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In
1920, when I was Able Seaman in the barque James Craig,
we were running before a very stiff breeze from the south west on
a voyage from Adelaide to Auckland, New Zealand. The yards were
not quite square. We were doing at least eight knots with a clear
cloudless sky; it was just breaking day.
Steering by compass, I occasionally lifted my eyes to the horizon
and suddenly, I noticed a dark patch of cloud rising above the sky
line. As it rose it seemed to take the form of a wide band, with
a clear sky behind it.
Mr Carver, the mate, was close by, and I drew his attention to it.
He walked to the mizzen rigging and stood gazing ahead. After a
time he suddenly called for 'all hands on deck'. The very urgency
of his voice prompted immediate response, and all hands came tumbling
out over the wash sill of the crew's deckhouse.
The next order was 'lee-fore'brace', with Mr Carver going to the
weather braces to slack them away as the lee braces were hauled
in; then the main braces, until the yards were close hauled on the
starboard tack. We were still headed east with the wind on the starboard
quarter.
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James
Craig in 1921. The only photograph of her under sail so far uncovered.
Photo: Capt. Collin Goss
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I was having a very difficult task in keeping the ship on course
because of the set of the sails. Now Mr Carver began shortening
sail, letting every upper sail fly.
Leaving the crew to clew up as best they could, he came and stood
by me and ordered me to 'down helm' gently. By now this strange
phenomenon was fast approaching and we realised that is was an area
of hurricane force wind stretching from horizon to horizon. As it
neared us, what had been our fair wind gradually died, and a peculiar
ripple took over on the surface of the sea. With a crack that shook
the ship from stern to stern, we were struck by this great force
with its blinding rain, travelling in the exact opposite direction
to our previous fair wind.
Owing to the brilliant seamanship of Mr Carver, we were not caught
aback, but were now almost hove-to on the starboard tack. Two of
the upper sails which had not been clewed up were torn to shreds.
We lay like this, while this terrific force of wind and rain passed
on and beyond us. Nearing its passing it blew lighter, and when
it had passed astern altogether, the sea again rippled and quickly
settled down, and the wind took up its former direction. The ship
was paid off and we again resumed our former steady course.
As quickly as it had approached us, the streak of devastation passed
away astern and disappeared beyond the horizon.
When we had settled down, I asked Mr Carver if he had ever before
experienced such an extraordinary happening. He replied that he
hadn't, but he had remembered an 'old salt' telling him of a similar
occurrence which happened in the same area many years before.
As I turned away, he remarked that he was thankful that it had happened
in daylight. In the dark, he felt that surely we would have been
demasted.
Over the years I have asked a number of meteorologists about it.
None has ever heard of such an event, and few believed me.
Captain
J. Maitland Thompson
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