Australian National Maritime Museum Volunteers’ Quarterly...

Page

All Hands Australian National Maritime Museum Volunteers’ Quarterly

Issue 89 December 2014

The Hunt for AE1

CONTENTS

Click on the link to go straight to the story Editorial 3 Director’s Column 4 Grave Tales Neil Hird 5 Exhuming interesting stories from the graveyards of Britain’s south coast. All at Sea David Simpson 10 A young sailor goes to sea for the very first time, on our favourite destroyer. Remembering Operation Demon John Lea 14 A little-known maritime disaster has a special meaning for volunteer guide John Lea. In for the Long Haul 16 If the 14-hour flight to Dubai feels like torture, spare a thought for the folks on Qantas’s record-breaking wartime “Double Sunrise” service... A Place to Call Home Alan Edenborough 18 After many months in DA limbo, the Sydney Heritage Fleet’s plans for a new long-term base in Pyrmont have been given the green light. Book Review David van Kool 20 The Story of Bungaree, Patrick Fletcher's slim volume on a notable figure in colonial Sydney. Search for AE1 Discovers “Contact of Interest” 22 The Smuggler’s Sword Geoff Barnes 23 Local museum or national institution? Where does Robert Mark’s cutlass belong? Biggest Boat Festival in Southern Hemisphere 28 Endeavour and James Craig will be there. How about you? Boating Galapagos-style Neale Philip 29 Adventures of a nautical nature in the wildlife paradise of the Galapagos. Communicating the Museum Conference 33 Young People Take to Sea Nick Brown 34 Nick Brown had his reservations about the plan to take a bunch of Year 9 students sailing on the James Craig for five days. But he’s a doubter no longer. Ditty Box compiled by Alex Books 36 All Hands Writers’ Award 2014 40

EDITORIAL

All Hands Committee Editorial David van Kool, Geoff Barnes, Alex Books, Roz Gatwood, Bob Hetherington, John Lea, Neale Philip Design Jenny Patel, Roz Gatwood, Neale Philip Ditty Box Alex Books

ANMM All Hands Committee 2 Murray Street, SYDNEY NSW 2000

E-mail: [email protected] Phone: 9298-3772 [Editor]

Fax: 9298-3729

Come to distant places in this issue of All Hands.

Take a not-so-ghoulish tour of Kentish graveyards, hear about the grisly demise and lasting legacy of an 18th-century Cornish smuggler, then flit to the Galapagos, where the inter-island boat trips add an extra level of excitement to a holiday in this remote destination. There is an authentic Vampire story followed by a catastrophic Mediterranean war tale, plus another on the boats that flew, all involving our own volunteers or their connections. There is a report on the search for AE1 whose sinking off New Guinea will be remembered in the opening of the Warships Pavilion in 2015.

Back home again, we update the Sydney Heritage Fleet’s project under the Anzac Bridge and SHF’s part in the seaborne Helmsman project. Then to the story of Bungaree, the first Aborigine to circumnavigate the continent.

Following close after this issue is the third edition of the All Hands Catalogue, which shows the wealth of stories and data generated during 20-plus years by and for volunteers past and present. This edition adds four issues up to and including issue 88 of September 2014. Instructions for simple online access to all this are included.

Think about what you would like to say and see in All Hands and email to [email protected]

Back to Contents

Director’s Column

Over the past few months, the museum has been very busy with the opening of the War at Sea – the Navy in WWI exhibition and Endeavour’s voyages to Newcastle and Eden. Some of you may have noticed that I have been away for a while. Indeed, I have spent some very fruitful weeks overseas cementing some significant partnerships for the museum. You may have read in the media that the museum has recently

partnered with Dr Kathy Abbass and her team from the Rhode Island Marine Archaeology Project (RIMAP) in the USA to find Cook’s original Endeavour. I travelled to Washington, DC, in October to sign a memorandum of understanding between the museum and RIMAP at the Australian embassy in the presence of the Australian ambassador to the US, Kim Beazley. We aim to find Endeavour by 2020 – the 250th anniversary of Cook’s charting of the east coast of Australia. During my trip I also visited the World War II Valour in the Pacific National Monument in Hawaii to sign a sister parks agreement, confirming us as a sister institution with our friends across the Pacific. The agreement is a commitment for us to exchange ideas and expertise and support each other. I was privileged to attend the opening of the ANMM’s travelling exhibition On Their Own – Britain’s Child Migrants in Liverpool. The exhibition was on display here in 2010/2011 and has travelled to institutions around Australia. It was developed in partnership with National Museums Liverpool and I am delighted that we have been able to tour it to the UK to share its important stories there. I am also delighted that construction of the Warships Pavilion has now begun on the South Wharf. You will notice the colourful hoardings are now up, with an alternative gangway onto Vampire now in place. On behalf of the council and staff of the museum I would like to thank you for your support and patience while we work on this exciting project. In a few weeks’ time we will be opening our brand new summer family exhibition, Voyage to the Deep – Underwater Adventures, in which families can explore a fantasy world beneath the sea through fun interactives. Summer is our busiest time and as we head towards another festive season I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for all your hard work throughout the year and to wish you a wonderful festive season.

Kevin Sumption

Back to Contents

Grave Tales Neil Hird

Old cemeteries are full of interesting stories, as volunteer Neil Hird discovered

when he did a little (figurative) digging in the graveyards of Britain’s south coast.

hile visiting friends in the English county of Kent a few years ago, I took the opportunity to do some browsing in its cemeteries. The story of one of the intriguing characters whose memorial I came across, Captain Robert Finnis RN,

appeared in All Hands a few issues ago, but he was by no means the only person whose lichen-encrusted headstone caught my eye. An unsung inventor Lionel Lukin (1742-1834) is an unfamiliar name, more is the pity, for he invented the lifeboat in 1785; surprisingly it was patented and tested successfully only six years after the death of Captain Cook. An inscription on the back of his headstone in St Leonard’s Church, at Hythe on the Kentish coast, says: “This Lionel Lukin was the first who built a Life Boat and was the original inventor of that principle of safety by which many lives and much property have been preserved from shipwreck and he obtained for it the Kings Patent in the year 1785.” While working as a coachbuilder in London, Lukin had designed a boat that he called an “Unimmergible Boat”. The Prince of Wales, later George IV, knew Lukin and encouraged him in his pioneering work. In 1785 Lukin successfully tested his invention on the River Thames. He used cork around the gunwale and built a series of watertight containers around the inside of the hull. Several lifeboats were built and tested successfully, but despite this and royal patronage, neither the Admiralty nor ship owners were interested. Lukin retired in 1824 and moved to Hythe where he died a decade later. Ill-fated seafaring brothers In the same cemetery as Lionel Lukin’s grave is a memorial to the Nelson family, which makes sad and interesting reading. Some in the town believe these Nelsons are descendants of Lord Nelson of Trafalgar, but this is not proven, and highly unlikely. Henry and Charles Rice Nelson worked for the P & O Line. Henry was a crew member on the SS Kaiser I – Hind, a vessel that had transported many Australian soldiers to Europe

Lionel Lukin’s headstone in St Leonard’s Church, Hythe.

during the First World War. Henry died of pneumonia in a hospital in Alexandria, Egypt, in 1918. His brother Charles, a deck steward on the SS Persia, was drowned when it was torpedoed and sunk by a German U-boat (U-38) off Crete on 30 December 1915. The British press condemned the sinking as it contravened international law. According to this, a warning shot across the bow had to be fired, and the ship searched for contraband; if found, a merchant ship carrying passengers had to be given opportunity for the passengers to disembark before combat could commence. This did not occur as the U-38 captain was operating under the German unrestricted submarine warfare policy. The vessel sank quickly and 343 of the 519 on board were killed. Baron Montagu of Beaulieu survived but his secretary and mistress, Eleanor Thornton, did not. She had been the model for the Rolls-Royce mascot “Spirit of Ecstasy”, seen on the bonnet of all their cars. In addition, the ship was carrying jewels and a vast quantity of gold belonging to the Maharaja of Jagatjit Singh, who had disembarked in Marseilles. The wreck was located in 2001 and a dive on the site in 2003 met with limited success. The famous Mr Plimsoll In the neighbouring parish of St Martin’s Church, Cheriton, is the grave of the great 19th-century philanthropist, Samuel Plimsoll (1824-1898). His efforts were aimed at safety at sea. Unscrupulous ship owners deliberately overloaded their ships so they would sink, irrespective of the danger to the crews, and then claim insurance.

