The wrecking of the Loch Ard

In this post I will explore some of the reasons the ship may have come to  grief, then using newspaper illustrations and text from 1878 create a narrative of the events including the immediate aftermath and salvage operations.

Threading the eye of the needle

The approach to Melbourne from England involved a journey around the southern tip of Africa (Cape of Good Hope) to pick up the strong westerly winds (winds are labelled according to the direction they come from, so a westerly wind flows east) which flowed north of Antartica, these winds are reliably strong in both summer and winter, and occurred between the 40th and 50th Parallel and hence were termed the roaring 40's.  Wind was essential for sail propelled travel. The further south a ship sailed the faster the winds, roaring forties, furious fifties and screaming sixties, were the phrases on the clipper route. But the further south a ship travelled the greater the risk they would run into ice.

Passage through Bass Strait for entry into Melbourne required the ship to 'thread the needle', or find the 80km gap between Cape Otway and King Island.  In this day of GPS navigation 80 km does not deserve the description 'threading the needle' but in the days of sail this was a different matter.  So many ships ran foul to this gap that a number of lighthouses were installed along the Southern Victorian Coast.  Many of which are still present today.

The following are provided as reasons that the Loch Ard may have missed the gap.

Fog:  multiple days of poor weather that would not allow a sextant reference meant that Loch Ard 'ran blind' for the later part of her journey. The Illustrated Adelaide News of 1 Jul 1878 reports,

 ... we learn that for two days previous to the 1st June, the sky having been overcast, no observation could be taken of the position of the ship

The compass: The high iron load on the Loch Ard may have interfered with the compass.  The Illustrated Sydney News and New South Wales Agriculturalist and Grazier of 13 Jul 1878 reports,

Within four or five days of the disaster the compasses got out of order, being subject to unaccountable aberrations, caused, it is supposed, by the presence of iron in the ship. 

Loss of time on the ships chronometer: Signage at the Flagstaff Maritime Village suggests another possible cause for the Loch Ard to be off course.

A simple chronometer error of one second per day for three months could place a ship 42 kilometres off course. (Flagstaff Maritime Museum).

Misidentified lighthouse: A Reuter's telegram report in the Brisbane Courier of 7 Jun, 1878, says ...

It is considered in maritime circles that the light at Port Warrnambool was mistaken for the Cape Otway light, thus leading to the disaster.

Getting wrecked through the newspapers.

While photography was present in Australia in 1878, it was not a part of newspaper reportage.  An article at ABC RN suggests that the first Australian press photo was taken in 1880, and the first in-situ press photo was taken in 1888.  Instead illustrators drew for the paper, albeit sometimes informed by photographs.  There is true artistic skill in the images produced, I encourage my readers to follow the links to the images and examine the detail in them.

The Loch Ard strikes Mutton Bird Island, note the deployed lifeboat on the right.
Source: Illustrated Adelaide News 1 Jul 1878

Some of the text to accompany the above illustration in the Illustrated Adelaide News of 1 Jul 1878 reads:

...  at four o'clock in the morning of that day the captain found himself within half a mile of Danger Reef, his ship then running under close-reefed topsails before the wind. Orders were given to bring her round, but as she could not weather the land two anchors were let go. These, however, would not hold, and the vessel dragged until very near the rock, when they were slipped, and an attempt made to set sail again. But before this could be done the ill-fated ship struck on the starboard quarter, when one of the masts went by the board, killing two seamen. The boats were now ordered to be lowered, but the heavy seas which swept the decks prevented this from being done, and shortly afterwards the ship went down. Midshipman Pearce, a survivor, states that on the vessel going down, he and five others got into the life-boat, which was immediately afterwards capsized.

Four panel image showing the Loch Ard at Mutton Bird Island 10 days after the wreck ... the mast is at the left of the cliff edge (top), portrait of Tom Pearce (bottom left), the wreckage washed up in the gorge (bottom centre) and a portrait of Eva Carmichael (bottom right). Source: Australian Sketcher (Adelaide Edition)

The picture above from the Australasian Sketcher was accompanied by a long text, some of which I will repeat here.  Some I will save for the third blog post which focuses on the two survivors (pictured above), Eva and Tom, but given that Tom and Eva are the only two survivors the record here is also their account of events.

