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British Empire and Commonwealth
I was born into the British Empire in the Mandated Territory
of New Guinea, a trust territory of the League of Nations administered by
Australia. Then the British Empire covered a quarter of the world's population.
It included a continent, a sub-continent, island archipelagos, great swathes of
Africa, separate islands - large and small, strategic ports, areas in the Middle
East, vast chunks of northern America reaching into the Arctic.
The British Crown held these diverse peoples together and was by the majority of
its subjects honoured with love and respect. And in all those far flung lands
before WWII there was much peace, with seas open and safe. There were
as many types of government in this empire as there were peoples and locations,
ranging from totally independent nations to isolated communities governed
directly from London.
Obviously this Empire was to influence and shape millions of peoples' lives
especially the children born into it. What might have been achieved if the
understanding and sometimes sense of dual identity - an intuitive sense of
'other', and yet with a strong sense of one's own blood ties - had been allowed to
develop to its full potential, can now only be visioned by those few able to remember. For the environment that fostered this
was wilfully destroyed either through ignorance or deliberate intent.
In an ever increasingly violent and racially fraught world one can only hope
that the true nature of the British Empire will become better understood and some
knowledge of the duality it gave many of its children be recognised. And perhaps
too, somehow, maybe through the present Commonwealth, it will be discovered that
those seeds of duality are dormant, not dead, and from this realization will
come a saner world.
For that purpose I am giving in the following pages a selection of my poetry and
prose dealing with Empire and Commonwealth.
Link to WWI
veterans of Rabaul and surrounding islands
Poetry
'Other'
New Britain Birth
At birth I heard the drum, witchdoctor shadowed me
I, Nordic, once boned and bookless as this tribe
Chanting humanity into the dark of jungle.
Born into the shadow of my primaeval past
I cry primitive with crafted tongue of speech.
A-walk with earth in toes, I breathe in fashioned shoes,
I cannot stamp out the whirl of European dust
Moulded up to tower of choired Europe.
Palm leaf and coconut lullabied my childhood
Yet I rocked in the cradle of Europe.
--------------------------------
CAMP FIRES 1972
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Possession
In colonial New Guinea the white children were often looked after by a black
nanny. Sometimes a very deep relationship developed between the black woman and
a child.
I loved you so
White child of mine.
Born to my world
I give you a gift,
The rite of my people.
By palm and coral
Nut and fern,
I carried you
Close to my heart.
Black skin armed white.
Dance, piccaninny, dance.
My ancient craft
In play I give
I taught you
Tumbuna can
Use or be used.
Skull white the beach
When you first saw
The magic shells
Skilled by my kind
To capture creatures.
Dance, piccaninny, dance.
With flesh still forming
The tribal fire
Cut off your shadow,
Helped me to power
Beyond my rivals.
White child of earth
Toed out by black,
I teased the night
And shook the stars
With your racial eye.
Dance, piccaninny, dance.
Fearful the time
When the dead
Are walking.
Soul without limb
Face without feature.
Then white darling
You give me
Vision
To witch my will
On all I hate.
Dance, piccaninny, dance.
My bones are beads
Around your head
As spirits rise
Release by me,
They feed on you.
I loved you so
White child of mine.
Long now apart
We are together,
My work well done.
Dance, piccaninny, dance.
Beyond the Sunset
1992
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Frangipani and Daffodil
Seed of a self, unseed born,
Black and white,
Sun, ice.
Frangipani in the hair
Heavy scent,
Daffodil in the hand
Light flower.
Race ignored, race explored,
Birth shaping roots
In rootlessness.
Lush frangipani
Thick sleep,
Slim daffodil,
Bright eye.
Single core, dual skin,
Black and white,
Sun, ice.
POTTER'S CLAY
1973
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Rombin
On meeting again my father's old plantation overseer and
friend.
East is east and west is west
And never the twain shall meet,
Yet Rombin loved my father,
I saw from Rombin's eye.
Across the caste of skin
I looked into your eye
And knew that mateship good,
That black and white can love
As true sexed lovers do
Aware of alien pulses,
Close creatures of the blood
Each heart a life in Being.
Endless is the jungle seed,
The sea has many shells,
All mixed into a pattern
Of growth about the world.
Warm, so full of joy, that day
When black and white did meet
As equal souls in natural law
Both single, whole, complete.
Your race, my race, our colour
As different as our sex,
We spoke a language human
Yet lipped from breasts apart.
East is east and west is west
And never the twain shall meet,
Yet my father had loved Rombin
I saw from Rombin's eye.
-----------------------
POTTER'S CLAY 1973
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Pioneers
Black or Thatched House of the Hebrides
Desolate and dead the hearth
Within these great stone walls
That crumble slowly to the earth
From which once humans chose them.
Only the mute swan with its mate
Will spend the summer through
Teaching the young to understand
This world wrapped in rainbow hues.
So small these houses, tiny homes,
Just toadstools made of rock
Hunching tight against each gale
Beneath thick grassy caps.
Yet many, many children
Were born and bred within
These half- forgotten places,
About them laughed, and lived
Far from the crowded cities
Far from the lands that lie
Out there beyond the islands,
Life here like salmon spawning
Was building up a breed
That would forsake the stillness
The clear dream-hiding loch
For deeps beyond all vision.
Out they would go these children
Out over every ocean
Through every strait and sea
That felt the storms' white whip
Until all shores were reached
By those who once did know
Only those minute dwellings
Unwindowed to the world.
Lonely heaps of history
Tumbling monuments
Of such magnificence!
From here came strength that spread
As easy peer to all
Great England gave her sons
So that in Empire far away
Celt and Saxon worked as one.
Desolate and dead the hearth,
The heart does ache to see
The lintel gone, the room so bare,
Life only memory.
Yet there should be no sorrow
The Black House like a pod
When all its seed had scattered
Can crumble as it grows.
LEAVES 1987
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Britain has spawned a Breed
My spirit is a migrant in myself,
I fly from home to home haunting the upper air.
Britain, where in calm sunset
Ghosts of my race arise,
Children of the oak and birch
Old men of the peat and clay,
Who lived my ancient memory
As Puck in pleasure roamed
About the river's dancing light
Feeding those fields of home.
Britain of the Celt and Pict,
Land of the Saxon's wheel,
Where every sound of sunset
Sighs through my tribal soul.
No fear in British meadows
No alien pause in the brain,
Moulded from ancestral skulls,
This country is my home.
But I am migrant in myself
For Britain made an Empire,
I am the Empire Breed.
I know in personal memory
The sharp scent of the gum,
The vast Australian sunset
The dark dusk of a land
That is not me or of my blood
Yet where my childhood was,
Unknown and yet known
I feel Arunta's sun.
The red globe of a sunset
Wild from New Guinea shores
Catches the raw Pacific
In a brilliance I can love.
Yet my eye is not the black man's
And his dusk is not my peace,
I am always intruding,
My tribe's soul was not born here.
I touch the palm and coconut
I smell the salt of shark
As the powerful, lonely oceans
Roll the world around my limbs.
My flesh is white of Britain
And the daffodil I pluck
But the green beneath my toes
Is jungle tough with ants.
For Britain spawned a breed
Named in Empire's day
And I the Empire Breed.
Strangers in the noon heat
My urgent wandering breed
Of hurricane or bushfire birth
Are made of British bone.
We cannot lose our vision,
Forget the dance of Puck,
He dreams about our languid sleep
Cold ghost in tribal blood.
