Boatmens Nightlong Fight Against

Storm Off Pitcairn Is.

By Ada M. Christian

A RADIO message from the High Commissioner of the Western Paci fic informed the Chief Magistrate that provisions and goods which had been ordered for the people were on the way. All Pitcairn Island looked for ward to their arrival.

For many weeks the weather had been beautiful—all that could be desired. But early Friday morning, February 12, the wind sprang to a breeze, blowing harder every hour, until it blew to almost a gale. The sea was rough with heavy swells and long rolling sea-tops, which grew worse as the wind increased.

About 4 p.m. the call of “Sail-ho!” and the hurried ringing of the bell was heard above the noise of the tempest. This is a call which sends a thrill through any one in better weather. But not so to-day.

It was an unwelcome and doleful sound.

As it was a foggy day, the ship could not be seen till it was close in, so every body knew that it meant hurry and rush to get out quickly to meet the ship. All work or play was immediately put aside, the women and children helped fathers, husbands and brothers to collect their fruits and souvenirs and rush them to the Landing.

Quickly as possible, three boats were launched, into which men and boys crowded with their baskets. Fortunately, it was smooth in the bay, and it was not long before the boats were out from the harbour, and into the rolling seas.

A quotation from one of the men in the boats: “The farther off we got from land the rougher the seas were. Actually, some of the less experienced boys were afraid. We were under reefed sails, with the wind and waves on our starboard quarter. The boats were quite close together; but, even so, the swells were so high that as the boats went into the trough of the seas we lost sight of each other.”

Despite the difficulties, they were soon alongside the steamer.

IT was too rough alongside to put the cargo into the’ boats, so the ship steamed away to the west side of the island, where there is a good lee, and an anchorage where ships large and small may anchor in such circumstances. The boats followed.

By this time it was getting late and, so as to discharge the cargo before dark, the Chief Magistrate asked the captain if he could not go closer in, into smoother water, and drop his anchor.

But the captain, though eager to get rid of his cargo, kept well out, so that the

boats were finally eight or ten miles away to the west.

It was after hark when the heavily laden boats finally left the ship, and it took them the wnoie long nignt to get to land in a small cove on the west side (where they always go on such occa sions) rowing against hard wind, heavy swells and breaking sea-tops.

Instead of decreasing, the storm in creased during the night to almost a fury, with additional showers of rain which, with the sea-water occasionally pouring into the boats, drenched the men to the skin and soaked the cargo and mail.

Most fortunately, two men had remem bered flashlights in their baskets, so two boats had lights with which to signal to each other during the night. The “Ho Ho,” Captain Tommy, had no light, but followed the lights of the other two.

During the early part of the night a huge sea-top broke into the “Clipper,”

Captain Elwyn’s boat, and all but sub merged it. All light cargo floated in the water, which had more than half-filled the boat. They knew that if one more sea-top broke into the boat, that would be the end of them. However, an SOS call was answered by the “Ho Ho” and the “Rodney,” Captain Warren. The “Clipper” was soon relieved of some of her cargo and passengers.

After a night of turmoil, they landed safely.

HERE is an account of what happened out on that wild sea, by Nelson D.

Dyett, who is a Government official on the island, and who had gone out in one of the boats.

“I was a passenger in the most heavily-laden boat and, as soon as the lee made by the ship had been cleared, it became obvious that we would have to fight to get ashore. Sailing would have been suicidal and so, ten miles from the island, there was nothing to do but pull for our dear lives. Pull we did, all hands taking a spell at the oars, and refusing to realise that there were many hours’ hard work before us.

“The first of many snarling, swirling sea-tops dashed into the boat before we were any distance from where the ship had been left. Although half-swamped, many willing hands on the bailers (any thing that would hold water was used) quickly made the boat light again. A few minutes later, another huge sea, with a short roar, hit the side of the boat and poured all over us. Nobody made a move to throw out the cargo of flour, sugar, fat, etc. Many months had elapsed since these commodities had been enjoyed, and

it was worth a sporting chance to try and save them.

“Providence must have played a hand in our destinies, for one of our lads had traded for a flashlight out at the ship.

All realised, when we took in the second sea, that the boat was overladen for such weather, and that, if we were to get our selves ashore, it would be necessary to transfer some men and cargo to the other boats.

“It was not known where the other boats were in that inky blackness, with the wind thrashing the sea-tops up into such an angry, seething mass that we couldn’t hear one another from one end of the boat to the other. So the captain gave orders to send out SOS in the hope that our distress signals would be seen.