Pearce gives his account of the occurrence in a plain and straightforward way, and as he appears to be a lad of some sense and knowledge of his profession, his statement may be taken as accurate. He tells me that the ship had fine weather and fresh breezes from the Cape of Good Hope, and the easting was run down with the full anticipation of making a tolerably good passage. Everything went well until the reckoning was worked up on Friday last, after the meridian signs had been taken, and the ship was then made to be 150 miles south-west of Cape Otway. The wind at the time was to the southward to S.E., and the course was altered to E.N.E. by compass, which it was expected, with the wind then blowing, would carry her clear of Cape Otway, and perhaps give them a sight of the light. Captain Gibbs was apparently, however, in some doubt as to the correctness of his compasses, as in the first dog-watch (from 4 to 6 p.m.) he shortened sail until the ship was only left with her three lower topsails and fore topmast staysail, to make snug for the night. The captain remained on deck all night, Mr. Baxter, the second officer, having the middle watch from midnight until 4 a.m. The night had been very dark and hazy, and there was a heavy swell on, but the wind was not blowing very hard. Just as the watch was being relieved at 4 a.m., and before the men had left the deck, the haze suddenly lifted, and the captain saw land right ahead, and at no great distance, and, almost at the same moment, someone on deck heard the breakers, so that it was estimated that the distance was not more than a mile from shore. Captain Gibbs at once gave orders to set the spanker, mizen, and maintopmast staysail, and the helm was at once put down, with a view of bringing the ship round on the other tack and standing off the land. In order to give her still further way, and also to bring her to her round quicker, the order was given to hoist the upper mizen topsail, but as she would not come to the wind the order was given to let go both anchors. The port one was let go first, with 50 fathoms of cable, and was quickly followed by the starboard anchor, with about 60 fathoms of chain. In anticipation that the anchors would hold, the sails were clewed up, and a man was sent into the chains with the lead to see if she were holding, but it was at once seen that the anchors were not holding, as she was getting close in to the cliffs. Captain Gibbs's next order was to slip both anchors, and get sail on the ship, which was now head to wind, with a view of standing on the port tack. An attempt was made to sheet home the topsails, but this appears to have always been a difficult thing to do on the Loch Ard, and after some time had been wasted in an endeavour to do so, the buntlines of the mainsail were let go, and the port main tack got on board and the sheet hauled aft. Just as this had been done the ship struck on a rock, which appeared to catch her just under the starboard mizen chains. As the morning had now cleared somewhat, the cliffs were seen close to the ship, and the captain gave orders to have the boats cleared away and the passengers placed in them. By this time the seas were breaking clean over the ship, and she was bumping very heavily, so much so that the top hamper was falling about the deck. As is usual in such cases, the boats were not in the davits but were on the skids, and of course some time would elapse before they could be launched. Pearce, with five others, including the engineer, were clearing away the port lifeboat, and the gripes having been cut and the chocks knocked out, they were just about hooking the tackles on when a heavy sea struck her, and knocked the boat over the side, and all with her.
...
Miss  Carmichael refers very strongly to the fact that on board such a  ship as the Loch Ard the life-saving appliances were so few.  There were only six life belts on board, and only five life buoys,  while the boats were securely fastened on the skids instead of  being in readiness to lower down. The life belts also were not  in good condition, nor were they kept handy and available. From what the young lady tells me it is evident that the captain and  passengers were a very happy family during the voyage, although on one occasion a letter of remonstrance was sent from them to him to be forwarded to the owners relative to the quality of  the provisions supplied to the cabin table. This did not, however,  interfere with the harmonious relations that existed between Captain Gibbs and his passengers. She says, "He was most kind  and attentive to all of us, and was always at his post." Some  people will perhaps think that a young lady of 19 is no judge of  what the captain of a ship should be. Miss Carmichael can, however, explain more lucidly the working of a ship and the sails she was under at different times than many a lad who has been  two or three years at sea. Miss Raby Carmichael, whose body  was recovered and buried yesterday, had also studied navigation during the voyage, and was in the habit of taking observations  for both latitude and longitude with her sister, and working them  out so as to check one another, but in no case was there more  than a mile of difference between them. On Friday they both worked up the reckoning with the chief officer, and although the sights obtained were bad ones, they all came to the same result,  and it was then that the course was shaped for Cape Otway, and although the ship was put under very short canvas during the first dog-watch, the wind was blowing so fresh that, going a point or two free, she was making good headway through the water.  During the afternoon the passengers had been busily engaged in packing up their luggage in anticipation of their arrival shortly at  Melbourne. Miss Carmichael and her sister, together with Mr. Jones, were on deck that night until midnight, and when the watch was called she heard the captain give orders to take a cast of the deep-sea lead. This was done, and she was subsequently told that the depth of water was 64 fathoms. Both she and her  sister slept soundly until about 4 o'clock, when they were called,  as she thought, to go up and look at the land. She slipped on her dressing-gown and went on deck, but there was then a good deal of confusion, this being the time when Captain Gibbs was  trying to get the ship's head off the land, and she returned to her cabin, where Miss Raby Carmichael was dressing, and who laughed at her for her eagerness to see the land, at the same time  recommending her to finish dressing. She did so, and had just put on her hat and veil when the ship struck. In a very short  time the cabin was full of water, but she could not say how long  elapsed. Dr. Carmichael, with the assistance of the steward,  opened the lazarette hatch and got up the life-belts, six in number.  These were fastened to Mrs. Carmichael, Miss Raby Carmichael,  Miss Evelyn Carmichael, Mrs. Stuckey, Dr. Carmichael, and Mr.  Stuckey. These were, however, in such bad condition that the  strings broke several times while they were being tied on, and at last they had to be fastened anyhow. Miss Carmichael and her  sister then ran up the companion ladder on to the poop, but on the top step, and just before getting on deck, Captain Gibbs,  with whom they were great favourites, and who had then evidently given up all hope of saving the ship, took her in his  arms and kissed her, saying, "If you are saved, Eva, let my  dear wife know that I died like a British sailor—at my post."  It should have been said that Captain Gibbs was only married  six weeks before the ship left London, to a niece of Captain  M'Meckan. Miss Carmichael kissed him in return, and stepped on deck. Almost immediately a sea came on board and washed her overboard. Of course, for a few minutes all was a blank, but  the first thing she recollects after that was getting hold of a hencoop.  Mr. Jones and Mr. Mitchell soon afterwards got hold of  the same article, and it speaks much for the coolness and courage of Miss Carmichael that she could then say jokingly, "So the despised hen-coops have proved useful at last." This was  referring to the fact that during the passage the hen-coops had  been a source of annoyance to the passengers. They were then  floating so near to the vessel that they could hear the screams  of some of those on board, but by that time the ship was sinking fast. Here another blank occurs in her recollection, but she states that the last she saw of those in the cabin before running on deck was her two little sisters clinging to her  mother's dress and crying, while Mr. and Mrs. Stuckey were sitting down on one of the seats, she crying and clinging to her  husband.

Only four bodies were recovered from the wreck they were the bodies, of Mrs Carmichael (Eva's mother), Raby Carmichael (Eva's sister), Arthur Mitchell and Reginald Jones (both passengers).  They were placed in two graves, marked with capstan bars (see illustration below).  The bars were later replaced with marble headstones, which are still in place at the Loch Ard Gorge graveyard.

The missionary, Mr. McIntyre, provided pastoral service during the aftermath of the disaster, including the funeral service for the four people whose bodies were recovered.  Below are some notes of interest from his account to The Sydney Morning Herald on 14 Jun, 1878.

He quotes Eva's account of her struggle with her life belt.

One of the strings attached to my life-belt broke, and the belt shifting up and down forced my head under the water several times, which almost cost me my life.

That Reginald Jones (one of the buried men), according to Carmichael had foreboding about the journey.

We had a splendid passage, having encountered but one half-gale when west of the Cape of Good Hope. We were indulging the hope of all safely landing ; but it is remarkable that Reginald Jones had a dark foreboding of disaster. He often told me that he had a presentiment that he should never plant his foot on Victorian soil ; and I have repeatedly endeavoured to dispel his fears. His fears were more than verified, for I am afraid forty-nine have perished with him.  

He notes that Eva drew her lineage to royalty,

She informed me that her late mother was a Plantagenet, a descendant of King Henry VII., and that she is related to some of the Irish nobility.

McIntyre then later recounts this incident at that burial.

Before the lid of Mrs. Carmichael's coffin was nailed down, a countryman of my own, who seemed to have a "wee drap in his ee," said to his companion, " Here lies royal bluid, ma frien'. We dinna drap across a Plantagenet everyday; sae, let's jist tak a wee pickle o' her hair, by way o' a keepsake, ye ken." Whereupon they cut off a small portion of her hair, reverentially wrapped it up in paper, and seriously walked away with their treasure.

And further

The initials of the names were roughly carved with a penknife on the lids of their primitive-looking coffins, so that each body might be identified in the case of its being removed by friends or relatives
to other sepulture.

The Flagstaff Museum will note in it's 'strange but true signage', that the two buried Carmichaels were both keen pianists and were buried in coffins made of piano crates found on the shore after the wreck.

Headstone for Arthur Mitchell and Reginald Jones.  Loch Ard Gorge.

Headstone for Mrs Evory and Raby Carmichael, together with memorial for other family members lost in the wreck but whose bodies were not retrieved.  Loch Ard Gorge.

