CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SIX

Our cook was happy because in Port Douglas he had purchased a kerosene stove from Mary the pub keeper’s wife. This stove cost the Yanks twenty five pounds, second hand. The telephone wires ran hot between Port Douglas and Cairns for sanction to buy it. The Yanks reckoned it to dear a price but our cook was adamant to have it. Our old stove was coal which was getting hard to buy and now getting in the tropics it was unbearably hot in the galley so he did have a good case. Finally he got the stove, so were all smiles and even now was polishing the old scrap heap until it shone like a new job.

The ‘Destiny’ crew was happy because they were able to come with us after another lecture to their skipper about his indiscriminate shooting, and threatening him again with dire consequences. After we gained the open sea he sped away and we did not see him again for many days.

A Jap recognisant plane flew over but we did not shoot at him in case he shot back!

That evening we anchored at Snapper Island where we found fruit in abundance, we gathered a whole dingy of bananas all in different stages of ripening; also a few cases of paw paws which we felt would not go amiss. We also got a bag of oysters which are very plentiful along the coast and islands. These oysters grow so thick and large it takes but a short time to fill a bag, and then back to the ship.

We had for company an Australian Army boat, we always seemed to meet up with them, and they were also out getting some goodies. What a dinner!

Christmas Eve - as darkness came we were still sitting on the deck under the awning, our talk had run out and all of us thinking of home, who could blame us if we were quiet and moody. We had always managed to have Christmas with our folks and families even though seafaring men. Here we were hundreds of miles from our loved ones, chin up Jean old girl, love and kisses to all. So with a toast of sarsaparilla soft drink we set our watched and the rest turned in.

Christmas Day! Raining like hell as only it can in the tropics, blowing up windy; at the end of the day we anchored off Hope Islands, two islands about half a mile apart surrounded by coral. This was our first glimpse of the coral reefs proper. All the marvelous colours and formations were beautiful, yet awe inspiring. In places the coral came within a few feet of the surface then to drop away to what seemed fathomless depths.

We dropped anchor in twelve fathoms between the two reefs and while the rest of the crew fished the mate and I went ashore to see what we would find after hearing that plenty of mud crabs lived here. But we were not able to find any,

Launching the dinghy the mate and I must have looked a sight. The dinghy was six foot snub nose. Big Jack was big, I was about twelve stone. Jack would sit in the stern but first I had to get in and up to the nose, sit on the stem then Big Jack would lower himself in up aft, up would go the nose and me with it and with only a few inches free board we would go away. What a sight, Jack naked except for his mattress cover lap lap, bearded face lit up with a grin stretching from ear to ear, no hat and his head shaven like a criminal. His six gun at his side and a stinking corn cob pipe going full blast slowly he would row our little craft to shore. I would sit for’ard clad only in shorts only my ginger hair also shaved a six gun slung in a shoulder holster, a knife at my hip, Tommy gun across my knees, the bailer tin going all the time, we must have looked like a pair of pirates coming ashore.

I shot some pigeons which nested on these islands in the thousands, flying to the mainland for food and returning at dusk – a beautiful bird, cream with black tipped wings – the Torres Strait pigeons make excellent stew. It seemed cruel to kill them but the only meat we had was the goat and bully beef so we felt justified in taking them.

We also visited two more boats which had dropped anchor, these were Australian Army boats. One was on old ferry that used to run between Kurnell and La Peruse, it made and weather when a blow was on as it had an open deck; the other boat kept with it in case it had problems on the run up. On boarding one we found an old fishing mate of ours so we had quite a talk during which we found they were also en route for New Guinea.

On return to the ship we found the crew had caught some wonderful fish, two being the famed red emperor, a beautiful red fish weighing about twenty pounds a piece. Then the sharks came around and as a fish was being pulled up the sharks promptly took them off so we turned to fish for shark with heavy tackle and putting a blast of Tommy gun shot through them.


Then the cook called dinner. What a dinner, we were served with fish, pigeons,. Stewed and baked fruit, oysters and flat fifty biscuits so called because they are as hard as bullets. So closed Christmas Day, miles from home but there in spirit, smokes all round then to bed. My watch was twelve till four and I sit on a cartridge case, under the awning for’ard listening to the rain, thinking of home and my family. How happy if only my wife Jean and my two kiddies were here and we were only holidaying but these are dreams. With the sound of the rain beating down I was relieved to go below for a couple of hours before we left at dawn.

