The “Wanganella” part 2

Daylight made Wanganella’s plight more obvious. She had driven herself on to Outer Rock, mangling her bow and creating a gash some 40 by 22 feet (13 × 7m) for water to slosh in and out of her hull. Buoyancy forward was a thing of the past. An abortive attempt to tow her off made it evident that only a combination of restored buoyancy and a high tide could hope to release her from the reef’s fangs. Fuel oil was pumped out of her, then the two forward holds were to be sealed and compressed air blown into them; but only if the weather remained calm could this work be completed before her whole hull was wrenched apart.

Entering dock

And it did remain calm! ‘Wanganella weather’ became legendary, over the entire eighteen-day period until Thursday evening (6 February) when, after an earlier attempt a week before, she moved, then came free on the end of a line from the tug Toia. She was towed stern-first and heavily down by the bow, to end up, her bow on the harbour bottom, at Aotea Quay. Here she languished until the floating dock, occupied by another ship, became available, and it would be a couple of weeks before she entered dock, without tugs (they had gone on strike for higher wages) and with Darroch joined by Wellington’s deputy harbourmaster David Todd, who prided himself on his ability to handle ships without tugs. It was then the turn of the dock workers to demand higher pay, and to declare the ship ‘black’; and only temporary patching of her bow was possible so that shecould be towed back to Aotea Quay wharf on 27 May.

A great bite

During her time in dock it was determined that her bow, with a great bite out of it, was beyond repair, and a replacement bow would need to be prefabricated. This task was carried out by Harland and Woolf back in Belfast; the new structure extended over more than a third of Wanganella’s length, and its component parts were shipped out in Hororata, a large New Zealand Shipping Company cargo vessel that was herself a survivor: she was torpedoed as she approached the Azores on the homeward leg of her maiden voyage in 1942. Wanganella was returned to the dock in January 1948, and her precious replacement arrived in early March. It took until the end of October before the vessel could test the precision of the assembly process — one minor leak, sealed in a matter of hours as the dock was flooded, was found. Wanganella was towed back to Clyde Quay wharf, and the opportunity was taken to eliminate the remains of her wartime service; in particular, any remaining hospital green paint was covered up. After sea trials at the end of November, the ship left for Sydney on 9 December 1948, fully booked.

Back in service

Meanwhile, because he and Captain Todd had easedthe stricken vessel into a dock without a tug, the unfortunate Captain Darroch had faced a Court of Inquiry. This had found him negligent and, although his certificate was only suspended for three months, his career was effectively over. His only subsequent command was in 1952, of a small coaster, the Awahou, which disappeared without trace on a voyage to Lord Howe Island.

Wanganella herself fared much better, making regular weekly sailings in tandem with the Union company’s Monowai. With a refit in 1952, she remained popular and although her 1930s pattern squat motor ship funnels looked somewhat ‘dated’ (the forward one was a dummy, and nothing came of a proposal during that refit to transfer it to sit above the ‘working’ one) she was still trim in her Huddart Parker livery of black hull with a thin white band just below the white upperworks, and buff funnels. But air travel was becoming increasingly popular through the latter 1950s, and when in 1961 Huddart Parker was sold off and its fleet dispersed, Wanganella was bought by McIlwraith McEachern of Melbourne. Her name was retained, but her funnels were repainted in the black-topped red of her new owners, and she resumed her trans-Tasman schedule, managed now by the Union company, which had withdrawn Monowai from service the previous year.

New owners. Note dummy fore funnel

In mid-Tasman on a voyage from Sydney to Auckland, she showed her age in spectacular fashion. On 26 March 1962 a piston rod in her port engine snapped; the broken rod fell into the crankcase where, boosted by the rotating crank, it was spat out through the casing. At Auckland they cleared up the mess enough for her to return to Sydney on one engine, and here she spent April while proper repairs were made. The implications of this episode were enough for McIlwraith McEachern to decide to sell Wanganella just three days after the repairs were completed, and an engine room explosion and fire in June confirmed the wisdom of their decision.

