Shipwreck – DUNLOE

During the twentieth century, remarkable scientific progress fulfilled the desire for speed and economic growth. Oil, fuel and the motor ship had outnumbered the old ships of sail, many sailing vessels serving out their final days coal-hulking and waiting out their days when 50lbs (23kgs) of gelignite would send each one to the bottom of the sea in the ship graveyard near Torquay.

The Dunloe had been built in Glasgow during 1870 by Dobbie & Co.  Early in her life, the Dunloe traded from New Zealand to Australian ports, but her principal work had been done in the East India trade freighting sugar. In 1875, the Dunloe also helped the officers and crew of the American ship Pocahontas, which was destroyed by fire at sea. However, the Dunloe was known for surviving wild storms and crew misdemeanours onboard and on land. On one of her last trips to Fremantle, the Dunloe lost much of her rigging during a severe storm.

In 1908, she was purchased in Sydney by James Paterson and Co. to convert to a coal hulk servicing the Port Phillip area.

To get the Dunloe from Sydney to Melbourne, she had orders to wait for the collier Alabama en route from Newcastle to tow the old sailer to Melbourne. However, the Dunloe Captain took advantage of a splendid northeast breeze, enabling her to spread her wings for the last time. Still bowling along with the wind abeam and with the smoke of the Alabama a smudge on the horizon astern, she kept her course and speed, ultimately arriving at Port Phillip Heads at the same time as the collier that was to have towed her. She had completed the run around the coast in four days, a creditable performance demonstrating her reputation as a fast clipper of her day for the last time.

In 1947, the 77-year-old Dunloe sailed for the last time as dramatically as she had during her journeys on the high seas. Captain Hartley Watson, a tug skipper in Port Phillip for 40 years, was called from retirement to advise on taking the doomed ship through the heads to the Torquay Ocean Graveyard. “The proud old Dunloe just refused to die – and gave me a few more grey hairs,” he said to the Geelong Advertiser. “She gave trouble right till she went beneath the waves.”

Harry F Chadwick, a well-respected diver with the Commonwealth Maritime Salvage Commission, wrote in his diary. . . . . .

“Taking the coal hulk Dunloe outside the heads to be sunk off Torquay. The job had been holding fire for three weeks owing to weather conditions being unfavourable. All gear lined up ready for favourable weather.”

With a favourable weather report, Harry went down with his gear to Gellibrand Pier, Williamstown, where the coal hulk Dunloe was tied up. There was no sign of the tug or crew when he arrived. He located the tug James Paterson, tied up at another pier and upon investigation it appeared there was trouble amongst the crew, and they wouldn’t put to sea. The explosives truck arrived in the meantime, so Harry held him until the trouble aboard the James Patterson was settled.

After a delay of several days by gale weather the tug James Paterson left Williamstown towing the hulk. Because of the Dunloe’s barnacle-encrusted hulk slow progress was made up the Bay and it was late afternoon when The Rip was entered. Here the good weather changed, and a strong ebb tide, a fresh south-easter, and rising seas began to cause trouble. Capt. Watson took the two vessels toward Point Lonsdale so more room would be available if the 300 ft low-line snapped.

He had just taken the new course when the hawser-end (a thick rope used in mooring or towing a ship) lashed to the Dunloe and slipped off. Immediately, the tide caught the hulk broadside and swept out at over five knots. There was a danger of the explosive-charged vessel running aground on the rocks at Point Nepean.

“The seamen’s union was called in and the trouble was cleared up, so I got the explosives aboard the hulk while the tug prepared to tow. We left the Gellibrand Pier at 10.30 am, seaman Rewi Caines and myself stopping aboard the lighter, the idea being that we could get all the charges made up and ready on the way down to the heads. I arrived off Queenscliff at 3.30 pm, picked up the surveyor from a motor launch, and proceeded to the Rip. Just out of the Rip we ran into a squall with rough weather and the tow line (steel wire) started to render around the steel bit on the forecastle (the forward part of a ship below the deck, traditionally used as the crew’s living quarters) of the lighter. We signalled to the tug, which stopped, but as we had no stoppers etc to prevent it from rendering any more, the tug master decided to chance it and proceeded towing. The sea really came up and at 4 pm, the towline rendered and went overboard, leaving us adrift.”

With the two men on board, the hulk rolled and pitched in heavy seas, with the danger of the gelignite exploding.

Marooned and helpless, Rewi and Harry clung on in the rolling and pitching unprotected decks, with the 65ft mainmast threatening to fall on them. The Dunloe’s keel was visible as she jerked and bucked with only fifty tons of ballast to steady her in the vicious cross seas. A 1000-gallon water tank set amidships came away and crashed through the deck into the hold below.

Risking a collision, the James Paterson, after an hour of manoeuvring, was able to get within 30 ft of the hulk. A light 150 ft line was thrown aboard, caught by Caines and fastened to a bollard.

“A considerable time passed before the tug could get anywhere close to us to send over a heaving line. In the meantime, we managed to get the lighter’s bow around and ran with the sea. We pulled a small wire aboard (2.5″) from the tug and proceeded to try and get back through the heads, the wire being too small to exert any great pull on. The dinghy we had in tow was battered so much by the seas that it filled with water and eventually snapped its tow rope, losing itself in the seas.”

By this time the vessel had drifted more than two miles from the Heads. The Paterson slowly dragged the Dunloe back to shelter at Queenscliff against the tide and was hampered by rain. Only the skill of the tug’s crew prevented the new tow rope from parting in the treacherous waters.

After two and half hours, the ships had made little headway but eventually reached Queenscliff in the dark at 9.30 pm.

Harry recorded in his diary that he had another job the next day and had to catch a plane. After informing the tug master he couldn’t wait any longer, the Swan Island Naval Depot arranged for someone to take his place in handling the explosives and sinking the hulk, provided that Harry had all the explosives charges made up ready and would give them a wiring diagram and instructions on his method of sinking, which he wrote out and gave to the tug master to give to the rating when he arrived.

After sheltering all night, the Paterson took the Dunloe out through the Rip the next day. Even though the weather was better, there was a rising south-easterly swell. When they reached the graveyard, the seas were difficult and the wind troublesome, but they got the job done. The stern of the hulk was blown clean out by the explosion which was detonated from the Paterson’s deck. Coal dust, smoke and planks were sent high into the air. The hulk sank in a few minutes on 2 July 1947.

Captain Watson of the tug was quoted in the Herald: “The proud old Dunloe just refused to die and gave me a few more grey hairs. She gave trouble right till she went beneath the waves. When she finally sank, I muttered. ‘Thank God she’s gone!'”