GREAT SEA TRAGEDY.

Taranaki Daily News, 17 June 1922, Page 12

GREAT SEA TRAGEDY.

LOSS OF THE WAIRABAPA NIGHT OF DIRE HORROR SURVIVORS’ THRILLING STORY. An outstanding feature in the occurrence of another terrible shipwreck on the Great Barrier is the manner in which it draw’s attention to the immeasurable boon which wireless apparatus has been to those in deadly sea peril. The Wairarapa went ashore shortly after midnight on Sunday, October 28, 1894, and it was not until the following Thursday morning that news of the tragedy was made known to Aucklanders. The first wireless message from the Wiltshire was received soon after eleven o’clock on Thursday night, and witlfin an hour or two several ships were tearing through the stormy seas to her rescue, the Katoa reaching her about daybreak the following morning. The first news of the tragedy of the Wairarapa was brought to Auckland by the survivors, themselves, some of whom, after terrible hardships, had made their way to Port Fitzroy from the scene of the wreck at Miners’ Head, and were taken aboard the Argyle and brought up to Auckland. The story they told still remains one of the most thrilling and terrible of any sea tragedy that has ever occurred in New Zealand waters. Accounts given of the wreck by the survivors show that as the Wairarapa steamed southward on her way to Auckland from Sydney she struck a dense fog, preventing sight of land, or the taking of an observation. At midnight | the watch was changed, and the old look-out man forward replaced by a new man. The latter had not been at his post more than four minutes when he saw, a few yards ahead, a black mass, denser than the darkness of Jhe night, which he knew meant disaster. Sharply his cry Of warning rang out; instantly the order “Full speed astern” was telegraphed from bridge to engineroom. The order was promptly obeyed, but before the vessel could lose one tittle of the way upon her she had met her doom. A FEARFUL CRASH. The crash as, forced by her momentum, she rushed upon the rocks was sickening in its awesomeneess. “All hands on deck” was the order instantly given and obeyed. Every man was ordered to the boa(s, of which there were six. Meanwhile the passengers—men, women, and children, in sleeping garb—rushed to the deck. Before them rose a wild and rugged cliff, the top of which was not discernible in the darkness of the night. Around them were heavy breakers. The ship began to fill rapidly, and lifebelts were hurriedly served* out. Long before all the preparations were complete, however, the ship gave a violent lurch and canted over to one side, smashing the starboard boits. Then occurred one of the most appalling scenes in this fearful tragedy, for straight down the steeply-sloping decks slid about CO of the passengers, and with them Ifi horses which had been stabled on deck. Men, women, children, and frantically-plunging animals fell into the sea, many of the former to be injured by the struggling horses before they finally met their death. The night rang with heart-rending cries of terror from the doomed human beings and animals, struggling together in the dark waters.

EACH WAVE CLAIMS VICTIM. Then the after-deck house was lifted up by a great wave and the rafts slipped off, some of the passengers getting on to them. Others attempted to launch the starboard boat, and, although partly filled with water, 10 passengers got into it and kept afloat, until rescued by another boat about two hours later. The rest of the passengers hung in the rigging and boat davits, with the sea breaking over them until daylight. Those whose strength failed them were washed off. On the wreck the sea was rising. First the decks were covered, then the waters reached the knees, and next the waists of those remaining. Then, one clinging to another for mutual support, the ill-fated survivors stood upon the rail clutching for life at the shrouds and halyards. Higher and higher rose the waves, until those not fortunate enough to gain places in the rigging were awash with every recurring sea. Each wave claimed its quota of human life. Some few were carried shoreward, where they managed to scramble to the rocks, but by far the greater number sank into the waves and were seen no more. DEATH OF THE CAPTAIN. Up to three o’clock in the morning Captain Mclntosh kept his post on the bridge, with him being several of the passengers. Wave after wave dashing over the bridge finally weakened it, and it was seen to sway and give way, all on it being hurled into the sea. The dawn revealed to the suwvivors the full horror of the catastrophe which had befallen them. Some few, less than a score, had been washed on to a ledge of rock. Some 40 more still clung to the rigging, while around were the floating dead and two or three still alive, but too weak to make for the shore. And those on shore were unable to help them. Some, however, were picked up by the two boats, which, full to the gunwale, were steered in the direction of a European settlement. By this time the hull of the Wairarapa had almost entirely disappeared, although the rigging was still alive with humanity. SOME SAVED BY LIFELINE. Gradually the fog cleared away, and terrible cliffs were then seen, rising straight up 800 ft. from the water’s edge. The steamer’s bow was Oft. into the mouth of a cleft in the rock. Finally a lifeline was rigged up from the fore-rigging to the rocks,.and the survivors were hauled ashore through the surf. The first woman to venture along the line had a thrilling experience. She had to go hand over hand, and-on reaching the rocks could, not gain a footing, owing to the fineness of the waves which swept over them.’ She became exhausted, and let go one hand, and was about to drop into the water, when the second engineer, who was on the cliff, climbed down at great personal risk, and succeeded in landing her in safety. Two other young women essayed the hazardous trip, but both lost their hold and were swept away by the seas and dashed to death on the rocks.

| altogether, many among them displayling great heroism. The survivors who had reached the rocks remained there until about four o’clock on Monday afternoon. They suffered greatly from exposure and hunger, the only food being a few oranges which were salved from the wreckage. Late on Monday afternoon several Maori boats came round, and took all except ten to Coppermine Bay, and some to Maori Bay. The rest remained on the rocks until Tuesday morning, when they too were taken off by the Maoris. Some of the men went overland to Port Fitzroy and reported the wreck. The Maoris and settlers at the Barrier treated the survivors with the utmost kindness, until they w’ere finally taken up to Auckland on Wednesday night. SEARCHING FOR THE DEAD. Then followed the heart-rending trial of securing the bodies of the dead. A vessel was despatched from Auckland with members of the water police and other constables, accompanied by Canon Haselden, Home Missionary of the Anglican Church. For many days the terrible task of securing the bodies, identifying them and burying them, was carried* out by these men with a courage and devotion that will always be remembered as one of the outstanding features of a time of terrible difficulty and danger. A piece of land was acquired at Catherine Bay, a beautiful little inlet a few miles south of the I scene of the wreck, and here the bodies were interred in two great graves.