The hull of the James Craig lying scuttled in Recherche Bay, southern Tasmania.
In the cold half light, a dark shadow can be seen a few hundred yards offshore. As the light strengthens, the shadow gains substance and the outline of a hulk appears. Red with rust and barnacled, the graceful form of a thoroughbred can be seen in that old hulk. It is the hull of an iron square rigger - a Cape Horner of the last century. After four decades with the tide flowing through her bowels, she still lies proud - in mute testimony to the ships and men of an era now gone.
This was the scene when the small group of volunteers from Sydney quietly sailed in Recherche Bay on the south coast of Tasmania in 1972 and these were the questions which excited their minds: How did she come to be there? What stories could those weathered old plates tell - of ports, adventures, men and the sea?
For forty years the James Craig lay in the sheltered but cold waters of Recherche Bay. Her bow was high out of the water and fairly close in under the beach. Her stern lay in about five metres of water. The sea surged constantly through the large hole blown in her stern, but she had made herself a comfortable bed and was lying evenly on the bottom with no undue strain on any part of her hull. It was because of this that the underwater areas of the ship, when she was raised, proved to be in almost perfect condition.
First awakenings as the survey team take their salvage vessel alongside.
The stern areas are badly damaged and cause considerable worry. A hole has been blown in the ship's stern to prevent her moving.
Above water, however, it was not the same story. The wind and weather had eroded many of her 100 year old plates into a lacework of rusty holes, while vandals with gelignite in their pockets and an empty rattle in their heads, had blown holes in a dozen more places and reduced even the good plating to a tattered shell. A deliberately set fire had removed the last vestiges of timber on her, including her superb pine decks. Fishermen and boat owners who had used her as a sort of artificial island had added their bit to the desecration by painting graffiti along the battered and rusty, but still dignified, hull.
Then one day in the bleak, cold bay with the snow-capped mountains frowning down from above, a small boat with a bunch of dedicated men pulled alongside the James Craig, and a new era in her life had begun. This was the advance party whose optimistic survey was to eventually result in the stately old barque being roused from her forty year sleep and restored to a glory that she never achieved, even in her working heyday.
It really all began in San Francisco, California. Karl Kortum, director of the superb San Francisco Maritime Museum--which has one of the finest examples of a restored windjammer in the world--was looking for remaining windjammers that could be retrieved and restored for his museum. Following a letter in the ship lovers' magazine Sea Breezes, the James Craig came to his notice. Alarmed that the last remaining Australian square rigged ship might be lost to the Americans, the small but enthusiastic Sydney group known as the Lady Hopetoun and Port Jackson Marine Steam Museum began moves to attempt to recover the barque themselves with a view to restoring her and using her as a floating museum in Sydney. A study was carried out and the pros and cons weighed. It would be a mammoth operation and, since funds were not available, would be a labour of love for all involved. But to wait until funds were raised would mean possibly losing the ship to the well financed Americans.
Up on deck, discussion follows discussion as the possibility of recovery of the ship is examined. Note the lower masts lying on the deck. The timber deck planks were destroyed when the hull was set alight.
The salvage tug comes alongside with giant pumps in an effort to pump the hull dry.
So it was that on that March morning in 1972 the James Craig awakened from her long sleep to the tapping of surveyors' hammers and the tickles of skin divers scraping at her thick coat of barnacles. Her first examination in over forty years revealed that, by and large, she was in reasonable shape. Much of the damage caused by vandals could be patched. The deterioration of plates and frames by wind and weather was not as extensive as had at first appeared. And, most importantly, she was lying evenly on the bottom and there seemed no wracking or twisting of her iron framework. However, there were tons of silt and coal in her hold, and there was no way of knowing what was underneath it. The bottom of the hull could be intact or it could have disintegrated completely. Only when she was raised would the real truth be known.
Hearts tend to take over from heads in matters like these, and there was not one dissenting voice when the decision was made at a museum meeting...to raise the Craig! But heads must become involved when the facts get down to finance, and it became a question of whether or not funds could be raised, for with all the goodwill in the world and all the enthusiasm there was to offer, such a project had no chance of success without some financial backing. The museum members rallied round. Though small in numbers, they were giant killers in action and before many months were out sponsors had been found among private citizens and industry to get the project into action. There was still not much money around and there were a lot of cynics. But pump firms lent pumps, airlines offered free travel to Hobart and private individuals dug deep into their pockets. On 31 March 1972 four museum members landed in Tasmania to begin the recovery of the old barque and forestall the Americans. A twelve metre steel boat was chartered as a salvage vessel and in the early hours of that Easter weekend nosed into Recherche Bay and snugged up against the above-water section of the wreck.
The big suction hoses are passed through the hole in the stern and the pumps started.
To the bemused looks of the occasional passing fisherman, the salvage crew worked non-stop through the weekend pumping and patching and examining the hull in minute details. An extensive survey was carried out in which details of every damaged section were recorded so that a close study of the damage could be made later in Sydney and patches fabricated to cover the major holes. The size and condition of each underwater hole was recorded particularly carefully so that permanent patches could be fabricated and fitted. In the meantime it was important to try to float the full so that the one big question mark--the condition of the bottom--could be resolved. Temporary patches of plywood and plastic were screwed or bolted in place and the pumps started to suck out the water so that a close examination of the bottom could be made. It was also intended, if she floated, to move the ship farther up the beach to make repair work easier at a later date.