Away once more, we call in at Cooktown for water, only a few hours we stay at this old town. This is where Captain Cook put in with his ship Endeavour after running on the reefs when discovering Australia. It’s here also in older days that the keeper of Lizard’s Lighthouse was killed and his wife, in company with a Chinese cook, escaped from the clutches of maddened savages in a water tank only to drift about in the sea and perish of thirst later. The tank in which they escaped from the Lizard I believe can be seen in Cooktown.

We have our water tanks full and so leave to poke our nose into rain and choppy seas, for it was now coming into a full blow, punching through till at last we were forced to pull in under the shelter of the mainland. We dropped anchor at Flattery Island, a small coral island, bleak and treeless. Next morning we pushed on to Berwick Island, a small coral island covered with small scrub. This island was bisected by a small creek and we lay at the mouth of this. Over went our dinghy and Big Jack and I were on the hunt again.

We had the guns and some fish spears that we had made along with a throw net and we made the shore with only a few wettings. These didn’t worry us as we were both nearly naked and black burnt by the sun for days. It was not long before we were wading up the creek with out spears; the guns we left on the bank. Soon we discovered mud crabs, great huge crabs with claws as big as a man’s hand. We would pin the crab with the spear and then grasp him firmly by the back from behind so he could not harm us, Jack was working the creek some hundred yards above me when he yelled and I could see him floundering about and jabbing wildly with his spear. “It’s a bloody great turtle skipper!” he roared “and it is coming your way!”

I waded out to the centre of the stream with my spear ready. I waited then I saws a swirl of water coming down the stream caused by the turtle’s made rush down the creek. I lunged forward and had the luck to impale the turtle through the throat. With a yell I dived at it to land on the turtle, turning it on its back I had it helpless and with a heave I soon had him on the bank The turtle wasn’t as big as first thought only about 16 inches. O mighty hunters! It was two pleased hunters that returned back to the ship. It was an amusing sight to see Jack and I pulling about in our small boat, which never had much free board, with twenty five crabs, a turtle and a brace of pigeons,

Early next morning we were underway for we had a long way to go for our next anchorage. It was a beautiful day with the sea like glass, about 100 in the shade. I took the wheel while the crew ate lunch. It was a revelation to see the crew, nearly naked under the awning having lunch, a kerosene tin nearly full of crabs and a roasted turtle, a meat I had never tasted before. Their appetites were nothing short of miraculous and I began to wonder if there would be anything left for me! At last I was relieved and it was my turn to dine on the feast. I did myself full justice to the meal. Between us we had eaten eight pigeons, a turtle, a paw paw each and a couple of dozen bananas not to mention the oysters; the lot washed down with some of our soft drink. What a feed! What hogs!

We had a couple of stalks of green bananas hanging from our rigging together with dried fish; drying the fish was the only way to keep them.

We reached our anchorage that night and dropped our pick in the shelter of the Flinders Islands; these islands formed a land locked anchorage for us. The islands lay near Princess Charlotte Bay, a huge stretch of shallow water which is remembered by a fierce hurricane many years ago which caught an ill-fated fleet of pearl luggers, working the pearl beds there, by surprise. Only a few escaped, the rest were sunk with a big loss of lives.

Pushing on to our next anchorage at Claremont Island; on approaching the island it appeared as if it was painted white but when we reached the island we could see that it was Torres Strait pigeons, On going ashore we could see the birds were resting in every tree and bush; not even flying off when we approached.

We hit a brace of pigeons with a stick, cruel yes, but after the bully beef you would welcome them and we never took more than we could eat. It was quite a rough trip back in our little dinghy for a wind had come up and we were half full of water by the time we got safely to our vessel.

It seems as if we are always going ashore and eating and having a picnic, maybe this is true in a way, but these things only happen when the tides and the weather are against us. Also if we had not lived off the land we would have gone hungry; many times our stores ran out.

In many ways there were some happy times but I, as skipper, also spent many hours worrying in the wheel house in bad weather, sailing among reefs and island with strong tides we made a lot of leeway at times. Being wartime we had no lights to guide us through the dangerous waters; the welfare of the crew, boat and tow was mine. Many boats have come to grief on the reefs. We have come this far with success.