Three panels image showing (top) the route of the Loch Ard, reference to the sow and pigs is the old name for the twelve apostles, scene at the burial of the four bodies recovered (bottom left), the farmhouse (bottom right).
Source: The Illustrated Sydney News and New South Wales Agriculturalist and Grazier of 13 Jul 1878

Three panel image showing (left) the cave into which Mr. Pearce helped Miss Carmichael, (top right) the graves of the
four persons whose bodies were drifted ashore ; they are buried in two graves, with a capstan bar standing for sole memorial at the head of each. (bottom right), the gorge leading landward, and exhibits the scrub in which Miss Carmichael had hidden herself when found by the party searching.  Source: Australasian Sketcher 6 Jul 1878

Despite McIntyre delivering a short address at the funeral from the words—"And the sea
gave up the dead which were in it" (Rev. xx., 13), the sea proved unwilling to allow the burial of any other crew or passengers.  Some of their bodies were seen from the cliffs, and some even identified on the basis of these observations.  But conditions did not allow for the bodies to be recovered. The Article in Illustrated Sydney News and New South Wales Agriculturalist and Grazier reports:

The dead bodies have drifted into the bights and indentations west of Pearce Inlet, and all present a mutilated appearance. One stout-built bald-headed man is believed to be Dr. Carmichael, while the other is evidently that of a sailor who was transfixed by the falling mast, as a portion his bowels are protruding from the back. These bodies present a dreadful sight as they are tossed to and fro by the heavy surf ; the rags still clinging to them give the the appearance of stuffed figures most horrible to look upon. The body of the female is conjectured to be that of Mrs. Stuckey, as she was the only lady with fair hair on board the unfortunate vessel. A man from town has been living on the coast for some days engaged in looking out for the corpses of Mr. and Mrs. Stuckey and in all weathers he may be seen religiously carrying out his instructions. I am of opinion that some of the bodies have been washed into the subterranean cave known as the Blow Hole. The entrance to this cannot be observed from the land, but about 500 yards inland among the scrub there is a huge hole about fifty yard long by twenty wide, with sides running vertically down to a depth of about sixty feet. Here the sea rushes in with terrific force through the channel connecting it with the ocean, and after spending its fury against the rocky sides of the hole, passes on through another cave which penetrates further inland, but to what extent it impossible to estimate. Should any of the bodies have been washed in here, they would never be extricated. 

A telegram received subsequently states that dead bodies have been seen in this place, but they could not be recovered.

The Australian Maritime Museums Council notes that -

Some days after the wreck about 12 bodies were seen washed into a blowhole to the west of the Loch Ard wreck site. They were all covered in a ‘ghostly green glow’. (true story: the ship was carrying phosphorous matches)

These matches are listed as vesta or lucifera in the ships manifest, see my previous blog.

Cover of Australasian Sketcher showing an attempted body recovery, note the body floating in the water.
Source: Australasian Sketcher.

The following text accompanied the above image in the Australian Sketcher of 3 Aug 1878.

DESCENDING THE CLIFF. 

The attempted recovery of bodies from the wreck of this unfortunate vessel was rendered a most difficult and dangerous operation by the nature of the cliffs, which are at this part perfectly perpendicular, and at places even overhanging. The only means of getting down at such places is by being lowered over the cliffs by a rope. But it was then found to be quite impossible, while hanging by a rope over the heaving sea, to do anything towards the recovery of the body which was tossed like a broken seaweed by the wave beneath, and we believe that it was not found practicable to recover any by this means. The sketch of our artist depicts the descent of the cliff by a rope of a man who was locally known, from his odd dress, by the name of "Robinson Crusoe."

Salvage and Looters

I assume that salvage from shipwrecks was a important consideration and for this reason the newspapers of the day published extensive manifests (see my previous blog post).  The papers then would go on to report on the likelihood of return from a salvage operation.  There was also interest in the looters or wreckers.

Miller and Matthews (who have a share with Mr. Howarth and two or three others) arrived at Cobden on Friday, 14th June, en route to the wreck. They keep a sharp look out after the wreckers, who have completely outwitted police and customs officials, and plundered cargo to an amazing extent. At the Sherbrooke River there is an open beach about half a mile long, on which much of the cargo was washed ashore, consisting principally of broken harmoniums and numberless cases of wax vestas ; also a large quantity of furniture, table tops, and other articles, but these were speedily removed
by persons who came down from Port Campbell, Scott's Creek, and other places with carts and pack horses. It is a well-known fact that hundreds of pounds' worth of goods have been conveyed away by people who honestly believed they had a perfect right to all they could lay hands upon, provided the police did not catch them. A case of toys and another of Birmingham jewellery found their way up to Cowley's Creek.

Clearly some drapery was retrieved as the Geelong Advertiser 13 July, 1878 ran salvage sales.  Such sales are a common 'hit' if one searches for "Loch Ard" on Trove.

But retrieving material from the Loch Ard was dangerous business.  The following report from The Argus was repeated in several papers.

A selector at the Gellibrand River, named [John] Borlace, is missing under circumstances that lead to the supposition that he had lost his life in endeavouring to recover wreckage on the Gellibrand beach. He left his home on Thursday morning, telling his wife he would return about 10 o'clock. His dog came home about two hours afterwards, but although every search has been made, Borlace has not been seen since. He was traced into the water at the beach, and it is supposed in endeavouring to recover wreckage he has been carried away by the drawback in the surf.

Click here to go to Under the Lino's 'Loch Ard Index'

The Loch Ard - a ship and her manifest - 1878

This is the first in a small series of posts about the sailing ship, Loch Ard, which ran aground in the vicinity of Loch Ard Gorge, Victoria, in July 1878.  Inspiration for the post comes from a recent visit to Loch Ard Gorge and the Flagstaff Maritime Village.  It is very clear that the stories of ships and their demise is at the centre of a colonial understanding of western costal Victoria, it is labelled the shipwreck coast for tourism purposes.  The Loch Ard story is perhaps the most prominent.

Photograph of the Loch Ard, taken by Allan C. Green. State Library of Victoria  http://handle.slv.vic.gov.au/10381/30681

In this first post I will tell the story of the ship until its wrecking, mostly detailing her cargo. In a second post I will discuss the wrecking event itself.  In a third post I will discuss the story of its two survivors, Eva Carmichael and Tom Pearce, who caught the romantic imagination of Australia in the aftermath of the wreck.

Some of this material is also covered in short videos (5 minutes each) by Bill Gray on his Youtube Channel; they are a good overview.

GOR Episode 17 - The site of the Loch Ard Wreck.
GOR Episode 18 - The story of Tom and Eva.
GOR Episode 19 - The Blow Hole and Thunder Cave
GOR Episode 20 - Dive video on the wreck.

Gray's 4th video is footage of a wreck dive on the Loch Ard and it gives good visuals of the numerous items still on the wreck at the time of filming.

The Ship

The Loch Ard was built in 1873.  An iron clipper, she ran the route from Liverpool to Melbourne.  She was wrecked on her seventh voyage. The Loch Ard had already endured two de-mastings and nearly ran ashore at Sorrento, Victoria on previous voyages.

The Sydney Morning Herald of 6 June, 1878 comments

From the very first the Loch Ard has been an unfortunate ship. She was twice dismasted on her maiden voyage from Glasgow to Melbourne, in 1873-4. She met with the first gale a few days out from port in December, 1873, and was able to put back and refit. A fresh start was made on the 26th January, and on April 2, in the Southern Ocean, she fell in with a tremendous gale, which resulted in the loss of all three masts. It was not until the fourth day that the wind abated, and enabled the captain to set up jury masts and bale out the water which had found its way into the hold through the openings left by the masts. The distance of 4500 miles was safely run in forty-nine days, and the ship
reached Melbourne on the 24th May. 

Crew and Passengers

A memorial plaque at Loch Ard Gorge supplies the names of the passengers and crew.