And we cannot break the trochus shell
Bright in our childhood hand,
For Britain she has breed herself
All around the earth.
She has spawned a new race,
Flung out the skin of home,
Made us men of different ways
Yet hearth-faced to the oak.
We, hunting shades of Britain,
Sweat in the shadow's light ,
Tongueing spirits British
In memory of our seed.
We can never lose our race,
Transfuse that virgin blood,
We are the sunset migrants,
Twofold we live in one.
My spirit is a migrant in myself
For Britain made an Empire
And I the Empire breed.
Potters Clay 1973
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Waterhole by Mapleton, Queensland
Pioneer thoughts
What did you dream of as you sat
Here in the noon-day heat,
Your face awash of sweat
Weary limbs at rest.
Were you again in Scotland,
In heathered hills of Home
With a fresh breeze blowing.
How cool it would be there,
And lovely as a lass.
Did you shut your eyes
Lean into the shade
Wish for rowan trees,
Not these cedar leaves.
Sleet you understood
Snow about the door,
Winters full of frost.
Nowhere to hide here, even shadows sting,
The sun quite merciless.
Yes it could be hot,
August, in the glen,
Heat though did not claw
Through creatures on the moor.
Rough and tough there then,
Men and women struggled
In those family bothies.
Yet everything was old,
Mountain, rock and croft all partners with the other.
Did a lizard give
Remembrance for you
Of adder by the pool
Watching salmon move.
Light filtering down
Through miraged vine
Draws dream-space.
Was that the cry of plover?
Oh no, a kookaburra.
By lochy side the fern
Nestled into earth,
Here the frond uncurls
As a roof of whirls.
Hazed out through Time
Can Memory weave
Itself another image.
So different and yet … yet …
Creek has lilt of burn.
WITCH DOCTOR
2003
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Vision
1 Charters Towers
I felt my mother here
In this verandahed place
Open to the plains
And sunset solitude.
At peace where once she played,
I saw a house of hope
Wide-windowed to the world
Spreading out to touch
A land with ancient light
Absorbed from centuries
Of educated action.
Gold was panned
Fine buildings planned,
Heat and dust and distance
Became a town.
Canvassed by such movement
Men worked assured
That what they did was good.
Pride and confidence
Gathered into streets
Of bustling elegance
To form a Christian nation.
Sweat mingled into Art
The page and spade together
Accepted as a right
By school and miner's camp.
From this north a future
From this north a past
Where disciplined desire
And visionary thought
Imaged and imagined
A culture that was equal
To the best from which it came.
I wonder at them now
Those of my kin
Who crafted and created,
With pioneer clarity.
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2 Glasshouse Mountains
'They are very remarkable on account of their singular form of
elevation, which very much resembles Glass Houses, which occasioned my giving
them that Name.'
Extract from Captain Cook's Journal.
From out at sea Cook saw them stand
So strange and yet familiar -
Shapes from England waiting
In the bright, strong air
To dream out their doing?
For suddenly there was
Building, planting, reaping,
Shipping, railing, carting.
Vast distances disappeared
Hot horizons travelled.
After silent aeons
A continent was kindled
With energy and action.
So swift the transformation,
Was earth willed in with people?
Amazing pioneers
Able to achieve
In poverty and pain,
Often all alone.
Had they indeed come 'home'.
My family settled round
Those mountains called 'glasshouse',
Imaging so well
The manner of their being
New background, ancient root.
Tough, sturdy, ready
With axe to chop
And knife to prune
They planted, grew, created,
Working in two worlds.
Today the mountains stand
Still strange and so familiar.
Do they know what spirit
Worded with their past
Awoke them from the Isles?
WITCH DOCTOR 2003
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Understanding
New Guinea - My Country
Thunder moves toward the mountain
Clouds press their sullen rain
Upon a sea frown-forming.
Stones and pumice stir
Uneasily with bones
Cratered in Rabaul.
Eyes watch from Kunai grass
Forms, shoed in ignorance
Mirror themselves, then vanish
Before dark dancers can
Face them with their craft,
Test strength in single combat.
The sun fidgets towards night
And a new moon breeding shadows
From where ancestors speak,
Tattooed, shelled, and speared,
Of a past denied
By smug complacency.
Blackbirders of the soul
Would make this land impotent,
As they challenge from a distance
With clever, twisted tales
A country whose spirits
Have power only in place.
Who really cares
About this 'no where land'
This elemental earth
Of energetic passion.
It is used, abused,
Made play-thing by arrogance.
Yet this, my country, is no 'no where land,'
She has the right to choose
Her destiny
Rise from her own roots,
Know her past unhindered
By lies masked out as learning.
Fronds, slender, nervous
Finger day with agitation.
A wind arises, tears,
Thatched roof and roped canoe.
Blood-red berries split
Their juice across old tracks.
Thunder moves towards the mountain
Lightning drags the sky
Into feverish shade.
A figure pauses, squats,
Medium of movement
Around the tribal hearth.
WITCH DOCTOR 2003
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Gumyitke Creek
Gold claim, Baining Mountains, New Britain, Papua New Guinea
Wanting you I waited
As high within those hills
You helped
Another's daughter.
Stars dart about the moon
Water glides through gold.
In speck and splash and shadow
Night comes to dream
And ghost in form
Bodies long grown cold.
Day gave the creek bright light
Creation in your soul
Echoed happiness
Out into a place
Where now, and ever, were
Existing in one space.
Here was your peace and comfort
A sanctuary untouched
By two world wars' corruption.
And here your mind forgot
Spheres so sighted out
In pitiless destruction.
I waited far away
As mouths deceived
And minds diseased
Cut love to cancered bone.
Palm thatch dripping down
Dampness everywhere.
The creek is now in flood
No panning there today.
Will gold ever be found.
Do you really care?
There in forever silence
Surrounded by such sound
That's never stilled in jungle
You sat and watched smoke curl,
Catch the air, then go
Slowly out in whirls.
You joked and swore and sang,
White man far away
From all your blooded kind,
Yet brother to this tribe
You could understand
In shared simpleness of mind.
I waited, wanting you
You, my father gone
Up into the hills
Where I could dream of being.
Mingling mind and matter
Breath wanders through the shade
Black and white are patterned
All divisions crossed
Bones are picked and gathered
Limber from the grave.
A-stir through bird and blanket
Leaves leant into the dawn.
You listened as the earth
Moved through its seeding cycle
Shaping out decay
Into a world reborn.
Lost my father yet not lost
For I was bound by birth
You and the mountains, mine.
In an energy of spirit
Called out by elementals.
We three were of one sign.
I waited with no anger
Nor have I now
Towards you or the peoples
Your life was spent amongst
I knew why you were wandering,
Was I not wandering too?
To those tough hills you took
The talents many spurned
And there you gave in action.
The Bainings watched and learned.
Now though I know despair
As ignorance and hate
Let tales spin out of time
Hoping thus to kill
All your years of caring
Kindness and goodwill.
Watching now, I wait,
As tongues deceive
And minds disease
All our history.
A bleak world knowing only
Selfishness and greed
Seems no more to understand
Or even try to sees
How relationships developed
In different countries.
I must fight to keep you
And the peoples we both loved.
Gone all sense of season
Each growing on their own
In ease with one another,
A circling out of reason.
I waited, wanting you,
You, my father, gone,
Leaving me to follow
A pioneer, lonely path.
