Matthew Flinders' Cat (31 page)

The crew watched as the
Bridgewater
dipped below the horizon and they could scarcely credit their eyes. Surely she would tack and then return? The wreck of the
Porpoise
as well as that of the
Cato
was not the work of a fierce storm where all was clearly lost in the fury of an angry and destructive sea. They had foundered on a coral reef, which would always suppose that some might survive such an encounter. Any master in charge of a vessel at sea would find himself beholden to make an attempt at rescue if such should save but one life.

Daylight showed quite clearly that Captain Palmer would not place his ship at risk by crossing or circumnavigating the reef. Once crossed, the water beyond was calm and deep. Such an action did not call for extraordinary valour nor even seamanship of a high quality. The weather was benign and the
Bridgewater
was sturdy, well canvassed and so easy to sail, not so large that she would risk striking the sides of several available channels that breached the reef. After which, rescue would have been a matter of routine.

However, there was no time for consternation, at that time of the year the weather could turn quickly and the sooner they reached land the better. Unless Palmer had returned to Port Jackson to report their mishap, they were in a great deal of trouble. Though, after only a moment’s reflection, it became obvious that he would not do so. The first question the governor would ask was the most obvious, ‘Why, sir, did you not effect the rescue yourself?’ Furthermore, the Torres Strait was a seagoing passage only just charted and not yet used by other vessels, so there was no likelihood that they would be discovered by a passing ship. Palmer had knowingly left them to die.

Preparation was now made to launch the raft and the boats to get to the safety of the sandbank as soon as possible. Matthew Flinders had earlier gone out in the gig once again and returned to say that the bank, though free of any vegetation, had the eggs of sea birds scattered upon it with some close to the waterline, so that it must be safe and its major parts above the high-water mark.

The two cutters and the gig were then sent to check what had happened to the
Cato
. They were seen by the crew of the second wreck while some distance off and greeted with loud cheers. The men still clung to the masthead and other convenient appendages but now they launched themselves willy-nilly into the sea. Swimming or clinging to any piece of plank or spar they could find, they made their way to the rescue boats. Captain Park was the last to climb aboard, having ascertained that all his men, but for three young lads who were drowned in the attempt, had been safely rescued.

Captain Park later spoke of one of these unfortunate lads, a boy named Tom Turtlewood. The
Cato
had been the fourth voyage he had made to sea and he had been shipwrecked on each occasion. Throughout the night he had declared his presence that of a Jonah. He was, he lamented, the reason for their misfortune.

The master of the
Cato
had tried to comfort the poor lad, who was beside himself with grief. ‘Steady, lad, thou art no more Jonah than I. You must ask yourself, “Is there another Tom Turtlewood aboard the
Porpoise
?” For she too is wrecked. Many a calm voyage you shall have before you hang your hat beside some quiet hearth. Dame Fortune, like all her female kind, both smiles and frowns, each is a part of every sailor’s life. Cheer up, boy, you have had an over-share of the bad, henceforth thou can expect more than a fair measure of the good.’ And then, to cheer the lad, he sang to him a ditty much loved by the costermon gers of London which he had learned from a servant girl when himself a child.

Duck-legged Dick had a donkey

And his lush loved much for to swill.

One day he got rather lumpy,

And got sent seven days to the mill.

His donkey was taken to the green-yard

A fate which he never deserved.

Oh! It was such a regular mean yard

That alas! The poor moke got starved.

Oh! Bad luck it can’t be prevented,

Fortune she smiles or she frowns,

He’s best off that’s contented,

To mix, sirs, the ups and the downs.

Soon the entire crew had learned the words and throughout the night someone would begin the chorus and others would join in, the men singing as they clung for their lives. So when the cutter from the
Porpoise
was seen approaching, Captain Park turned to Tom Turtlewood, ‘Lad, you shall come with me, we will share the same broken spar and whatever fortune holds, it will be the same for each.’

They had jumped into the sea together and were immediately overcome by a wave that broke over them, the spar swirling about and dipping briefly beneath the thunderous sea and then shortly resurfacing, but minus Tom Turtlewood, who had lost his grip and was never seen again. Of the two other young lads, the sad story of their final moments was never witnessed.

At low water, about two o’clock in the afternoon, the reef was dry and the able-bodied men from both crews worked feverishly to get all the provisions and water they might onto the reef and then to the distant sandbank. By five o’clock in the afternoon, with the men weary beyond all possible belief, they had transported five half-hogsheads of water, some flour, salted meat, rice and a half-hogshead of spirits to the safety of the sandbank.

With no ship to command, the seniority fell to Matthew Flinders who took control, though with the willing consent of Captain Park and Lieutenant Fowler. A most tricky question had arisen. While the men from the
Porpoise
belonged to the British navy and so remained under the command of the senior officer present, this did not pertain to the crew of the
Cato
. When a merchant ship is lost, the seamen not only cease to be paid but they also lose all wages due to them after leaving their last port of call. Matthew Flinders was now faced with men over whom he had no legal command and who could do as they wished without fear of prosecution or punishment.

However, it was a problem to be embraced in the morning, for the ninety-four men saved, many of them bruised and cut by the coral, were too tired to stand much less think of a reason to revolt, and they fell asleep on the beach, even though some had not eaten for a night and a day.

Trim was glad to rub himself dry in the warm sand and set off immediately to explore. It didn’t take him long to realise that he had landed in the middle, so to speak, of the proverbial jam pot. Birds’ nests abounded and in many of them fledglings chirped and quarrelled, each of which would serve him as a complete dinner. There might also be an occasional fish to vary his diet so he knew he wouldn’t starve. He returned to the encampment about nine o’clock to find his master already asleep and, curling up into his arms, he too fell to slumbering under a fresh-risen moon.