New Year’s Eve and the weather was not so good, raining and the wind getting stronger. We hoped to make Portland Roads by early afternoon because it looked like a good blow. As the morning wore on the wind increased and we were taking water over now, our tow seemed just a mass of white water as seas lashed over it. Soon we could only just make headway; it was getting too much for us with our tow. We did not want to cut it adrift – we had said we could make it to New Guinea and tow it we would. After a talk with the mate we decided to anchor behind a coral reef, not the bet anchorage but the reef would break most of the force of the seas. So with only a couple miles to Portland Roads, it was actually in sight, we dropped anchor in ten fathom of water, giving it seventy five fathom of wire and cable to ease the strain on the anchor. The engine is turning over trying to take some of the weight off the anchor. What a night we face the wind and rain increasing while the tow is pulling madly on our stern.

Darkness was now on us and the night brought no relief. I passed the last day of the year in the wheel house, through the break in the rain I could see the seas smashing white over the reef. The night passed slowly but pass it did and the wind dropped as daylight broke through.

Weighing anchor we pressed on our way to our next stop at Home Islands. Here the crew went ashore to gather oysters; three bags were gathered in only an hour, so thick were they growing. I amused myself by spearing some small sharks coming in close ashore.

After leaving the Home Islands we journeyed north to run into a strong Nor’ west wind, and soon becomes a roaring gale, the seas are the biggest we have so far encountered There being no shelter close by we had to turn and run with it to shelter under a point called False Ordforness,

The boat itself could take plenty of bad weather, it was built very strong with great heavy timbers – the trouble is the tow. The lighter we were towing was made for harbour work to carry timber lower to it from large ships. It was not made for open sea. It was just a big pontoon; oblong and square along the front, which just pushed the water in front of it.

We were getting well up to the top of Australia now. The next morning the wind had dropped enough for us to go on. On the forth we made Albany Pass which I think is the most beautiful passage of land that we had seen on our trip, The Albany Pass is formed by islands coming close to the mainland forming a narrow passage through which the tide raced and boiled. The mainland is the topmost point of Australia’s Cape York.

When we entered the Pass the tide was against us, it proved too much for us and instead of making headway we were dropping astern so we just had to swing into a little cove and drop anchor to wait for the turning of the tide,

This little cove was known as Somerset Bay and it was the site of the old Jardine Homestead, an old pioneer family who had settled down over a hundred years ago. This tough old man’s sons had left Rockhampton with a mob of cattle and drove them to the very top of Australia, a magnificent feat. He now lays in a grave on the beach beside his wife, a Samoan princess. His offspring still work the plantation of copra and his cattle run.

Our engineer knew this family well and he wanted us to go ashore and visit, an idea we all welcomed. When we called at the homestead, which is built on a hill overlooking the bay it, was in a sad state of decay; old cannons rusting either side of the door. The descendant of old man Jardine was not there, he was now in the Army at Thursday Island. There was only a black boy in charge who looked at us as if we would steal some of the sucking pigs that had the run of the place. Perhaps we might have lifted one if the chance had come but the boy had a knife like a sword stuck in his belt and he looked as if he knew how to handle it. So we remained honest visitors and took nothing.

In the olden days this place must have been a show place remains of terraced paths wound down through the jungle to the water; paths lined with tropical plants and flowering shrubs but now all overgrown. Our Engineer told us the story of the place, he had worked up here quite a lot and knew the history. The old man Jardine, so the story went, was a tough old hombre who for sport used to go shooting up natives and kept their skulls as mementos. I saw several of these grisly trophies with bullet holes between the eyes. In a diary can be seen old names famous of VIPs who had visited the place over the years, people of the past. But that is all in the past and just memories remain of the old pioneer.

Early next morning we left the tide now with us and we seemed to fairly fly through the fastest we had ever sailed. Through the pass we leave Australia en route to Thursday Island, fifteen miles ahead, home of the pearling fleet, one phase of our journey over and now ready to face the second phase.

On looking back on our journey up the coast I had mixed memories, some pleasant some not. We had not had news from home at all and we had many storms, we have met many Australian solders on different islands – these men were coast watchers. In groups of 3 or 4 they were equipped with a radio they would watch for enemy movements. They were always glad to see us they rarely had visitors.

We had our own visitors. Patrol planes would come out and circle us and we would quickly make the signal of the day; they would then waggle their wings and speed away.

Now we were sailing to Thursday Island; a place a few months back we had never dreamed of and now it was our goal.
[1] Excerpt from North Queensland at War" Volume.1, compiled by Peter Nielsen