Tales from the Quarterdeck

Tag: Ship

  • Mutiny on the Ariel

    Hong Kong circa 1840s

    In 1845 the trading schooner Ariel was seized off the coast of China while carrying a valuable cargo worth millions of dollars in today’s money.   This act of piracy was unusual because it was not carried out by a band of desperate cutthroats but by two of the ship’s own officers.

    The schooner Ariel was owned by the powerful trading company Jardine Matheson and was a fast-sailing coastal merchant vessel, probably around the 100-ton class.   She was also well-armed with cannons to ward off marauders in those dangerous waters.   The Ariel was crewed by British officers comprising the captain, first mate, and gunner.   The only other Englishman on board being a young apprentice.   The sailing crew were all Filipino, or “Manila men” as they were called at the time.  A young Chinese woman was also on board who was likely the captain’s mistress although she was variously described as his cook or cabin steward.

    Amoy from the outer anchorage, circa 1845.

    The Ariel regularly cruised between Chinese ports carrying all manner of goods.   This time she was sailing from Xiamen (then called Amoy) bound for Hong Kong with a very valuable cargo.   One account had the ship carrying $100,000 in Spanish silver Reales, the currency of trade at the time.     Another had her carrying a shipment of opium plus a quantity of gold and silver coin.  Either way, the value of the cargo was substantial, probably equivalent to many millions of dollars today, and it proved a temptation too irresistible to the mate and gunner.

    The evening they sailed from Xiamen, Wilkinson, the first mate, called Captain Macfarlane to come up from his cabin.   They were now off Nan’ao Island 160kms south of Xiamen and about one-third of the way through their passage to Hong Kong.   When Macfarlane came on deck he was confronted by Wilkinson and the gunner both armed with cutlass and pistols.   Wilkinson told Macfarlane they had seized the ship and they would be making for Singapore.    The pair offered to make Macfarlane an equal partner in their crime, for there were more than enough riches to go around.   But the captain refused to have any part in it and tried to persuade the men to give up their brazen heist.   

    Map of China showing coast between Amoy and Hong Kong, circa 1850s.

    Meanwhile, the crew was gathered on the forecastle and though they appeared not to be participating in the mutiny, Wilkinson said they were on his side.   The threat was obvious.   Captain Macfarlane was on his own.   Macfarlane was locked in his cabin with the assurance he would be released unharmed as long as he did nothing to disrupt their plans.   

    The next morning the captain asked to be let go in the longboat but the mate refused, telling him they were too close to Hong Kong and he would not risk capture should the captain raise the alarm before they were well out to sea.   A little later the Chinese girl went forward and spoke with the Filipino crew and learned they wanted nothing to do with the mutiny.   They armed themselves with knives and the cannon’s ramrods on the captain’s command and attacked the mate and gunner.   Meanwhile, several men smashed open the cabin skylight to rescue the captain.

    Hong Kong circa 1840s

    By the time Macfarlane was hauled out through the skylight, the mate was lying bashed, stabbed, and bleeding to death on the deck while the gunner had taken refuge in the cabin just vacated by the captain.

    Captain Macfarlane, now back in command of his ship, found a fowling piece (shotgun) belonging to the gunner and ordered him to surrender.   When the gunner opened the hatch leading to the ship’s gunpowder magazine and threatened to blow everything up, Macfarlane shot him in the leg.   He was then quickly overpowered and taken to Hong Kong to stand trial.   Wilkinson died from his wounds before they reached port.   The gunner, whose name is not recorded, was found guilty of piracy and sentenced to transportation for life.

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

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  • The Caledonia’s perilous last voyage

    A schooner of the early 1800s. Courtesy State Library of Queensland.

    On a hot December night in 1831, a storm rolled across Moreton Bay as they often do at that time of year. Outside the Amity Point pilot house, nearly a dozen convicts huddled under a sheet of canvas as they bided their time. There was a small schooner anchored a short distance offshore, and the storm would provide the soaking prisoners with a rare opportunity to escape.

       But what the hapless runaways did not know as they seized the Caledonia and sailed her out of Moreton Bay, their self-appointed leader was a dangerous psychopath, and they would be swapping one reign of terror for another far worse. Three of them would soon be murdered. A fourth would be abandoned on an inhospitable island, and the rest would flee for their lives at the earliest opportunity.

       The Caledonia had pulled into Moreton Bay the previous day to collect a whaleboat, which belonged to the sailing ship America. The crew had used it to reach Moreton Bay after their ship was wrecked further north. Two Sydney businessmen had purchased the salvage rights to the wrecked ship and sent Captain George Browning north to retrieve the boat and strip the America of everything of value. Browning had reported to the Amity Point pilot station and explained their unexpected visit. He was now waiting for the boat to be brought down the Brisbane River before he continued on his way to the wreck site.