The memorial of the Nelson family, St Leonard’s Church, Hythe.

Samuel Plimsoll’s grave, St Martin’s Church, Cheriton.

Showing the detail on the pedestal.

The practice was well- known, widespread and the loss of ships and life well-documented. Elected to parliament in 1868, Plimsoll campaigned against this malpractice. Eventually, in 1890, the Board of Trade was given authority to fix the safe load for British ships, indicated by markings on the hull (Fig.1), and in the same year foreign ships leaving British ports were compelled to carry similar markings to protect British ships against competition. Plimsoll never visited Australia but his first wife, Eliza, did. His sister, Caroline (Barnes), emigrated to Melbourne, and his sister-in-law, Mary Dickinson, to Brisbane. Whilst visiting the latter in 1882, Eliza died. The Governor-General and other dignitaries attended her funeral at Toowong Cemetery, Brisbane. Later, Plimsoll arranged for her body to be exhumed and returned to England where she was interred in her family’s vault at Highgate Cemetery, London. His second wife, Harriet, shares the grave at Cheriton. Propelled into history A commemorative plaque on the wall of what is today the Hythe Post Office alerts passers-by to Sir Francis Pettit-Smith’s birthplace and his contribution to the marine industry. Like

Fig 1. The Plimsoll Line and load line for different conditions: Fresh Water, Indian Summer, Tropical Summer, Winter and Winter North Atlantic. (N. Jones 2006)

The plaque on the house where Francis Pettit-Smith was born, “Propeller House”, 31 High Street, Hythe.

The screw propeller of the SS Great Britain.

Lukin, Pettit-Smith is not a well-known historical figure, but he invented Britain’s first successful marine screw propeller; the design was patented in 1836 and tested on the Archimedes in 1839. Four years later HMS Rattler became the first Royal Navy ship to be driven by a screw propeller, designed by Pettit-Smith. Isambard Kingdom Brunel was building the SS Great Britain at this time and it was designed for paddle-wheel propulsion. Brunel became interested in Smith’s idea and was allowed to use the Archimedes to carry out tests. As a result, the design of the Great Britain was adapted for a screw propeller. The propeller was 15.5ft (4.7m) in diameter, and weighed 77cwt (3912kg). On her maiden voyage from Bristol to London she maintained a speed of 10 knots in adverse conditions, an impressive achievement. Pettit-Smith remained an a̵dvisor to the Admiralty and by 1856, 327 Royal Navy ships had screw propellers. He was continually refining his invention. The government and individuals recognised his contribution. The Society of Civil Engineers had a special dinner for him in 1857, chaired by notable engineer Robert Stephenson, where he was presented with a salver, claret jug, and £2000 subscribed by his friends and admirers. The Queen granted him a pension on the Civil List for £200 a year and in 1871 he was knighted. The creator of classics I was introduced to Lord Jim, Joseph Conrad’s famous novel about a sailor fallen from grace, when I studied it at school, and I have found pleasure in his writings and a fascination with him ever since. Conrad was born Josef Teodor Konrad Nalecz Korzeniowski in Berichev, Poland, on 3 December 1857, and arrived in England in 1878. He went to sea and became a master mariner and a prolific author. (A number of readers will remember

the Conrad In Australia exhibition at the ANMM in 2007/2008.) After 18 years at sea, Conrad retired in 1893 to devote himself to writing, and from 1897 until his death in 1923, he lived mainly in Kent. This investigation began with a visit to his first home in Kent – a farmhouse near the village of Postling – and ended at his grave. Writing was not at first lucrative for Conrad, and he relied on the good

will and help of friends. Novelist and critic Ford Madox Ford sublet Pent Farm, Postling, to him. It is beautifully situated against the North Downs overlooking the English Channel. It is seven kilometres from Hythe, and close to the main London-Dover railway line. Today the house has been extended and modernised; in 1898 it had limited services, but was tranquil. Conrad was able to visit his writer friends John Galsworthy in London, Ford at nearby Aldington, and H. G. Wells, at Sandgate, on the coast.

Pent Farm, Postling, Kent.

For health reasons the Conrads left Kent in 1907, but within 18 months they were back for good, initially renting a property from Ford in Aldington. Conrad then moved to “Capel House”, Orlestone, nine kilometres from Ashford, a big 17th-century house with a large garden, but in Conrad’s time no electricity, hot water or telephone. He was there for nine years, and during this time his income increased significantly as his works became popular on both sides of the Atlantic. In March 1919 he moved to the village of Wye, nearer Canterbury, a beautiful location, but not to Conrad’s liking and six months later he moved to his final home, “Oswalds”, Bishopsbourne, closer to Canterbury. This was by far the most prestigious of his homes, complete with electricity, central heating and surrounded by trees. There was a staff of seven to take care of the family’s needs. Conrad died at Bishopsbourne in August 1924, and after a funeral service at St Thomas’s Catholic Church he was buried in the City of Canterbury Cemetery. His wife, sons and grandsons are buried in the same grave. Sources:

Green, Brian, Francis Pettit-Smith, in The Dulwich Society Newsletter Archive, Summer 2008.

Jones, Nicolette, The Plimsoll Sensation: The Great Campaign to Save Lives at Sea, Abacus, London, 2006.

Lawton, Lindi, Conrad in Australia, in Signals, No. 81, pp8-12, Australian National Maritime Museum, 2008.

Meyers, Jeffrey, Joseph Conrad: A Biography, John Murray, London, 1991.

Smiles, Samuel, Men of Invention and Industry, Harpers, New York, 1884.

Wikipedia.org, SS Great Britain.

Wikipedia.org, SS Persia.

Joseph Conrad’s grave in Canterbury Cemetery, Kent.

Christmas Shopping at The Store Books, toys, prints, jewellery The Store has a great range of gift ideas for everyone on your Christmas list. Shop while you’re at the museum, or go to www.anmm.gov.au to browse and shop online. And remember: volunteers get a 20 per cent discount on purchases.

Back to Contents

All at Sea David Simpson

David Simpson hasn’t always been a grizzled Vampire guide. Once, he was a raw

young sailor with a lot to learn about our favourite destroyer.

I was nervous. I was 21, and it was my first time at sea. Typical of the Navy, I had been trained to maintain the

gunnery system on board but had been allocated as the offsider to the petty officer in charge of navigational aids – gyro compasses, plotting tables, echo sounders, signalling lamps, masthead obstruction lights – none of which I had been trained to maintain. A working destroyer is a machine like no other. These days, they still look mean and menacing: the greyhounds of the sea. They are designed to both offend and defend, and all with speed and manoeuvrability. They are operated by kids – the average age of a crew is somewhere about 24. They are part of the front line defence of a country like Australia which is vulnerable to air and sea attack. The old ones (pre-1980) were powered by steam turbines that took six hours to warm through and start. The boilers are huge and on the old Daring class destroyers that were the backbone of the Australian Navy in the ’60s, there were two boiler rooms each powering two engines, one for each propeller shaft. They generated some 55,000 shaft horsepower and could push the 3000-tonne vessel through the water at 35 knots. HMAS Vampire was sailing from Sydney on her work-up trials. She had just completed her half-life refit. The ship been modernised and completely overhauled. The crew, too, was new and raw: new junior recruits straight from their course at HMAS Leeuwin and HMAS Cerberus, new artificers at sea for the first time since completing their four years of training at HMAS Nirimba, new captain, new first lieutenant – untried and untested. When a ship leaves harbour or is in some situation where extra care has to be taken, the

