and his men boarded the Francis and Eliza, and they headed for Sydney.   

    The weather was no less kind as the two small ships battled their way home. It took 15 days of hard sailing through storms and high seas for the Francis to reach Port Jackson. The Eliza never made it back to Sydney and was presumed to have sunk in the terrible weather with the loss of her own crew, plus eight shipwreck survivors. In total, about half of the crew of the Sydney Cove lost their lives.

       The shipwreck is historically significant for the trek undertaken by Thomson and the others. They were the first Europeans to note an outcrop of coal in the Illawarra, which has defined the region to this day. Also, Captain Hamilton recorded strong south-westerly currents during his time on Preservation Island, suggesting there was a large body of water separating Van Diemen’s Land and the Australian mainland. The existence of the strait would later be confirmed by Matthew Flinders and George Bass and named after the latter.

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

    To be notified of future blogs, please enter your email address below.