Words by Kelly Hudswell-Strahan

Thanks to Coast Lines magazine

The Nashwauk, a 762-tonne barque carrying more than 300 immigrants, under Glaswegian Captain Archibald McIntyre, set sail from Liverpool on 13 February 1885. She struck a shoal near ‘Harriott’s Cove’ about 2 miles south of the mouth of the Onkaparinga River (now Moana), in heavy winds just before dawn on Sunday 13 May 1855.

Captain McIntyre had been wary of problems around the area of the Troubridge Shoal and attempted to navigate a course closer to the Fleurieu coastline. The look-out man had spotted land ahead, and Captain McIntyre was called up, and as he came on deck, the second mate cried out, “Breakers ahead!” and the ship struck almost immediately. Rumours began to spread soon after as to who, or what, was to blame. It was said that a light on shore was mistaken for the Lightship, and that the captain should have known his course.

Notice of the wreck reached Noarlunga by daybreak, where postmaster Mr Birrell sent word to the captain to land the mail and put passengers ashore as quickly as possible. In the early afternoon the passengers, most of whom were Irish immigrants, including a contingent of 130 single women, were safely landed and transported to Noarlunga (Old Noarlunga), accompanied by the ship’s surgeon, Dr Richard Smales, where they were placed into vacant accommodation at the Horseshoe Inn and other dwellings. They experienced the kind hospitality of the townsfolk, who baked many loaves of bread to feed them. The conduct of some of the Irish women was described as “discreditable”; unfit to be sent here as emigrants or perhaps corrupted on the voyage. Dr Smales came under scrutiny for his drunkenness and inability to act in his capacity as medic, the services of Dr Knipe were sent for.

Captain McIntyre and the crew remained on the beach with the wreck and its cargo. In the confusion, the ship’s register and manifest were lost. That evening a steamer and schooner arrived at Port Noarlunga from Port Adelaide to collect the immigrants from their temporary stay at Noarlunga. About 60 of the female immigrants embarked here, others, having been already forced to walk along the beach to the top of the cliffs and to the river mouth, decided to make their own way to Adelaide. Some abandoned both options and returned to Noarlunga. One of the ships returned for the luggage and boxes which were able to be saved.

An auction was held on the beach at ‘Harriott’s Creek’ (Pedler Creek) on the afternoon of 29 May 1855 to sell the hull and materials of the ship, along with any remaining cargo, most of which had been already sent to Port Adelaide for auction.

One of the buyers was Andrew Harriott, of nearby ‘Dalkeith Farm’, who for £65 received “the cargo that had come on shore, the cargo that might come on shore, or any portion that might be recovered”. For a further £75 he purchased the hull.

An investigation into the wreck commenced with the Commissioner of Police and his troopers, and an immigration agent, visiting the site, followed by an official enquiry on 31 May 1855. Captain McIntyre was absent due to illness, and testimonies were given by members of the crew. Captain McIntyre was staying at fellow Scotsman Andrew Harriott’s Golden Fleece Hotel in the city, when he died on Sunday 3^rd June from the effects of anxiety and exposure, aged 37 years.

Vessels in the harbour at Port Adelaide flew their ensigns half-mast in a mark of respect. The investigation, adjourned while the captain was ill and unable to answer his case, did not continue. The conclusion was that the wreck occurred due to the “want of judgement on the part of the master in neglecting to carry out the ship’s course”.

Many years after the ill-fated journey of the Nashwauk, William Giles, then 91 years old, a long-time resident of Morphett Vale, was interviewed by a reporter of his memories of the maritime disaster, which occurred in his childhood years.

During the 1920s, the area around Port Noarlunga was becoming a popular tourist destination and small subdivisions were being created for holiday homes, including the new seaside resort of “Moana”, so named in a public competition. William Giles, forthcoming with tales of local history, was no doubt a blessing to visiting reporters keen to promote the area.

William recalled that he had been alerted to the wreck by a passer-by who overtook him galloping fast on a horse seeking directions to the nearest police station to report news of the wreck. William told his father who drove the family gig down to the beach. To their surprise, the scene was unexpectedly amusing rather than tragic. Sailors, worse the wear for rum, were staggering ashore with emigrant girls on their shoulders, occasionally falling into the waves, with shouting, swearing, crying and hilarity. In his telling of the story, William recalled that a light on shore was mistaken for a beacon light near Semaphore, the light belonging to ‘Dalkeith’, the home of Andrew Harriott, where a watchtower in the roof was used to signal to smugglers guiding their ships into the cove. The reporter wrote that “it is the accepted theory of Mr Giles that the smugglers’ light lured the Nashwauk to her doom”. In another article a few years later, William was described as having taken an active part in the rescue of the immigrants, despite his tender age of ten years.

The reporter went on to describe the now ruined farmhouse, facing the sea, with a tiny lookout nailed over, and a generous cellar, adding further testimony to Mr Giles’s boyhood recollections. This yarn was further embellished in another article twenty years later by which time the homestead ‘Dalkeith’ had increased to a two storeyed mansion with a fortress-like twelve-foot wall, where contraband was kept in vault-like cellars, a base for a sophisticated smuggling operation.

On the 170^th anniversary of the wreck of the Nashwauk, it is most certainly timely to dispel the smuggler’s myth. The real ‘Dalkeith’ was a typical homestead, though not insignificant in size, with a verandah and two barns adjacent, with a small attic. It faced Dalkeith Road, looking towards the southern plains and the Mount Lofty Ranges in the distance, with no coastal facing lookout. The house, on a modern map, was located, curiously, at 23 Smugglers Drive, Seaford Rise.

By the time of the wreck of the Nashwauk, smuggling activity in the region was negligible. The Murray River was navigable and to encourage trade along it and continue customs revenue growth, the government kept tariffs steady, at times reducing them. None of the testimonies at the inquiry to the shipwreck mentioned anything about a light on shore. Andrew Harriott was a self-made wealthy man, owning hundreds of acres on several land sections along the coastline, and hotel leases in the city, no doubt adding weight to the theory that he was feathering his nest with smuggled contraband. Not unlike others, he was simply a hard-working man who prospered in a new land.

Dalkeith is no more, the remaining ruined stone walls, demolished for housing development in the 1990s, no longer stand to remind us of the stories once told all those years ago. The anchor of the Nashwauk, recovered from the beach in the 1920s and placed on a concrete base, stands resolutely near the Moana Caravan Park on Nashwauk Crescent, Moana.

If you’d like to learn more about the local history of your area, you can access more information from the local history collections at Aldinga, Noarlunga, and Hub Libraries, and check us out online at onkaparingacity.com/libraries

*Every effort has been made to ensure the accuracy of information contained in this article.

If you’d like to learn more about the local history of your area, you can access more information from the local history collections at Aldinga, Noarlunga, and Hub Libraries, and check us out online at onkaparingacity.com/libraries