Memorial plaque showing the passengers and crew of the Loch Ard, located at the graveyard at Loch Ard Gorge.

The cargo

A significant portion of the material salvaged from the Loch Ard is now on display at the Flagstaff Hill, Maritime Village, Warrnambool.

Two versions of the manifest made their way to the newspapers, the first detailing the material on board in terms of consignments.  Publishing some information on content, but much of it was vague, the more important feature seems to be to whom the consignment was assigned.  This list first appeared in The Argus (Melbourne) of 3 June, 1878, it was republished in Sydney Morning Herald of 6 June, 1878.

There are 71 identified recipients for the cargo, a list of cargo without a designated consignee, and a smaller list labelled 'Geelong cargo'.  An opinion piece from an Argus Correspondent in March 1861 helps explain the term 'Geelong cargo'; clearly the complaint was unheeded.

But there is a most unaccountable apathy existing among our population on every matter of importance connected with the prosperity of the district, one of the most marked instances of which perhaps, is the fact, that although in a week or two we shall have a depth of water over the bar (20 feet at high water) sufficient float the finest merchantmen in the world up to our wharfs, no public effort has been made to secure the arrival of a single ship of this class. We must remain content, I presume, to allow these clippers to take in their dead Weight in the British docks as Geelong cargo, and wait until, having landed their upper cargo at Melbourne, they can find it convenient either to come here and deliver the remainder, or to send it down to us by lighter or by rail. A few years
ago, a great stir was made among our mercantile men to obtain direct shipments. Then there was no prospect of getting clipper ships to take cargo for this port, owing to the shallowness of the water on the bar. Now that the obstruction is within a few days of being removed, there is not a ship to come, and no effort is being made to obtain them.

Below is a list of the unassigned cargo.

4 castings, 1 tank seeds, 176 bundles tubes, 402 tubes, 676 bars iron, 132 bundles iron, 101 cases galvanised iron, 352 cases wine, 200 cases geneva, 1,000 casks cement, 500 cases bottled beer, 100 barrels sulphur, 55 drums naphtha, 10 drums oil, 21 anvils, 4 dozen camp owns and covers, 616 bars, 726 bundles, 7 tierces, 1 crate, 723 bags, 183 sacks, 7 rolls, 70 barrels, 10 tanks, 101 bales, 1,384 kegs, 73 hhds., 4,446 cases, 1,024 casks, 832 drums, &10 packages, 21 anvils, 27 boxes.

We can see that while some items are identified, many are not, bundles, bags, cases, drums and packages of undisclosed content, can leave a reader curious. The consigned cargo listing was just as vague.  A second published list in The Leader of 8 Jun 1878 provided much greater clarity, this removed the consignee information and  provided a list of the cargo on board.

The following is the manifest of the Loch Ard:—  

plain cottons, £657 ;
colored cottons, £107 ;
printed cottons, £252 ;
woollens and worsted, £175 ;
flannels, £91 ;
linen in bales, £95 ;
waterproof india-rubber goods, £94 ;
millinery, £74;
hosiery, £336;
sewing thread, £40 ;
haberdashery, £854 ;
umbrellas, £11 ;
apparel, £715 ;
carpets and rugs, £415 ;
counterpanes, £95;
straw hats, £36;
felt hats and caps, £125 ;
dressed leather, £210 ;
wrought leather, £180;
saddlery, £22;
floorcloth, £786 ;
table baize, £26 ;
sewing machines, £314 ;
lucifera, 28 cases ;
vestas, 472 cases ;
agricultural implements, £607 ;
rails and general machinery, £4049 ;
books, £371 ;
paper, 481 cwt. ;
stationery, £381 ;
upholstery, £1862 ;
iron bedsteads, £321 ;
tinware, £84 ;
brushware, £261 ;
plated and papier mache goods, £933.;
firearms, £173;
pianoes, £733;
corks, £11;
clocks and watches, £25 ;
perfumery, £9 ;
printing material, £118;
agricultural and garden seed, £416;
clay tobacco pipes, £100;
safety fuse, £464 ;
iron tanks, £6 ;
lead shot, 22 tons ;
chain and anchor, £8 ;
tin, hardware and cutlery, £7530 ;
bar and rod iron, 102 tons ;
hoop iron, 3 tons ;
sheet iron, 13 tons ;
plate iron, 3 tons ;
galvanised iron, 128 tons ;
pig lead, 50 tons ;
iron rails, 30 tons ;
wire and wire rope, 2 tons ;
zinc, 12 tons;
steel, 9 tons
linseed oil, 10,328 gallons ;
rape oil, 5370 gallons ;
cod oil, 539 gallons ;
olive oil in bulk, 52 gallons;
turpentine, 15 gallons;
kerosene and naphtha, 175 gallons ;
paint and colors, £2446 ;
glue, 10 cwt. ;
pitch and tar, 4 barrels 35 drums;
flint glass, £479 ;
window glass, £24 ;
foreign window glass, 610 cases;
plate glass, 4 cases;
china and earthenware, £355 ;
glass bottles, £51 ;
sawn wood (deals), 60 loads ;
lines and twines, £490 ;
marble, £ 400 ;
cement, 1400 barrels ;
cigars, 270 lb. ;
snuff 212 lb. ;
tobacco, 27,155 lb.;
brandy, in bulk, 8827 gallons ;
brandy, in case, 1920 gallons ;
rum, 128 gallons;
geneva, 13,600 gallons ; [geneva = gin]
cordials, 82 gallons ;
British spirits, in bulk, 3391 gallons;
do., in case, 95 gallons;
perfumed spirit, 1 gallon ;
red wine, 3400 gallons ;
white wine, 686 gallons ;
beer, in glass, 141 gallons ;
preserved fish, £20 ;
assorted oil, in stone, £1958 ;
foreign salad oil, 755 gallons ;
pepper and spices, 20 cwt. ;
cocoa, 29 cwt.;
isinglass and gelatino, £31 ;
arrowroot, 10 cwt.;
vermicelli and macaroni, 5 cwt.;
pearl barley, 31 cwt.;
split peas, 31 cwt.;
Whole salt, 50 tons ;
crystals, 36 tons ;
candles 87 cwt.;
soap, 42 cwt.;
dates, 20 cwt ;
raisins, 172 cwt.;
figs, 52 cwt.;
carraway seed, 47 cwt. ;
liquorice juice, 30 owt.;
ginger, 95 cwt. ;
coffee, 31 cwt. ;
confectionery, 15 cases;
apothecaries' ware, £1570;
sulphur, 200 cwt.;
alum, 40 cwt. ;
tartaric acid, 10 cwt.;
camphor, £39;
canary seed, 29 cwt.;
not described, 26 cases ;

total declared value, £53,700.