David Simpson aboard Vampire as a young sailor in 1968/9, aged about 21.

crew close up to special sea duty stations. Mine was in “A” boiler room – a place I had been many times when the ship was refitting, but never when it was actually working. Thirty minutes before sailing, I was standing at the entrance to the air lock. The boiler room was pressurised and access was through a small chamber large enough for two people. (How does everyone get out if something goes wrong?) I opened the first door and closed it carefully behind me. I stood inside the chamber, breathing in the heat from below. I unclipped the “dogs” on the second door and was amazed by the suck of hot air that seemed to draw me in. I stepped over the coaming and stood on the small landing at the top of the ladders that led down into the boiler room space. I turned and shut the door. The heat was overwhelming. I paused, trying to adjust to the heat and noise. Two deck levels down were the bottom plates of the space. The ladders were almost vertical and I could see straight down to the cluttered deck below. The hand rails were too hot to touch, so I pulled the cuffs of my overalls down to cover my palms and began the descent. I had been down and up these ladders many times before, but that was in the peace of the dockyard. The noise of the main turbine and the extraction fans was tremendous. The dry, hot air sucked all the moisture from my lungs. I paused at the next landing. Huge pipes covered in asbestos lagging criss-crossed the upper levels. I had no idea what they were for or where they went. Below me, I could see the stokers working at the boiler face, punching the sprayers that fed the furnace fuel oil into the fire that heated the water to make the steam to drive the turbine. The water was pure and was “made” from sea water that went through an evaporator and was turned into superheated steam which, under great pressure, was used to drive the turbine. I’d heard the stories – one pin-prick hole in the superheated steam line would kill everyone near it – cut through them like a knife! But sailors are good at “stirring” a neophyte, so I wasn’t quite sure if that was true. My role at my special sea duty station was to observe the electrical controls on the turbine and to lower the pitometer log (a sword-shaped instrument that went through the hull of the ship and gave the ship’s speed through the water to all those computers that needed such information). I had no real idea of what to do or where to stand. The petty officer of the watch was standing back from the boiler face. The telegraphs from the bridge were next to me and above me were what looked like horizontal steering wheels which he would madly spin when messages came down from the bridge. Standing in front of the boiler were three stokers, all in overalls and boots and nothing else. (“Don’t wear jocks down there, mate. If there’s a fire, they’ll just stick to your balls.”) Spider Webb, the PO of the watch, was calling weird orders to his minions. “Up one, down a half” and someone would grab the handles on the sprayers and pull them out or push them in. The intensity of the flame that could be observed through the spy holes in the boiler face would either increase or decrease.

I’d heard the stories – one

pin-prick hole in the

superheated steam line

would kill everyone near it –

cut through them like a

knife! … But I wasn’t quite

sure if that was true.

Other orders were a little more colourful and sexually explicit. Stokers are a different breed. They spend their lives working four-hour watches in a place resembling any hell you’d like to name. They love tattoos that represent pumas and daggers and “Death before Dishonour” and little swallows and cherries proclaiming “Here’s mine – Where’s yours?” They drink and fight and other things when they are ashore and they live in a special mess down aft where no one else goes. I watched, in awe? Aghast? Horrified? Scared? At last the ship began to move. My first time at sea and I was below the waterline in some sort of crazed environment over which I had no control. I knew Spider – he’d been to the pub with me a few times. He was my boss’s mate. I got close enough to him to scream in his ear. “Where do I go?” Spider’s eyes didn’t leave the pressure gauges he was watching so carefully. “F… off and sit over there.” He pointed vaguely to the two steps that led up to the turbine control panel. I dodged the sweating stokers and went and sat where I was told. The steel deck plates were strangely cool. I had time to adjust my senses to what was going on around me. The chaos did have order. I began to see the connection between the orders from the bridge and how Spider manipulated his handles and levers and men. I began to separate things. The main noise came from the fans. Spider stood underneath the main fan outlet which blew fresh air into the space. The turbine behind me screamed. The background noise was the roar of the furnace. These sounds were the root notes of the chord. The melody was the shouted orders and responses; all orders were repeated. Spider repeated the bridge’s, the stokers repeated Spider’s. The energy was intense. The only person idle was me. I sat, waiting for my call. It came soon enough. “Lower the pitometer log,” came the order from the bridge. “Lower the pitometer log,” Spider screamed at me. I got up and went to where the metal tube (“It’s more like a sword than a log,” was the incongruous thought that flashed through my mind) rose a metre above the watertight gland that went through the ship’s hull. I pushed it down through the gland until it was almost home in its housing. The last 10 centimetres required me to stand on it, kick it, and ram it home. I was in a flurry of panic. How long did I have before someone yelled at me? One last kick – which left my heel bruised for weeks – and it was home. “Pitometer log lowered,” I bawled in Spider’s ear. “No need to shout, mate,” Spider yelled back. “Now go and sit down. And keep out of the way.” Gratefully, I went back to my step and sat down.

At last the ship began to

move. My first time at sea

and I was below the

waterline in some sort of

crazed environment over

which I had no control.

The ship was moving down through Sydney harbour. It must have been a beautiful sight for everyone on the upper deck. This isn’t so bad, I thought. I can handle this. I was watching the boiler face, when I noticed water slopping around in the bilges under the bottom plates. It reflected the glow of flames and was a mixture of water, oil and the cleaning fluid the stokers used to keep the decks clean. Turco it was called and its pungent odour permeated the whole space, mixing with the smell of hot steel and steam to formulate a unique, unmistakable odour, memories of which would stay with me forever. The fluid in the bilges started to move rhythmically. As I noticed this, I became aware that the ship, too, was moving. I had, until now, had little sense of movement because there was no chance of my seeing anything to show the relativity that indicates forward or reverse motion. In calm water a ship is stationary if you are deep in its bowels, but as she started to dip and rise to the bombora coming through the Heads, the slops of the bilge matched the movement of the ship. Up she gently rose then down with a bit of a twist to starboard and then up again and down with a bit of a twist to starboard, then up … and so on. And it didn’t stop!!! My sea time up to this point in my life had been a few trips to Manly on the ferry. Seasick – never. Until now. I watched the partly digested fried eggs and cereal of breakfast rising and falling on the surface of the bilge water. I listened miserably to the jeers and derision of my shipmates. The romance of the sea...

Story originally published in the Journal of the Australian Naval Historical Society

David Simpson aboard Vampire today.

Back to Contents

Remembering Operation Demon

John Lea

The sinking of HMS Diamond and two other Allied ships during WWII’s Operation Demon has special meaning for volunteer guide John Lea.

M any ANMM volunteers will have had close relatives who

served in the naval forces in World War II, including many who were killed or injured. My uncle, Dr John Watson, a naval surgeon lieutenant, was one of those. He died in the sinking of his ship, HMS Diamond, in a little-known but major maritime disaster that occurred in April 1941 during the evacuation of British, Australian and New Zealand troops from Greece under the auspices of Operation Demon. Also involved in the evacuation were the Royal Australian Navy ships HMAS Perth, Vendetta and Waterhen, together with other Royal Navy and Allied vessels.

HMS Diamond in 1932.

An artist’s impression of the Luftwaffe’s Stuka dive-bombers. Picture: courtesy Royal Rotterdam Lloyd Museum.