After finishing her final voyage on 25 July, Wanganella was laid up in Sydney; on 15 August her new owners took her over, and she became the property of the Hang Fung Shipping and Trading Company of Hong Kong. She made one trip there to change funnel colours (to black with two silver bands) and port of registry, then returned to Auckland to undertake a Melbourne Cup cruise, which in turn led to other cruises round the Pacific and Australia, and then to a spell in November as a floating hotel at Fremantle during the 1962 Commonwealth Games. A few cruises in early 1963 followed, and there were grand schemes which came to nothing. Instead the ship was laid up in Sydney and offered for sale.

Then came the final, novel and quite unexpected phase in her career. The Manapouri power scheme planned for water from Lake Manapouri to enter a tunnel down to an underground assembly of turbines, from which it would discharge through a 10km tunnel into Doubtful Sound. Utah Construction and Mining, which bought the ship, was one of the firms in the consortium to undertake the tailrace tunnelling, and Deep Cove, where there was nothing apart from a trampers’ hut, and certainly nothing to provide accommodation or services, would become Wanganella’s retirement home. She crossed the Tasman Sea one final time, still dressed in Hung Fung livery and with a largely Chinese crew, called at Auckland, then entered Doubtful Sound on 29 August 1963. She anchored in Hall Arm, just around the corner from Deep Cove, from where workers using her boats could be ferried across to construct anchor points for the heavy steel cables that would form the ship’s final moorings.

Home to 500-odd workmen

Once the anchor points were ready, she made her final voyage under her own power, was secured with her own anchors and the cables that now awaited her, and became home to 500-odd workmen who combined the cutting of a road over Wilmot Pass to link the sound with civilisation, and the tunnelling itself. They became a close-knit community, hardworking and hard drinking; and during their period as guests aboard, the ship developed assorted excrescences as additional covered space was needed. Road access was established in 1965 and the tunnel breakthrough was three years later. The work force dispersed by 1970; Utah sold the ship back to the Government in 1969, who on-sold her to the Australia Pacific Shipping Company of Hong Kong. Fortunately an ocean-going Dutch tug, the Barents Sea, was in the vicinity, and in April 1970 took Wanganella in tow, to transport her to Hong Kong where her new owners had ideas of restoring her. But on arrival, the engines were found to require total replacement. She was therefore sold yet again, to Taiwanese shipbreakers, where she arrived in June 1970, almost 41 years after her launch.

Under tow

At the breakers. Note ship cove buildings

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I came to enjoy Wanganella as one of Auckland’s regular visitors when, as a boy, I happened to visit the North Shore and found her berthed at Princes Wharf. I even attempted to paint her once, but was defeated when her black hull came out looking like a lump of coal. My wife’s knowledge was more extensive, since she was a Wellington girl, while I did no more than catch a glimpse of the ship in the floating dock when I was on my way to or from Dunedin. Apart from casual references in various of my shipping books, in this story I have relied on a gem of a book, ‘A Tasman Trio’, which documents the life stories of three celebrated trans-Tasman passenger ships: Wanganella, Awatea and Monowai. Without it, I could not have assembled such a precise account.

— Wyn Beasley, Bay View newsletter 69, May 2017

The Easy Option Up to Your Home

Wellington must be New Zealand’s ‘cablecar city’ with the variety of cableways or cablecars of various shapes and sizes that rise up our hills. Oriental Bay and its neighbourhood is very much a part of this — in Oriental Bay itself and in Roseneath and along Evans Bay.

With our hilly sections, it’s not difficult to see the reason for cableways. They can replace the zig-zag path by which many of us reach our homes or they can be installed instead of the multiple steps which are equally familiar to us. Very often, they mean that disabled people or older citizens can stay in the homes they love.

Most of the cableways or cablecars are two-person, either an open platform with waist-high walls around it or an enclosed ‘sentrybox’ style. Others are square-shaped and may be extra solid to support a gondola. The systems for disabled use can be equipped with door ramps and larger floor areas to facilitate easy wheelchair access. To further aid independent use of the cableway, automatic landing gates can be installed.

Some have street frontages, others start from a front path or driveway a little distance from the road. A popular option is to rise out the back or side of a garage. The average length of the cableways is about 30 metres, with one of the longest in our neighbourhood being the one that rises 65 metres to a house in Palliser Road. Some are built on the boundary of two sections and used by both homes, while a very few serve several households with stops and platforms for each.