“Just at this time, our boat was floun dering around, hardly recovered from the last swamping, when a mountainous sea, driven to a frenzy by a hard, gusty squall, literally burst all over the boat and left us with but the barest margin of free board. Our signalman was still gamely sending out his message of distress.

Another bucketful of water in that labouring boat would have sent us all to the bottom.

“Fortunately, one of the other boats, which also carried a torch, realised that we were in trouble and was seen to put about. Soon the two boats, which appar ently had been running together, came down upon us, and no time was lost in lightening our boat. All spare hands transferred to the other two and, while some bailed frantically, others heaved cargo out of the swamped boat to the other two. This was no mean task, for in those seas the work was highly dan gerous and an utter gamble. I was one of those who changed boats, not being a crew member.

“There was a moon, at times, but one of the pale, watery variety, and this set about 2 a.m. The only light we then had was one which our thoughtful and wor ried womenfolk had taken to the summit of the island earlier in the night.

“The first streaks of dawn showed the tired, haggard faces of our rowers.

Everybody was suffering from exposure and fatigue, and the wind, instead of abating, rose in force with the new day.

At first, no signs of the other boats were seen. Soon, however, one was seen some distance away on our port bow, prepar ing to get under sail. Their efforts were watched with doubt and anxiety, but fortunately the sails were hoisted with out serious mishap, and the boat, in trim and under way, was soon out of sight, heading for land.

“Seeing that boat sail away dampened our spirits, for our boat had not only a dangerous cargo of petrol drums, but had been smashed, out at the ship, and could not be sailed. The boys continued to row,, with about five miles to go, and still no lee from the island —all of us miser ably wet and cold, faces and lips burnt by wind and water, and tongues like number six sandpaper. Slowly but surely we were gaining on land.

“The third boat, which up to now had not been seen, was sighted a long way off astern, on our port side. The encour aging sign of the land growing larger, together with the competitive spirit which always exists between the boats’ crews, spurred the tired oarsmen to still greater energies and, although the crew in our boat was young as compared with those in the other boat, a good losing effort was made and we were only a little behind the second boat, but about six hours behind the first, in reaching land.”

THERE was not much rest or sleep on shore. Women and children went back and forth, peering into the darkness to see if there was any sign of the boats.

Nothing was seen, however, until Alta and Laura, with their lights, climbed up the muddy, slippery road to “Big Ridge,” the highest point, where the ocean stretches out in full view. They did not know that the men had the two torches in the boats, but their joy was indescribable when, in answer to their lights, two flashlights shone out in the distant darkness.

Together they raced to the village where they were joined by others, and again they climbed up to “Big Ridge.”

Hilda Morsed with her torch to see if the men were all right. The answer came back, “We are OK.”

A big lantern (a Coleman, like that advertised in the “PIM”) was left burn ing for the rest of the night, casting its rays across the dark waters to cheer the hearts of the weary seafaring men.

Once belonging to him, this lantern is a reminder of Mr. H. E. Maude, Gov ernment representative, who was here two years ago.

In the early morning, the women and children were waiting at Water Valley with dry clothes for the men to put on, and food for them. The men were so overcome by fatigue that, when jumping from the boats onto the rocks, some of them fell and had to be helped.

Having rested for a few hours, the weary men continued their journey on to Bounty Bay; but only the most able ones, and just enough to man the boats —the others would have been extra two against wind and waves, their hope weight.

After struggling for an hour all hope of landing was abandoned, for the sea at Bounty Bay had risen and huge breakers were rolling in. As it was im possible for them to land, they had to go back to Water Valley, but this took little time. Peaking their oars, they let the wind drive them along.

Understanding the situation, the other men who had come ashore got axes to cut timbers on which to haul the boats up to safety, and were soon climbing back over the ridge to the little harbour on the western side. The indispensable women and children, too, trudged the weary way back to help. By the time the cargo was discharged and the boats hauled up to safety and all the folk returned, it was almost dark.

The distribution of the goods took place the next morning down at the place of landng. Representatives of all the families were there to get their shares. But what disappointment!

It wasn’t so bad for the clothes. They could be washed and dried and still be none the worse for the soaking. But the provisions! Out of the 16 bags of sugar that came, eight melted away in the water. Two of the 15 bags of flour were lost through their severe wetting.

Peas and rice had to be washed, then dried in the oven. It rained the whole week, so there was no sun to help. Rice cured that way did quite well, but peas left for any length of time became musty.

But we are grateful for the goods that have arrived, especially when many other orders are long overdue. We are glad, too, that no lives were lost in the hazardous task of bringing them to land.

We hope that next time we shall enjoy more pleasant weather, which will ensure the safe landing of all the precious food.