The main naval action and sinkings took place off the east coast of the Peloponnese in the Argolic Gulf. The loss of life in just this one incident was staggering, equivalent In today’s terms to the destruction of two fully laden jumbo jets. Almost 1000 men were lost in the three Allied ships: the Dutch-flagged troopship SS Slamat and the British destroyers HMS Diamond (this ship alone carried 600 rescued troops) and HMS Wryneck. All three were sunk by German Stuka dive-bombers as they attempted to escape south to the island of Crete. There were only 66 survivors. Next year (2015) marks the beginning of the 75th anniversary year of Operation Demon and the event is being remembered through the launch of a new documentary film made by the Royal Rotterdam Lloyd Museum in Holland. Australian and New Zealand relatives of those servicemen who may have been involved are warmly invited to attend the memorial in Rotterdam in May 2015. For final dates check: www.krlmuseum.nl/slamatdocen.html

HMS Diamond, at right, approaches the stricken Dutch troopship SS Slamat to collect survivors. Picture: courtesy Royal Rotterdam Lloyd Museum.

Back to Contents

In for the Long Haul

If the 14-hour flight to Dubai feels like torture, spare a thought for the folks on Qantas’s record-breaking wartime “Double Sunrise” service...

W hen Singapore fell to Japan in February 1942, Australia lost its air connection to Britain. A new route was urgently needed. Hudson Fysh, the co-founder of Qantas, wanted to establish a civilian service between Australia and Ceylon, despite the fact that at this time Japan had

complete domination of the Indian Ocean, but civil aviation authorities ruled that this route was too dangerous. In 1943, however, at the urging of the British Government, the Royal Air Force supplied Qantas with five Catalina flying boats, if Qantas agreed to open a flying route from Perth to Lake Koggala in southern Ceylon (Sri Lanka). It was to be the world's longest regular non-stop service – a total distance of 5652km. The weight of fuel limited the Catalina's load to only three passengers and 69kg of diplomatic and armed forces mail. This extraordinary, top-secret, civilian service made 271 crossings of the Indian Ocean with no loss of life, continuing right through to the end of the war. In the process, they delivered 648 high-priority government and military passengers, large quantities of microfilmed mail, and urgent war-related freight – a major contribution to the war effort. These Catalinas were completely defenceless, carrying no weaponry, and with all armour plating removed so that the planes were sufficiently light to make the long crossing. In order to remain undetected by the Japanese, they flew by night using celestial navigation and without radio, except for a very brief midnight weather bulletin in Morse code.

Because the journey was made by night, the crew and passengers saw the sun rise twice, hence the name “Double Sunrise” service. The average length of the flights was 28 hours but it could be longer if the winds were unfavourable. The service still holds the record for the longest ever non-stop commercial flight – 32 hours, 9 minutes. Sources: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Double_Sunrise http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Non-stop_flight#Records http://www.qantas.com.au/travel/airlines/history-catalinas/global/en

Personal postscript (from Geoff Barnes, one of the Editorial Committee) My father, RAAF Squadron Leader G.H. (Jerry) Barnes, did this Double Sunrise flight, “safe-handing” top-secret documents to Australia. He was based in Calcutta, where with the monsoon rains ending, the Allies were preparing to launch large-scale offensives into Japanese-occupied Burma. He once told me he had a briefcase chained to his wrist, and I suspect it contained information relating to this invasion because his flight was in November 1944. I do recall him mentioning the Catalina being filled with 44-gallon drums of fuel, the inadequate couple of thermoses of tea, the packet of sandwiches wrapped in greaseproof paper, the constant search of the skies for Japanese long-range interceptors, and the awkwardness of access and stench of the toilet tucked at the rear of the aircraft. My father was the sole passenger, and I found a note saying that the skipper for the flight was Captain W.H. (Bill) Crowther, subsequently Qantas operations manager. Regrettably, search as I might in his old papers, I cannot find his “Secret Order of the Double Sunrise” certificate, which was given to all passengers who made the trip, to attest that they had been airborne for more than 24 hours.

My father sets off for North Africa. my mother and I bidding him farewell.

Back to Contents

A Place to Call Home

After many months in DA limbo, the Sydney Heritage Fleet’s plans for a new long-term base in Pyrmont have been given the green light.

M arch 2014 marked the successful conclusion of the Sydney Heritage Fleet's development application to secure and develop a site at Bank Street, Pyrmont, as a new long-term base for the fleet’s operational vessels and small craft. Plans for the site include individual berths for each of the fleet’s operational vessels, a running maintenance workshop, community workspaces, an exhibition area, meeting rooms and a dedicated boatshed for Dragon Boats NSW, who will share the purpose-built passive craft launching ramp within the lease area. The development application was lodged in 2010 after some two years of painstaking and patient negotiation with stakeholders. A change of NSW government only months after lodgement resulted in the repeal of the legislation under which the application was lodged. That meant finding a way through complex government transition arrangements, while at the same time going through the required and lengthy public consultation processes, which did result in some changes to

A photo-montage of the Bank Street, Pyrmont, waterfront and Anzac Bridge, showing the Fleet's development design and small craft launching ramp, looking west.

the original plans for the site. The significant change was the need to base all heavy maintenance and restoration work at another workshop site and not, as originally envisaged, at Bank Street. The DA was granted after a final round of consultation conducted by the Planning Assessment Commission. There were some conditions to be met to finalise all aspects of the DA and action was initiated as soon as requirements were known. The need to secure a heavy maintenance and restoration site other than at Bank Street led to extensive negotiations with Roads and Maritime Services (RMS), the fleet’s landlord at both Bank Street and the current Rozelle Bay site. RMS has been most co-operative and supportive and has agreed to an alternative site in Rozelle Bay, adjacent to our existing site. Negotiations continue.

Alan Edenborough, Relocation Project Director

Back to Contents

Book Review - The Story of Bungaree

written by Patrick Fletcher, published by Sydney Harbour Federation Trust, 34pp

reviewed by David van Kool

T his booklet is a comprehensive condensation of much that has been written about “King” Bungaree, a

Broken Bay Aborigine who became a well-known figure in early colonial Sydney. Bridging two cultures, he was both the first Australian to circumnavigate the continent and the first Aboriginal to receive a land grant, at Middle Head, Mosman. His cross-cultural role from the time of Australia’s first European settlement highlights some of the difficulties of the period. A truly notable figure, he was soon recognised by other incoming notables active at this time of cross-cultural calamity. The booklet touches on some of the significant events with which Bungaree was associated and summarises the dichotomy for Bungaree: “His past achievements were noted by some, his physical strength and dexterity, his skill with weapons and his personality. Above all else, however he was considered an uncivilised recalcitrant.” “It is estimated that within two years of the colony’s establishment, somewhere between 50 and 90% of the Aboriginal population had died. As smallpox spread, the young boy Bungaree and his clan would have been forced to contend with the breakdown of their social networks. The social structure of Aboriginal life was of paramount importance to their way of life. As a consequence, the impact of the epidemic would have been as great as the number of deaths.” Bungaree’s lasting claim to fame is as the first Australian to circumnavigate the continent. His first recorded voyage with Matthew Flinders was on Norfolk to Brisbane and Hervey Bay in 1799. Flinders found him “undaunted, gallant, intrepid and quick to seize an opportunity”. He joined Flinders again for his Australian circumnavigation in Investigator in 1802-3. Flinders had reported on the “native presence, this worthy and brave fellow, in bringing about a friendly intercourse with inhabitants of other parts of the coast”. “On one reading, Bungaree’s stocks were high. A trusted ally and intermediary of the British colonists, a man whose character the colonists could align with virtues they themselves

Augustus Earle’s portrait of Bungaree.