Private cablecars in Wellington started off as builders’ hoists when the steep hills of the city were first being developed. Timber and builders’ equipment would be transported to the building site. Then they were adapted or installed for the convenience of the householders themselves, especially for disabled people. Next step was their adaptation for general household access — first simply a platform, then maybe a semi-enclosed unit on a monorail or a more elaborate structure on dual rails.

The monorail involves less construction work than the dual rail, with the rail often being only 200 mm wide. The cablecar either sits on the single rail or is cantilevered off one side. They are usually run by an electric industrial motor fitted onto a gearbox with an electro-magnetic brake. Dual rails can be manufactured at various widths. The dual rail option has more visual impact on the environment but are especially suitable when the terrain demands a change in direction or for shared use.

Building consent is required for a new ‘line’. They must be checked and their warrants of fitness renewed regularly. There are believed to be about 300 private ones in Wellington.

Of course, the Grand Old Lady of cablecars is the Kelburn Cablecar — the funicular railway that joins Lambton Quay and Kelburn. It rises 120 metres over a length of 612 metres. It is a 1000 mm gauge single track with pine sleepers. It opened to the public on 22 February 1902 and has been going strong ever since, with a few facelifts along the way.

— Judith Doyle, Bay View newsletter 69, May 2017

Oriental Bay in Days Gone By

Oriental Bay features largely (as we would expect!) in the postcards of very early Wellington which are part of the Wellington City Recollect. This is a new heritage resource launched by Wellington City Council. It’s a database of heritage photos, books, maps and postcards, showing the Capital’s past.

The Constable Collection of Wellington postcards, most of which date from 1905 to 1914, is especially fascinating to Wellingtonians and residents of Oriental Bay. The collection is named after a Mr Constable from the Hawke’s Bay who donated the bulk of the collection to Wellington City Libraries.

We reproduce one postcard here that is dated 1905. With two figures in the foreground, it shows Oriental Bay when trams ran into the city from the Bay. Another, looking north-east across Oriental Bay from the slopes of Mt Victoria, is only five years later but shows how quickly the Bay was being developed. The third is also dated 1910 and shows the boat harbour topped by the almost-completed St Gerard’s Catholic Church.

— Judith Doyle, Bay View newsletter 69, May 2017

From Our Harbour Ranger

An additional buoy in Oriental Bay will be placed in the location shown in the photo. There have been a number of issues with rowers and swimmers not seeing each other, particularly in the area between the eastern-most 5 knot buoy and the lighthouse.

The purpose of the buoy is to provide ocean swimmers with a turning mark, exactly 1km from Freyberg Beach. It is hoped this will serve as a training aid and reduce the numbers who would otherwise be tempted to swim to the light. The buoy will be yellow, conical in shape, and unlit. It is larger than the 5 knot buoys at approximately 1m wide by 1.5m high so that swimmers can clearly see it. The shape prevents it being used for mooring.

― Bay View newsletter 68, November 2016

New Insights into ‘Fitz’

Fitzgerald’s Folly was a landmark in colonial days when the large verandah’d house lorded it over the growing city of Wellington from its commanding site on Mt Victoria. It was built in the early 1870s. When St Gerard’s Church was built, Fitzgerald’s Folly was demolished.

Clyde Cliff (its official name) was the home of James Edward Fitzgerald – subject of a recent biography by Jenifer Roberts, an English historian. She is the great-great-granddaughter of James Edward and Fanny Fitzgerald. She had access to family papers and sources previously inaccessible to researchers, so her biography provides new and intriguing information about one of New Zealand’s most outstanding colonists.

The ‘folly’ tag came about because the seven acre (2.8 ha) of land was considered “a remote and undesirable site”, being high on a cliff between Clyde Quay and Oriental Bay and some distance from town at that time. One of Fitzgerald’s sons, Otho, certainly appreciated its site. He’s quoted as saying, “My home as a boy was built on a point overlooking a harbour, one of the most beautiful spots and one of the finest views I have ever seen.”

The Fitzgeralds were proud of the modern conveniences in the house. There were gas points in each of the seven bedrooms; running water in the kitchen and bathroom – the latter had a geyser to heat water for the bathtub. The separate WC boasted a toilet seat of polished kauri.