WITCH DOCTOR 2003
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Witch Doctor
Night, and the witchdoctor moves
Softly through the mind of a tribe
Taking decisions, creating
A world in fantastic fire.
A world where he is the master
And only he can tell
Who will live in the morning
Who will die by the tide.
Day, a Doctor talks
In the double-glazed, tight room
Watching students scribble
Words that could be used.
He is analysing
His lectures for next term,
Wondering which idea
Will bring the most reward.
Every people have them
Which is one to choose
He who holds to the old lore
He who turns to the new.
Man of superstition
Man of studied thought
Slowly through the aeons
Both might be understood.
WITCH DOCTOR 2003
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Prose
Australia's first battle
as a sovereign nation
Anniversary of
Australia’s first battle as a sovereign nation -
first battle in WW1
11th
September 1914
Saturday 11th Sept 2004, marks the 90th anniversary of
Australia's first battle in WW1, and also marks that event as being Australia's
first ever battle as a sovereign nation. (All earlier conflicts were fought by
the various colonies sending colonial forces, e.g., to Sudan, the Boxer
Rebellion and the Boer War).
Yet this battle is almost totally unknown in the light of
Gallipoli some seven months later and which Australians seem to think was our
first battle in WW1. Certainly the horrors of Gallipoli surpassed those of our
first battle.
On August 5th 1914, England in a telegram to the Prime
Minister sought Australia's help in mobilising a force to proceed to German New
Guinea to capture a wireless station, thought to be of great use to the German
fleet then active in the Pacific area. In a remarkable feat and with
considerable speed and enthusiasm, a force of 1,500 ( about 1,000 were military
infantrymen and 500 naval reserve volunteers) were enlisted, uniformed,
equipped and set sail a bare two weeks later on the HMAT Berrima on
August 19. A strong supporting fleet of Royal Australian Navy provided escort
and an attack force. This force was known as the Australian Naval and Military
Expeditionary Force. After the capture from the Germans, Australian troops
remained in German New Guinea until May 1921, when it became a League of Nations
Mandated Territory, the mandate of which was given to Australia.
En route to German New Guinea, the troops received training
at Palm Island (off North Queensland coast) and two more weeks training at Port
Moresby, before setting sail for the objective.
On 11th September the Australian fleet entered the
magnificent harbour of Rabaul, whilst troops had disembarked some few miles away
at Kokopo and Kabakaul, and near where they met resistance from German forces
consisting of a few regular army officers, militia and native troops. Little was
known about the actual location of the wireless station thought to be some miles
south of Kabakaul, but information was provided and the troops proceeded along a
jungle track. On the way they encountered mines laid across the track, and
trenches from which they were fired on.
The first to be mortally wounded was Able Seaman W.G.V. Williams
(of Northcote, Victoria). An Australian Army Medical Corps doctor, Captain B
Pockley to facilitate the removal of Williams for medical treatment, gave his
Red Cross arm band (which signified that he was a non combatant) to the
stretcher party conveying Williams. A short while later Pockley was himself
mortally wounded by rifle fire. This brave deed was never recognised.
As the troops advanced along the thick jungle track towards
the wireless station some five miles inland from the stone wharf, a further four
Australians were shot dead. German dead were estimated at about 1 officer and 30
native troops. Three days later, Australia's first submarine, AE1, disappeared
near the adjacent Duke of York Islands, with the loss of a crew of 35, and has
never been sighted since.
Although this battle was with few casualties compared with
later events it, none the less, marks Australia's first battle as a sovereign
nation. And how has Australia marked this event?? It seems that it prefers
that this first battle should be forgotten. The departure of the troops from
Sydney's "Man'o'War" steps near Circular Quay was noted by the City of Sydney
erecting a small obscure bronze plaque, high on the Tarpeian Wall near the Opera
House, on the 50th anniversary of the troops sailing.
Northcote RSL however took more interest in commemorating
this obscure battle as one of its citizens was the first mortally wounded.
With funds raised locally, and a grant from the Department
of Veterans' Affairs, a large bronze pictorial plaque was commissioned at the
front of this RSL on 16.12.2001. These two memorials constitute Australia's
remembrance of our first battle. Perhaps the 90th anniversary can create a
little more interest.
Maxwell R. HAYES,
Royal Australian Air Force 1950-1957,
Royal Papua New Guinea Constabulary 1959-1974,
Papua New Guinea Volunteer Rifles 1960-1962.
The following are extracts from Masked Eden
which give more detail of the circumstances surrounding the capture of Rabaul
from the Germans.
Marjorie [Martin] told Stan [McCosker] about her brother
Fred. He had volunteered for service in the Pacific in August 1914. The
regiment of citizen forces to which he belonged was sent to Thursday Island.
Volunteers were called for to proceed to New Guinea. Fred had been one of 500
who left on the troop ship ‘Kanowna’. He was to have been part of the
expeditionary force. However, about half way to New Britain and after being
joined by the battle-cruiser ‘Australia’ the firemen on board the ‘Kanowna’
struck work. The whole fleet was delayed for several hours but as the dispute
was not settled, the ‘Kanowna’ returned to Queensland.
[Page 8]
As they [Stan and Marjorie McCosker] drove along beside
the waters of Blanche Bay, Win [Martin] kept exclaiming at the beautiful scenery. A
world traveller, she thought this one of the most beautiful drives in the
world. It reminded her of that famously lovely road from Colombo to Kandy. The
area around the blue Lagoon especially delighted her, as it did most Europeans.
The road to Londip ran through Kokopo and then on
towards Bita Paka. It was along this stretch of road that the Australian Army
suffered its first casualties in the Great War. The wireless station was
situated at Bita Paka. With the outbreak of hostilities between the British
Empire and Germany, this wireless station – in German hands – posed a threat to
the Allies.
On 11 September 1914 a large Australian fleet entered St
George’s Channel.
It was considered important to seize the wireless plant as
quickly as possible, and for that reason two parties, consisting of twenty-five
men each, were landed at daybreak in order to locate it, one of them being
landed at Kokopo and the other at Kabakaul, Having proceeded some distance
inland, continually harassed by snipers, Lieut Bowen’s party suddenly struck
determined opposition from a trench across the road.3
After some hours, and after some stiff fighting, the
German forces surrendered. The wireless station was taken that evening. Two
Australian officers and four men were killed, one officer and three men
wounded. Thirty to forty native New Guinea troops were killed or wounded.
Rabaul was captured without opposition the next day and on the following day,
there was a short ceremonial parade after which a proclamation was read out. A
few days after that the German New Guinea Protectorate was formally handed over
to the British.
In New Guinea, the Great War was quickly over.
[Page 75]
3. Extract from Our New Possessions, J.
Lyng. p. 88. Author has copy on which is written on the inside front page,
'Miss W.F. Martin, with compliments of Burns Philp Ltd., M.V. 'Macdhui', Trip
33, Xmas 1934.'
[Page 321]
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Link to WW I veterans
of Rabaul and surrounding islands
Dedication service
at unveiling of new memorial on seafront.
Weymouth, Dorset, England,
June 2005
 |
|
Town honours Anzac heroes
by
Richard Hogg
A ‘sombre and sincere’ dedication service was held in the rain at the
unveiling of the Anzac memorial monolith.
The service was held in memory of the injured Australian and New Zealand
troops who arrived for treatment in Weymouth during World Wars One and Two.