held dear. Yet on another reading, his standing can only have been provisional. He personified the great irony of colonisation — the indigene as outsider in his own country.” A pause in reports on Bungaree now appears until following Governor Macquarie’s letter to Lord Bathurst: “I have it also in contemplation to Allot a piece of Land in Port Jackson bordering on the Sea Shore for a few of the Adult Natives, who have promised to settle there and Cultivate the Ground. Such an Example Cannot, I think fail of Inviting and Encouraging Other Natives to Settle on and Cultivate Lands, preferring the productive Effects of their own Labour and industry to the Wild and precarious Pursuits of the Woods.” Macquarie’s choice for this land grant was Bungaree who brought his wife “Queen Gooseberry” and clan to their distant Middle Head “farm”. While it has been reported that Bungaree harvested and sold peaches from a tree there, essentially the farm was forsaken for Kirribilli, which kept them closer to the settlement, and no cropping was done. In 1817 Bungaree succumbed to the call of the sea once more going with Phillip Parker King in Mermaid to the north-west coast of Australia when King completed Flinders’ earlier mapping work. Botanist Allan Cunningham on this voyage said of Bungaree in a journal note of 28 May 1818: “During the whole of this day’s excursion, I was accompanied by our worthy native chief, Bongaree, of whose little attentions to me and others when on these excursions I have been perhaps too remiss in making attention, to the enhancement of the character of this enterprising Australian.” Russian Antarctic explorer Captain Faddei Faddeevich Bellinghausen, calling at Port Jackson in Vostok in 1820, was visited by Bungaree, his wife and associates as a self-appointed harbour master demanding grog, apparently not an uncommon practice. Bellinghausen said of indigenous people: “Natives remember very well their former independence. Some expressed their claims to certain places, asserting that they belonged to their ancestors. It is very easy to understand that they are not indifferent to having been expelled from their own favourite localities. Despite all the compensation offered to them, a spark of vengeance still smoulders in their hearts.” The Sydney Gazette announced the death of Bungaree on Saturday, 27 November 1830 and he was interred at Rose Bay. The booklet is lavishly illustrated with paintings, sketches and charts from artists of the period interleaving a wide-ranging authoritative text which leads to references to even more detailed reading. It is available from the Sydney Harbour Federation Trust for $19.95 plus postage. Those interested in Bungaree’s story might also wish to visit the exhibition Bungaree: The First Australian, by 16 emerging and established contemporary NSW Aboriginal artists, at the Mosman Art Gallery from 13 December until 22 February 2015.

Back to Contents

Search for AE1 Discovers “Contact of Interest” The Australian Defence Force has confirmed that a number of “contacts of interest” were discovered during the search by HMAS Yarra in the Duke of York Islands, Papua New Guinea, for the wreck of the Australian submarine AE1, which disappeared without trace on 14 September 1914. A number of contacts located during the search, which was conducted between 6 and 9 September, were able to be classified as natural objects. However, one contact remains unidentified and will require further investigation. These types of contacts are frequent in this region due to large rocky outcrops or ridging along the sea bed, as well as battle debris from World War II. The sea bed in the search area is a very steep volcanic shelf with numerous large rocks. The water deepens quickly as it extends from the coast. The contact will require further interrogation prior to confirmation or elimination. This will be subject to operational requirements. The RAN will not disclose the exact location of the contact until it has been properly identified.

RAN minehunter HMAS Yarra undertaking an underwater

search, using a submersible, off Papua New Guinea for HMAS AE1,

the Navy’s first submarine.

Photos: courtesy Royal Australian Navy.

HMAS Yarra in Duke of York Islands.

Back to Contents

The Smuggler’s Sword

Geoff Barnes Who owns the past? Should significant collections be kept in the local communities whence they originate? Are they better off in a national institution?

T o begin at the beginning, Robert Mark was a Cornish smuggler

who had his career terminated in spectacular fashion. On a particular night in 1789 we must assume that it was a smugglers’ moon, in other words, dark and cloudy, and Robert Mark and his crew were making a run in his sleek fishing vessel, Lottery, the most famous (or infamous, depending on which side of the law you were on) of the local smuggling vessels that used Polperro as their home port. Robert Mark was 40 years of age and a local hero, supplementing the meagre fishermen’s earnings by running salt, tea and tobacco into secluded coves to avoid customs duty. There was a full-time customs man at Polperro, but for whatever reason – poor luck, local interference or convenient bribes – he had failed to stop the trade. One good reason was Zephaniah Job’s networking. He was a local entrepreneur with good contacts among the gentry, the merchants and the fishing factories who profited from the trade. Job acted as banker and financial go-between, and smuggling had become a major enterprise in the little fishing village. But His Majesty’s Customs fought back. One of Robert Mark’s crew had murdered one of their officers, and had swung for it earlier in the year. This time it was Robert Mark who lost his luck. A revenue cutter swept down on the Lottery, and fired at her to disable her mast and rigging. A round of chain shot spun through the air and cut Robert Mark in two. His nether limbs, with his sword still girded around his waist, fell to the deck. His remains were subsequently gathered together and buried at nearby Talland church. I visited the grave, and noted the inscription posthumously begs heaven to “pardon the

Robert Mark’s sword in its velvet-lined case.

offender who my previous life’s blood did shed”. The sword became a treasured symbol of the defiance by the brave locals in the face of an oppressive Government. Or so the story goes at the Polperro Heritage Museum of Smuggling and Fishing. The sword certainly exists, brought back to the museum by a descendant, Ralph Mark, who lives in Polperro. I saw the sword when I visited Polperro, the hilt engraved with Robert Mark’s name and the year of his death. I was in Cornwell because in my retired years I was doing a museum studies master’s degree with Macquarie University. Part of the course work was an extended report on 30 museums. Because my wife, Penny, and I were in England for some months, I was not able to go on the scheduled bus tour around regional folk museums of New South Wales, so I was obliged to find 30 museums in the UK. What a splendid excuse to poke around the Cornish and Devon coast. We fetched up in Polperro by The museum interior is a cheerful clutter.

A former pilchard-processing plant, the Polperro Heritage Museum is now a tourist attraction.

serendipity rather than planning. The little seaport is determined to maintain a community coherence, even though most of the older fishing families have moved out and been replaced by writers, artists, retirees, ice-cream parlours, gift shops, and two very good pubs. The problem for the small Polperro full-time community is that the charming old stone houses are renovated as holiday homes by Londoners, and sit silent and locked when the holiday season is over. Keeping the spirit alive The Polperro Heritage Museum is an endeavour that aims to keep the spirit of the village alive throughout the year. It came into being through the energy of a fisherman, Bill Cowan, who had moved to Polperro in the 1950s, and saw the need to preserve the local heritage. The bonus was that the museum gave the place some much-needed tourist revenue. He recruited some fellow volunteers, and commandeered an abandoned pilchard-processing factory down on the docks. He is still involved, aged but enthusiastic, with a dedicated (if small) team of volunteers. The museum is an amiable clutter of crammed cases with hand-lettered captions, hard-hat divers’ equipment, spars, flags, ship models and, of course, the sword in its velvet-lined case. It is not the ideal place to preserve valuable artefacts. The shed, having originally been a fish-gutting, salting and packing venue, was not built for comfort and amenities. It is hot and humid or cold and wet depending on the season. And it is over the sea, which is evident through the cracks in the floorboards. The sword had previously been in superior accommodation. It was displayed in a climate-controlled case in the Royal Armouries Museum in Leeds, which had opened in 1996 when the Tower of London’s national collection of arms and armour went north to new, regional premises. This was in keeping with a number of other major museums, previously sited in the nation’s capital, that either relocated or moved important parts of their collections to other parts of the nation in the interests of regional diversity and tourist potential. This sword was a valuable item, not just another cutlass. It had a proven provenance and swashbuckling past to boot. The cutlass abducted After some heavy Cornish politicking, the sword was loaned back to the Polperro Heritage Museum for temporary display; a goodwill gesture by a large national institution to a local community museum. But the trustees of Polperro’s museum had no intention of returning the sword despite the fact that the Royal Armouries were providing it with a more secure home. They maintain that Robert Mark’s sword is just another item amid some 50,000-plus edged weapons in the national collection, whereas at Polperro, it means demonstrably something more. Admittedly, it is on display to a much smaller audience but it is a direct link to the community’s past, a prize piece of heritage and, last but not least, an attractive item to display to the summer visitors who flock to a village whose traditional source of income – commercial fishing – has been seriously diminished.

The museum is not the ideal

place to preserve valuable

artefacts. It is hot and humid or

cold and wet depending on the

season. And it is over the sea,

which is evident through the

cracks in the floorboards.