Subjoined are the epitomised items comprised in the above : — 

994 pigs and 37 rolls lead,
33 plates and 53 bolts copper,
4 casks rivets,
1448 iron rails,
604 cases glass,
200 barrels sulphur,
20 mats dates,
4 cases gas fittings,
1 timber carriage,
36 anchors,
27 drums naphtha,
165 slate slabs,
61 anvils,
11 machines,
78 camp ovens and covers,
29 chaffcuttors,
1000 casks cement,
75 cases galvanised iron,
4 pieces castings,
152 bundles steel,
176 bundles and 402 single tube, 43 plates, 4631 bars and 1283 bundles iron,
22 bundles sheet iron,
110 kegs nails,
2 casks shot,
34 pair mail axle arms,
5671 pieces and packages hardware,
353 packages softgoods,
2 packages saddlery,
130 packages drugs,
1 tank seeds,
64 bales paper,
17 packages fancy goods,
90 packages grindery,
164 packages tobacconists ware and tobacco,
1 case books,
108 packages stationery,
3 cases music,
56 pkgs furniture,
19 crates earthenware,
6 bundles shovels,
10 drums
115 brls oil,
1028 packages oils and paints,
844 deals, 699 bags and 183 sacks salt,
92 packages of miscellaneous merchandise.

Quite a shipful.

Click here to go to Under the Lino's 'Loch Ard Index'

Banjo Paterson and a History of the Haste Waggons Part V - 1905

In which Paterson segues from a reflection about country in which cars broke down to country that he retreated to when he broke down.

On the 1st January 1939 Paterson was created a Commander of the Order of the British Empire (CBE) 'for literary services to the Commonwealth of Australia.'

In February - March 1939, the Sydney Morning Herald ran a five part series in their Saturday edition where A. B. (Banjo) Paterson “told his own story”.  His story about the Dunlop Motor Reliability Trial of 1905 was the third in the series.  His appointment as CBE probably inspired the article series.

The complete series consisted of the following articles:

1.  “In the days of the gold escorts.”  Covers Banjo’s earlier life on the Lambing Flat gold diggings.  
2.  “Giants of the paddle, pen and pencil.”  Discusses meeting Henry Lawson and the poem Clancy of the Overflow. 
3.  “A ‘Reliability’ Drive to Melbourne.” The focus article of this post
4.  “An Execution and a Royal Pardon.” The story of ‘Breaker Morant’.  
5.  “Political Giants and ‘Pilgrim Fathers’”. Reflection on pre-federation political leaders, e.g. Henry Parkes.

The article is not entirely devoted to the reliability trial, Banjo has a yarn about fly fishing, bunyips, dingos and the block of land he owned for some time.  Perhaps the Banjo first saw the country on which he stayed while participating in the Dunlop Motor Reliability Trial and it was for this reason that he then sought the solace of that place when the city had created his 'nervous breakdown'.

"BANJO" PATERSON TELLS HIS OWN STORY.
A "RELIABILITY" DRIVE TO MELBOURNE.
Epic of Martyrdom.
BACK TO THE HIGH HILLS.
BY A. B. ("BANJO") PATERSON. 

A man once went over Niagara Falls in a barrel and when asked why he did it he said: "Well, I was the first to go, anyhow!" This craze for being the first to do anything, even though it may sometimes be silly, has had important results. When Hargrave was experimenting with his box kites he was looked upon as an amiable lunatic, and when the Wright Brothers announced that they had actually flown, few people believed it. I cannot claim that I was ever the first to do anything, but I saw the beginnings of a lot of things — motoring for instance. 

I was a passenger with J. M. Arnott in his car on the first reliability trial from Sydney to Melbourne, and "trial" is exactly the right word. All sorts and conditions of cars competed, and as for the drivers — they required to be seen to be believed. 

One elderly enthusiast turned out in a little one-cylinder rubby-dubby, of which he know so little that his only accessories for the trip were a tack-hammer and a pair of pincers. Falling to get anyone with experience to accompany him, he had picked up a Sydney larrikin for company; but after the first day's drive (from Sydney to Goulburn) this miscreant deserted him, saying that he preferred dishonour to death, or words to that effect. 

The elderly driver thereafter spent most of his time on his back under the car, and finally threw in the towel at Gundagai. A French driver named Maillard had taken part in some of the big motor races in France, and was a hot favourite for the event. He was driving a De Dion, and beat everybody to Goulburn. On leaving Goulburn he went past the other cars like an express train, but unfortunately he had no knowledge of Australian roads. He could not even speak English. 

In those days the roads beyond Goulburn were crossed here and there by steep gutters to drain off the water. 

They were quite invisible from a distance, and all the experienced drivers had their passengers standing up on the back seats to yell out "gutter" when one hove in sight. The poor little Frenchman, blissfully unconscious of this, hit the first gutter at fifty miles an hour, sending his car up in the air like a hurdle horse which has hit a jump. Parts of the car were scattered all over the road and the Frenchman ran from one to another shouting: Pourquoi les canivaux? (why are the gutters there?) As I had some sort of Surry Hills knowledge of French I did my best to explain things, but the only result was to make him cry worse than ever.

A Melbourne stock-broker, having his first long drive, had a first class "cockatoo" standing up in the back of his car (cockatoos always set a sentinel to look out for trouble) and did so well between Goulburn and Gundagai that he insisted on shouting champagne for all the drivers and their associates. Nothing like this had happened in Gundagai since the big flood and as soon as the word got round the whole population of the town drifted into the bar and started to lap up champagne like milk. He drank with all and sundry and did himself so well that when he left Gundagai next morning the bridge was not wide enough for him and he hit the abutment fair and square with his radiator. This car, also, became a casualty; but the owner said that if a man was a sport it was up to him to BE a sport and he insisted having the car repaired at Gundagai, so that he could save his face with his friends by finishing the trial even if everybody else had weighed in and gone home when he arrived. 

Sad to say the local blacksmiths were unequal to a repair job which practically meant taking the tail light and building a new car onto it. He and his cockatoo passed us somewhere about Seymour sitting on the remains of their car in a railway truck, waving bottles and shouting encouragement. 

Rural Reactions
Other drivers were Charley Kellow, once a crack cyclist and, later on, famous as the owner of Heroic; Harrie Skinner, of Tivoli Theatre fame; and a death-or-glory boy whose name I cannot remember, but who was out to beat everybody for speed, and hang the consequences. He was driving a Renault, and, coming to a partly-opened railway gate, he opened it the rest of the way by hitting it with his car, thus saving perhaps half a minute but bending his axle. He was the last to leave and the first to arrive at every control, but he lost the reliability competition because of his bent axle. He said that he never expected to win it, anyhow, as he was not using the brand of tyres favoured by the promoters. We, ourselves, needed no such specious excuse, as we lost our chance by taking a wrong road near Tarcutta. We did not go 20 yards on the wrong road; but just to avoid going back those 20 yards we look a short cut across some long grass, apparently smooth, but it was like the Goulburn Road. 

Somebody had dug a deep drain across it — a drain hidden by the long grass, like one of those pits they dig to catch wild animals in in Africa. Bang went some spokes of a wheel, but there were three perfectly good wheels left. Some flour-mill mechanics at Albury bolted stout timber supports on to either side of the wheel, and with many stoppages we got into Melbourne just before the speeches of welcome were quite finished!
Such was motoring in those days. Every horse that saw us, kept his tail up and bolted across country like a wallaby. If attached to a trap, so much the worse for the trap! At our stoppages en route the rude forefathers of the various hamlets would come up and put their hands on the radiator, to see whether it was hot; which it generally was — sometimes very hot. One of these veterans made all his following put their pipes out lest the car should blow up. Yet, the last time that a car stuck me up on that road a twelve-year-old boy got off a passing cart and put it right! The world moves, even if sometimes in the wrong directions. 