Representatives from the Australian and New Zealand armed forces attended
the ceremony on the Esplanade along with Weymouth and Portland Mayor Les
Ames.
Mr Ames’ chaplain, Reverend Eric Mitchell conducted the ceremony in which
wreaths were laid and a minutes silence was observed.
During the wars the Anzac troops (Australian and New Zealand Army Corps)
were camped in Chickerell whilst waiting either to be taken home or back to
the fighting.
As numbers increased further sites were set up at Littlemoor, Westham,
Worgret and Bovington.
Captain M P Folkes of the Royal Australian Navy was representing the
Australian high commissioner.
He said: “This occasion provides a tangible reminder of the depth of
involvement that this area had with our armed forces during both the world
wars.”
New Zealand Defence Force Commander Paul Mayer thanked people for coming out
in the foul weather.
He added: “The welcome we have received is much appreciated and is typical
of the respect with which we are always treated when we come to Weymouth.”
The memorial was a project six years in the making and was built to mark the
arrival of the first troops injured in the fighting at Gallipoli in 1915.
Members of the Weymouth and Portland Residents Association worked with the
borough council to raise funds for the monolith.
Individuals and local businesses donated money to fund the purchase of the
stone and the services of stone carver John Sellman.
Mr Ames said the memorial had special poignancy for him as his father fought
at Gallipoli.
He said: “It was always of great concern to me that the many Anzac troops
who played such an important part in both the world wars fighting in
Gallipoli, Mesopotamia and the Somme, were not commemorated in any way in
the town.
“Many thousands of Anzac troops were based here and some are buried in
Westham cemetery.”
Lord Lieutenant Dorset Captain Michael Fulford-Dobson said the occasion
should serve as a reminder to the younger generation of the sacrifice made
by their great grandfathers.
Article in
Dorset Echo, June 2nd,
2005
|
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South Pacific Cross Currents
by
David Behrens
This material was put together in Manuscript form over a
number of years, but I was unable to find a Publisher who would stand the cost
of production. I am unable to myself, so there will never be a book run.
[David Behrens, Brisbane, 1996]
David Kenward Behrens 1921 - 2004
Contents:
Preface
Live Bait
The Batuna Crocodile
Overheating
Ballast
Cannibal Feast
Fast Actions
Whistling
Pride and a fall
Convulsions
The Voice
God laughed last
God's Cartridge
Dragging Anchors
Unseen Lookout
Backwater Nocturne
Faithful unto Death
EXTRACT FROM PREFACE
During the years David Behrens lived and worked in Papua New Guinea, as a
soldier during World War Two, then as Engineer for the Seventh Day Adventist
Mission in the Solomon Islands and New Britain, and later as an Engineer and
Ship Captain, carrying out various activities around New Britain and its
adjacent islands, he saw many times, how Christian men and women, Roman Catholic
and Protestant alike, had been prepared to risk - and give - their lives for the
Lord they loved, or to save other people's lives.
It was impressed on his mind, just how real and vicious were the forces of evil,
whose handiwork he had so often seen and experienced, during those years he
worked around the South Pacific Islands.
More importantly, he had seen how equally real but far more powerful, were the
forces for good that were always available, to anyone who put their trust in
God, and did their best to serve Him.
Happenings in his own life, convinced him that God sometimes allowed the
currents of evil to have their own way for a time, but then in answer to prayers
for help, He had said "Enough! No further shall you go!" Then His forces hurled
them back in confusion.
Cross-currents indeed!
Live
Bait
When the Workshop unit to which David Behrens was attached arrived at Port
Moresby in Papua New Guinea in June 1942, its men and equipment were taken
inland about 20 miles, and set up on the banks of the Laloki River where
Sapphire Creek joined it.
David was in charge of the Regimental Aid Post - or R.A.P, as it was usually
known. He was the first to deal with any sickness or injury that might affect
any of the 200 odd men in the establishment. Usually an M.O. (or Medical
Officer) would come by a vehicle of some kind, from the 5th C.C.S. (Casualty
Clearing Station) a tent hospital some miles back towards Port Moresby and hold
a Sick Parade each day. He would advise David on treatment for men that needed
it, and if their condition was too serious, have them sent to the C.C.S. by
ambulance, called up by field telephone. If something really serious happened
during the day or night, the patient would be taken by a light utility truck
straight to the C.C.S. with David doing whatever he could for the man during the
rather rough trip. The health of the men under his care was always in the
forefront of his mind, especially seeing this Workshop had come from Cranbourne
in Victoria, where the weather and the sicknesses were vastly different.
There was something happening at certain places in New Guinea at that time, that
was of serious concern to the Services that were trying to hold up the advance
of the Japanese Army towards Australia. It could well have been the plot for a
Science Fiction horror film - this terrible thing that was happening to far too
many of our men.
The "horror" was there in plenty, but the "fiction" part was missing. This was
hard fact. Men were dying from the attacks of foes seldom seen - dying slowing,
agonisingly, revoltingly, and often going crazy first.
They suffered from terrible headaches, that would be aggravated to screaming
point by a sudden light in the eyes, or a sharp sound. Darkness brought some
relief. Sometimes delirium would grip a victim for days with all its mind
damaging effects. Eyes would often become so inflamed they were just a pussy
mess. Deafness quite often occurred. In decreasing frequency during a patient’s
slow and agonising slide towards the grave, periods of sanity would occur, and
the man would plead piteously with his carers for something to ease his torture.
The heartbreaking part for the medical orderlies, was the fact that there was no
treatment they could give. The healthier a man was when he was struck down, just
meant his body took so much longer to reach the almost inevitable end, than a
man in a more weakened condition. Unfortunately very few of the men in the
forward positions were in good physical shape, at that time.
The task of driving back the Japanese from Australia's doorstep in that type of
terrain was bad enough, but this added menace that was depleting our ranks was
something the men feared more than bullets, bombs or malaria. It was not caused
by the Japanese, but rather by natives of the land. The men never knew when an
attack might be launched except for one peculiarity - the silent killers
apparently mainly went for men stationary on the ground for some time. The
victim might be quite unaware he had been attacked at times, as the injury was
so slight.
However the effects were over 80% fatal in many areas. There was no known
successful defence against the attacks, and no successful treatment. The only
hope a man had, was that his body might be strong enough to last through perhaps
weeks of torture, until the illness ran its course. Those who did so survive,
were sometimes permanently handicapped physically or mentally.
The Japanese were afflicted by these attacks too, and called it Tsutsugamushi,
or river fever. We called it Scrub-Typhus. It was believed to be carried by a
small scrub-tick, or Mokka as the Servicemen called it- The trouble was, this
tick also had tiny hitch-hiking mites about 1/4 of a millimeter long on its
body, and the suspicion was that they too were carriers of the Typhus microbe.
The Military Authorities were pressuring the Scientists back in Australia to
come up with some successful treatment - but those people were under a
tremendous handicap, as they had no infected Mokkas or mites to experiment on!
Quite a number of soldiers in areas where their mates had been struck down by
the Typhus, volunteered to act as "live bait", to try and catch some of the
creatures. They shaved all hair off their bodies, so as to make the insects more
easily seen, and then lay on the ground for long periods, with other men who
kept moving about, watching for any Mokkas that might climb on to them.