This poses an interesting dilemma. Should collections of significance be kept in the local museums of the communities from which they originate or are they better off, in the long term, kept in large state or national institutions? When you think about it, the whole idea of museums is relatively new. In earlier times, the wise and the wealthy – with strong emphasis on the latter – had personal collections of exotica, corridors full of antique marbles, and drawing rooms lined with expensive paintings. It was all very much a matter of personal taste and impressing the aristocratic neighbours. But by the 19th century, with the Age of Enlightenment being followed by a general tendency to make education readily available to the masses, museums appeared as places of public instruction. These were somewhere to go on Sundays in those times when the Sabbath was still relatively God’s day rather than Mammon’s, vast public buildings filled with objects of interest, beauty and curiosity. The turnstile dilemma So we came to regard museums as places that traditionally collected, preserved, researched and displayed objects at considerable cost, under the guardianship of people more learned than us. And who had more money and political influence than the visitors. Now cashed-up visitors are influencing the museums. In more recent times a greater emphasis has been placed on special exhibitions that combine education with a strong overlay of entertainment. This is not surprising. Museums are struggling for funding and tickets and turnstiles often dictate a museum’s priorities. Today, museums are viewed in many different ways. Priorities compete. They are seen as businesses as well as storehouses of collections, places of entertainment as well as exhibition and display venues, educational establishments tempered by short attention spans, research organisations that need to find funding and make themselves attractive to potential funders, and communal spaces and places of memorialisation for a variety of vested interests. Museums are often driven in new directions by government policy, which may dictate politically motivated attitudes. Curators continue to curate exhibitions and displays,

Morris dancers on the way to the Polperro pub.

shaping the main historical narratives and object interpretation alongside their colleagues involved in what is now called “learning”, but in larger museums, curators have often been downgraded in organisational terms over the past 30 years and frequently have no direct input into their museum’s top-level strategic planning. And yet the local museums proliferate and survive; fortunately for all of us. Does the future start with today? Polperro Heritage Museum’s artefacts are cared for but certainly not displayed or stored in optimum conditions. The small income from local admissions and volunteer labour limits its capacity. But for the trustees of the museum the future is abstract. The physical presence of important relics of the seaport’s heritage is tangible. They are aware of the need to hold on to their heritage. Around the world, the range of museums is great, from those that are necessarily large, long-established and located in major urban centres, all the way down to those that are local and small. Some are inextricably linked to their location. Some are little more than nostalgic dumping grounds run by untrained and aging volunteers. Others have volunteer staff members who are dedicated, informed and, despite the pressures of time, lack of finance and increasing years that weary, continue to function with value and dignity. The degrees of professional staffing, expertise, capacities to collect, conserve and display and access to finance and political influence vary greatly. The reasons for their existence are equally varied. This is relevant when considering the importance of any collection, irrespective of its significance, to a local community.

Humble it may be, but Polperro’s museum aims to hold on to the seaport’s heritage.

Vivian Coleman said at a recent South East Queensland Small Museums Conference that: “0ur cultural identity, and thus the health of our society, economy and natural world, is directly proportionate to our sense of place and belonging, which is in turn informed by our history … Local museums are incredibly rich repositories of all the necessary elements that can be employed in many ways to help us understand, value and give life to the stories of our place … the fundamental raw materials for bringing to life educational, economic and community projects, nature-based tourism, and more.” Local communities like Polperro in Cornwall want to reflect their identity in the museums that they control, which on the face of it would seem compatible with the hope that the museum will give their visitors an introduction to the distinctive character of the locality. The familiar in its home setting has a relevance that may be lost in the national institution, despite the latter’s obvious advantages in size, weight, clout, and the promise of preserving the past forever. Personally, I hope the smuggler’s sword stays just where it is.

Biggest Boat Festival in Southern Hemisphere

Endeavour and James Craig will be among the big names in Hobart next February for the Australian Wooden Boat Festival.

Some 350 volunteers will help power Hobart’s festival from 6 to 9 February 2015. Going from strength to strength, this festival has applications from some 550 boat owners from as far afield as Perth and Darwin, whose boats will get to the Tassie capital either sailing on their own bottoms or coming by truck or trailer. 1.3 kilometres of Hobart’s waterfront will be devoted to boats afloat and boats on the hardstand. For the four days of the free festival, the site will also present non-stop entertainment from musicians, choirs, buskers, theatre groups and acrobats. Even a working bullock team will be there. All this in addition to Tasmania’s other attractions. Check it out at Australianwoodenboatfestival.com.au Back to Contents

Back to Contents

Boating Galapagos-style Neale Philip

When you’re exploring the Galapagos Islands, a boat is obviously a must. But there are boats and there are boats, as Neale Philip discovered.

M ost tourists arrive in the Galapagos Archipelago by plane from the Ecuadorean mainland. The main Galapagos airport is on tiny Baltra Island, and unless you’ve chartered a helicopter to whisk you away from the airport to elsewhere,

you will inevitably experience your first boat ride soon after touching down. It’s necessary to cross a narrow waterway by local ferry to adjoining Santa Cruz Island, where fleets of small buses and local taxis (often a Toyota Hilux 4WD twin-cab ute) await to take you further on your journey. For most, that journey continues across Santa Cruz Island to the port settlement of Puerto Ayora, from where many tourists embark onto cruise boats to voyage to the other islands. Your boating experience will then consist of a number of days on board anything from a 100-passenger ship, to a more intimate cruise vessel, landing on various islands during your voyage for short day excursions. At the dockside, you’ll wait to catch your panga (an outboard-powered dinghy) or rigid inflatable, which will take you out to whatever vessel you’re next travelling on. {photo below from http://www.galapagosislands.com/galapags-cruise.html, Oct 2014}

Before you board your panga (above), to take you to your cruise vessel, there may be time to visit the small fish market near the docks where you’ll meet some of the locals (below).

Photos: all photos except those on page 29 by Neale Philip, September 2014.

Puerto Ayora harbour (pictured above) is a bustling place, it being one of the main transport hubs for both cruise and inter-island vessels. It is also a port of call for the inter-island freighter that makes regular stops around the archipelago, delivering goods for the local population and for the tourist industry, and picking up waste and scrap materials for recycling on the mainland. Only two of the islands have a permanent freshwater source, and bottled water is the sole recommended drinking water for tourists everywhere in the archipelago. Pallets and pallets of plastic bottles, and of flattened cardboard, are part of the freighter’s cargo. My Galapagos experience was in a different format to most tourists. I joined a group of fellow travellers who chose to stay on several of the inhabited islands rather than cruise between them. We travelled between our island stays in what the travel company brochures described as a “speedboat”. The itinerary had us staying on three islands over a week, with three sea voyages between islands of about 50 nautical miles each. The “speedboat” for our journeys between the islands turned out to be the Hippocampus (or “seahorse”), a 12-metre motor cruiser powered by twin 200-horsepower outboards.

The Hippocampus, our inter-island transport.