    Sydney Herald, 20 Feb 1832, p. 3.

    That night, as lightning streaked across the sky and deafening claps of thunder boomed around them, the convicts got to work. The guard had taken shelter and the raging storm muffled any noise they made. They easily dug down through the sand and tunnelled under the pilothouse wall. A couple of them crawled inside, stole the keys to the boat shed and armed themselves with muskets and pistols while the pilot and a guard slept. Then they jumped into the pilot boat and rowed out to the Caledonia. No guard had been posted on deck, and the crew were easily overwhelmed before they had fully awoken. The Caledonia’s crew were ordered into the pilot boat to make their way back to Amity Point using only one oar. However, the convicts held on to Captain Browning. He was needed to navigate the schooner to the tiny island of Rotuma, 3000 km away. By dawn, the Caledonia was heading out to sea, as the crew drifted back to shore to raise the alarm.

       The leader of the runaways was a former sailor named William Evans. He was unusual, for he had come to New South Wales as part of the crew of a merchant ship. One night while moored in Sydney Harbour, Evans had broken into the captain’s cabin and stolen a purse full of money. He was spotted leaving the ship in a small dinghy and was soon caught. Evans was found guilty and sentenced to seven years’ hard labour at Moreton Bay. Now, in the closing days of 1831, Evans still had three more years of back-breaking toil, poor rations and loathsome living conditions to endure. When he realised there was a chance he could make his escape on the schooner, he pounced, convincing the rest of the prisoners to join him.

    Newspaper illustration of Evans and others throwing convict over the side of the Caledonia. The Argus, circa 1950s

       After they had been at sea for a week, tensions came to a head among the convicts. The common purpose that had seen them work together to seize the ship and escape had been replaced by bitterness and division. After hearing a rumour that a mutiny was looming, Evans struck first. He stood outside the entrance to the crew’s cabin, backed up by two mates, and ordered one of the mutineers to come on deck. As he emerged, Evans shot him point-blank in the head. Evans then ordered two others to come out, and they were killed on the spot. That ended any thought of challenging his leadership.

       About a week later, the schoonerstopped at New Caledonia for water. Evans’ right-hand man, Hugh Hastings, and a couple of others took a boat out to fill the water barrels. But, while they were gone, a party of Islanders came out to the schooner, indicating that they wanted to trade. As the Islanders outnumbered those on the schooner, they were barred from boarding. Only a volley of shots fired over their heads saw them leave. Fearing they might return under the cover of darkness, Evans had the Caledonia taken out to sea. But, when Hastings returned to find the schooner missing, he thought the worst and swore he would kill Evans for his treachery.

       Hastings and the others spent an uncomfortable night in the boat, but in the morning the Caledonia returned to pick them up. When Evans heard that Hastings had threatened him, he gave his mate two choices. Either stay on the island and take his chances with the hostile natives, or be shot. Hastings remained on the island when the Caledonia sailed away.

    Likely route taken by the Caledonia from Moreton Bay to Savai’i Island

       The Caledonia continued back out to sea and headed for the tiny island of Rotuma, still 1000 km away. Evans had heard rumours that whaling ships regularly stopped there for water and fresh supplies. He planned to join the next American whaler to visit Rotuma and work his way to the United States.

       The Caledonia dropped anchor off Rotuma a week or so later, however, their stay was cut short. One of the convicts bragged that they had just escaped from Moreton Bay. When Evans found out, he was furious and vowed to kill the man, but he fled into the bush before the threat could be carried out. Evans felt it was no longer safe to stay on Rotuma, so he ordered Captain Browning to set sail.

       The Caledonia eventually pulled up off Savai’i Island in Samoa. As soon as they dropped anchor, three more of the convicts jumped ship and fled inland, taking with them three women Evans had kidnapped off Rotuma. Of the ten convicts who escaped with Evans, only three were left.

       Evans went ashore and learned that whaling ships regularly called in there for supplies, so he scuttled the Caledonia and awaited the next ship. Browning, whose life had hung in the balance since leaving Moreton Bay, was finally able to escape Evans’s clutches. A local chief had taken a liking to Browning and gave him protection as Evans and his mates kept their distance. When, a fortnight later, the whaler Oldham dropped anchor, Browning raced out to meet the captain. Browning told him that Evans was an escaped convict and had murdered three men since fleeing Moreton Bay. The Oldham’s captain and crew went ashore and brought Evans back to their ship in chains. Evans’ mates, by then, had taken off into the bush. However, Evans would never front court for his crimes. On the way back to Sydney, he jumped over the side of the ship, preferring to drown rather than face the hangman.

       Several months after the Caledonia sailed out of Moreton Bay, Captain Browning arrived back in Sydney, long after he had been given up for dead.