Fitzgerald was the first Canterbury pilgrim to set foot in New Zealand and the first superintendent of the province of Canterbury. In 1861 he founded The Press newspaper in Christchurch. When the first New Zealand parliament was formed in 1854, he was elected to represent Lyttelton. In 1867, Fitzgerald – in poor health – resigned and accepted an appointment as comptroller of the public account (ie controlling the issue of public money) and, later, auditor-general. The family moved to Wellington, living in Karori and then moving to Oriental Bay in 1874 where their thirteenth and last child was born.

These years in Clyde Cliff were filled with family disaster. Robert, aged 23, died after acute lung inflammation. A year later, in the 1880s, another son and two daughters died. Next year the tragedies continued with one son diagnosed with Bright’s Disease and another son with TB, both dying after several years. Fitz dealt with these terrible blows with high activity, drafting the Local Authorities and Audit Bill; then the Civil Service Bill and another to amend the Revenues Act.

Through 1895, his health continued to deteriorate and he died in 1896, five years before Fanny. After her death Clyde Cliff was bought by daughter Amy, who later sold it to the Redemptorists Order. They built St Gerard’s Church in 1908 and the Monastery in 1932. In 1988 the property was purchased by the International Catholic Programme of Evangelisation.

― JCD, Bay View newsletter 68, November 2016

Where to Now for This Iconic Site?

The much-loved Band Rotunda site in the centre of Oriental Parade has had many transformations over the years. The first structure on this site was an appealing little open-sided hexagonal building. It made its appearance in Oriental Bay in 1919. It was the place you went to for an ice cream, for a chat with friends plus a bit of sea-gazing.

It was moved to Central Park in Brooklyn in 1936 to allow for a sturdier building to be built which could also accommodate bathers with changing facilities underneath. This new building with its art deco flavour became a well-known feature of the Bay.

Then a suggestion for a restaurant on the site was made. The New Zealand Home and Building magazine (1985 edition) describes the row that broke out when the restaurant plans became public. Locals were fearful of a licensed premises open until 11 pm in such a tranquil area and nervous that their views would be affected.

After much talk and debate, conditions were set. The building must not be too high or overhang its original boundaries; the design must ensure that the public had access to the top level; the style must not be at odds with the area’s architecture and the extra storey should be in sympathy with the original 1930s building. These last two requirements resulted in the pleasing art deco style that locals have come to love. Construction started in 1984 and Nicholson’s Restaurant opened its doors in March 1985. After 16 years, Nicholson’s was sold and became Fisherman’s Table, “affordable dining with million-dollar views” was the catch-cry of the new owners or “cheap and cheerful” as the locals put it. Over sunny weekends when families crowded the beach, Fisherman’s Table did indeed prove popular. But after 13 years, the owners reached retirement age and decided to look for a quieter life. By this time the building was yellow-stickered and required earthquake strengthening.

Tracy Morrah of Wellington City Council describes the current situation of this iconic site: The Bluewater Bar and Grill, which operated in the Band Rotunda building, closed at the end of March 2016. This followed an agreement reached with the head lessee who sought an early surrender of the lease, largely due to declining business.
The Band Rotunda is effectively two buildings. The lower structure, which was most recently used as Community Rooms, was built in the 1930s. The upper structure (restaurant) was built in the 1980s.
As could be expected for a structure which is about 80 years old and with most of its foundations within the sea itself, the structure is in need of remediation. There are also concerns around the ongoing structural integrity of the inter-floor concrete slab. Remediation could not be reasonably carried out with a tenant in situ or with the community rooms in operation. No detailed costings are available for this remediation, however we expect these will be significant.

Oriental Parade and band rotunda (1932) Thanks to National Library. 

The site’s profile; complex building structure; planning restrictions (including heritage aspects) and high remediation costs means the Council needs to draw advice from a range of disciplines in order to make a considered decision about the building’s future. The first step in this process is to carry out invasive testing in order to obtain detailed structural engineering advice. This work is currently underway and will inform the next stages of this project.

Iona Pannett, chairperson of the Environment Committee and Portfolio Leader Buildings, added that “Council is obviously keen to make sure that this building is safe but it is a complex project. Once we are further down the track, we need to talk to the local community about what use it might make of the space in the future.”