All the usual items that one would expect in a vessel of this type, like a saloon, galley and sleeping cabin(s) and bunks, had been removed. In their places were bench seating along each side for a total of about 20 persons (our group numbered 14), plus a forward hold for luggage and a small toilet compartment. All vessel controls were in the flybridge. As our travels between the islands progressed, it became apparent that the Hippocampus was the vessel-type of choice for all inter-island transport operators. Such vessels had either two or three outboard motors. Speed and seaworthiness seemed to be the primary requirements, and creature comforts for the passengers were secondary, very unlike a typical cruise boats. Wearing a lifejacket during the ocean voyages was mandatory, although the transfers from the shore into the pangas, and then onto the cruiser in choppy harbour waters seemed to me to present a greater risk of a dunking. We boarded the Hippocampus in Puerto Ayora harbour, and set off for a 20-25 knot ride through an average two-metre ocean swell to our next island, Floreana. We only slowed down to do a bit of whale-spotting en route during this first leg. Halfway into our second inter-island leg to Isabella Island, and something like 25 nautical miles from the nearest land, there was some consternation among the passengers when a terminal-sounding grinding noise began emanating from the port motor. We stopped, and the deckhand opened the engine cover, had a cursory look at the mechanicals, and called

As you can see, we were greeted enthusiastically by the locals wherever we went.

up to the skipper on the flybridge in Spanish, saying something probably akin to what most of the passengers were already thinking – “The motor’s buggered!” So we bravely journeyed on at a much reduced speed, but still taking the time to detour past a seabird colony on an uninhabited island to get closer to rookeries of some of the iconic Galapagos sea birds. To his credit, the skipper was determined that we tourists not miss this planned opportunity, although operating on only one motor within metres of the rocky shore to get a good view of the birds created a sense of both uncertainty and delight. Dusk was rapidly approaching as we reached the bar entrance at the small Isabella Island harbour. Hitting bottom as Hippocampus passed over the rocky bar at low tide was her final indignity for the day. Safely ashore, we passengers echoed that line from the movie Jaws – “We need a bigger (or better) boat.” And so, several days later when we came to undertake our final sea voyage back to Santa Cruz Island and a return flight to the mainland, our tour leader had duly arranged a better boat. This one had triple 200-horsepower outboards, making short work of the outbound bar crossing, and skimming us across the ocean waves at about 25 knots. The activities organised for our group on the Galapagos islands were fantastic, with many opportunities to see the wildlife and the landscapes up close. We had some amazing experiences, but boating Galapagos-style was also an experience to be remembered.

Communicating the Museum Conference The theme of “Optimism” inspired some 250 museum people from around the world and around Australia as they assembled at the annual international Communicating the Museum conference to share their ideas on how best to meet the challenges of today and tomorrow. Held in Sydney from 4 to 8 November, the conference then moved to Melbourne for four days, finishing with a visit to MONA in Hobart. Sydney’s major museums all participated. ANMM staff took part in various aspects of the Sydney event and a conference dinner was held at the museum on Friday, 7 November, followed the next day by harbour trips on Endeavour after her return from Eden. Some of the delegates also enjoyed a Behind the Scenes tour at our Heritage Centre. Next year’s conference will take place in Turkey.

Back to Contents

Back to Contents

Young People Take to Sea By crewman Nick Brown, Sydney Heritage Fleet

Nick Brown had his reservations about the plan to take a bunch of Year 9 students sailing on the James Craig for five days. But he’s a doubter no longer.

I am just back from the five-day Helmsman Project cruise on the James Craig. If I close my eyes I am still swaying gently to the ship’s tune, but have regained most of the lost sleep! The first day started cold and wet and there was a reasonable swell, so most of

the kids reported sick and trailed around with sick bags. I think it was a good excuse for some to hide from the worrying adults and the work we promised. We anchored a little way into Broken Bay, the kids recovered and we lost our peace and quiet. But around 10pm some teachers patrolled the deck and it quietened down to silence by 10.30pm. That was the only noisy night.

Day two was a sail down to Sydney to change some crew and get more food. About 70 per cent of the kids were on deck and participating, realising that there was some fun to be had out on the jib boom and climbing to the tops under the watchful eyes of the adults. We anchored near Shark Island in Rose Bay for the night. On day three we sailed back to Broken Bay and anchored off the NSW Sport and Recreation beach, just west of Patonga. The kids entertained us that evening, and the coaches (I think) won the tug of war – with a little help from a bollard. The following day was raft-building day with three groups, one with ropes, another with planks and a third with barrels. They were supposed to trade these items to get enough

to build a raft that could hold at least five people. I think some of the James Craig crew thought this would be a hopeless task and volunteered to spend the first hour or so teaching three basic knots. It was also thought that they would decide on a basic design before they started building. In the end all three rafts were lifted off the ship and, to the surprise of many of us, stayed together all the way to the beach.

Saturday morning (4.30am) we raised the anchor for our return trip to Sydney. The kids were all involved and many were up on the yards helping with the sails. I had a lot of reservations before the trip but was very happy to be wrong on most counts. We had learnt a lot from the first trip in September and the teachers and coaches were very involved with their six or seven students. I was at one of the debriefings and realised that it was no holiday for the kids. John Naylor (co-founder of Helmsman) had them in his searchlight, requiring introspection and future commitment. I was glad to be a group guide. I learnt a lot over the five days, about the boys and how we can better use James Craig. Once the trauma and excitement of a foreign environment was out of the way, they showed their humour and enthusiasm and responded with real friendship. It was well worthwhile and I think there would be many in the fleet who would enjoy this age-reducing experience.

For more information about adventure-based coaching program

the Helmsman Project, go to thehelmsmanproject.com.au

Back to Contents

ditty box Compiled by Alex Books

Turret Ships In an era of traditional general cargo ships in the late 1800s and early 1900s, the turret ship was unique. Turret ships were a distinctive type of general cargo ship: the first was built in 1872 by William Doxford & Sons Ltd in Sunderland, Tyneside, north-east England. The design was based on a whaleback vessel, and had a full-length turret on the upper works. The turret was half the width of the beam of the ship; straight-sided and stepped in from the main hull, forming a trunk to the cargo holds. Despite the turret, the vessels had a normal bow and stern. The hull below the turret “bulged” (my word) out and formed the harbour deck with a rounded gunwale effect. The “bulge” was not the full length of the vessel, and it faired into the hull at both ends. Lifeboats were stowed in davits on the turret, and the davits had to have a greater outreach to launch clear of the “bulge”. The “bulge“ is reminiscent of the bulge formed by the ballast tanks below the casing of the submarine Onslow; the casing forms a type of turret, but nothing like the cargo ships mentioned above. The ships were assigned the international tonnage certificate and, more importantly for the shipowner, the Suez Canal tonnage certificate, which used different measurements and which reduced the charges to transit the canal – all in the shipowner’s favour. The last turret ship was completed in 1911. In all, 177 were built, the majority of them by Doxford. (Six were built under licence by other yards in Great Britain and one in Spain.)

Lloyd’s Information Sheet; additional reporting

Gallipoli 100 Surfboat Race A centenary celebration surfboat race will be held over two days, 22 and 23 August 2015, in the Dardanelles. It will be held over six stages and will start at Eceabat on day one, and proceed to the actual start line at the narrow Kilitbahir-Canakkale Strait. Stage one will be a distance of 8km to the Lighthouse Monument; stage two, 12km to Morto Bay; stage three, 9km to X Beach; and stage four, 9km to Sandy Beach for an overnight stay. Stage five, on 23 April, will proceed 5km to Kum Limani, and finally stage six to the finish line at Ariburnu (the promontory between Anzac Cove and North Beach), a distance of 10km. Surfboat racing became popular in Turkey after a visit by Australian and New Zealand surf clubs in 2010 (see All Hands, Issue 72). The number of boats participating in the race was not finalised at time of writing, and would be based on a final selection after the cut-off point. Some Australian surf clubs have indicated their participation, with their boats painted with logos for the occasion. There can be one to four crews per boat and they can compete in the different divisions of the race.

Gallipoli 100 Surfboat Race; additional reporting


Pacific Patrol Boat Program A new $2 billion Pacific Patrol Boat Program (PPB) was unveiled in June 2014 by the Australian Government, to strengthen security in the region. It will replace the current fleet of patrol boats for all current PPB members, with the addition of a new member, Timor-Leste (East Timor), which has been invited to join the program. The 22 patrol boats in the current fleet, gifted to 12 Pacific countries, are now approaching their end of service life. It was the largest and most complex defence co-operation program financed by Australia. The new program will involve the construction of more than 20 steel all-purpose patrol boats that will enhance the maritime security of Australia’s Pacific and regional partners. The Australian-built patrol boats will be worth $594 million, with through-life sustainment and personnel costs estimated at $1.38 billion over 30 years. Replacement patrol boats will be offered to all current participating states including Papua New Guinea, Tonga, Solomon Islands, Fiji, Tuvalu, Samoa, Vanuatu, Federated States of Micronesia, Palau, Republic of Marshall Islands, Cook Islands and new member Timor-Leste. There will be an open tender for the procurement which includes an option for ongoing sustainment and crew training. The current craft were built by Australian Shipbuilding Industries Pty Ltd in Western Australia.

