were. They soon saw land a few miles off, and making for it, found themselves on Flinders Island, where there was not only a sealers' settlement, but the schooner "Flying Fish" was preparing to weigh anchor. There was also there an Aboriginal station, under the charge of a Dr. Mulligan and his wife, from which worthy couple a supply of clothes and provisions was obtained. T h e " Flying Fish" brought them back to Melbourne, where they experienced much kindness, and a subscription was raised for their benefit, in aid of which a concert was given and ^ 4 0 net thereby realized.
WRECK OF THE "CATARAQUI," IMMIGRANT SHIP: APPALLING
Loss
OF LIFE.
The "Cataraqui," ship, 800 tons, Captain C. W. Finlay, sailed from Liverpool for Port Phillip on the 20th April, 1845, w i t n 3 6 2 emigrants, two doctors, and a crew of 46. T h e emigrants were principally from Bedford, Stafford, York, and Nottingham Shires. About 120 of the passengers were married, with families, and amongst them were seventy-three children. About 7 p.m. on the 3rd August, the ship was hove to for some hours. O n the 4th, it being quite dark and raining hard blowing a fearful gale, and the sea running mountains high, the ship struck on a reef on the west coast of King's Island, at the entrance of Bass's Straits. N o opportunity had offered to enable the captain to ascertain the ship's course for four days previously; but from dead reckoning, it was presumed that the vessel was in 141 degrees 22 east longitude, and 39.17 south, which would make her between 60 or 70 miles from the island. Immediately after the occurrence she was sounded, and four feet of water was in her hold. T h e scene of confusion and misery that ensued it is impossible to describe. The passengers attempted to rush on deck, and many succeeded in doing so, until the ladders were knocked away by the working of the vessel. Then the shrieks of men, women, and children from below, calling to the watch on deck to assist them, were terrific. At this time the sea was breaking over the ship, sweeping the decks, every sea carrying off one or more of the passengers. About 5 a.m. the ship careened over on her larboard side, washing away boats, bulwarks, spars, a part of the cuddy, and literally swept the decks. At this critical period the captain ordered the masts to be cut away, hoping the vessel might right and enable the crew to get on deck the remainder of the passengers from below. This was done, but it was all to no purpose. T h e passengers remaining below were all drowned, the ship being full of water; and the captain called out to those on deck to cling unto daylight to that part of the wreck above water. As the day broke the vessel's stern was found to be washed in, numerous dead bodies were floating around the ship and on the rocks. About 200 of the passengers and crew were still holding on to the vessel—the sea breaking over, and every wave washing some of them away. About four in the afternoon, the vessel parted amidships, and from seventy to a hundred of the poor creatures were launched into the roaring and remorseless waves ! The fury of the waves continuing unabated, about five o'clock the wreck parted by the fore-rigging, and so many souls were submerged in the waters, that only seventy out of all were left crowded on the forecastle! Thus the sea breaking over them, the winds raging, and the rain continuing heavy all night, the poor wretches stuck on as well as they could to the vessel's bow. Numbers died and fell overboard, or sank and were drowned. T h e next day broke on only about thirty survivors, almost dead through exhaustion. T h e previous evening the quarter-boat (the only remaining one) was attempted to be launched, into which the boatswain, doctor, and four of the crew got, but she immediately capsized, and all were drowned. As the morning advanced the sea was making a clean breach into the forecastle, the deck of which was rapidly breaking up. About this time, whilst numbers were helplessly hanging from the bows, and continually dropping off without the possibility of succour, the captain attempted to reach the shore, but could not, and with the assistance of some of those who were strong enough to help him, regained the wreck. T h e lashings of the survivors were now undone in order to give them the last chance of life. Mr. Guthrie, the chief mate, who was on the spritsail yard, was washed out to the bowsprit; he saw the captain and second mate and steward hanging on to the bows, with some eighteen or twenty others only left alive, amid a heap of dead bodies on the fragment of the wreck. Mr. Guthrie was driven to a detached part of the wreck, but finding it impossible to live with such a sea breaking over, he seized a piece of plank under his arm, and