Here’s hoping that we continue to enjoy that grand old building in whatever form it takes – it is so much a part of the Oriental Bay landscape.

― JCD, Bay View newsletter 68, November 2016

Herbs for Small Spaces

We continue our series on gardening in small spaces. First gardening on decks and patios was discussed. Next we gave some tips about windowbox gardening and then we looked at how to use a terrarium.

For this issue, Jess of California Home and Garden in Miramar suggests that herbs are perfect for gardening in small spaces – they don’t grow too high for the wind to attack and are unperturbed by salty winds. They adapt to small spaces. Luckily, there’s a selection of versatile and foolproof Mediterranean herbs which will flourish in difficult circumstances.

Thyme
A deceptively dainty looking groundcover plant, looks great spilling over the sides of pots. Culinary multi-purpose with a wide variety of looks and flavours available, including ‘lemon’, ‘chicken’ and ‘pizza’! Varieties will mix happily, but avoid the inedible woolly thyme.

Oregano
An essential flavour for many a Mediterranean dish, with a similar but slightly taller growing habit to thyme. The ‘True Greek’ variety is sturdier than the common type, but more pungent and not as sweet.

Sage
A shrubby plant with peculiar leathery leaves, which sat ignored in my garden until I discovered how deliciously it worked in pumpkin dishes. You can choose from a red, green and variegated variety for equally tasty plants, but avoid the alluringly named ‘Pineapple sage’ for it is something else entirely!

Rosemary
Needs little introduction, with its distinctive waxy leaves and sprays of vibrant blue flowers. The variety ‘Chef’s Choice’ is lauded as being best for cooking, with a spicy flavour and high oil content. It also has a small, tidy growing habit so sits very prettily in containers. However, all rosemary is edible, and it would be a shame to overlook the trailing type which can cascade for over a metre – a real statement in a tall pot or pouring over the edge of a balcony.

General care
The biggest killer of these plants is sitting in soggy soil, so a fast-draining potting mix is an essential part of their care. I would recommend a specialised potting mix, such as Tui’s Herb Mix, or add one part coarse sand to four parts standard potting mix.

The potting mix will contain a little bit of fertiliser to kick things off, but every spring and following autumn I recommend sprinkling some slow-release fertiliser, such as Osmocote for Vegetable, Tomato, Herb & Garden Beds, on the surface of the mix at an approximate rate of 1 tablespoon per 15cm of pot. Your herbs won’t die without food, but you’ll notice their growth slows down.

Only water when the top inch of soil is dry, which may be about once a week in summer but don’t panic about going away, these are plants which are designed to survive the odd drought. If you do take a vacation, perhaps leave the plants in a spot where they could catch some rain. In winter you may find you never need to water at all, particularly with the driving rains we’re prone to. When you do water, be sure to give plants a thorough soak until water comes out the bottom of the pot.

Bear in mind when selecting pots that soil in porous containers, such as terracotta and wood, dries out more quickly than in glazed and plastic pots. Aside from that, simply buy whatever suits your space and style. I personally like pocketed herb pots (pictured) to maximise space.

And lastly, be sure to use them generously! All of these plants respond well to being regularly trimmed, and may grow woody and straggly if you don’t make a habit of cutting stems for your cooking. After all, isn’t that what they’re there for?

― Bay View newsletter 68, November 2016

La Dolce Vita in the Bay

Carello del gelato, which opened in Oriental Parade last December, has as its slogan ‘la dolce vita’. The sweet life, for founder Nathan Meyer, is his large range of ice creams, now sold throughout New Zealand.

Nathan’s working life had always been in hospitality – he used to run a café in Cuba Street before setting up Carello’s. But a business trip to Italy in 2003 totally changed his focus. He discovered, and relished, the creamy more intensely flavoured Italian ice cream. He also discovered that Italy – Palermo in Sicily in fact was the birthplace of his great, great-grandfather who had emigrated to Christchurch in 1860.

The two discoveries gelled and he made the decision to bring gelato to New Zealand. He based himself in Newtown on his return and went about gathering the best local and Italian ingredients for churning handmade batches of gelato. When it was ready, he built a ‘carello’ or cart to sell it on the streets and at events and festivals.

