Thursday 25 August 2022

Miss Annie McQuaid, 1867-29/10/1894.


A HEROINE INDEED. 

Many as were the recorded instances of heroism displayed during the early hours of that awful Monday morning, many many more will never be known, the chief actors in them being dead. One splendid display, however, has just come to light. Miss McQuaid, one of the stewardesses (whose father was in mistake said to have also been drowned), had served out all the lifebelts she had, reserving one for herself. As she stood, steadying herself by clinging to a rope, a little child, in its night-dress, made its way to her. In its terror the little thing hid her head in Miss McQuaid's dress. Stooping down as well as she could this devoted young woman tried to soothe the wee one, and then taking off her own lifebelt she clasped it around the child. The next heavy wave washed both away. Both were drowned, the little one not being able to take advantage of that which had been, with such magnificent forgetfulness of self, given it.  -NZ Herald, 5/11/1894.

Hocken Library photo.


Correspondence.

A Dunedin Heroine. 

TO THE EDITOR.

Sir, — Many thanks for your article "Only a Woman," where you state that Miss McQuaid was a greater than Grace Darling. Two of my daughters were schoolmates with her, and they have frequently heard her say that she would like to be a Grace Darling. Poor girl! she has indeed proved herself as great, if not greater than Grace Darling, and deserves, as you say, to have her name handed down to future generations. No one could do more than she did, in the giving up her life to save a little child. Well may you say, "For of such is the kingdom of Heaven."

— I am, &c, J.E.  -Star, 8/11/1894.


On Wednesday last there appeared in the Star an article on the more than heroism displayed by Miss McQuaid, the Dunedin girl, who lost her life in the Wairarapa calamity. That very day there appeared in the New Zealand Times an article on that particular subject couched in very much the same terms, showing that at least two minds were running in the same channel, and that there is a spirit abroad which will bring about a recognition of the dead girl's self-sacrifice which will be as a heritage to our children. In beautiful language the editor of the Wellington paper speaks of the end which came to the devoted girl, and, for the sake of her who gave her life for others; for the sake of those who perhaps have not yet fully realised the beautiful act of self-resignation, some of the words are, in the most reverent spirit, here reproduced: — "One look of ineffable tenderness down at the shrinking child, and then the belt is put round the little figure. The one remaining solid chance of life is given to the little one, given serenely and cheerfully and promptly. At this sublime moment comes in the cruel sea, and death and darkness are one. The Angel from Heaven has gone back to her home, and she has taken with her her white-robed client, freed from the task of carrying a weight of gratitude too great for human power to bear. Only a stewardess. God help us to keep her memory green in reverent minds by shaping our lives in some colourable imitation of her nobleness. Her story should be carved in deathless marble or eternal brass by an appreciative people. We must record it as an ideal example for all the generations.  -Star, 10/11/1894.


THE WRECK OF THE WAIRARAPA.

MISS MACQUAID. 

