The Memorable Voyage of the Barque Adamant
Courtesy of the Wallace Early Settlers Museum, Riverton
The 267 immigrants who sailed from Gravesend for New Zealand by the
barque ADAMANT in the 1875 must have been impressed with such a fine
sounding name. From the illiterate among them must have liked the
sound of ADAMANT. Adamant meant something hard and unyielding,
something that would not be deflected from its course. But no ship
could have been more inaptly named.
The immigrants knew that their destination was a place called Bluff,
at the bottom end of the middle island of New Zealand, which they
expected to reach in under three months.
Immigrants for Bluff were at sea for five months
But five months were to pass before they were to step ashore in New
Zealand, and in those five months much was to befall. They were to
experience mountainous seas and dead calms, their ship was to wander
erractically backwards and forwards across the heaving Atlantic at
the whim of a drunken captain - a captain who was to drink himself
to death before the voyage was over - they were to run aground off
the coast of Brazil, they were to encounter icebergs, and they were
to run short of provisions. And there were others on board besides
the captain who were never destined to see land again. And yet the
Adamant was to reach Bluff with four more passengers than the number
that embarked at Gravesend, for besides deaths there were also
several births on board the Adamant. Amoung these 262 passengers
were Ebenezer Johnson, his wife and three children, including a nine
months old son, Frank. Ebenezer kept a diary of the voyage and from
his notes, as well as from extracts from the Journal of Charles
Simmons, published in the Southland News soon after the arrival of
the Adamant at Bluff, it is possible to build up some kind of
picture of the astonishing events that made the journey such a
memorable one to those who sailed in the Adamant.
Most of the passengers suffered from seasickness on the first few
days out and no doubt many of them were despondent at saying farewell
forever to England. Their last sight of the Homeland was the Lizard
Lighthouse, which they passed three days later - and having at last
said their good-byes to the past they set their course steadfastly for
the future and the land of promise Down Under. From the married men a
number were picked out to act as monitors to see that there was no
smoking or striking of matches among the passengers during the night.
During his watch Ebenezer whiled away the time watching the
phosphorescent glow of the water as the ship ploughed her way across
the Atlantic. He was something of a poet at heart, and he thought the
effects were very beautiful. He said so in his diary. He noticed, too,
that the water of the Atlantic was of a different colour from that in
the Thames and in the Channel. In the Thames it was muddy from the
traffic of ships of all ports of the world, the Channel was green, and
the Atlantic was blue.
Clean and Tidy
At 10 on Sunday morning they had to muster to pass the Captain to see
that none was fasting or ill. "We have to be clean and tidy and we
have prayers on the poop and then Sunday dinner", wrote Ebenezer
Johnson. "We have got plum pudding and meat pie and piece of fat and
lean Pork. Sunday School has been started by one of the Plymouth
Brethren and all children over five years are compelled to attend,
and as many more as like." Ten days out they struck a gale and many of
the passengers who recovered from their first sea-sickness were down
to it again. Ebenezer records that his wife - Ellen was "rather queer"
- and then, on the 23rd a child who had been ailing died and was
committed to the sea from the poop, the doctor reading the burial
service. The bell tolled, just as it would from the belfrey of the
village church. As they neared the tropics the weather become hotter
with calm glassy seas and magnificent sunsets. The death of the child
was balanced a few days later by a birth on board ship. The passengers
noticed another strange thing as their journey took them away from
England. The stars that were so familiar to them fell lower and lower
in the heavens, and new ones appeared. The beloved North Star which
shone so brightly over their heads was now down to the water's edge.
And there were many more new stars than they ever saw at home. To
while away the time Ebenezer started a singing class and found there
was no stinting of food. New bread, baked during the night, was served
hot for breakfast everyday, and they actually were given more vituals
than they could possibly eat. "We have got four tons of preserved meat
not yet touched, and carrots and potatoes and onions all preserved",
wrote Ebenezer. Sometimes they would speak to a passing ship and then
there was great excitement, everyone rushing up on deck to watch the
exchange of signals by flags. So far everything was going smoothly -
even monotonously. There was some illness aboard, as was common in
those days of sailing ships, and to break the tedium of the voyage
both sailors and passengers would arrange concerts in the evenings,
just as they do today in the most modern liners. On August 16th they
crossed the Equator and the old ceremony of greeting Father Neptune and
shaving the new chums who had not crossed the line before was carried
out with the customary horseplay. Two days later Ebenezer records that
they were approaching the coast of Brazil - and from that moment a dark
shadow seemed to fall across the ship. At 7pm while a concert was in
progress, some of the passengers noticed that they were heading directly
into the land then rockets were fired by people on shore to warn them of
their danger. Just in time the ship sheered off, but it was an unnerving
experience for those who saw what had happened. It spoilt all enthusiasm
for the concert which came to a sudden end.