After breakfast Matthew Flinders stood the men to, though six of the
Cato
’s crew, sore and battered, their limbs stiffened from the night’s sleep, seemed reluctant to take a part in the muster and sat to one side with their backs to the rest of the men. Flinders had feared as much, he knew that the only authority he had at his command was his strength of character. To argue at this point would not serve him well and so he held back, knowing that tension was as much on his side as it was against the recalcitrant crewmen.

The master of the
Investigator
knew that if they were to be saved a collective discipline was necessary and it was his duty to impose it on both crews. This was a contest of wills he dare not lose and he was aware that in such cases it is often a single moment that may count for victory or defeat.

It was at such a moment that Trim took charge. Dried and fluffed, his obsidian coat gleaming in the morning sun, his four white paws as neat as a guardsman’s gloves, the star upon his chest equal in brilliance to a burst of shining light, he leapt within the small half-circle of resistance. With his tail held high at the vertical, his legs stiff, his chest thrust out, he paraded before the six men, inspecting each as if he were judging their merits in preparation for some reward. Then he proceeded to jump over each, twisting in the air. In passing, he flicked off the second man’s cabbage-tree hat and finally landed with all four paws perfectly balanced atop the head of the last. The men burst into laughter and, with their former resistance now trapped into laughter by this very clever cat, they joined the rest of their comrades, shaking their heads in wonder that they had been so simply charmed. Trim, congratulating them for their repentance, stroked against their legs and purred.

‘Aye, welcome, gentlemen,’ said Captain Flinders, then after a pause, he added, ‘We have a simple enough rule here on Wreck Reef, those from the
Cato
who would share His Majesty’s provisions should be willing to work with us to make our predicament as bearable as is possible under the circumstances.’

Thus, by giving his authority to Trim’s clowning, Flinders had established his leadership and added earnestness to his intention to keep them alive and ultimately effect their rescue.

Yet he had not threatened them, allowing their stomachs to do the talking for him, starvation being a harder taskmaster than any authority Matthew Flinders might invoke in the name of the King. Though Matthew Flinders preferred to deal with his men by appealing to their intelligence, he was not afraid to exert discipline if he thought it necessary. On one occasion, shortly after they had landed on the sandbank, one of the men from the
Porpoise
, an ex-convict whose freedom Flinders had personally requested from Governor King, was guilty of misconduct and so he was tied to the flagstaff and the articles of war read before he was severely flogged. It became immediately clear to all that Captain Flinders, who ruled with a light hand, could also bring it down most heavily when required.

There was little to recommend the sandbank other than that it had provided them with safety from the sea. No plant or tree or blade of grass destroyed the baldness of the seawashed sand and only a few clumps of saltbush could be observed. There was no natural shade and the sun beat down on the white sand to blind the eyes. Those who had lost their hats made new ones from scraps of canvas and all were made busy constructing tents. A spar was used as a flagpole and the blue ensign was hoisted to its top and turned with the jack upside down to indicate their parlous state.

All this, of course, took several days, but as the weather remained mostly benign with some evening rainfall to replenish their water supply and the seine cast out to bring in a good feed of fish, mostly bream, the men felt not entirely forsaken. Matthew Flinders knew that the greatest problem they would face would be as the days wore on. With little to do, they would become despondent and thereafter quarrelsome. And so he made clear his plans to them all.

‘There is no chance of rescue from outside and so I propose that we rescue ourselves by firstly sending one of the cutters to Sandy Cape, sixty-three leagues distant, and from there along the coast to Port Jackson,’ he declared.

There followed a look of disbelief in the eyes of some of the men, while others looked to the ground and shook their heads. There were experienced seamen among them who knew that at this time of the year strong winds prevailed from the south that would carry the cutter away from the shore, and the likelihood of a favourable outcome was small.

‘Cap’n Flinders, some of us know you learned your skill of navigation from Cap’n Bligh hisself and we do not doubt that you are his equal, but you cannot fight the wind from the south with so slight a boat and the small amount of canvas she can be made to carry,’ said Thomas Kirstin, a master mariner who had sailed with both Bligh and then with Flinders on the
Investigator
. He was holding his hat in both hands and cupped to his knees while he said this.

‘Aye, Thomas, thou art correct in this, it will be difficult, that much I’ll grant you, but not impossible. If you volunteer to accompany me I shall show you how it might be done.’

‘Yes, sir, cap’n, but if we are perchance lost?’

‘Ah, the Doubting Thomas is always with us!’ Flinders quipped, then grew serious. ‘And this is how it should be, one plan is not sufficient, we must have more than one cat in the bag.’ Trim thought this an unnecessarily familiar remark but chose, under the circumstances, to forgive his master. ‘There are sufficient carpenters and skilled men to build two boats from what we may salvage from both wrecks, two small decked boats with sail sufficient to navigate under difficult weather conditions. These we will commence immediately and will require all hands to the labour. We will build them large enough to take you all, with only one boat’s crew (four men) and an officer left behind to be later rescued.’

‘Why would we not take all, sir?’ came a voice from the back. Matthew Flinders smiled, ‘I have every hope of getting to Port Jackson in the cutter, but if after two months no rescue ship has arrived for thee, you will know we were lost, so you will proceed in the two boats to Port Jackson with a good chance of success. But nothing is certain and in three months the prevailing winds will change and take the remaining cutter and the crew we leave behind to Port Jackson with almost certain success.’

Matthew Flinders could see that they could not follow his logic, why not have everyone on the two boats?