Coming of the Trout.
Another of the novelties which this chronicler met with in his time was the first introduction of rainbow trout to Australia. Among other rivers, the trout fry were liberated in the Goodradigbee River. Sufficient time was allowed them to grow up and then the local inhabitants set about catching them. A few black-fellows, hanging about the river, used to spend hours fishing for these trout with cod lines baited with half a parrot. They could see the trout jumping, but could not induce any of them to bite; and the trout, generally speaking, were voted a complete washout. There was a tradition on this part of the river that a bunyip had once come ashore [?] here something like a calf with whiskers. If [?] there were any truth in the story it was probably a seal which had found its way up from the mouth of the Murray, but the black-fellows believed that the bunyip was still in the river, and that it was eating all the trout which were big enough to bite. Otherwise why couldn't they catch them? 

Then came the tourists from Sydney, fitted out to beat the band with artificial flies and spinners; but these people had little better luck than the black-fellows, for the river was so full of feed that the trout did not bother themselves to rise at flies when they could get the pupae of dragon flies and other delicacies without any trouble. Dry-fly purists, and chuck-and-chance-it fishermen who lowered their flies down the rapids, alike had the poorest of luck; but they held on in the belief that only a barbarian would use live bait for trout. Then somebody caught a big haul of trout using grasshoppers for bait — but the president of the dry-fly school said that he would sooner use a fish-trap than a grasshopper. Later on, he was seen by a sheep-musterer on his hands and knees grabbing at some objects in the grass. Said the sheep-musterer: "Are you ketchin' grasshoppers, mister?" 

"No," said the dry-fly purist. "I'm looking for my knife ! I dropped it here somewhere." 

Believe it or not, the trout in the southern rivers had an effect on the pastoral industry in those parts. Owners of small mountain stations, stuck away in inaccessible places with only a few sheep, were always hard put to it to get good shearers but when the trout came in the shearers caught the trout-fishing mania and all sorts of crack shearers — really great men — would push out to these places for the sake of the fishing. One small settler on the Snowy had only a few sheep and no shearing machines. Meeting a couple of shearers on the road one day, he suggested that they should come out and shear his sheep for him.  

"There's only about 1,500 sheep apiece for you," he explained, "but my wife does the cookin' and you'll have a nice holiday."  

"Is there any fishin'?" was the question.  

"Oh, yes, tons of trout. But I ought to tell yer I haven't got machines. We shear with the blades."  

"With the blades! Why don't you take it off 'em with a hoe? Never mind, we'll come. And once we get started you won't be able to sack us — not while the fish are bitin'!"  

Hill Billies.
In all parts of the world the "hill billies" are — well, I won't say greater thieves — but they are more enterprising and resourceful than those of the flat. They have to be, in order to get a living. Walter Scott himself wrote: 

Ask we this barren hill we tread
For fatted steer and household bread? 

The American hill billies who went without boots and lived mostly on plug tobacco and moonshine liquor were classic examples. We had nothing quite like them in Australia, but we did the best we could. 

By way of curing some sort of nervous breakdown I found myself for some years a hill billy, on 40,000 acres, consisting mainly of country that had been left over after the rest of the world was made.

The place had a history. It had been taken up in the early days by a man who had no capital and no station plant except a wheel-barrow. He built himself some sort of a humpy, got an assigned servant, and set out to build some yards. Yards and a branding iron were all that they wanted in those days to get a start in life. Moving the timber for the yards was a problem, but he solved it by hitching himself on with a sort of harness to the front of the wheelbarrow, while the assigned servant held up the handles and "drove" his boss, giving him such directions as "come over to the left a bit," "keep away from that gully," "look out the barrow don't run over you down this slope" and so on. After a time this got on his nerves, and he sold out to a member of the Ryrie family, who did some real pioneering. There were girls in the family, and one of them — afterwards known to hundreds and hundreds of patients as Matron Ryrie of The Terraces hospital — killed sheep when the men were not at home, and carried all the water for the house in buckets from the river. Then came John MacDonald as next owner, a hardy and determined Scot, who afterwards became a big financial magnate and breeder of three Derby winners at his Mungie Bundie stud; but when he was at this mountain place he had little else than a branding iron and a fixed determination to use it. The country was unfenced, and one could ride for miles and miles in the ranges seeing nothing but wild horses, wild cattle, wombats, and wallaroos, and hearing at night the chatter of the flying squirrels playing among the gum tree blossoms. His country bounded on a block taken up by a gentleman named Castles, of Cavan, at one time a schoolmaster, who had "gone bush" in the hope of making some money. Some of Mr. Castles's old pupils, sons of William Lee, who founded a then priceless stud of Shorthorns, gave Castles some breed- ing stock — Lee bulls and cows. A schoolmaster was hardly the man to handle that country. Some of his young bulls got away, and their stock ran wild, unknown, unbranded, and mixed up with all sorts of pike-horned scrubbers which had escaped from other people. 

Retreat from Moscow.
All these unbranded clean-skins were the lawful property of anyone who could yard them, and MacDonald got them out of the mountains, not in tens and twenties, but in hundreds. Starting out at daylight with a couple of cattle dogs and a stockwhip, he took after the wild mobs; and when in after years I asked the oldest inhabitant whether MacDonald had been a good rider, he said: "Well, nothing out of the ordinary in the buckjumping line, but put him after a clean-skin and he'd show you some class. He'd take two or three falls rather than let a clean-skin get away from him."  

He built trap yards away up in the mountains, sometimes working on by moonlight after his men had gone to camp and his trap-yards were still there when I took the place. Unfortunately, by that time, the supply of clean-skins was exhausted.  

It was to this mountain station that I succeeded when I went back to the bush. 

As a station proposition it was best avoided; as a homestead there was nothing better. We had eight miles of a trout river, which ran all the year round, clear and cold in summer, a fierce snow-fed torrent in winter. As the sun was setting, the lyre-birds came out of their fastnesses and called to each other across the valley, imitating everything that they had ever heard. Gorgeous lories came and sat in rows on the spouting that ran round the verandah, protesting shrilly when their tails were pulled by the children. Bower birds with an uncanny scent for fruit would come hurrying up from the end of the garden when the housewife started to peel apples, and would sit on the window-sill of the kitchen, looking expectantly into the room. 

Part of the run was enclosed by a dingo-proof fence of thirteen wires, with a strand of barbed wire at top and bottom; and outside of this there were about ten thousand acres of unfenced country, where one could put sheep when there was any water, and chance the dingoes coming in from Lobb's Hole. 

One winter they came in when there were a couple of inches of snow on the ground, and the fiery cross was sent round to the neighbouring stations; for the presence of a "'dorg" will make the hill people leave all other work and go after him. We mustered some eight or ten armed men, and as I rode in front on a cream-coloured mountain pony I happened to look round at the over-coated and armed figures following me through the snow.
"Where," I thought, "have I seen that picture before!" And then I remembered it. Napoleon's retreat from Moscow! I, too, retreated from the mountain Moscow, fortunately with less loss than Napoleon, and resumed city life, not without regrets. 

