The Australian Women's Weekly, 24 November, 1982
Exploring the Amazing Wreck of the Yongala.
AN ADVENTURE FILMED FOR TELEVISION
An historic wreck off
the Queensland coast
became the star of a
Ron and Valerie Taylor
special documentary
The Adelaide Steamship Company vessel
Yongala disappeared in 1911, swallowed
whole by the sea during cyclonic weather.
Only the body of Moonshine, a racehorse
en route from Brisbane to Townsville, reached
land. Moonshine, along with a prize bull, had
been loaded as cargo on the afternoon of
March 21,1911, when, in a festive mood,
Yongala had slipped from the Brisbane
Wharf setting a course north to Townsville.
Built in 1903, she was splendidly fit-
ted with accommodation for 110 first
class and 130 second-class passengers
and considered the finest vessel to be
seen in Australian waters - the pride
of a nation whose only means of
extensive transport was still by ship.
Over the years many theories were
put forward as to the Yongala's fate.
But towards the end of World War II, a
minesweeper, searching the channel for
mines, found a patch of shoal water
14 km out from Cape Bowling Green. It
lay in 30 metres of water and coincided
with the exact dimensions of the
Yongala. The mystery of the Yongala's
location was solved.
In June last year, the Federal Government
declared the wreck of the Yongala historic.
This act of foresight was brought about
largely by two people who had never seen
her, Jennifer Amos from the Department of
Home Affairs in Canberra, and Ron Coleman,
a marine archaeologist from the Queensland
Museum of Marine Archaeology.
With my husband Ron, I had visited
the Yongala a year before while taking
the T.S.M.V. Reef Explorer from Sydney
to Cairns. Our brief visit had taken us
into what must be one of the richest
areas of marine life in the world. "We
have to make a film of her," said Ron.
"It's the most amazing place I have ever
seen underwater". Every diver on board
agreed.
A year and one month later, with the
blessing of the Federal Government's
Department of Home Affairs, we went
back. On board were a group of three
friends and Ron Coleman.
We had 10 days to shoot enough film
for a TV special which will be shown on
Channel Seven.
Everyone had a job. Mike Minehan
was to find her name; Mike Ball, a
diving instructor from Townsville, was
in charge of decompression; my friend
Janice and myself were on cameras;
Mark Heighes, my nephew, was to
handle the cables for Ron's camera
lights, a job which required great skill
when working around sharp obstacles.
Ron Coleman was to a do a survey of
the wreck and retrieve as many loose
artefacts as possible.
Diving into the grave of 120 people is
not a sad thing. The terror and pain is
all lost in history and the people, en-
tombed in the growth-encrusted hulk,
part of a vibrant, living coral reef. No
tombstone could be more impressive, no
wreath more exquisite, no resting place
more a part of nature.
Clouds of fish obscured the Yongala's
outline; thousands of corals softened
her shape.
Ron and I swam to the bow where 13
giant Queensland groper resided. The
largest was about 250kg in weight. They
hung like oval balloons directly beneath
the hull.
Thousands of Trevally schooling around
them melted away as we approached, to
reform in a solid wall behind us.
Huge groper eyed us with obvious
dislike. This was their ship now, and
intruders were not welcome. One,
trapped momentarily in a hole in the
bow, loudly thumped his displeasure as
he blundered away.
I wondered vaguely about that opening.
Rumours of a collision between the
Yongala and a smaller vessel were
common. Something had made a hole in the
bow below the water line, but when and
how it was impossible to tell.
Mike was already working on the coral-covered
bow, carefully putting aside the larger
growths for replacing elsewhere.
I pushed through the soft corals on
to the first-class promenade - and
startled a loggerhead turtle which
charged to freedom.
An unusual shape caught my eye.
Careful not to stir the sediments, I
sank into a cabin and retrieved a brass
light fitting, complete with bulb. The
Yongala was the first vessel in Australia
to have electricity and refrigeration.
Janice and I sank down into the second-
class saloon. The great schools of fish
living inside the wreck were a problem,
cutting down the visibility as effectively
as a London fog. I had planned to
photograph each large enclosed area,
but it was impossible. A living curtain of
tiny fish hung in every room.
The graceful columns that supported
the ceilings were festooned with
growths. An eel peeping from a toilet
bowl disappeared into the ancient
plumbing. The first-class saloon lav
open to the elements, its ceiling half
gone. Glass portholes showed faintly
the perimeter of the illumination, silver
then black, silver then black.
We drifted down. Something enormous
brushed against my legs; another giant
shape obliterated Ron. My heart jumped.
Great rays, 3 metres across hung in
mid water. Moving slowly, they
followed us. I caressed them, stroking
their white bellies.
The wreck, though beautiful by day, with
the setting of the sun, burst into a
brilliant fairy-land. Corals of every size,
shape and colour blossomed forth,
softening even more the once proud
ship.
More than 70 years ago, nature had taken
a dead man-made thing of metal and wood,
and given birth to a great living reef, richer
in life and colour than any other place we
had ever seen.
A wobbygong shark guarded the galley door.
We swam over him into a gloomy sediment
filled room. Once the birthplace of great
banquets and elaborate dinners, the kitchen
implements stood bleak and ugly beneath
their coating of grey sludge. A cupboard
door crumbled under my hand, but before
the sediments completely fogged my vision,
I glimpsed an array of bottles and baking
utensils.