Carrello’s gelato was a hit at Wellington’s 2004 Italian Festival. In 2011, Nathan entered it in the New Zealand ice cream awards for the first time. Its mango sorbetto won gold. (Gelato comes from the Italian word for frozen. The word sorbetto is said to be derived from when fruit was blended with snow!).

Carello’s range is wide. Italian classics like stracciatella are included. So are the berry variations, sourced locally where possible – berries from Te Horo, for instance. Unusual combinations, like honey and thyme are offered. Others are green apple sorbet, liquorice, gingernut and hokey pokey – the last two being traditional Kiwi favourites.

Carello ice cream is now sold throughout New Zealand and Nathan estimates that there are some 50 outlets in the Wellington region alone. In the Oriental Parade store, pizzas (following the Italian theme) and coffee are also served. Children enjoy the beanbags that are a feature in part of the café with more traditional table and stools in the main area.

― JCD, Bay View newsletter 68, November 2016

Stolen Art

At our last AGM in May, Judge Arthur Tompkins gave an intriguing talk on stolen art. He told us about Goya’s portrait of the Duke of Wellington. After many years in family ownership it was purchased by an American. Outrage ensued in the UK. An English military hero leaving the country? Perish the thought!

So the gracious American offered the painting to London’s National Gallery for the price he’d paid for it. Then it disappeared – thanks to the gallery’s security system being switched off for the cleaners; a hole in the wall courtesy of the builders; and a ladder conveniently at hand outside.

Ransom notes started to appear and were ignored. After many years a London newspaper received a left-luggage receipt for a locker at Birmingham railway station. There the portrait was, minus the frame.

Six weeks later one Kempton Bunton confessed. His lawyer persuaded the court that his client had always intended to return the painting, so it wasn’t theft (a loophole quickly closed by what is called the Goya Clause). Bunton was only convicted of stealing the frame.

After other art-theft anecdotes, Judge Tompkins concluded the talk with a list of paintings that are still missing: Raphael’s Portrait of a young man; Caravaggio’s Nativity; Rembrandt’s Storm on the Sea of Galilee; Van Gogh’s View of the sea at Sheveningen; Cezanne’s Near Auvers sur Oise; Matisse’s Pastoral; Picasso’s Le pigeon aux petits-pois and New Zealand’s very own art theft – J Solomon’s Psyche was stolen from Robert McDougall Gallery, Christchurch.

― JCD, Bay View newsletter 68, November 2016

The “Wanganella”

The ship we know as the Wanganella had a long career, but it was not without its setbacks; and indeed she was not even built for the service in which she spent most of her life, but was rather a by-product of a maritime scandal. Owen Cosby Philipps [1863-1937] began his entrepreneurial career when he bought a tramp steamer. By 1903 he had become the managing director and chairman of the Royal Mail Steam Packet Company, and he set about a policy of purchasing a range of shipping companies, including the major line on the West African service, Elder Dempster (which he bought in collaboration with William Pirrie, his opposite number at Harland and Wolff’s shipyard, in 1909). Along the way Philipps acquired two knighthoods in the Order of St Michael and St George and, in 1923, a barony as Lord Kylsant. This further fuelled his ambition and he set his sights on the prestigious White Star Line, which he bought, with borrowed money, for £7 million in 1927. The following year he set about having Pirrie (himself a viscount by now) build a new Elder Dempster flagship for him. But, with the Depression looming, he found his loans impossible to service, and a Government investigation revealed that the financial situation of the Royal Mail Group, as presented by Lord Kylsant, was highly fictitious. He was tried in 1931, was jailed for a year and stripped of his knighthood.

Lord Kylsant

Harland and Woolf found themselves with a new 10,000 ton motorship (named Achimota after the first university college in what is now Ghana) sitting idle in their fitting out basin, awaiting a buyer. Their salvation proved to be an Australian company, Huddart Parker, founded at Geelong in 1876, which was seeking a replacement for the coal-burner Ulimaroa, of 1908 vintage, on the trans-Tasman service operated jointly with the Union Company – and now under threat from a couple of heavily-subsidised American Matson liners. Huddart Parker had had previous dealings with Harland and Wolff, and to the relief of both parties Achimota, now renamed Wanganella, changed hands (after modest alterations to make her accommodation more in keeping with Antipodean standards and climate) for a sum of £420,000.