Were is the farm?

The Australian Dictionary of Biography notes that after his time at The Evening News and before his joining the WWI war effort Paterson took up a property in the Yass District.

But the call of the country could not be resisted and he took over a property of 40,000 acres (16,188 ha), Coodra Vale, near Wee Jasper, where he wrote an unpublished treatise on racehorses and racing. The pastoral venture was not a financial success and Paterson briefly tried wheat-farming near Grenfell.

The space between the Coodra and Vale has been lost and the property 'Coodravale Homestead' is now available as holiday accomodation.  Paterson lived on this property from 1908 to 1911.  The summary from this article, "As a station proposition it was best avoided; as a homestead there was nothing better," is part of their advertising.

Reference

"BANJO" PATERSON TELLS HIS OWN STORY. A "RELIABILITY" DRIVE TO MELBOURNE. (1939, February 18). The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW : 1842 - 1954), p. 21. Retrieved January 24, 2018, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article17544194

Banjo Paterson and a History of the Haste Waggons Part IV - 1905

It is not clear if the Banjo remained with the cars for the round up of the winners and the deciding race to Ballarat.  The following was published in The Evening News 7 March 1905.  A second trial occurred in the November of 1905.  It received some coverage in The Evening News, however I think it unlikely that the race was covered by the Banjo.  In my next post on this race I will list a retrospective by the Banjo published in the Sydney Morning Herald, with the subtitle ‘Epic of Martyrdom’, given his opinion I think it unlikely he would have been putting his hand up for the November rerun.

Colonel Tarrant [in his] Argyll 10h.p., winner of the Heavy Car Section with his observer.  Source: State Library of Victoria, http://handle.slv.vic.gov.au/10381/43031

         THE DUNLOP MOTOR RELIABILITY TRIAL.

 

The run off of the ties in the motor contest took place from Melbourne to Ballarat and back yesterday, and resulted in a win in the heavy car class for Mr. Tarrant, who drove a Scotch car, the Argyll; in the light car class, Craven won, with a De Dion car; and in the motor cycles B. James, riding a Minerva, won from Gard.

 

Stevens was the hero of the Sydney to Melbourne trial, and got full marks each day, besides making by a long way the fastest running time on that long trip; but in yesterday's run-off the knocking about to which he subjected his Darracq car on the Sydney to Melbourne, trip told its, and he broke down, and retired from the contest. He is agent In Melbourne for the Darracq (France) cars, and Tarrant is agent for the De Dion and Argylls. So that in the heavy car class it was a trial not, only between rival cars, but between rival agents.

 

If Stevens had not driven so hard from Sydney to Melbourne, he might have won the run-off, but the Argyll cars seem to be very reliable, and it is quite likely that the test has resulted in discovering the absolute best road car, which was the object aimed at. Stevens proved himself the best, or at any rate the most daring, driver, but the competition was not started to bring out drivers, but to test the steady endurance of cars under road conditions. All the way from Sydney to Melbourne, the two Argyll cars gave no trouble, and showed no signs of strain or wear, and their win is certainly well deserved.

'Tarrant No 6 / 2 cyl 10 h.p. which won the 1905 Dunlop. / Reliability Trial -Melbourne to Sydney & back. / People illustrated from l to rt. Mr Joe Tarrant / Manager, Accessory Dept, at the wheel Capt / Harley Tarrant, with his wife & daughter. / Car price £375 (Photo:W.Stuart Ross)' Source: Museums Victoria Collections https://collections.museumvictoria.com.au/items/1720841 Accessed 25 February 2018

Advertising that emerged from the event

The Dunlop Motor Reliability Trial became a badge of honour for the participating vehicles, tyres and fuel suppliers.  Below is a small sample of the advertising from 1905 which capitalised on participation in the event.

Source: Advertising (1905, November 30). Punch (Melbourne, Vic. : 1900 - 1918; 1925), p. 36. Retrieved February 25, 2018, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article175414524

Source: Advertising (1905, November 30). Punch (Melbourne, Vic. : 1900 - 1918; 1925), p. 36. Retrieved February 25, 2018, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article175414524

Source: Advertising (1905, March 10). The Daily Telegraph (Sydney, NSW : 1883 - 1930), p. 10. Retrieved February 25, 2018, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article236906252

Source: (1905, March 18). The Australasian (Melbourne, Vic. : 1864 - 1946), p. 22. Retrieved February 25, 2018, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-page11431278

Source: (1905, March 18). The Australasian (Melbourne, Vic. : 1864 - 1946), p. 22. Retrieved February 25, 2018, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-page11431278

Source: Advertising (1905, March 23). Punch (Melbourne, Vic. : 1900 - 1918; 1925), p. 30. Retrieved February 25, 2018, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article175408926

Advertising (1905, March 11). The Australasian (Melbourne, Vic. : 1864 - 1946), p. 22. Retrieved February 25, 2018, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article139802488

References

[1] THE DUNLOP MOTOR RELIABILITY TRIAL. (1905, March 7). Evening News (Sydney, NSW : 1869 - 1931), p. 6. Retrieved December 6, 2017, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article112747617

Banjo Paterson and a History of the Haste Waggons Part III - 1905

This is the third in a series of posts replaying Banjo Paterson’s reporting of the Dunlop Motor Reliability Trial.  The first article appeared in The Evening News of 25 February [1], the three that follow are from 26 February, they are consecutive articles in the newspaper but are listed individually in Trove [2-4], this is merely an artefact of how they have been archived in online archive.

MOTORING TO MELBOURNE.
THE RELIABILITY TRIAL
HISTORY OF THE HASTE WAGGONS. III
(BY OUR SPECIAL REPRESENTATIVE WITH THE CARS.) 

It is a reliability trial sure enough. The second day's run was enough to fix that in the minds of the competitors. Eighteen miles, an hour over bush roads tries the best car, and there is a lot of luck needed to get through. The extra speed necessitates driving for all she is worth on the level, and if the level happens to be bisected by a drain, you haven't time to step out; must just bump over it. The result is that constant bumping and straining weakens the axles, and the wheels begin to lean in towards each other. Quite three-fourths of the competing cars are "developing bowed tendons," as the racing men would say. The axles are all bending a little. And coming round sharp curves through loose metal causes a side strain that sooner or later tells on the wheels. Two cars to-day— Messrs. Rand's 'and Langford's — pulled their wheels right off. Of course, an occasional "interesting adventure with cattle" is met with, but nothing of a serious character.

In fact, disasters began early, as the lady competitor — Ms. Thompson — got into difficulties soon after leaving Goulburn. The French demon driver, who has so far formed the chief topic of conversation on the trip, came to some sort of grief at Gunning. We passed him, but, as Mr. Jorrocks says, the pace was too good to inquire. From Goulburn to Yass you get the best bit of road we have seen so far; and being delayed soon after the start, we had to make the most of that bit of road. 