After a while the bait man would roll over and let what had been his
on-the-grass-side be examined, while he offered his other side as a target. This
worked, and a number of Mokkas and mites were captured and carefully sent to
Melbourne in warm humid containers, to the Walter and Eliza Hall Institute,
which was one of the leading scientific research organizations in Australia.
The men who were acting as bait knew what a terrible curse this Typhus was, and
were doing their utmost to help the Scientists find some remedy. Tragically some
were bitten by unnoticed Typhus carriers - probably the tiny mites - and gave
their lives. Others, knowing the desperate need for these little murderers,
continued with the baiting.
David of course had no idea of all this activity taking place up in the hills,
but did have some very worrying thoughts when after the Workshop had been
established for some months, one of the soldiers became very sick, and the M.O.
had him taken to the hospital, and he was found to have contracted Scrub Typhus.
He had been in pretty good physical condition when it hit him, and he eventually
recovered. He was one of the lucky few - at that stage.
When the Mokkas and their mites were received in Melbourne, the scientists had
the incredibly difficult task of trying to get them to breed and lay eggs. They
hoped to find the Typhus organisms in the eggs, and then see if the newly
developed sulpha drugs could control them. Also they hoped to develop a serum
from the eggs that might be helpful.
It was a race against time, as men were still dying in far too large numbers up
in New Guinea. But one of their big handicaps was that they had such minute eggs
both in size and quantity to work with. There was not even a person in a
hospital afflicted with the Typhus that they could get infected blood from to
work with. It was so very frustrating for all engaged on the project.
One of these was a very brilliant laboratory worker named Miss Dora Lush. She
knew only too well just how fruitless was all the painstaking work under
microscopes, and with tiny quantities of minute eggs. They were getting nowhere
- but she kept on working as directed by her superior. Then she contracted Scrub
Typhus herself! Whether this was accidental or on purpose none of her associates
knew.
Something that they very quickly did know, was that they now had a relatively
vast supply of Typhus loaded blood. Miss Lush could have done what many advised
her to do and just rested in hospital and let her superbly fit and strong body
fight the disease off. But no way! She told the Institute to keep her there and
use her as a human guinea pig for experimenting, in the fight against the
Typhus. This they did, and over weeks many things were tried on her blood, and
later on herself, and because of her training and knowledge she was better able
to help and evaluate their efforts, when her mind was not in delirium.
The Typhus ran its terrible course with Dora, and her once full and beautiful
body wasted away slowly but surely, till she was just a skin-covered skeleton,
and had suffered all the tortures that cursed disease could bring on her. Her
mind went, and then her poor body gave up the struggle and she passed way, in
that sterile white room in the Laboratory.
Her sacrifice was really a triumph, as her fellow technicians found that one of
the newly developed drugs - Chloromycetin - would quickly control the Typhus
organism. This meant that the terribly debilitating effects of the fever were
dramatically lessened and shortened- The death-rate soon fell to about two to
four percent of cases. What a wonderful result, due to the self-sacrificing
efforts of the men in New Guinea, and then the amazing sacrifice of herself by
that lovely girl, Dora Lush.
Incidentally, the military Hospitals people found that the rehabilitation of
Scrub Typhus sufferers was greatly helped by the use of big quantities of
Marmite in their diet.
When David found out all this after the war, the thought how true are the words
of John 15:13 - "Greater love hath no man - (or woman) - than this, that they
lay down their life for their friends".
return to contents
BALLAST
"If only we had a radio transmitter, I wouldn't have to bother you Dave, but
Marion has had a run on these items at the Dispensary lately, and is almost out
of them. Your boat is the only one working at present, so could you take this
message to Lilihina Island and get Bill Burley to transmit it to Honiara please?
We really do need these things."
Lloyd Tonkin was looking quite worried as he stood in the doorway of the Batuna
Mission workshop.
David Behrens, the Engineer, nodded his head in understanding, as he knew
Lloyd's wife Marion had been kept pretty busy at the Dispensary since the
resident Sister had left for Australia with health problems - while Mr Les
Webster who was to take her place, had not yet arrived.
He looked at Rusa and Lahsalosi, his two Maravo National helpers, and mentally
checked off what he could get them to do while he was away up the lagoon.
"O.K. mate, I can get away pretty quickly and with luck get your message to Bill
before this morning's "sked". Why don't you come with me?" David answered.
Lloyd, who was Principal of the school at Batuna, replied that he had too much
to do that day, with midyear exams coming up, and regretfully declined. David
was to realize before he was much older, that he would need a lot more than just
"luck" to get that message through - or even survive the day!
Batuna Mission had no radio transmitter in those days, and the only way to get
radio messages out was to take them by boat some four nautical miles, (or seven
kilometres) North, then Northwest around the coast of Vangunu Island inside the
Maravo Lagoon, to a trading post run by Mr Bill Burley on the island of Lilihina.
This would have been no problem normally, but for some months past, the M.V. "Dandavada",
a forty five foot (or fourteen metre) twin masted schooner type of ship
belonging to the Mission station, had been out of action waiting for parts for
the Gardner 3L2 diesel engine to come from Sydney.
David had a suspicion that the Gardner Agents in Sydney were in fact getting
them from England!
This lack of transport could be quite awkward at times, so a couple of months
previously the.Engineer had at his own expense asked a renowned canoe maker and
wood carver named Kilivisi, of Viru village on New Georgia Island, to make him a
dugout from a goliti (pronounced gorleetee) log similar in the main to the usual
Marovo canoes or "chores" as they were called, but differing in a couple of
important points.
It was to be a "double ender" (or in other words, sharp both ends) as usual, but
at the stern end it was to have a cut-away below the place where the rudder
would be hung, so that a propeller on a shaft from an in-board engine could be
fitted.
Just. back from the centre of the boat, a big pad of the original log was left
intact in the bottom to act as a bed for the small Wisconsin air-cooled petrol
engine David had bought to power the craft with.
He had made a little hand-carved model about twelve inches (or thirty
centimetres) long from a block of soft wood, and given it to Kilivisi when he
was visiting Batuna, and asked him to make the finished boat sixteen feet (or
five metres) long, by two feet six inches (or eighty centimetres) wide.
In due course he had taken delivery of the boat, and had done enough work on it
for it to be usable even though there were still a number of things he wanted to
do to make it more sea-worthy. Kilivisi had done a good job, and the boat for
all. its size was relatively light in weight and even with the engine in it,
floated quite high in the water. It had performed very well in the few trial
runs David had made in it so far, so he had no hesitation in using it for this
rather urgent trip.
The Batuna Mission station's name literally meant in the local Maravo language,
"the head", and that was quite appropriate, as part of the Mission property was
a point jutting out to the East, that was shaped very much like the shoulders
and head of a man.
Just back from the centre of the boat, a big pad of the original log was left
intact in the bottom to act as a bed for the small Wisconsin air-cooled petrol
engine David had bought to power the craft with.
The coast on the North side of this point, ran back to the West for about
three-quarters of a mile (or a kilometre) then swung in a rough half-circle to
the North and then back to the East to form a fairly deep bay, before curving
back around another point and continuing on in a Northwesterly direction towards
Lilihina Island.
From the "head" of the Batuna point, to the other unnamed point on the North
side of the bay was about half a mile (or a bit under a kilometre) and back
inside the bay and fairly close to its North shore was a small island, known at
that time as Bari’s Island. Around this island and along the shores of the bay,
was notorious for the number of sharks and crocodiles that were prevalent there,
not to mention many barracuda that made their living there also.