Wanganella Pre-war

She left Belfast in November 1932; came out by way of Suez, paused in Sydney long enough to be photographed with the new Harbour Bridge as background, then made her first trans-Tasman voyage in January 1933. This was prolonged with a short cruise to Milford Sound: the cost, first class £8; second class £6. Thereafter Wanganella settled into a routine in which she made Sydney to Auckland or Wellington crossings (and occasionally one to Melbourne) in tandem with the Union company’s Monowai, and later Awatea, with sufficient success to blunt the Matson threat in the years between the Wars. She was a popular ship, but no ocean greyhound, and had a service speed of 14 knots.

The reality of war came in 1940 when, on 19 June the Union company’s Pacific veteran Niagara struck a mine, laid by a German commerce raider in the Hauraki golf, soon after leaving Auckland en route to Suva. Wanganella was in the vicinity, and was able to pick up a number of Niagara’s people from their lifeboats, but was forbidden to come closer in case the raider had laid a row of mines; and indeed two more were gathered in by minesweepers. A year later both Australia and New Zealand had large numbers of men serving in North Africa, and a series of hospital ships were needed to carry wounded to their home countries. Wanganella became AHS 45, carrying mostly Australian wounded, but did the occasional voyage for this country, when NZHS Maunganui was under repair after breaking a tail shaft.

Wartime Wanganella

Her most futile exploit would be in mid1941, when one of her early tasks was to take the staff of a military hospital to Singapore where, like the Australian troops they were intended to care for, they became prisoners of the Japanese when the island was overwhelmed. That apart, she was a valuable workhorse for the remainder of the war. She was handed back to her owners late in 1945 and refitted in Melbourne; she was equipped to carry 316 first class and 108 second class passengers, and her crew accommodation was improved by raising, by one level, the small deckhouse at the stern.

She made one trans-Pacific voyage at the end of 1946, before resuming her trans-Tasman activities. Amid great rejoicing and with a full load of passengers, she set out on 16 January 1947 in good weather, which continued for the entire voyage. On Sunday evening, 19 January, she was approaching Wellington in calm conditions, her Master (Captain Robert Darroch, who had commanded her throughout the war) being on the bridge, keeping an eye on the Fourth Officer, who had the watch, while below the passengers celebrated the success of their voyage with a Ball. Their rejoicing was premature: at 11.35pm Wanganella impaled herself on Barrett’s Reef, Darroch having mistaken the flashing light on the reef for the first of two leading lights that marked the channel into the port.

Wanganella aground

A flotilla of small craft gathered: the coaster Gale, the Day’s Bay ferry Cobar, and assorted tugs and pilot launches, to help transfer passengers ashore; and the first were landed just before Monday’s daybreak. They included some elderly and eminent figures, including friends who had come out to visit the recently arrived governor-general, Sir Bernard Freyberg VC. Sir Noel and Lady BeresfordPeirse were old friends of the Freybergs; he had been a corps commander in the Desert in Wavell’s day. And Lord Nuffield, who built both cars and benefactions, was an equally old friend, whose gift of a residential college as part of the rebuilding of the Royal College of Surgeons of England (sorely damaged by the Luftwaffe in 1941) would be opened by the then Lord Freyberg in 1957. Another eminent passenger was Admiral of the Fleet Lord Tovey, who commanded the British force that dealt with the German battleship Bismarck in 1941.

And then there were the Butt girls. Their parents were close friends of my wife’s parents, and it had been arranged that the two daughters, having lately finished school, would enjoy a first visit to New Zealand. Being judged fitter than many of their fellow passengers, they were among the last to leave the ship, minus luggage, of course – but their luggage was not in the pile that reached the wharf. Nor had it reappeared when the party were due to leave on their tour; and clothing coupons were still required before garments could be bought! – so the Butts, being well-built Australian girls, travelled round New Zealand in the more roomy of the Clarke girls’ spare gear.

(End of Part 1 ― Part 2 will continue in the May 2017 issue)

― Wyn Beasley, Bay View newsletter 68, November 2016