Only a stewardess! Only that and nothing more. But is there anyone to compare with her? She is dead now; gone beyond our ken; gone to receive the reward that is due to all simple, self-sacrificing souls. But she can never be away from us. Her story will live wherever men are congregated together who believe in the greatness of human virtue under the sun. In that way her soul will be with us always, touching our hearts, raising our natures above material things, teaching us the grand lesson of life. Only a stewardess! When the people rushed out of their cabins panicstricken she was busy. The lifebelts had to be served out. A simple matter enough, if that were all. No need in reality to trouble about the serving. Are there not instructions printed and displayed in every cabin? There are the belts in sight, and, what is more, they are accessible to all and sundry who take the trouble to think a little moment for themselves. In these awful moments, however, people never think; they rush, not caring where. Then comes the patient, watchful stewardess. She and others stop the rushing people, take out the lifebelts for the people, tie the lifebelts on to the people. Presently the people are all served. One belt remains; there is no one to claim it. The stewardess takes it for herself. She remembers then, and not till then — think of the nobility of it — that she, after all said and done, has a life too. No sooner is she equipped than there comes to her a little child. In one respect the scene is familiar enough to her. The little thing is in her little white nightdress. How often has she taken the little people so arrayed, soothed them, said their little prayers with them, taken the place of the mother to them. Then it was a bright light, a snowy cot, a pleasure of beautiful surrounding, herself the central, beneficent, ministering, protecting figure. Only a stewardess! But an angel from Heaven to all those little ones, wan and white, and clustering about her knees. In this awful hour comes one of these little figures. The little white nightdress is the same, all else how changed. Thick darkness for the bright light; the roaring of the wind, the screaming of the cordage, the uproar of the surges and the moving cargo, the noise of the last agony of human souls, the end of all things, with the terror of death over all. Only a stewardess! But the child — what a wonderful instinct have the children! — sees the Angel from Heaven, runs to her in its terrible terror, buries its little face in her dress. Only a stewardess! But she soothes the child, prays with the child, quiets the child, notices that the child is without a lifebelt. You have heard of the generous man who will share his last crust with him who is in want. It is universally recognised that such sharing is above the average of human generosity. This lifebelt is a supremely precious thing. Far beyond all crusts, even the last ones standing before starvation. It is a solid chance of life to one ready to be thankful for a straw to catch at in the gurgling of the hideous, merciless sea. Only a stewardess! A ministering Angel for all that. No thought of sharing; no division. How easy to keep the belt and give the white-robed child a clasping share, with determination to keep hold of the little thing at all hazards. Only a stewardess! But not built that way. One look of ineffable tenderness down at the shrinking figure, and then the belt is put round the little figure. The one remaining solid chance of life is given to the little one, given serenely and cheerfully and promptly. At this sublime moment comes in the cruel sea, and death and darkness are one. The Angel from Heaven has gone back to her home, and she has taken with her her white-robed client, freed from the task of carrying a weight of gratitude too great for human power to bear. Only a stewardess! God help us to keep her memory green in reverent minds by shaping our lives in some colorable imitation of her nobleness. Her story should be carved in deathless marble or eternal brass by an appreciative people. We must record it as an ideal example for all the generations that are to come. — 'New Zealand Times'  -Evening Star, 12/11/1894.


Dunedin, November 11. It is suggested by the admirers of the heroic conduct of Miss McQuaid, stewardess of the Wairarapa, that a testimonial forwarded to her parents would be a suitable mode of recognition, and a subscription for that purpose has been started.  -Ashburton Guardian, 12/11/1894.


THE STEWARDESS.

(Miss McQuaid on the wreck of the steamer Wairarapa) 

"Save me! oh stewardess! what shall I do? 

"They're drowned! all drowned and dead! Must I drown too? 

"Oh! I'm so frightened, do take care of me." 

"Come, darling, come and trust yourself to me. 

"Put on this belt and don't cry any more. 

"See! this will bear you up. We'll get ashore!" 

So she took off her belt, the very last 

On board the ship, and fondly made it fast 

Around the shivering child, now calm. 

And hopeful with a child's pathetic faith 

That love must keep it free from harm and scathe. 

Ah! short-lived hope. On came the crashing wave 

And swept away the innocent, the brave, 

Never again to gladden us on earth, 

No more to win our love, or raise our mirth. 

What thought springs foremost from this touching tale, 

Beside which can the soldier's honours pale? 

Might not God well have given this noble girl 

As guerdon of her sacrifice, that pearl 

Of price, the fair young life she sought to save; 

And saved her also, from the cruel wave? 

May not God's thought have been: She sought to save 

This little darling from the 'whelming wave; 

She has done more, I'll take them both above 

To be with Me, in realms of Light and Love? 

Free from the stress and strain, the sin, and strife, 

That mar on earth the fairest mortal life. 

Father, Thy will be done! we do not ask — 

When Thou hast said: These have fulfilled their task — 

That they, our loved ones, should come back again 

And change pure joy for mingling joy and pain. 

Steer us too, Father, to that Better Land 

Where are no murderous rocks, no roaring strand.  -Nelson Evening Mail,13/11/1894.


It will be pleasant news for many to know that the head mistress of the Sydenham School has acted upon the suggestion thrown out by the Star that the beautiful act of self-denial of the stewardess, Miss McQuaid, at the wreck of the Wairarapa, should be made a special lesson in the schools of the colony. The example set in the Sydenham school could, with advantage, be followed in every other school in the colony. The mistress, so the writer is informed, first of all desired her pupils to subscribe their pence in aid of the relief fund, and now from day to day, brings prominently before them by the aid of diagrams and some tender words of loving appreciation, the crowning act of her who gave her life for a little child.  -Star, 13/11/1894.