The seaward end of the point, or the "head" had two houses for Mission staff
built on it, and between them was situated the Church. Being quite elevated,
these buildings commanded very extensive and impressive views of the surrounding
lagoon and islands.
In what might be called the "neck" area, which was quite low-lying and very
little above sea-level, were situated the sawmill, slipway, and hospital on the
South side, and the workshop and wharf on the North. The Principal's house and
the school buildings were on what could be called the "shoulders", where the
point widened and merged into the main bulk of the island.
Starting out from the shore beside the workshop, David headed the boat almost
due North across the bay, aiming to clear the point on the opposite side, well
clear on his left hand, and then change course to the Northwest and head for
Lilihina Island. ---- Someone once said "The best laid plans of mice and men,
oft get kicked in the teeth" - or something to that effect. How true!
It was a typical Southeast season day, with the trade-winds pushing random
patches of white cloud across the sky at quite a rate, and whipping the fairly
shallow waters of the lagoon into quite high, breaking waves.
Outside the lagoon in the deep ocean, the waves were more in the form of rollers
or hills with the slopes on either side being much the same angle. Here in the
lagoon it was as if the waves which were being pushed forward by the wind, were
catching their feet on the bottom and tripping up, so their crests curled over
and fell in a continual waterfall down their leeward sides (the side away from
the wind).
As the engine pushed the boat out towards the centre of the bay, David could see
that he soon would be out of the relatively smooth water which was sheltered
from the full force of the wind by the high point, and would have to contend
with the quite nasty breaking waves that would be coming from his right hand
side, and which extended as far as he could see out in the lagoon.
They would easily roll the boat over if they caught her side-on, so he was
watching them with care as the boat got away from the sheltered water but was
not worried as he planned - if they got too rough - to turn the boat around to
the right towards the East, and meet the waves almost head-on at slow speed, and
angle across more Northeast till he was far enough out into the lagoon to be
able to then make a quick turn back to the left and get past clear of the point
near Bari's Island with the waves then coming from almost straight behind him.
They would then have no power to roll the boat over.
He was thoroughly enjoying this contest with the increasingly breaking waves,
and was pleased with the way the boat handled, even though its engine was only
about four horsepower. Out past the middle of the bay now, he saw he would soon
have the full unfettered force of the Southeast wind and waves to deal with.
Already his face was being stung by the heavy spray being swept off the tops of
the breaking waves, by what he estimated would be a thirty knot (or 55 kilometer)
wind.
Watching to the right to gauge the size of the waves approaching, he noticed
coming towards him from the South-east, a medium-sized canoe - a dugout "chore"
- with five men in it. They were getting things easy he thought, as three of
them were holding coconut palm fronds vertically with their butts in the bottom
of the canoe, while their leafy tops were straight up in the air catching the
wind like sails!
The on1y man doing any work was one at the stern of the canoe using his paddle
as a rudder - the rest of them were really having a holiday, and were getting
blown to wherever they were going at quite a good speed. David thought to
himself as he watched them, that it would be a different story when they had to
head home again, as it would be a long hard paddle against that gale!
Soon he realized that the men in the canoe weren't the only ones in the vicinity
who had a sail. He had one himself which wasn't doing him any good at all, and
it wasn't a coconut palm frond either, but the very hull of his boat that was
causing the trouble.
He had been turning the boat away to the left from the badly breaking waves for
some little time now, until he had reached a position in the bay, where he
needed to get the boat's bow around into the wind so it could take the oncoming
waves almost straight head on, and work his way up-wind - but angling slightly
to the East, so he could get out - far enough to clear the point, then he would
be in a position to turn back to the left and run with the wind behind him.
The difficulty was that the boat was too light, particularly up front. It needed
some ballast (or weight) to keep its bow down in the water more, as it was
floating with its front end right out of the water at times, while the stern
where he was forced to sit at the controls, with the engine just in front of his
feet, was quite deep in the water.
As a wave would come up from behind and pass under the boat, she would drop down
into the following trough, and David would turn the rudder hard to the right and
try and get her bow around to meet the next- wave head on - but every time, as
soon as the high-floating bow started to get up above the foaming wave crest,
the wind would catch it and thrust it back to the left again before the turn to
the right could be completed.
This was dangerous in the extreme, as the round bottomed shape of the boat made
it very easy to roll over, with insufficient ballast or weight in it to give it.
stability, and David would have to instantly swing the rudder to the left again
and get her round running with the waves again to avoid a capsize.
After several wild rolls that would have ended in disaster if the Wisconsin had
failed to maintain full revs so the rudder could be effective, (as the rush of
water sent back by a racing propeller, has more effect on the rudder than the
forward movement of the boat through the water) he decided that enough was quite
enough.
He would take no further risks, but just run with the wind and waves behind him,
and pass through the passage between Bari's Island and the North shore of the
bay, and after sailing around the island in the sheltered passage it created, he
would come out again in the bay - but this time with the boat's bow facing the
approaching waves.
Excellent idea. "The best laid plans of mice and men -- - !"
Having made the decision, it only took a short time to reach the entrance to the
passage which he hoped would solve his problems -only to get one of the worst
shocks he had ever received in his life. AS the boat entered the fairly narrow
channel, lined with coral reefs each side, he suddenly realized with horror that
he was trapped - trapped in a way he had never given a thought to - and with
precious little time to think about it now.
The waves generated out in the lagoon were up to three metres or nine feet high,
and the wind was driving them right into the entrance of this channel, where
because of the shallowing water they were breaking even more viciously than out
in the lagoon.
This David had fully expected and was running the engine at full speed to keep
the boat ahead of them. What he had not expected was to find his way barred by a
wall of jagged coral extending right across the channel from Bari's Island to
the North shore of the bay, while both sides of the channel were also lined with
the menacing growths, exposed by the trough of each wave that entered it.
Normally there was enough water over the coral in the channel to float a small
boat at all but the most extremely low tides. The tide was not extremely low in
this instance, but the troughs between those three metre waves certainly were!
Any boat or body at the "mercy" of those waves, would have been hurled forward
by the main bulk of a wave and then dumped with terrible force by the following
trough on to that great mass of beautifully coloured, fantastically shaped, but
horribly mutilating coral. Great spreading fans, some of them two metres across,
grew out horizontally from the seaward face of the reef. Whole forests of
stag-horn coral, long many branched, sharp pointed deep blue growths, that like
the fans, were so brittle that if a body was dumped on them they would shatter
just like porcelain, with jagged razor sharp edges. This menacing bank that
David now saw, was alternately being covered by the racing waves, and then
exposed in all its deadly beauty by the following troughs.
The sudden chill of fear that went through his very being, was not for the
lacerating, tearing damage that the shattered coral would do to his body as the
waves dumped him on, and rolled him over it - but for the attention his spilt
blood would attract, as the pounding waves spread it through the reef waters,
and that of the narrow channel itself.
Only a few nights before, he had been standing on the beach not far from the
workshop with Lloyd Tonkin, and upon directing the powerful beam of his six cell
torch around the coast towards Bari's Island, had seen five glowing red eyes
gazing back at the light. Five crocodiles, all within the reach of that beam!
Apart from the crocodiles, there were plenty of other lovers of blood and fresh
meat that lived around those reefs and channels, which could make short work of
him if he got dumped virtually on their doorsteps.