    The full story is told in A Treacherous Coast: Ten Tales of Shipwreck and Survival from Queensland Waters available through Amazon.

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

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  • The Appalling loss of the Grimeneza

    Artist’s impression of the Grimeneza lost on Brampton Shoals. Courtesy: State Library of Queensland.

    On 3 July 1854, the Peruvian ship Grimeneza struck a reef at Bampton Shoals in the Coral Sea.    The Captain, first mate, ship’s surgeon, and four sailors immediately abandoned the ship leaving the rest of the crew and about 600 Chinese passengers to their fate.

    Twenty-eight days later Captain M.H. Penny and five others reached safety at New Ireland after a gruelling 4,000kms passage in an open boat.   They had suffered severely from hunger, exposure, and disease, but they had survived their ordeal. The first mate was not so fortunate for he had been killed at New Britain when they stopped seeking food.

    Captain Penny reported that the Grimeneza had been sailing from Shantou in China bound for Callao (present day Lima) in South America when its voyage was cut short. The night his ship crashed onto the reef it was blowing a gale. He claimed to have done all that was possible to ensure the safety of everyone on board before he and the others were forced to abandon the ship.   Justifying his hasty departure, Penny said the Chinese passengers panicked and had tried to attack him and the rest of the crew.   And had no one else made it off alive, that is all anyone would have known of a disaster that claimed over 600 lives.

    The Courier (Hobart), 5 Mar 1855, p. 2, Shipping News.

    But others also survived.   One was the second mate, who later reported that the captain fled the ship immediately after she struck the reef stopping only to secure the hatch’s leading to the hold where the passengers were accommodated.    After the captain’s departure, the remaining crew tried to back the vessel off the reef but when that failed, they too left in the remaining two lifeboats leaving the passengers to their fate.   After six days at sea without food or water the castaways contemplated killing a 12-year-old cabin boy for food to keep the rest of them alive.   Fortunately, they were discovered by a passing ship and the boy’s life was spared.

    Back on the Grimeneza, the Chinese passengers eventually broke out of the hold to find they had been deserted.    Sometime after that the ship slipped off the reef on the high tide and immediately started filling with water.    The passengers manned the pumps and baled for all they were worth to keep the vessel afloat.    For three days they toiled as they sailed before the wind towards the Queensland coast.   They could have come within a few hundred kilometres before disaster struck.   After three days of unrelenting effort, everyone was exhausted, and some began giving up.   They could not or would not keep going.   The sense of common purpose that had got them thus far broke down.   A few began plundering what they could from the ship as water filled the hold.  Others made preparation for the inevitable.

    Map showing Grimeneza’s likely sailing route. Courtesy: Google Maps.

    The Grimeneza soon foundered.   A few men took to small rafts they had hastily built, others jumped into the sea with nothing more than a single timber plank to keep themselves afloat.    According to one of only six Chinese passengers to survive, most drowned or were soon taken by sharks.   The lucky few were rescued by a passing ship after several days in the water.   They were cared back to health and taken on to Madras where their appalling story came to light through the aid of an interpreter.

    Captain Penny briefly touched in Melbourne on his return to South America but was never held to account for his callous actions.    Years later it was revealed that the Chinese “coolies” had boarded the Grimeneza believing they were being taken to the Californian goldfields.   Instead, they had been bound for Peru to work in the Chincha Island guano mines as indentured labourers.

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

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  • The May Queen’s Long and Lucky Life

    The May Queen is Australia’s oldest sail trading ketch. Photo C.J. Ison

    Launched in 1867, the May Queen is Australia’s oldest sailing ketch still afloat.   During her century long working life she twice sank, survived several collisions and a myriad of other mishaps that could have been her demise.

    The 36-ton May Queen was purpose built for carrying timber, but over her long career she transported all manner of cargos between Hobart and settlements along the Derwent River and Tasmania’s east coast.  But she was more than a simple workhorse.   She could sail and won her class in the annual Hobart Sailing regatta nine times over the years and placed in many more.

    May Queen competing in the Annual Hobart Regatta.

    One night in June 1883 the May Queen found herself becalmed off Cape Raoul with a load of timber from Port Arthur bound for Hobart.    Then, out of the dark they saw the Sydney bound steamer Esk bearing down on them.   As she got closer and showed no sign of deviating from her course the captain and crew yelled “LOOK OUT AHEAD” at the top of their lungs.   The steamer’s lookout only saw the stationary vessel when they were about 50 metres away.   The helmsman pulled the wheel over but it wasn’t quite enough and the steamer struck a glancing blow and took away the ketch’s bowsprit.   The May Queen was otherwise undamaged and limped into Hobart once a breeze picked up.  