Another Heroine.

TO THE EDITOR.

Sir, — Since the wreck of the Wairarapa I have often wondered why, of the two stewardesses who so nobly lost their lives in helping to save the lives of others, one only (Miss McQuaid) gets all the glory! From what I read in the Star, it appears to me that the behaviour of Mrs McDonald, the other stewardess, was the more unselfish and brave of the two. Surely, Sir, a mother with a little family of fatherless children totally dependent on her for bread, had far more need to think of saving her own life than a single woman had. And, according to the accounts, Mrs McDonald did not even reserve a life-belt for her own use, but placed all the belts she could obtain upon other persons. I cannot help but think, Sir, that it seems a great injustice to the memory of the noble and brave woman that her deeds should be passed over. Let us hope something handsome will be done for the children. 

— I am, &c. JUSTICE.  -Star, 15/11/1894.


IN MEMORY OF MISS McQUAID 

Stewardess of the Wairarapa.

The Hon. Major Steward, formerly Speaker of the House of Eepresentatives, has written the following beautiful lines on the recent disaster at the Great Barrier.

John xv, 13. 

Seek ye the pearl of honour? Seek ye the purest gem?

Will ye find it glittering proudly in the monarch’s diadem? 

Is it won on the field of battle? Is it worn on the soldier’s breast, 

The guerdon of dauntless valour by the knightly brave possest? 

Does it shine in the bishop's mitre, in the courtier’s orders beam? 

Or is’t on the neck of beauty that its radiant glories gleam? 

Nay, nay, for the precious jewel is a soul that’s true and brave, 

That’s ready to follow the Master, ready to die to save. 

And that precious and priceless jewel shone bright in the midnight gloom, 

Where the fated ship upon Miners' Head, with her hundreds, met her doom. 

Death rode on the angry billows, and snatched at his helpless prey, 

And, one after another, his victims in the darkness bore away; 

While a brave and a noble woman feared not for the hungry wave, 

But with patient care was striving the weak and the young to save. 

And the precious life-belts fastened round many a tender form 

That, perchance, might be borne in safety out of the raging storm; 

And at last, her task accomplished, the work of an angel o’er, 

She buckled the last about her that it might waft her too ashore, 

When, running for aid towards her, with a wail of dire distress, 

A little one hid in terror her face in her flowing dress. 

And then, with a wondrous pity, she lay down her life for this, 

And fastened the belt about the child, and comforted with a kiss; 

And the great waves overwhelming swept both out into the night, 

And the great All-Father took them away to His Home of Light; 

And there, where 'tis sunny ever, where there is no more sea, 

By the side of the crystal river, the saved and the Saviour be, 

And the crown of the new-made angel is bright with a peerless gem, 

'Tis the pearl of self-abnegation in a martyr’s diadem.

Nov, 13.  -Pelorous Guardian and Miners' Advocate, 23/11/1894.


THE McQUAID MEMORIAL.

There is at present on exhibition in Mr. Kohn's window in Lambton-quay a memorial of Miss McQuaid, the gallant stewardess who lost her life in the wreck of the Wairarapa, which was paid for by subscriptions limited to 1s, raised by the people of Auckland. It takes the form of a very large morocco-bound album, massively mounted in silver, with appropriate designs of life-saving lines surrounding a lifebuoy and shield. The design is in massive silver, procured from the Great Barrier lodes. Around the lifebuoy are the words, "Wairarapa, Dunedin." On the shield within are the words, "In loving memory of Annie McQuaid, aetat 29;" and above and below the buoy is the sentence, on two scrolls, "Honour the brave." Within the album, on massive cardboard leaves, richly illuminated, is a photograph of Miss McQuaid and appropriate designs. The names of the subscribers and articles upon Miss McQuaid from various papers oomplete what is a remarkably rich, appropriate, and artistic memorial. The album was manufactured by Mr. H. Kohn, illuminated by Mr. W. Gulliver, and designed by Mr. E. S. V. Mowbray.   -Evening Post, 20/4/1895.