He began praying to God for help, at the same time as his mind was racing to
find a way out of this "dead end" situation.
Over the years, other men who have worked with, or been with David when
emergencies have arisen, have said repeatedly afterwards that he has the gift of
staying calm and thinking constructively when the pressure is on. He has felt
that if he has such a gift, it must be God-given.
In this instance he had to think fast and act fast also, as even with the engine
running slow (he didn't dare stop it, or he would have lost all control of the
boat) the wind and waves were carrying the boat forward into the channel, much
too fast for his liking.
He remembered the canoe he had seen earlier sailing towards the point, and the
thought came that if he could get those men to paddle close to him, he would
leave his boat to its fate, and swim to their canoe before he was injured in any
way which would attract unwanted visitors.
Looking around he saw they were crossing behind him some two or three hundred
metres away, still sailing effortlessly along with their palm frond sails, and
obviously watching him.
He waved to them with a beckoning motion and yelled "Mat harmu, cuchiana",
meaning "come you quickly" in Maravo, but the wind obviously carried his words
away, as all the men did was to raise their idle paddles and wave them at him in
cheerful greeting! Then they passed out of sight around the point. So much for
that idea, he thought.
During the next few minutes (which seemed like hours to David) he tried every
trick he knew to get the boat turned around, even disengaging the clutch as she
slid down the back of a wave, then revving the engine and letting the clutch in
with the rudder held hard over, so the sudden rush of water on the rudder-face
hopefully would kick the stern around and get that high-floating bow straight up
the face of the next wave before the full force of the wind could get. at it -
but no luck - once again only a sudden swing of the rudder brought her back
facing the now much nearer reef.
He again poured out a desperate plea to God for help as he saw how close the
boat was to the wave lashed coral, and then rather than give in and have the
next wave or at least the one after it, smash the boat and himself unresistingly
on the coral, he made one last attempt to get her to turn in the trough.
As he once again opened wide the throttle of the little Wisconsin, and the revs
built up to their maximum as he held the boat running side-on to the next wave,
watching for what he judged the best time to swing her bow up the face of the
on-coming breaker, he felt something different about the boat's behaviour.
She responded as if she had adequate stabilizing ballast in the forward part,
and in fact it even looked as if the bow was floating lower in the water - but
he thought he must have been imagining that. What he very swiftly realized he
was not imagining, was the boat's changed action as the hard-over rudder swung
the stern around, for the bow had certainly settled deeper into the water, and
was providing some sideways grip that gave the rudder something to lever against
as it strove to do its job and get the boat lined up straight into the wind
before it won the match by pushing her aside again,
The nerves of the desperate man in the boat were stretched almost to breaking
point he felt, as he watched in what seemed to his heightened senses to be the
slow-motion approach of that last wave. If the boat hadn't made the turn that
time, that would be the wave that would smash it - and him – on to the waiting
coral, only a few metres away now.
The bow reached the point where it was forcing its way up through the
down-curling crest of the wave - and still the boat was turning!
Then the bow was thrusting clear up into the air above the wave where the wind
could make an unhindered attack on it - and the battle was 1ost.
By the wind!
That sudden unaccountable increase -in stability that David had noticed during
that last chance he felt he would have to get the boat turned around, had made
the difference. He could see no change in the pattern of the waves, and the wind
was just as strong as it had been, but he felt sure the behaviour of the boat
had changed right at the crucial time - and he was very sure that was none of
his doing.
He had been praying to God for help since he first realized the peril he was in,
and fully believed he had been given that help - how it had come about he didn't
know. That was God's business.
He made it his business to thank his Father most gratefully as he steered the
boat at slow speed straight into the wind till he was well out into the lagoon
again, and could safely turn and run, with the wind and waves just on a slight
angle behind him, as he cleared the point and carried on to Lilihina Island
which he reached in time for the message to go out on the morning "sked".
It would then be up to the Mission headquarters staff in Honiara to got what was
needed, and send it on the next available trading or Government ship that would
be calling at Batuna - and that could be weeks away. He had done his part, and
the rest was up to the others.
Leaving Lilihina and heading back straight into the wind towards Batuna again,
the Engineer found his boat to be floating just as high in the bows as she had
on the outward run, so turned and ran back to the island’s lee side and
collected some blocks of old dead coral from the foreshore and packed them into
the front of the boat between the two front seats.-----
The very real danger he had been in earlier that morning was still very much in
his mind, but that didn't stop him enjoying the beauty of the many kilometres of
island studded lagoon as the boat took him slowly back to Batuna, nor did it
dampen the exhilaration he felt as the buoyant little craft would climb up the
face of an oncoming wave, splitting its foaming crest with her bow and then
plunging down the other side to meet the next one. It almost seemed as if the
boat enjoyed the action as much as he did.
With all the beauty visible around him, but knowing full well how much menace
there was in so many forms, just below the surface of the lagoon, he thanked God
again for saving him, and wondered again just how He had done it. "You'll never
know that, till you reach "The Better Land", mate", he told himself, but he was
wrong.
After securing the boat to its davits at the side of the wharf and winching her
out of the water, he walked back to the workshop where Rusa and Lahsalosi were
working and told them the radio message had been sent.
Lahsalosi then said "Master, we were watching from up on the hill to see how you
got on in the strong blow, and saw you go into the passage behind Bari's Island
and then come out again. Who did you pick up in there?"
"I never picked up anyone Lahsalosi, there was only me in the boat" David
answered in a puzzled voice, but Lahsalosi 1nsisted, "You must have Master,
because we could clearly see someone in the front of the boat. It was too far
away to see who it was - but we saw someone in the boat alright."
As the full import of what Lahsalosi had said sunk into David's mind, a feeling
of awe overcame him, then one of deep gratitude to God as he re-lived again in
thought, those crucial seconds when the unmanageable boat was so close to those
foam lathered forests of coral, and the change he had felt in her behaviour as
he had in almost hopeless desperation turned her to meet that last wave -
knowing full well that it would smash the boat and him on to the coral, if he
failed to get the bow far enough around into the wind this time.
He recalled the thought that had come to his mind as the boat continued to
respond to the rudder and climb up the face of that wave, that she was acting
just as if she had ballast in the front, and even seemed to be riding lower in
the water.
She had ballast all right, an Angel of the Lord had indeed come to help him in
his extremity, and these two men had been privileged to see him. David had not
seen his Passenger, but enjoyed the far greater privilege of having been saved
by Him from a very messy end.
The passage of many years, have not diminished his gratitude to God for that.
Copyright ©. Sylvia Behrens 2005.
return to contents
THE VOICE
Conditions were perfect and yet Captain David Behrens nearly wrecked his ship.
How could that happen after the years he had been in charge of small ships
aroCopyright ©. Sylvia Behrens 2005.und the Solomon Islands, and New Britain and its islands?
And if it nearly was wrecked, but wasn't - then why wasn't it.?
The answer is in two words - THE VOICE!
At last the time had come for the long planned trochus-shelling voyages to
start. The 38 foot small ship "Bialla" had been put into the best possible
mechanical and sea-going conditions. A team of swimmers had been recruited by
lan McDougall, the manager of Bialla Plantation, and the weather was reasonably
calm.
It was decided David would take the swimmers in the "Bialla" to a big area of
coral reefs some miles to the West of New Britain, and give them some practice
in working as a team, with the 13foot cedar dinghy he had bought in Rabaul some
months ago, to be rowed right in over the reefs to act as their tender. This was
done.