THE DELIRIUM OF SPEED.
In an English magazine lately appeared a picture of a car going at full racing pace. It is called the , delirium of speed. The last car to leave on each day has some such sensation. With all the others ahead, and with a perfectly clear road and good grades, the driver bends over his wheel, and, so long as the road is clear ahead, he lets her rip. Hill after hill, level after level, we flying behind, till at last a car is sighted in front, and then the driver knows that he is holding his place. It is a good deal like "picking up the wheel" of a racing cyclist; but when once the cars have settled to work it becomes a terrible nerve-straining contest against time. The motorist must have one eye on the watch and the other on the road. The other cars are almost sympathised with, as they, too, have their struggle against the common enemy. And as the bad roads are met, signals pass from car to car, and warnings are shouted as cars pass each other. 

ON THE ROAD.
During the, run the people whom we have met have, as a rule, taken an agreeable interest in the race. There was one exception, who cursed us with great fluency.

Gunning went by like a flash, Yass full of people, had a lovely road for eight miles or so on either side of it, and the Victorians, who had driven their cars over, had a big advantage, as they knew where they could safely "let her out." At Jugiong they were holding a race meeting, the march of civilisation having as yet made no mark on Jugiong. The Murribidgee was running yellow, probably with melted snow-water from the mountains. And then we plunged again into the stringybark ranges. By-the-way, though the guide-book issued by the Dunlop Company says that there is a "nice drop down" to Jugiong, the road we struck nearly landed us in Jugiong in one jump from the top of an adjoining hill, as the metalled road suddenly ceased, and the unmade track nearly led to disaster. But after Jugiong; we got out into the good flats about Colac, and so on to Gundagai, all good country and good road. 

Incidents were few and far between to-day. J. M. Arnott's big Innes car passed all the small cars on the hills, and as she is fitted for touring and carries three passengers and lot of luggage, it is a good performance for the Sydney-owned haste waggon. The next stage they say will try the cars more thoroughly than anything yet met with Stevens, in his Darracq, again headed the procession, and as things now are, with the Frenchman and Rand out of it, it looks like a well-deserved win for the Darracq. But there is a lot of road between here and Melbourne, and already the drivers are offering to bet that not half-a-dozen cars finish. 

HISTORY OF THE HASTE WAGGONS. IV.
(BY OUR SPECIAL REPRESENTATIVE WITH THE CARS.) 

Gundagai to Albury was the hardest of the three days in the New South Wales ride, and it was hard enough for any one. The metalled road ceases soon after Gundagai, and the track is an ordinary bush affair, rusty and dusty, and the bush fires had burnt nearly all the culverts. The Sydney cars did badly on this part of the run. Mark Foy's Panhard car got along all right, but he is only out for an airing, and is very indifferent whether he scores full points or not. J. M. Arnott's big Innes car being new, ran hot, and two of the four cylinders ceased work. This stuck us up for hours, and we lost 68 points. Trying to make up points was the fun; during the afternoon we had 70 miles to do in under two hours — a quite impossible task on such roads, but the car was sent headlong into such dust and holes as we would have pulled up for on the first day. Once she took charge in a sanddrift, and spun away to one side like a skidding bicycle, and picked up a log and did a sort of waltz with it, and then regretfully dropped it again, and was coaxed back on to the road. The rest of the journey was run in a dust storm that nearly hid the front of the car, and nearly blew the chauffeur out of it; but no amount of hard driving would pull up the deficient points. H. R. Arnott, the third Sydney car, just saved his points by steady and careful handling of his car; but the advantage of knowing the road is very great, and Stevens, the Victorian, again did fast time; while his rival, the Frenchman, lost several points.  

THE FRENCH DRIVER INTERVIEWED.
 The French driver, who knows no English but the two words 'bad road' — was asked how our glorious highways struck him. He said there are no roads in all France anything like as bad as what we saw here, but there are some in Scotland nearly as bad, which is rough on Scotland. He does not despair of getting to Melbourne, as he considers the pace nothing— in fact, his great trouble is to go slow enough. The other drivers predict that he will snap an axle doing some of his steeplechase driving; but his car seems to stand anything.  

THE LADY DRIVER.
 Mrs: Thompson, the South Australian lady, had an awful time. Her car is one of the slow but sure order, and her great ambition is to do the run irrespective of what points she gets. All hope that her pluck will be rewarded. Her car stuck in the sand, and was towed out by "yokels," who seemed to spring up out of the ground. She arrived in Albury a lot late, but undaunted. Another Melbourne car dropped out, Mr. Stewart not having showed up.  

THE REST OF THE RUN.
 Friday's run is only set at 14 miles an hour, so the road must be awful. The contestants are all pretty tired of it, half blind- ed with dust, and bruised and shaken by being jolted about in the cars like a pea in a pod. It is really hard work to sit in a car on some of the most jolty places; but those who have got full points, or near it, mean to see it out, unless they break something. One chaffeur said: — "I reckon it's worth five pounds a minute to drive over such roads." The result of the hard knock- ing about is that no one feels equal to attending the entertainment very kindly arranged by the Mayor of Albury. 

LAST STAGE OF THE JOURNEY.
CHAFFEUR NEARLY THROWN OUT. 

EUROA (VIC), Saturday Morning.— The last stage of the motor trial was entered upon to day. The weather is fine, and the roads good. For the last sixty miles into Melbourne they are reported to be like a billiard table. It is almost impossible to make any change in the order of points. The competitors who tie will have to run off in a trial to Ballarat.
Mrs. Thompson got through yesterday. She started again to-day. She is very plucky. The Adelaide car, Nichols' Darracq, is only one point off the full, number of marks. He intends to appeal against the Dunlop Company on the ground that the timetaker at Gundagai delayed taking his time. 

The Sydney cars are out of it. We did not know what to expect in the way of bad roads, but will know more another time. 

The Frenchman intends to drive his car back again. His chaffeur was thrown almost out of the car yesterday. The driver managed to clutch him. He says that in the big Continental races the chaffeur is usually tied in. 

A big reception is being arranged at Melbourne. Each car as it enters will be preceded by a cyclist.  

IF THERE BE A TIE.
The contest will finish in Melbourne this afternoon, and at the end of the fourth section it seemed almost certain that contestants in each class would finish with the same number of points. 

Of the motor cyclists, B. James and V. Gard have each scored the possible 2000; and in the light-car, class J. G. Coleman, J. H. Craven, and S. Day have done the same; while four have got the maximum number in the heavy-car section — H. L. Stevens, H. Tarrant, S. Stott, and W. Ross. 

The conditions deal with a tie, and those who tie will have to compete in a further eliminating road contest, from Melbourne to Ballarat, a distance of 70 miles. 

References

MELBOURNE TO MELBOURNE. (1905, February 24). Evening News (Sydney, NSW : 1869 - 1931), p. 6. Retrieved September 8, 2017, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article112752255

MOTORING TO MELBOURNE. (1905, February 25). Evening News (Sydney, NSW : 1869 - 1931), p. 4. Retrieved September 8, 2017, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article112751090

LAST STAGE OF THE JOURNEY. (1905, February 25). Evening News (Sydney, NSW : 1869 - 1931), p. 4. Retrieved December 6, 2017, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article112751161

IF THERE BE A TIE. (1905, February 25). Evening News (Sydney, NSW : 1869 - 1931), p. 4. Retrieved December 6, 2017, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article112751162