A memorial is to be erected by the stewardesses in the Union Steam Ship Company's service to the brave stewardesses who lost their lives by the wreck of the s.s. Wairarapa, and the Dunedin City Council Reserves Committee have agreed to grant a site in the Northern Cemetery. Designs for a memorial have been received, the cost being estimated at L50.   -Fielding Star, 22/11/1895.


The monument in memory of the stewardesses who, whilst unselfishly performing their duties, lost their lives on the night of the wreck of the ill-fated steamer Wairarapa, is now in position in the Northern Cemetery, Dunedin, and, occupying the corner angle on the left-hand side of the entrance, is the first to meet the eye of the visitor. The monument is of white marble, and stands on a granite base. It bears the following inscription “In memory of Charlotte McDonald, Annie Macquaid, and Lizzie Grinrod, stewardesses, who were drowned in the wreck of s.s. Wairarapa, Great Barrier Island, 29th October 1894. Erected by the stewardesses in the U.S.S. Company’s service.” At the foot of the granite an anchor-shaped wreath of roses and forget-me-nots has been laid.  -South Canterbury Times, 22/1/1896. 







P.S.

Looking for the above poems so I could include one in a radio programme, I found the following, which is too good (or, really, too bad) not to include.  Enjoy!...or suffer...I had to...


A REVIEW OF "THE LAST VOYAGE OF THE WAIRARAPA."

[By R. E. D.]

Poem, by Arthur Pittar. (Copyright.— Observer, Print.) Published at 1s. Copies of the Author.

The "Wairarapa" was wrecked at eight minutes past 12 a.m. on Monday, 29th January, 1894; being 30 miles out of her course from Sydney to Auckland. One hundred and five persons are known to have been lost. 

The author makes his bow with a dedication to his wife —

"Then let me this, the first effort of my pen, Inscribe to thee — to me the dearest of women. 

In token that I appreciate the worth of one who has made my home a Heaven on earth." 

Seemingly, had the author's slippers been less carefully warmed at the domestic hearth, the feet of the "Poem" might have halted less. 

Canto 1. is devoted to "The Start." It begins with an invovation to "Sydney — proud city of a hundred years, Nestling among a thousand bays and piers.

Sydney was lying low, those times, and was to be found under the wharf. It goes on to describe the equipment of the vessel — 

"The boats, the gear, the Captain, and the men/ Were all well known, and of good acumen; 

The Wairarapa — for such was her name — Traded to New Zealand and back-again." 

Admire the well-known gear, the acumen of the boats, and the masterly simplicity with which the vessel's regular run is placed before us. 

"In Windsor Castle there is scarce a room That e'en in beauty rivals her saloon." 

Her freight: 

"Many cases of oranges there are 

Carri'd on deck, and horses from afar 

To compete at the New Zealand races 

At Auckland, and also Southern places." 

Her passengers: "A motley lot — some merry are, some gay — 

Saloon and steerage, crew and stowaway: 

Some two hundred and fifty souls or more, 

Salvationists, Catholics, men of law." 

Canto ll. — "At Sea." Then a few thoughtful things about the ladies (discounted later on by using them to ring in a rhyme) — 

"While the smooth sea doth promise that the trip

Will be to passengers enjoyable,

Specially to ladies, who, if well, 

Appreciate the wonders of the deep 

Best, when those wonders are all rapt in sleep. 

Their pastimes "So pass'd the days, the ev'nings were not long; Some preferr'd music, others lik'd a song." 

Note the nice distinction above. But now the trouble begins: 

"The Kings are pass'd, and now a heavy swell 

From the north-east, would to a sailor tell 

That from thence, a gale was lately blowing! 

A current, too, with the ship was going, 

As an accustom'd eye might plainly see, 

By the rippling lines waving o'er the lea; 

'Twas but the fog — which here was very thick — 

That bother'd them to navigate the ship." 

(Our author is evidently a man of some reading.)

"All now retire, of tiffin to partake, 

An easy mind good appetite doth make." 

(Could Pope or Shakspearoimprove on this?) 

"Great A una, whom three realms obey. 

Doth sometimes tiffin take, and sometimes tea." 