    Six weeks later while sailing off Bruny Island her mizzen mast snapped off at deck level during a powerful storm.   She came close to being driven ashore during another fierce gale the following year when her anchors started dragging.  Only the addition of a third anchor prevented disaster.   On a separate occasion, another vessel dragged its anchors and crashed into the May Queen punching a hole in her bulwark and caused other serious damage.

    Trading Ketch May Queen. Photo C.J. Ison

    Her worst accident happened on 4 February 1888 when she sank in the Huon River.   It was 2 o’clock in the afternoon and the May Queen had just taken on extra ballast in readiness for a deck cargo of long timber piles.   A squall blew out of nowhere.  The ketch heeled over.  The ballast in her hold shifted and she foundered in 16 fathoms (30 metres) of water.

    That could have been the end of her for there was no air pump available that could get a salvage diver down to that depth.   HMS Egeria had diving equipment but it could only operate at half that depth.    Somehow, the May Queen’s owner managed to hook a line onto his vessel and dragged it into shallower water.  From there she was raised, pumped dry and towed back to Hobart where she received extensive repairs.

    Then in 1940 she sank again, this time in Port Esperance south of Hobart.   While about to deliver a cargo of timber, the May Queen struck Dover Wharf and started taking on water.    At low tide her deck was awash but at high tide only her masts broke the surface.   

    The ketch May Queen tied up at Constitution Dock, Hobart. Photo C.J. Ison.

    She was again raised, repaired and continued working until she was finally retired in 1973.   So ended a working career spanning 106 years.   She was gifted to the Tasmanian Government and has since been maintained as a reminder of Tasmania’s maritime heritage.   As of 2022 she is 155 years old and can be seen tied up at Hobart’s Constitution Dock.

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

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  • The Tragic Loss of RMS Quetta

    In 1890 the Quetta sank bow first in just 3 minutes. Courtesy: State Library of Queensland.

    In 1890 Queensland experienced one of its worst maritime disasters when the passenger steamer Quetta sank in Torres Strait in just three minutes with the loss of 133 lives.

    The R.M.S. Quetta was a 3,300-ton coal-powered, iron-clad steamer measuring 116 metres (380 feet) in length and could travel at a top speed of 13 knots (24 kms per hour).   She was built in 1881 and on this voyage from Brisbane to London she carried nearly 300 people – passengers and crew.

    At 9.14 on the evening of 28 February a sharp jolt and a shudder ran through the Quetta as she was being piloted through the Albany Passage.   Initially, the pilot and captain were more perplexed than alarmed.  The pilot was sure they were miles from any known hazards and it didn’t feel like they had hit anything substantial.  None-the-less Captain Sanders followed protocol and ordered the engines stopped, the lifeboats got ready and the carpenter to sound the wells.

    The Quetta Saloon from The Illustrated London News, 1881.

    Moments later the carpenter cried out “she’s sinking.”   Water was pouring into the ship at an unimaginable rate.    What no one realised at the time was they had struck an uncharted rock pinnacle right in the middle of the main shipping channel through Torres Strait.   A gapping hole had been torn in the Quetta’s hull from bow to midship one to two metres wide.  

    The ship was already starting to settle by the bow as Captain Sanders ran aft encouraging passengers to make their way there.    At the time many of the first-class passengers were in the saloon rehearsing for an upcoming concert and were oblivious to what was taking place outside.   The crew were still frantically trying to get the lifeboats out when water began lapping at their feet only a minute or two later.

    Then the stern reared up out of the water and the ship plummeted below the surface of the sea spilling scores of people into the water.   Many others were trapped in the saloon, their cabins or under the ship’s sun awnings and drowned.  

    RMS Quetta showing the sun awnings covering the decks. Photo courtesy SLQ

    The Quetta sank in just 3 minutes.   Most of those who survived were already on the aft deck when the ship sank or were lucky to swim clear as she slid below the surface.  

    All was confusion in the water as people thrashed around in panic trying to find something to keep themselves afloat.  Eventually a measure of order was restored and one of the lifeboats, now floating free, was used to rescue as many people as it would hold.   A second lifeboat, though damaged, was filled with people and they all made their way to land a few kilometres away.

    About one hundred people made it to safety on Little Adolphus Island where they spent an uncomfortable night but they were alive.   Captain Sanders was among them.   The next morning he set off in the lifeboat manned by some of his men and made for Somerset to report the loss of the ship and get help for those still missing.   Apart from the people he had left on the island without food or water, there were many others who had washed up on other islands or were still clinging to pieces of wreckage out in the Strait.

    When the news reached authorities on Thursday Island a government steamer was dispatched to search for survivors.   Fishing boats from Somerset also combed the waters in the days that followed.    In all, about 160 people were saved, many had stories of lucky escapes.

    The full story of the Quetta’s loss is told in A Treacherous Coast: Ten Tales of Shipwreck and Survival from Queensland Waters, available as a kindle eBook or paperback through Amazon.

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

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