The Captain
And now it was evident that there was something radically wrong with the
Captain. The Adamant was kept tacking about the Brazilian coast for the
next three weeks, and as this part of the world abounds in coral reefs
the passengers and crew were in hourly expectation of disaster. ANd then
at 10 o'clock one night, they ran aground aand there was pandomonium
aboard, with men running about and women crying and looking for children,
at the same time scraping a few articles together and comforting one
another in preparation for taking to the lifeboats should it become
necessary. There was no sign of the Captain and the doctor took charge,
sending all the women below and the men up on the poop deck, where they
ran to run backwards and forwards across the ship to work it off the
reef as only the forepart was aground. After about an hour of this they
felt a movement under their feet and found theat the ship was beginning
to slip back into deep water. Heartened by this this they went back to
their work with renewed enthusiam and in another hour the ship was clear
of the reef and heading out to sea. By this time they discovered the
reason for the captains absence. He was in the D.T..s. There was panic
among the single girls when the ship went ashore as the doctor had made
a practice of locking them below decks at night and they could not see
what was afoot. The fear of the unknown had entered their souls, and
the situation was not improved when an irresponsible Irishman shouted
down at them that they were all doomed. All kinds of weather were
encountered during the next week or two, from torrential rain and a wind
so strong that it was necessary to take in all the sails and run along
before the wind with bare masts to a day of absolute calm in which the
ship made no headway at all.
Next the Adamant is reported 10 miles off the Cape of Good Hope, having
crossed the South Atlantic and here the sea was so rough that the waves
were washing over the ship and flooding them down below. The top gallant
mast was also carried away, but they passed another ship that had lost
most of its rigging. The wind still bad after they had left the Cape 400
miles behind but they had good sport fishing for birds, catching four
Cape pigeons, one mollyhawk and an albatross 10 feet across its wings
from tip to tip. By this time there had been four births on board the
ship, and on OCtober 17th a girl was born, but she died the following
day.
Everybody by this time was heartily sick of the trip, and the condition
of the captain was causing a great deal of whispering among the
passengers. He never came out of his cabin now and it was reported that
the drink was in truth killing him. They felt the shadows of his unhappy
presence everywhere, and added to this was the thought that they were
long overdue at their destination. The death of one of the single girls
the day after she had given birth to a child added to the brooding air
of tragedy, and presently the temperature dropped suddenly as if in
keeping with their spirits. Two huge icebergs, standing about 400 feet
out of the water and fully eight miles around, stood not far off, and
from these came an icy wind that pierced the passenger's bones. On the
first day of November they were awakened about 3am by a great fell of
the ship, which upset everything that was not tied up and nearly tipped
them out of their beds. The wind had been blowing hard when without
warning it stopped and began to blow just as hard from the opposite
direction, driving them back. The sea was rolling heavily behind them
and it was a wonder they were not driven under.
Pitiful Life Ends
By this time the captain was reported to be dying - a diagnosis that was
confirmed the following day at 6pm when the captain's pitiful life ended.
He was buried at sea half an hour after noon on the next day and from
then on the ship was under the command of the first mate.
And now the weather began to improve and once again they found themselves
becalmed in a hot sea. The long voyage was beginning to tell on everybody
and Ebenezer reports in his diary that while they were all reasonable
well they were weak and were doing little. There were still 2,000 miles
to go tobacco was nearly done and the men were smoking coffee, tea,
cinnamon and paper and snuff; they were even grinding up old pipes to
make things taste of tobacco.
On November 19th another baby was born, but it lived only a few hours;
and several women were very ill. By this time the ship was beginning to
run short of provisions. The passage was indeed proving much longer then
anyone had expected and now all the meat, butter and tea were eaten, and
what flour was left was bad. However, in spite of all their mounting
hardships they had the knowledge that they were on the last lap of their
journey to buoy them up. That last lap was the Tasman Sea, but it took
them two weeks to cross it, and all the time the weather was growing
rougher and their provisions dwindling to vanishing point.
Altogether, they were heartily sick of the voyage, some of them wishing
they had never come and others wondering if they would ever reach port
and not caring much if they didn't. All this made the last stage of the
voyage a nightmare; but at last they were struggling their way up
Foveaux Strait, and from there they signalled to Bluff asking for a
boatload of bread to be sent to the starving ship's company. Some hours
later a small sailing craft met the ship off the point, but even their
luck was out, for the heavy spray had made most of the bread unfit for
consumption.
But even the longest lane, the weariest voyage, comes at last to an end,
and at last the Adamant was safely berthed at Bluff and the streets of
Invercargill were full of many new arrivals who attracted the alert
attention of a reporter of the Southland News. In her five months at sea
the Adamant had aquired a heavy marine growth, and so the ship was
beached and scrubbed before she took her departure. Ebenezer Johnson,
the man of poetical fancies, could not help feeling as he stepped ashore
with his family that there was something wrong about the name of the ship.
Tributes
Charles Simmons, in the part of his journal that was published in the
Southland News, says that considering the length of the voyage the health
of all on board was particullarily good, which "says much for the
attention of the surgeon and the officer, who on their part affirm that
they have never sailed with a better class of passengers. "Among the six
deaths on the voyage was that of a married woman named Mary Ayling".
Before landing at the Bluff an address was drawn up, signed by all the
passengers, and presented to the Chief Officer, G.H.Tipman, in the
following terms:
[Content of Address yet to be located]
Converted to electronic form by Corey Woodw@rd
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