The trouble thickens, and everybody gets, anxious, 

"And generally seem greatly perplex'd, 

Except the skipper, who alone unvex'd 

Smokes his cigar, and paces up and down, 

As undisturb'd as in the streets of town; 

Until the second officer comes up, 

And asks him if he thinks he should not stop, 

Or any way slow down, as otherwise, 

If he may be permitted to advise, 

He greatly fears, he knows not where they are." 

How skilfully our author indicates the hesitancy of the officer who "don't know where 'e are" in addressing a skipper of whom we were informed earlier — 

"John Mcintosh, the master, was a man 

Well-known as a disciplinarian." 

But, "Sir Absolute" 

"Look well to port, the lighthouse is not far!" 

The captain cries, with anger in his tone: "I'm skipper in this ship, and I alone 

Am the best judge whether to stop or no; 

But just because they funk it, let her go. 

By this decision, therefore, I'll abide; 

And tho' the night is dark, I'll let her slide: 

I'm well to seaward, and will catch the tide 

By getting early to the Auckland wharf." 

Thus spake the master, as he turned aside, "with a short cough " — dragged in by hair and hide, to make a rhyme with "wharf." 

" And now it is night, and dark as Hades: 

So to the cabin therefore go the ladies." — Ahem! 

Canto III. — "The Wreck," 

"Driven with a fair and following sea, 

And engine force, at fourteen knots an hour — 

An awful speed — a terrible power — 

The noble ship against the cliff is dashed. 

Her bow is broken, her bottom is smashed."

Her "bottom " reads better with accent or second syllable. The self-sacrifice of the stewardesses (Annie McQuaid, Charlotte McDonald and others) is next described; but unfortunately the movement of the ship has got hold of the metre in such lines as — 

"She took the belt and gave it to the child, 

Caressing it with words soothing and mild." 

Caressing what? So, too, the heroism of Sinclair, the engineer, who 

"With his mate Dunlop remains to stay

The dread explosion, that might then occur

If he did not attend to the boiler,"

merits better handling. Some of the incielents of the wreck are then described: 

"Just as the stricken beast doth shriek with fear, 

Who sees the condor of the Andes near; 

So do these poor affrighted people cry,

Who feel approaching dissolution nigh.

The horses, too, were hurl'd amid them all, 

While orange cases kill'd some in their fall." 

And the skipper's end —

"If sav'd, how could he now his owners greet?

How his many victims' relations meet?

No hope for him from man, that he could see,

Better than trust in God and His mercy. 

Believing thus, and hoping in the Lord, 

He brcath'd a prayer, and then sprang overboard."

Note how skilfully the perturbation in the master's mind is indicated in the metre which calms as the skipper's mind settles down to suicide and security from censure. In some fine lines in another poem the converse of this movement is marked —

"His bridle reins were golden chains, And with a martial clank, 

At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steel smiting his stallion's flank." 

Here the movement increases perceptibly. 

Canto IV. — "The Rescue." 

The splendid actions of Dunlop and Kendal, who got a line to shore; of Miss Dickenson, who pluckily tried it first; and of a Mr. Roberts, who at the instigation oi Mr. Ferguson brought ashore Miss Williams (who had been over twelve hours in the sea), finds its contrast in the next few lines — 

"Now all the living gather'd on the shore, Some were nearly naked, but few had more 

Than a shirt apiece, or of a pants a pair — Mere than one garment each was very rare. 

But while many ladies were dress'd so ill, 

Fenwiok, the purser, was rigg'd fit to kill;

He grudged to lend a thing on this sad morn 

To many people who were quite forlorn." 

Our author does not spare the lash where he thinks it merited; for after telling how the unfortuinate people made themselves shoe out of the cork in the life belts, and how tley had to live on two oranges apiece, 

-"Still ot the passengers they were but few 

In proportion, to those saved of the crew; 

While of the women and the children, too,

Who liv'd the horrors of that night to tell, 

The number is so few that p'rhaps 'tis well 

For the officers that the captain died,

So that all blame can on his back be tied."

So, too, in CANTO V.— "The Arrival." 

Our author, after telling how the third mate, Johnson, took a boat-load of unfortunates to Whangapoa, where they were kindly tended by "Settler Eglington" (which, by the way, should read Edlington), and how others were succoured by the Maoris of Catherine Bay, he tells us —

"They managed very well them all to feed, 

But how to clothe them is a job indeed. 

