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Without consulting the captain he instantly ordered the quartermaster to the course of N 80 E. This dramatic change of course would take the vessel straight out to deeper water. However, as an experienced officer who had voyaged past this part of the coast on many occasions, Lanfear must have known and should have been aware of the even closer danger -the other Seal Rock. Through the rain squalls, Lanfear strained his eyes for the sign of any breaking water. Unbeknown to the second officer this new track was tragically taking the steamer on a collision course with a small reef just off the south east corner of the Little Seal Rock. Lanfear saw the breaking surf all too late. At full speed the Catterthun's bottom came in contact with the reef. Her momentum carried her over the first contact point and eight seconds later she struck again, before steaming into deeper water. Captain Shannon came running out of the chartroom, up to the bridge. "Good God; what have we struck?" asked Shannon. "A reef off the Seal Rock", replied Lanfear. In the momentary contact with the reef, Catterthun's fate had been sealed. Down below, water was already pouring freely into her broached hull -in a little over fifteen minutes the E & A liner would be lost. At least ten minutes had now passed since the Catterthun's collision with the reef. Down below in the saloon cabins, all but one of the six passengers were totally unaware of the drama unfolding up on deck. At this stage there were six inches of water in the saloon and alleyway leading to the passenger accommodation. In five short minutes the vessel would founder. Under the captain's orders, the third officer made his way down to the saloon passengers. He knocked on Mr Crane's door and told him the captain wanted everyone on deck. Crane asked him what was the matter, but the officer passed along the corridor without replying. Crane quickly dressed and attempted to open the locker above his berth, to obtain his lifejacket. However, he was unable to open it. Crane felt something was wrong but not for a moment did he think he was in any: immediate danger. He went into the saloon and asked the chief steward for a lifejacket, telling him he was unable to open his locker. The steward went to Crane's cabin and returned with a vest and fitted it securely to Crane's body. At that moment Mrs Mathias came out of her cabin and Mrs Loring and her twenty five year old daughter appeared from their cabin. Mrs Mathias asked Crane about a lifejacket and both entered her cabin to locate one. The water was over a foot deep inside the cabin. Crane went down on his knees and tried to open the door, but in the darkness he failed to find a jacket. Crane offered her his lifebelt. At first the woman refused, but Crane insisted he would be all right and so she accepted. As he started to fit the device on her, the three women began to cry. The lifeboat cut a path through the floating debris towards the struggling survivors in the water. Over the sound of the waves, an occasional cry could be heard by those in the boat. Dr Copeman was the only European in the vessel at this time, the remaining eleven men being the native crew. One by one those who had survived the sinking were dragged into the lifeboat. Over the next half hour, several of the crew called out repeatedly for their captain and chief officer, but to no avail. The boat was maneuvered around the wreck site until the survivors were sure they had done everything possible for their shipmates. This lifeboat which had been launched with eleven men, now had a total of twenty-six survivors on board. Included in these were Crane, Second Officer Lanfear and Fawkes. Fawkes, being a pilot was very familiar with this part of the coast, took command of the lifeboat and instructed the crew to steer towards the seaboard. The sea frequently broke over the boat and as the vessel had no baler, the binnacle was taken out of its base and used for this purpose. The night was bitterly cold. To keep warm almost every man took a turn at rowing. Crane later commented to the press about a "wretched' Chinese boy, sitting next to Fawkes: "Who was pressing close to me, as to extract some warmth from him." Within half a mile from the beach on the south side of Charlotte Head, the quartermaster became anxious to make a landing. A huge surf could be seen running the entire length of the beach. Fawkes was certain the seas were too rough to land safely and insisted they continue on to the north side of Charlotte Head. Fawkes argued with the quartermaster about the situation and stated that their boat would be smashed to pieces." Look here he said, "I know that point well; you get round there and that is Cape Hawke," Persuaded by his better judgement they resumed rowing on their northerly course. The sun had risen well out of the horizon by this time, much to the comfort of many of the scantly clad survivors. At around 9.00 am, after almost six hours in the lifeboat, the survivors came upon a small sailing vessel anchored just south of Charlotte Head. As they came upon this welcome sight the mood of the men changed from despair to excitement. They forgot about their cold and damp clothing and with an enthusiastic cheer, rowed a direct line for the boat, The vessel was the Olga, a fishing vessel, with an estimated tonnage of twenty and skippered by a Greek named Peter Luie. With him were his two companions. The lifeboat came along side and fortunately the master spoke a little English. The situation was explained to him and within minutes all were taken aboard. He placed the Europeans into his cabin aft and brought out any spare. At 1.10 pm that afternoon, the first telegram was sent from Forster to Sydney with first news of the disaster. The message was sent to Captain Linderman of the Marine Board by Pilot Kendall and read Meanwhile, news of the disaster began to sweep Sydney. The Sydney Morning Herald of August lOth, reported the feeling of the public as they desired more information about the shipwreck." To say that a deep sense of grief is felt by the whole community at the appalling disaster to the human life involved in the wreck of the Catterthun, insufficiently expresses the acuteness of the shock that yesterday was everything observable. A sympathy with the bereaved has been aroused which for earnestness and depth has not been exceeded in Sydney since the Wairarapa catastrophe. Perhaps in no public place was this more noticeable than at the General Post Office. The vast stream of people who, from the first in the morning until the last telegram was put out, flowed along the George Street corridor was remarkable. All eyes rested on the shipping board, Thither the anxious faces turned and returned and the people left with dismay written as plainly in their facial expressions as if their thoughts had been uttered. Nothing came through that gave the faintest promise of hope. People asked each other such questions as 'Think there's any chance'? or, Any sign of another boat?' Have the search boats returned? ' And so on, as on former occasions of shipping disasters." The insurers of the 9,000 gold sovereigns were also keen to interview the second officer, as to the probable position of the wreck. Negotiations were already underway to send two divers to Seal Rocks for the recovery of the gold. Of course the first task would be to find the Catterthun and establish the depth at which she was lying. A successful salvage would depend on the depth. Early reports of the sinking gave some encouragement to the salvage team, with the Sydney Morning Herald reporting: "The vessel's course after striking seems to have been inshore, something like an attempt having been made to run her into shallow water. This is, of course, all in favour. In any case if the Catterthun is not over 20 fathoms deep the gold will sooner or later be recovered." August 20th, 1896, dawned fine and clear with absolutely no current. The salvage party hoped to finalise all operations by midday. May was still feeling unwell and it was decided it would be unsafe to send him down. Briggs went over the side just after 10.00 am and was successful in retrieving another box from the tank. This vas the sixth crate the team had recovered and its contents of sovereigns numbered 100 and took the total now recovered to 7650 coins. Although none of the boxes had been opened up on deck, the shipper's name were still decipherable on the side of the chest. That name was then matched to the shipping list to ascertain the contents of each box. Also on board the Sophia Ann for the last few days, were a number of representatives of the two insurance companies. As the claims on the gold had now been paid out, these firms were now the owners of the sovereigns. These men had seen for themselves the difficulties in which the divers had been working and were well satisfied with the amount of gold recovered from the wreck. The insurance companies' representatives as well of the rest of the salvage party, were under the Impression that this mornings dive was to be the last on the Catterthun. However, Briggs was determined to make another dive in the afternoon. He told them whether he was successful or not, this was to be his last dive. The result of this dive was the recovery of the seventh box, containing 250 coins. Briggs believed that it would be impossible to recoup the remaining boxes, because of the amount of woodwork and paper in the chamber and the crates were no longer intact. |