The "Bialla's" crew of four men (at that time) were allowed by David to take
turns at going in over the reef with the swimmers, and trying their hands at
finding suitable sized trochus shells during the greater part of the day while
the "Bialla" swung at anchor in deeper water.
It was necessary to have good light, to be able to bring the ship safely back to
the mainland through the many areas of coral reefs - large and small - that lie
off the coast in that area. David had a reliable German Naval chart which showed
the positions and extents of these reefs, which was of great value to him.
As the day wore on, the sun was getting down towards the West - which would be
of great advantage to him, as the light would be coming from behind the ship as
it was on its home-ward course almost due East. There would be a minimum of
surface glare on the fairly calm sea. To have been sailing WEST under those
conditions would have been very risky, as the glare would have made it almost
impossible to see any reefs until the vessel was almost on them, unless waves
were breaking on them, and thus indicating their presence.
Blasts from the conch-shell or "buki" as it was known in Pidgin, recalled all
the swimmers and those of the crew-men who were having their turn on the reef-
When all their shells had been counted and entered up in the book against each
boy's name, David had the "Bialla's" Graymarine diesel engine started, then the
anchor pulled up and stowed in the anchor-locker in the ship's bows, after being
washed clean with buckets of water pulled up from the sea on a rope. Once this
was done he put a crewman up in the bows as lookout, and put Pondala (his only
S.D.A. crewman) on the helm after giving him a compass course that would take
them in the general direction of Bialla plantation.
He had purposely anchored the ship in the Eastward side of this patch of reefs
in the morning, and now had the advantage of the sun in the West behind him, as
he slowly worked her out into clear deep water. Many of the mountains that form
the backbone of New Britain, have no distinctive peaks which navigators in ships
can use for aiming points, when trying to set compass courses for a particular
part of the coast, or to take their ships clear of coral reefs or rocks. When
there are such clear peaks, they are often hidden by clouds or smoke, and are
therefore useless.
Bialla plantation was well situated in this respect, as just a few miles away
there rose up from the fairly level coastal plain, a conical peak called Mount
Galloseulo, which was often clear of clouds when the main ranges were covered.
It was high enough to be seen from many miles out to sea, and its very pointed
tip made a good sighting point.
When the time the ship had run at certain engine-revolutions, indicated they
must be nearing the maze of reefs offshore from the plantation, the Captain
consulted the chart and decided on a good wide entrance between two reefs which
had very deep water in it. He carefully took a compass bearing on the chart of
Mt. Gallosuelo's tip, in relation to the passage as shown on the chart. Then
allowing for the earth's magnetic variation in that region, and the ship's
compass's known deviation pattern, he arrived at a compass bearing which should
take the ship right through the centre of the passage. There was no need to
allow for sideways drift that can be caused by the wind, or leeway as it is
called, as what little there was, came from dead astern.
Taking the wheel from Pondala, the Captain swung the ship off its original
course until it was sailing parallel with the coast, then took frequent
sightings from the compass to Mt. Galloseulo's peak, until the reading was what
he had worked out it should be.
Then turning the "Bialla" onto this course, he gave Pondala the figure and told
him to steer on that number on the compass card as closely as possible, and not
to do any gazing around as they were aiming at a passage through the reefs.
David felt things had gone well that day, and with such perfect conditions
weather-wise and sea-wise, it would only be a matter of time and they would all
be safely back at the plantation anchorage. He went down into his cabin in the
forward part of the ship and got a book, then came up into the bridge and put it
on a shelf near the big brass compass behind which Pondala stood at the helm.
With his Captain standing close beside him and taking occasional glances at the
compass, there was not much chance of him letting the ship go off course!
However his Captain was in for some shocks.
David's mind was occupied with the book he was reading, with his hearing
sub-consciously attuned to the steady, healthy rumbling of the engine. Suddenly
he was mentally jolted by the sound of a perfect English voice in his mind - not
in his ears - say quite urgently and loudly "Look up"!
That was all that was said - and it certainly wasn't Pondala's brand of English,
or that of any other man in the ship, so David did what the Voice said and
"looked up" - and out through the open bridge window straight forward over the
ship's bow at the fairly calm sea.
There, clearly lit by the western sun through the almost still sea, stretching
from left to right in an unbroken line close ahead, was a beautiful but deadly
wall of coral, rising almost to the surface, straight up form the blue-green
deep water over the 100 fathom shelf, and the "Bialla" was fast approaching this
menace at her normal cruising speed of 10 knots!
Then Pondala got a shock as the Captain suddenly said urgently - "Quick, turn
hard right" -which he did without hesitating, and so brought the "Bialla" around
until she was running along parallel with, and only a few boat's lengths away,
from the coral.
Pondala got another shock when he looked around to see why the Captain had
called for this sudden change of course and saw the jagged teeth of the reef so
close. Then he had still another, when David said angrily to him "Why didn't you
see that reef before we got so close to it?" - to which he replied in an
aggrieved tone "But Masta, you told me to watch the compass and not look around"
- and David had to agree that was so.
Then it suddenly came to him where some of the real causes of the near disaster
lay He looked out of the bridge window again and realized that the man on
lookout up at the bows, had lain back on the foredeck and gone fast asleep!
When wakened none too gently, he said he was very tired after all the swimming
he had done over the reef looking for trochus shells that day - which was quite
understandable - and hadn't meant to go to sleep.
From that day on, never again did David allow any of the "boats-crew" to go with
the trochus swimmers and so tire themselves out, but kept them aboard the ship
when she was anchored and waiting for the swimmers. He gave them fishing lines
and hooks and they were able to add quite a lot of fish to the other mens' daily
diet. After all, the crew-men were being paid wages, whatever they were doing,
while the swimmers were given rations and a small wage, but got their main
income from the shells they collected.
But to get back to "The Voice" that David was so grateful to, for warning him in
time to avert the loss of his ship and possibly the lives of people in her. The
reef was a long way from the shore in a sea that was not to be recommended for
long swims, particularly if you were losing blood after being dashed on, or
dragged across jagged coral.
Every morning and often during the day, David would pray for God's help and
guidance through whatever the day might bring, and he felt very sure it had been
an Angel of the Lord who had spoken to him that afternoon - and was extremely
grateful for His help. Over the years the impact on his mind has not lessened,
as he thinks again of that unexpected Voice and the horror he felt as he did
what is said and "Looked up".
Returning again to that afternoon. David had to accept the fact that when things
happen at sea -whether good or bad - the buck stops with the Captain!
In working out a safe course through the reefs using the peak of Mt. Galloseulo
as the guide, all his figuring had been correct, but during the run in towards
the reef he had forgotten one thing, and neglected another. He forgot that
unseen currents in the sea can shift a ship sideways at quite a good speed at
times, even thought the helmsman is still keeping the ship on the ordered
compass bearing. When the ship is out of sight of land, sun or the stars, there
is not much that can be done about it.
However, in this instance, he had a good clear sighting point, and with the
possibility of current-drift in mind should have continued to take periodic
sights on the mountain - which he neglected to do. When he did this after the
warning by The Voice, he found that although Pondala had been keeping the ship's
bows in the correct compass bearing, the ship had in fact been carried sideways
by the current a long way North.
He thanked the Lord that he was given a chance to learn by his mistakes instead
of probably losing his ship as a result of them.
Copyright ©. Sylvia Behrens 2005.
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