Among the passengers when in the boats 

There was a parson who had on two coats. 

But . . . he refused to others any help, 

And kept his double clothing to himself." 

Well-merited praise is bestowed on the people of Auckland and elsewhere who contributed clothes, food, and money for the relief of the sufferers, and on 

"Messrs. Moor, Stark, Addison, and Flinn, 

Who live on the isle, and assisted in 

Feeding the living, burying the dead, 

Too much in praise of them cannot be said. 

The Maoris also did their very best, 

As did settler Eglington and the rest." 

Canto Vl. — "A Review," tells us—

"The stewardesses, as we know, were brave; 

But others, too, tried others lives to save. 

Thus, French and Jolly sav'd the young boy West, 

Who nine years old, was plucky as the best. 

But still Kendall, Baldwin, and Middlebrook 

All great and heroic deeds undertook; 

Thomson, Baker, Davis, Fraser, and Grey, 

All gave no chance of saving life away; 

While Leighton, Corrie, Pounds, Pipe, and Campbell, 

With others on the rocks did just as well. 

Chamberlain, too, must, not be forgotten, 

Nor Chadwick, Varley, Harris, and Madden. 

Another name that should be on the roll 

Is that of Mr French, who sav'd Miss Cole. 

A steerage stewardess there was, whose name, 

A sincere grateful world should ascertain. 

But though it may not be recorded here, 

In God's great Book ot Life it will appear.

Of others we are told — As it is unpleasant to review 

Both cowardliness and selfishness, too, 

'Tis better not to here recount their names, 

The same great Book of Life black marks contains." 

Elsewhere in the "Poem" the loss of life is given thus —

"The number of dead will never be known, 

Tho' one hundred and five are clearly shown 

To have lost their lives, or to missing be, 

In this most terrible catastrophe." 

So sad a subject had better have been treated in prose by an author who can control his Pegasus no better than John Gilpin did the callender's horse. To warn off other browsers in the paddocks of Parnassus, and to show how close this scheme has been carried to absurdity, it may be well for once to step just over the line, still keeping close enough to the original to shake hands with it. 

A SUMMARY. 

I. O Barrier bold of Auckland's shore, 

O land of gold and copper ore, 

Of gum and oysters in good store, 

Of fish, and flies, and fleas galore. 

II. O land of leisure, cream, and bees, 

Pohutukawa and ships' knees; 

Loquat, guava, citron trees, 

O land where water ne'er doth freeze.

III O island little known to fame 

Till to your shores a steamer came: 

The "Wairarapa" was her name, 

And "running records" was her game. 

IV. Her skipper, mad, as we suppose, 

On Miner's Head must pile her nose! 

From ocean's bed she never rose

How sad for the Insurance Co.'s!

V. Then on the sea she flung the freight; 

The fruit, the steeds, the maid, the mate; 

And skulls were fractured — dreadful fate — 

By horses' hoof and orange crate. 

VI. O parson, chief of chokered churls, 

Who in two coats himself enswirls, 

While on the shore squat shivering girls 

With little on but clamming curls. 

VII. O crazy skipper, frantic horse, 

Sea-swollen orange, bloated corse; 

O cleric clad, O night-robed ladies

O verses mad; in short, O Hades! 

The writer presents his compliments to "the Author," and is sorry he has not skill enough to make the metre of his verses bump like the "Wairarapa" on the rocks. 

ADAM HASBEEN.  -Taranaki Daily News, 22/6/1901.

Monday 22 August 2022

Captain George Deith, (?)-22/3/1930.


FEDERAL LINER WESTMORELAND. 

The Federal liner Westmoreland is expected to be in commission again shortly. The liner was torpedoed north of Ireland, but the crew remained by the ehip and beached her. The Westmoreland has since been refloated, and is now undergoing repairs preparatory to resuming running in the Australian trade. Captain Deith, now in command of the steamer Kent, was in charge of the Westmoreland when she was beached.   -Evening Star, 14/12/1918.


PRODUCT OF WAR

MODERN ARMED MERCHANTMAN. 

THE KENT AT BLUFF. 

