Captain William

Michie

Killed in Darwin by Jap Bomb

ALL people connected with the Terri tories of the Western Pacific learned wi , th dee P re gret, early in March,’ that when the Japanese bombed Darwin on February 19, they killed Captain Wil liam Michie, one of the best known and probably the best-loved of the Burns, Philp skippers.

Captain Michie was born in Aberdeen 56 years ago; he was educated at Murray House, Edinburgh; he came to Australia in 1913; and he joined the BP service, as second or third officer, in 1917. He served, since then, on practically every one of the Burns, Philp ships; and, for many years past, he has been one of the big firm’s most reliable and trusted com manders. He was best known in New Hebrides, Solomons, New Guinea and Papua.

He will be remembered for at least two remarkable performances. When the Vulcan and Matupi volcanoes threatened to overwhelm Rabaul in May, 1937, a radio was sent to Captain Michie, on the “Montoro”, up near Kavieng. He hurried south, lay off the Nodup beach, and took aboard an extraordinary number of evacuees, whom he landed safely at Kokopo. He should have received a dec oration for what he did on that occasion, but he was not even publicly thanked In January, 1938, when in command of the “Macdhui”, he was responsible for a rescue at sea that is unique. A Miss Buckingham was missed from the ship, and Captain Michie went back over his own track; and 21 hours later, about 17 miles away, they found the woman, afloat, and still alive.

Captain Michie, who leaves ja widow and a son, transferred to the ship on which he met his death only a few hours before she sailed.

The Skipper Hated Japs

By R. W. Robson

IMADE a round trip on the “Macdhui”, just before war broke out, and I lived with Captain Michie under the bridge in what is called “the captain’s spare cabin”. I had travelled with him on other occasions; but I saw much of him in 1939, and I found him one of the most lovable of men.

There is irony in his death, insomuch that, while reserved on most subjects, he was fiercely outspoken on the subject of the Japanese, their ceaseless south wards infiltration, and their stealthy spy ing around the Islands. He knew what was coming and, because I had been shouting vainly for years about the Jap menace, he spoke freely to me.

As we left Rabaul harbour in August, 1939, I was with him on the bridge, and he took his ship close by a small, white, Japanese vessel. She was a mysterious craft —she was not a trader, and she was trim and Navy-like in appearance, and filled with young Japs of a naval type even at that moment, they were swarming through Rabaul’s avenues, kodak-ing everything in sight. No one knew what the ship was doing there.

The skipper regarded her sourly. “I’ll bet she’s got secret guns, and a load of torpedoes” he said, and pointed out cer tain curious things in the ship’s con struction. “They’ve been away at the back, surveying and charting. We'll wake up to it, when it’s too late.”

Prophetic words! William Michie paid with his life for our blindness and stupidity.

He knew what was coming. He was a staunch Presbyterian and a clean mouthed man; but I remember with

pleasure the strong, salty words of the sea which he applied to the name of Robert Menzies, when that gentleman’s Australian Government put wharf lab ourers in gaol for refusing to load scrap iron on vessels bound for Japan.

Captain Michie had three loves—his home, his golf and his motor-car. The proudest moment of his life was when he got second place in a Centenary motor-race from Sydney to Adelaide Every evening, when I sailed with him in 1939, there was a solemn ritual. The skipper would tenderly collect his clubs march out onto the boat-deck, take his careful stance, and whack mightily and meticulously at a tethered ball. He knew the tricks and hazards of every Islands course.

He had few social graces—but he was a good-living, frank-spoken, hard-work ing Scotsman, an able commander and a splendid seaman, highly esteemed—the kind of man who can ill be spared.

Captain J. F. Spring Brown, retired commodore of the Union SS Company, died in Sydney in January at the age of 68. For many years, before he left the sea and settled down at his home in Rose Bay, NSW, in 1935, he was on the Sydney-Vancouver run, calling regu larly at Fiji. One of his last commands was the RMS “Aorangi”.