Defence Minister Media Release; additional reporting

Berrima’s Wartime History HMAT Berrima departed on 19 August 1914 from Cockatoo Island, 15 days after the declaration of war on Germany, with an expedition force known as the Australian Naval and Military Expedition Force (ANMEF), with plans to seize the German wireless stations in the south-west Pacific (see All Hands, Issue 88). On 16 September, it landed a battalion of troops at Rabaul. SS Berrima was originally the 11,137 gross ton P&O Steam Navigation Company’s passenger and cargo ship, requisitioned for the war and converted at Cockatoo Island. It was fitted out to carry 1500 officers and men. The work took six days between 12 and 18 August 1914, at a cost of £4513, and included the mounting of four 4-inch guns and magazines, troop accommodation, latrines and wash places. Cabins were gutted and a hospital fitted. The finished ship was commissioned on 19 August and sailed the same day. On the return of Berrima to Sydney, more work was done on the vessel at Cockatoo Island between 30 October and 7 November 1914, prior to its departure from Albany, Western Australia, with the second contingent of troops. Additional troop accommodation was fitted, with extra latrines and wash places, and the galley and hospital were enlarged.


En route to the Middle East, Berrima took the Australian submarine HMAS AE2 in tow across the Indian Ocean from Albany. AE2 was posted to the Gallipoli operation to breach the Dardanelles, and it reached the Sea of Marmara under its own power, to create havoc among enemy shipping. AE2 was lost after engaging the enemy. Berrima was torpedoed in the English Channel on 18 February 1917, and was beached and later salvaged, repaired and returned to active service. After the war it was refitted and went back to service in Australia until 1929. In 1930, it was sold to a Japanese shipbreaker and scrapped. The Sydney Heritage Fleet has a motor launch named Berrima. It was built for the Australian Oil Refinery Ltd for use in Botany Bay, and launched as AOR1. It was leased, and later sold, to Stannard Brothers and they changed the name as they had a policy of naming their launches after country towns – hence the selection of Berrima. The town is a beautifully preserved historical town in the Southern Highlands of NSW. Berrima was the site of a German low-risk internment camp in WWII. The Germans dammed the Wingecarribee River to form a lake, and built a range of small watercraft that could be launched and used in the lake for recreation. The craft were manned and ranged from a dugout to copies of the Kaiser’s yacht, a paddle steamer and even a zeppelin. All were scuttled by the Germans before their release. (See All Hands, Issue 49 and Afloat, Issue 299).

All Hands, Afloat; and additional reporting

AE2 the Silent Anzac The Australian submarine HMAS AE2, known as the Silent Anzac, was the first Allied submarine to penetrate the Dardanelles in 1915 as part of the Gallipoli Campaign, on the very morning the Anzac troops landed at Anzac Cove. AE2 became the first RAN warship to conduct a torpedo attack against an enemy naval vessel, but after five days it was finally lost to the concentrated Turkish attack, and was scuttled in the Sea of Marmara in 73 metres of water. The crew escaped and were interned by the Turks. It was discovered in 1998 by Turkish explorers and later inspected by a group of Australian divers. The Australian divers surveyed and photographed the hull, and observed that the conning tower hatch was slightly ajar. The archaeological site has since been the focus of scientific examination: June 2014 saw a major joint Turkish-Australian expedition revisit the site and undertake a state-of-the art survey, inspection and protection tasks. All were run under the auspices of the not-for-profit AE2 Commemorative Foundation Ltd. The expedition is a federally sponsored project under the national Centenary of Anzac Commemorative program and is fully supported by the Australian Government. Key tasks were the internal monitoring of the submarine’s condition, including ground-breaking 3D sonar spatial mapping, fly-throughs by remote-operated vehicles (ROVs)with cameras, installation of corrosion-inhibiting systems and placement of a marker


to mitigate accidental damage to the wreck by other vessels or fishermen. Dives on the site were done in a diving bell from the Turkish mother ship, and limited to three per day. The hull was found to be covered in marine growth with no bare metal whatsoever. An ROV with camera was inserted into the conning tower through the slightly opened hatch and showed instruments and equipment well preserved, including a wooden flag locker. The hatch to the main control room was later breached, with a second smaller ROV sending back images of the space. Details and pictures of the expedition were covered in the ANMM’s Signals journal, number 108. The sister submarine AE1 was lost off Papua New Guinea on 14 September 1914, after it left Rabaul on patrol and failed to return; it has not been found. It was the first Australian naval loss of WWI. Thirty-five crosses, in memory of the lost AE1 crew, were laid by some of their descendants at a memorial service in Rabaul on 14 September 2014; 100 years to the day since the submarine was lost. Earlier in the month, HMAS Yarra, a coastal minehunter, commenced a search for the lost vessel and, with descendants on board, laid a wreath over the site where the submarine was believed to be. At the time of writing, further sonar search has not located the submarine (see page 22). In Sydney on the centenary of the loss, a church service attended by descendants of the AE1 crew and the Governor-General was held at the Garden Island Naval Chapel; later, commemorative crosses were laid at the RAN Heritage Centre and a wreath-laying ceremony was held at the HMAS Sydney 1 Memorial on Bradleys Head.

AE2 Commemorative Foundation Ltd; additional reporting

Brisbane’s Riverwalk Brisbane’s Riverwalk was washed away in a flood in January 2011. Who can forget the dramatic TV coverage of its charge down the Brisbane River and the attempt by a tugboat master to secure it before it crashed into the Gateway Bridge? It was rebuilt and opened to the public on 21 September 2014. Sitting on piles, the walk is 900 metres long and is approximately 3.4 metres above the mean sea level. This is above the 1-in-100-years flood level, and high enough to minimise corrosion caused by seawater. It is built into the riverbed, not floating as was the original. It links New Farm Park and the new development at Howard Smith Wharves, and has an opening span at the New Farm end, for passage of small craft to properties behind the Riverwalk.

ABC Sunday All Over; additional reporting Back to Contents

All Hands is the magazine of Australian National Maritime Museum Volunteers’ Programme. It is published at Wharf 7 Heritage Centre, Pyrmont, NSW quarterly and distributed to registered volunteers of ANMM. The magazine is produced by ANMM volunteer All Hands Committee. Opinions expressed in the magazine are not

necessarily those of ANMM, its Council or staff.

The All Hands Committee thanks all contributors for their time and effort taken in preparing articles. It may be necessary to edit material provided. All Hands Committee have attempted to contact owners of copyright

material published in All Hands. If you believe you own copyright please contact the editor.

The All Hands Committee is always happy to discuss any ideas or comments regarding All Hands. Articles for

the enjoyment of all volunteers are always welcomed.

All Hands Writers’ Award 2014

This annual award is designed to encourage volunteers to share some of their experiences with other readers. Sharing a good story and sharing information are pleasures for us all, and this year has produced a fine crop of entertaining and well-researched articles. Pity the poor adjudicators wading through the wealth of excellent All Hands material to decide which story is just that shade ahead of another.

All Hands has been blessed with many contributors over the years whose names are familiar. This year’s winner is the very long-time spinner of nostalgic tales, Pat Cullen from the Members’ Lounge. Her recollections of life in Lavender Bay in her story Stars of the Harbour in issue 88 will have jogged many readers’ memories of days gone by. Pat just shaded another regular, Neil Hird, who has also been prolific in recent years.

The committee always welcomes more contributors.

Back to Contents

Australian National Maritime Museum Volunteers’ Quarterly...

Documents

Transcript of Australian National Maritime Museum Volunteers’ Quarterly...