This week, Invercargill’s port is favoured with the visit of a most interesting vessel, the Federal and Shire Line’s new liner Kept, commanded by Captain Deith. Many Invercargill folk who have visited Bluff have spent very profitably a spare hour or so in looking over the ship, the crew of which are courteous and obliging to visitors whose free use of the art of questioning might have tried most people’s patience. 

The Kent is just now on her maiden voyage and is fitted with a variety of devices not seen on vessels of pre-war construction — devices of camouflage and death-dealing weapons for defence against submarine and other attack. The somewhat grotesque painting of her hull is not new to the “land-lubber” as this has often been seen before on vessels in these waters; but a feature of much interest is that the masts, with the exception of the mainmast, fold down upon the decks when she puts out to sea. The funnel is also novel, being telescopic, a big item as regards visibility when afloat in the danger zones. The mainmast is, as is usual, fixed. This carries the wireless apparatus and the ingenious idea about it is that instead of being in the longitudinal centre line of the boat, it rises from the deck toward one side. Thus, when the submarine commander makes his calculations he is deceived regarding the direction in which the boat is going. It is part of the camouflage. 

Another peculiarity in her construction is one which would easily escape the notice of even the closest observer, and that is that she has a cruiser stern. The effect of this is that when travelling at full speed less churning up of the water is caused than would be the case with a craft of ordinary shape, and her range and speed are therefore more difficult for the enemy gunner to gauge. She has a speed when fully loaded, of about 12 knots. 

HER NARROW ESCAPE. 

Very early in her career this boat narrowly missed destruction by submarines. Soon after leaving her home port, and when about abreast of Shields on her way to London, two torpedoes were fired at her, one passing close to the stern and one not far before her. She was in a convoy at the time and two accompanying merchant ships were sunk, the Tasman and the Vavant. A thick mist came up and the Kent, leaving the convoy, escaped, which was extremely fortunate as she carried 700 tons of high explosive. Naval men aboard state that if this had been hit everything within a radius of 10 miles would have been blown up. 

She carries four guns, and four torpedo-shaped contrivances lying on one of the forward decks, which have attracted much interest and curious comment, many at first supposing that they were some kind of self-propelled torpedoes. However, they proved on enquiry to be something not for the destruction of life, but for its safety — minesweeping apparatus. Much interest centred round two of the guns, which- perform to a large measure the same functions as the firers of depth charges, a somewhat similar projectile being thrown out, to the discomfort of undersea craft. 

The latest gear turbine engines propel the liner, while in addition an oil tank apparatus is installed. This was planned to act in the manner of auxiliary motive power should the turbines break down or otherwise go out of commission, but it has not as yet been used owing to an Admiralty decree prohibiting the use of oil fuel on merchantmen. 

The most up-to-date of maritime machinery is the steering gear which is worked by oil power instead of requiring the usual steam-driven machinery. From the bridge telephones have taken the place of the usual bells and the captain in his castle near the wheel can converse with those fore and aft, in the engine-room and in the wireless room. 

The liner, throughout, is a clean roomy ship, and the quarters not only amidships, but fore and aft, are good. She was built at Jarrow-on-Tyne by Messrs Palmer and Sons. 

BOYS FROM THE NAVY. 

To man the death-dealing instruments of war, aboard, the Kent is carrying small complement of naval gunnery experts, Messrs E. Evans, J. Roberts, F. Byles, F. Masters, F. Robertson, R. Thomson, and E. Willis; also Signaller R. Tuchell, most of whom joined the fleet at the outbreak of war and have seen considerable active service. At least two of the men, Roberts and Evans, have had thrilling experiences in the Mediterranean and saw something of our New Zealand lads at Mudros and the Dardanelles. Chief Officer Maurice (merchant service) was in the Suvla Bay action ip 1915 when our unfortunate Fifths were so badly cut up. Gunner Roberts saw Turkey when with the “Ocean," on which ship his time expired and he rejoined, the navy and was finally drafted to the Kent. Gunner Evans was blown up when on the Maziar in the Mediterranean and was previously on board the Wavisbrook when she was sunk in collision not far from Gibraltar. 

RETURNING TO PEACE CONDITIONS. 

