Morobe Pioneer
pp. 36-37 · Read in the full issue
Clement Wharton-Kirke
By “Freeza.”
THE subject of this brief biography is known wherever prospectors, miners, engineers and surveyors foregather around a glass or two to exchange reminiscences of our modest Morobe pioneers.
Mr. Clement Wharton-Kirke, better known to his intimates as “Tonic,” has a lengthy record of engineering and survey ing achievements to his credit. His out standing abilities in the technical world are only equalled by his hearty dislike of publicity in any form.
Prior to his arrival in the Territory of New Guinea to undertake on behalf of New Guinea Goldfields Limited a perilous road location from the abrupt ramparts of Kunai Creek along the hazardous edge of a crater whose gaping countenance had long ago witnessed the birth of the ulti mately famous Koranga Creek, to the rugged but wealth-productive Golden Ridges, Mr. Wharton-Kirke held an im portant position in Kebun Bharu, in the Malay States, where his technical advice was not infrequently sought by the ruler of that region.
In a sense Mr. Wharton-Kirke may be said to have been the father of road con struction in the District of Morobe, for prior to his advent the standard of road locations in the district had been negligible.
The road engineered and built by him, and known far and wide as “Kirke’s Monu ment,” has proved the forerunner of a progressive and excellent series of roads leading from the goldfields capital of Wau to the various gold-producing centres.
When Mr. Wharton-Kirke resigned his important position with New Guinea Gold fields Ltd., that company’s loss was the Administration’s gain, as his presence was largely instrumental in the rapid clearing up of many mining surveys, from the cloud-capped Capoule Range to the wild gorges of the Webiak River, and from the tall twin peaks of Mt. Rubianag (discov ered on the epic McLean expedition of 1928) to the churning rapids of the Lower Watut.
Life is not all armchair exploration in a New Guinea survey party, as Mr. Whar ton-Kirke could tell if he only would. It is difficult to get him to describe what he went through on one occasion while ex ploring the Capoule. He had struggled up one precipitous edge of a razor-back ridge on a hot afternoon and overstepped the top of the ridge, and had the misfortune to connect with the head of a narrow land slide on the other, with the result that instead of pausing for a timely rest, he accelerated.
On examining himself shortly after wards, he discovered no bones broken, but his clothing somewhat deteriorated through friction during his descent. The land slide was now situated above him, and beneath his feet lay the course of a dark and sinuous unknown creek. In his semi dazed condition he was uncertain as to which watershed the newly located stream belonged, or whether his route to his camp lay upstream or down.
By the time he had followed the gorge downstream for what seemed hours, his way was barred by a precipitous waterfall, and in the minutes of remaining daylight he gathered his strength to return up stream. A stumble in the gathering dark ness, and he was a fixture for the night with a rapidly-swelling, bruised foot.
Meanwhile, his colleagues, who had re turned to camp by another route, did not
feel anxious about him, knowing his long experience in bushcraft, until dusk de scended. With increasing anxiety when it became known that none of the inhabit ants in the vicinity had seen anything of Wharton-Kirke, a search party was or ganised at 3 a.m. and left an hour before dawn. At 9 a.m. after a hazardous jour ney his trail “over the top” was discovered.
Then came the rescue problem.
Even if two men were to risk their lives by descending the landslide, between them they had no hope of carrying or assisting Wharton-Kirke back up the route by which he had descended. It was Wharton- Kirke’s devoted native servant Sekau who provided the right inspiration. Quickly assuming the leadership of the fourteen or so natives who accompanied the successful search party, he directed his “one-talks” to construct a long rope ladder of kundah vines. Even so, an hour’s frantic work supplied only half enough to reach the bottom of the gorge in which the marooned man waited philosophically and cheerP !y.
Again, Sekau’s resourcefulness pr ved useful.
Having, with true native forethought, provided himself with a crowbar, he di rected the top of the rope ladder to be anchored to a tree stump atop the razor back, at the edge of the slide, and the ladder to be thrown down the slide to its full length. Sekau then nimbly descended the ladder with the crowbar and, clinging to the bottom rung with his prehensile toes, prized out a foothold in the native rock and enlarged it to a ledge with stand ing room for two persons. Calling to a native colleague, Pukpuk, who had been recruited by his master by the gift of a bar of Crown soap (which he was saving to comfort him in his old age), that dusky youth was instructed to cut a strong wooden post. This was sent down the lad der with another native, while Sekau, with the crowbar, gouged out a hole to contain the post. The latter was then planted and rammed firm, and the lower end of the ladder hung over it.
Next, the upper end of the ladder was freed from above, and the length of it came hurtling about the ears of Sekau and his companion. They straightened out the kinks in the ladder with an expertness learned in long familiarity with the dis entangling of survey chains from jungle obstacles such as quilas, korukas, and other impedimenta.
Gathering the ladder up in lasso style, Sekau next hurled the sinuous thing down to his waiting master, who scrambled up it to the midway ledge, as rapidly as his weakened condition and his swollen foot would allow.
While the rescued man was regaining his breath at the halting-stage, Pukpuk had supervised the making of a long “fish ing-line,” composed of several lengths of stout vine lashed end-to-end. and a hooked stick tied to the extremity of this device.
This was skilfully dangled down, while Sekau hauled up the ladder again from below. He gathered the free end into lasso formation, this time throwing it up wards, and connecting with the hook of the “fishing line.”
Then, the native shock-workers’ slogan was heard, and to the sound of “heave sail-oh,” the rope ladder was once more hoisted to the narrow ridge by willing hands, and re-anchored to its moorings.
The remainder of the rescue proceeded on orthodox lines.
This episode may sound like adventure to some, but to hard-boiled pioneers like Clem Wharton-Kirke it was merely an incident in the day’s work.
Dr. T. M. Clouston, Government Medi cal Officer at Nauru, and Mrs. Clouston arrived in Sydney by the Niagara on September 5 on three months’ leave.