Back on deck after decompression it was
excitement and noise. None of us had ever
experienced such fantastic diving. Already
it was apparent that 10 days would not be
enough to examine and document the
entire wreck.
Mike Minehan had not been able as yet
to uncover any of the name. We all had
stories to tell, but my mind was preoccupied
by the pale bones protruding through the
sediment in one of the rooms.
"The dissolving lime in the water preserves
them" explained my husband, and I wondered
about the people who lay buried beneath us.
Night diving is one of my greatest loves.
It is a time of discovery, adventure and
beauty. We have been filming at night
for more than 21 years and, under
normal circumstances, it is not more
risky than diving by day. The Yongala,
however, had the potential hazard of
becoming lost inside.
Decompressing I watched with interest the
plankton cloud growing. Small fish of brilliant
colours fed on even smaller fish who fed on
what looked like floating dots. A fog of tiny
shrimp appeared and buzzed around me,
covering my face with their prickly bodies.
I could not bear it, and surfaced prematurely.
My hair was full of shrimp. They were in my
ears, down my neck. It was quite horrible.
One day, Janice and myself were poking
around the crew's quarters when we found
a beautiful pink hand basin. The two of us
had quite a struggle moving it into the open
and I exhausted the remainder of my air car-
rying the thing to a collecting basket.
Ron Coleman was working nearby in a storage
locker. It contained among other things, bottles
of port, car tyres, bolts of blue cloth, and two
brass signalling lamps, all seemingly in good
condition. What Ron wanted most of were the
lamps, but in the end. time defeated him, and
by law they will now remain in place as a small
part of Australia's history, accessible to the
general public only in pictures.
I lifted a bag of bottles as I surface some with
their corks and contents intact. My delight at
collecting a basket well-aged port soon turned
to horror as I was standing on the back deck
admiring my find when one of the corks pushed
out and spouted the contents all over me. My eyes,
mouth, nose, hair were all full of the foulest-
smelling-tasting liquid imaginable.
"Seems it has been aged a little too long," remarked
our skipper, as he turned on the deck hose and washed
me down. After that we treated all bottles with their
contents intact very carefully indeed.
Gradually the heaps of artefacts grew. Odd things
like wrought iron chair ends, taps, keys, door locks,
light shades, port holes, rubber tyres, joined the
bottles.
bottles.
The safe had been found the first day, but
someone before us had already broken in.
I found what could be a second safe in a small,
lightless room, but was not sure of my find until
my pictures were developed back in Sydney.
Mike Minehan had painstaking chipped away
metres of coral to reveal the ship's name.
Our last act was to position the brass plaque
on the ship's hull. Lest some unscrupulous
diver wants to souvenir it as a memento, we
decided not only to bolt it down, but also to
cement it in. Sounds simple enough, but
cement is not easily handled underwater.
Somehow, after a great deal of struggling
it worked, and the whole thing ended up in
place.
place.
The Australian Government should be proud
of its gift to the divers of Australia. Without
protection, Yongala would have been like so
many of our old wrecks, blown to pieces for
non-ferrous metals, her inhabitants killed, her
artefacts reduced to rubble.
Now she stands as a monument, not only to
Australia's historical past, but also the far-
sightedness of her present.
Ten more shipwrecks along the east coast
have now been declared historic. As such they
will be preserved and protected as natural
museums. From now on, the artefacts must
remain as untouched as the giant gropers,
sea snakes and corals.
It's all part of our heritage and I am glad we played a part.
Cairns Post, 17 October, 1911.
Two conclusions:
- the dynamite described probably caused the hole in the bow
courtesy Trove.
Cairns Post, 17 October, 1911.
BRISBANE,; Last Night (11.40 p.m.).
-The yacht Norma, belonging
to Dr. Cassidy, has reported at
Sydney the discovery of the Adelaide
Company's steamer Yongala,
which, was last seen from Dent Island,
on the evening of March 23rd last, and
since when no tidings were received
of the vessel.
The Norma, reports that the vessel is
deeply embedded on a sandy bottom,
and although divers were employed they
could do little or nothing. They used
explosives, and pieces of wreckage were
shot to the surface as they broke away
from the sunken vessel.
The Yongala is located in a direct line,
seaward from where the horse Moonshine
was washed ashore, not far from Cape
Cleveland.
The carcass of the horse was
found at the beach at the mouth
of Gordon's Creek, three miles
down the coast from Ross River.
The bones were there, minus the
head an hooves, says a message
received at the time. "The colour
was bay." The strong odour arising
shows that the horse had not been
long dead. The remains were under
water at high tide.
The horse could not have got there
from the land owing to the boggy,
state of the country, and must have
been washed up by the sea.
The location, as described, is directly across from the wreck of the Yongala - 90 degrees!
Two conclusions:
- the dynamite described probably caused the hole in the bow
- this was indeed the wreck of Yongala, discovered at the end of 1911.
Why the £ 1,000.00 reward was not claimed remains a mystery, as does the absence of publicity surrounding the discovery.
 |
| courtesy Google Earth. |
 |
| courtesy Dive Trips Australia |
courtesy Trove.
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