Gradually the grotesque painted figurings are being obliterated from the vessel’s hull and a more peaceful appearance will be hers when she again sights the coast from which she gets her name. The men on board, too, express profound relief that hostilities have now ceased and welcome the relaxation of the many restrictions under which they have laboured, many of them since August, 1914. The naval men particularly speak with pleased anticipation of their return and discharge at Home. The Kent, which is loading rabbits, cheese, and other produce, leaves for London via Panama to-morrow.  -Southland Times, 10/1/1919.


WESTMORELAND PUTS BACK

(BY TELEGRAPH.—PRESS ASSOCIATION.)

DUNEDIN, This Day.

The steamer Westmoreland, which sailed on Saturday for Bluff, put back yesterday. On the run down the starboard engine developed a knock, and investigations outside Bluff Harbour showed a loosening of the packing in the stern tube. Captain Deith therefore returned. In dock it was discovered that a blade of one of the propellers had been bent by contact with some solid body. After repair work, the Westmoreland sailed this morning for Bluff.  -Evening Post, 12/2/1923.


The Westmoreland in Port Chalmers dry dock.  Hocken Library photo.

The year before, 1922, Captain Deith and the Westmoreland brought to New Zealand a unique and historic cargo - the first consignment of Anzac Day poppies.  There were 396,000 of them.


PERSONAL. 

— Among the passengers from England by the Ruahine, which arrived at Wellington last week, were Captain G. T. Deith and Mrs. Deith, who intend to spend some months in New Zealand. Captain Deith, who was for many years in the service of the Federal Line, retired from sea-going about twelve months ago. At different times he held command of eight Federal Line steamers, including the Sussex, Durham, Kent, Westmoreland and Cumberland. Mrs. Deith (formerly Miss Innes) is a native of Port Chalmers. They intend to visit relations and renew friendships during their stay in the Dominion.   -Sun, 15/10/1928.


Captan and Mrs Deith, who came from Great Britain a short time ago, are spending a little time at the lakes. Captain Deith will be remembered as master of the Westmoreland when she was torpedoed off the coast of Ireland during the war, on which occasion he succeeded in beaching the vessel, thus saving her from being a complete loss.   -Otago Daily Times, 24/1/1929.


CAPTAIN DEITH’S DEATH. 

There died on board the Nestor on March 22, about six days before the vessel arrived at Durban from Sydney, Captain George Deith, who was a frequent trader to New Zealand in command of Federal Line steamers. During the war Captain Deith was in charge of the Westmoreland when she was torpedoed off the North Coast of Ireland, and it was solely through his skill and seamanship that she was beached on the English coast and subsequently repaired. The steamer is still in the New Zealand trade. The captain was one of the most popular masters to visit this dominion, and his death will be felt by a large circle of friends. It is not yet known whether he was buried at sea or not, but it would undoubtedly have been his wish to be cast to a watery grave. Captain Deith, who was in ill-health for about eighteen months prior to his death, is survived by his widow, who is a daughter of the late Mr William Innes, of Port Chalmers.  -Evening Star, 31/3/1930.


OBITUARY.

CAPTAIN G. T. DEITH.

Information has been-received of the death at sea of Captain G. T. Deith, who, recently visited Auckland after his retirement from active service. He was on his way to England by the liner Nestor, and died five days before the vessel reached Durban. Most of Captain Deith's service was the Federal Line of steamers, his last command being the Cumberland. He had some exciting adventures during the Great War while in command of the Westmorland. In 1917 he left England for New Zealand, and was attacked by a German submarine, but the torpedo missed by about 5ft. When the Pacific had been reached, a. fire broke out in No. 4 hold. All openings to the hold were closed to stifle the outbreak, but when Auckland was reached and the coverings removed, the fire broke out again, and local fire brigades had difficulty in subduing it. The vessel was not seriously damaged, but, the loss of cargo totalled £50,000. On the return voyage Home from Australia, where the vessel had loaded produce, the Westmorland was torpedoed in the Irish Sea, being struck near the engine room. The crew of 70 took to the boats, and only one life was lost. The Westmorland did not sink, but two hours later was taken in tow and beached. She was subsequently repaired, and has since made many trips to the Dominion.   -Auckland Star, 5/4/1930.



Port Chalmers New Cemetery.