The Gifts of Frank Cobbold. Arthur W. Upfield

seaman working on the main topgallant yard underneath the apprentice Brown had heard his yell, and in the pitch darkness he had sensed that the boy on the royal yard above him had gone down to the sea.

      All hands were ordered to the deck and the Captain sent was for. Birnie quickly appeared, to stand at the break of the poop looking up at the shivering sails. He was seen to shake his head. The carpenter was cutting loose and throwing overboard anything that would float.

      The inexperienced boy and the unimaginative crew waited for the order to lower away a boat, unable to appreciate the distance that the ship had covered from the moment of the accident, and the impossibility of locating the sea's victim in the absolute darkness of the night, even had a boat been successfully launched.

      The victim in this instance was the apprentice Brown, sent aloft to stow the main royal; and, picturing the unfortunate lad struggling in the wild waste of water far astern and frantically screaming for help, it was like a blow between the eyes to be ordered aloft again to complete the job of furling the sails, and to know that the ship was speeding on her way leaving the human flotsam to die, if death had not already claimed him.

      Afterwards, the crew heatedly discussed what they considered was the Captain's callousness in making no effort in locating and rescuing the lad. However, in view of the darkness of the night, the running sea, the speed of the ship when the accident happened, the amount of canvas she was carrying at the time, and certainly the great risk in bring his ship about in such weather with the weak crew at his disposal, Birnie had no alternative but to act as he did. Even had he accepted the risk and endangered all the lives in his keeping, the odds of locating the lad, even if still alive, were ten thousand to one against.

      For the first time in his short career, Francis Cobbold was brought face to face with life in the raw; perhaps also for the first time, he was made aware of both the cheapness and frailty of human life when one of the apprentices, on being aroused and told the news, sleepily said: "Why, Brown had on my sea boots!"

      4.

      The wild westerlies blew the Ann Duthie across the Southern Ocean to Australia in a quick passage averaging 300 miles a day - according to the cook who got it from the Captain's steward. Certainly the wind was favourable from the longitude of the Cape of Good Hope to the longitude of the Leauwin, south- western Western Australia.

      Fremantle was then a small settlement maintained by the hated convict settlement system and for several years the eastern States had refused to have anything to do with these residents. The Ann Duthie did not call there, or at either Adelaide or Melbourne, and when she arrived off the Victorian coast fine weather was experienced all the way to Sydney, which was reached on the eighty-fourth day out from London.

      Sailing up the harbour, when the wind was soft and off the land, the cries of cocks from the fowl runs were delightful to all hands. Entranced by the beauty of miniature promontories, islands and bays guarded from the Pacific by the frowning Heads, Francis Cobbold beheld the youthful city and its surrounding hills covered with their natural bottle brush and fuchsias that, in the years to come, were to give place to the streets and houses.

      Having to wait for an available berth at Circular Quay, the anchor was dropped in the harbour and almost immediately the ship was blessed by the arrival of the meat boat, which also brought fresh vegetables and potatoes. Passengers were eagerly looking forward to the promise of this beautiful land after the long and arduous voyage; the apprentices were high-spirited and boisterous; and the 'round-trippers' of the crew were estimating the amount of money due to them and looking forward to a short burst of a full life in the company of harpies and perfumed with strong drink. Only the poor shilling-a-month sailors who had come all the way from England for the privilege of working a wool ship home were not exactly overjoyed by this landing. Immediately the ship was berthed, they were paid off with less than three shillings each, submissively to approach the boardinghouse keepers for food and shelter until a ship could be found when they would have to seek an advance with which to recoup their hosts.

      After the more fortunate sailors had been discharged, the work of unloading the ship began, and continued in the leisurely fashion of the day when harbour charges were more sanely reasonable. The Colony's wool was then loaded into the empty ship, the loading done even more leisurely, as at that time there were just a few waterfront warehouses and much time was spent in waiting for the arrival of the many consignments.

      Altogether, the Ann Duthie was in Sydney for three months, and if the time passed slowly for the Captain and the Chief Steward - with their visions of irate owners to whom economy was almost religion - the weeks passed pleasantly enough for young Cobbold and his fellow apprentices.

      They all had a little money entrusted to the Captain by their parents, and this was doled out to them as pocket money. The meagre income was augmented by the sale of excess clothing to a Johnny Allsorts, who would purchase anything from the ship's cat to the lead off her keel and who was no doubt eager with advice regarding the expenditure of the money he paid over.

      Naturally, now that they were in port none of the youngsters thought to do his own washing, and a source of expense lay in connection with this hated task, which was given to an old lady who visited the ship. She was a shrewd businesswoman, and evidently a student of psychology in her humble way, for on every visit she took with her articles and delicacies she knew would be appreciated - and willingly paid for.

      The berthed Ann Duthie was at this time situated directly opposite the Paragon Hotel that still remains with no visible alterations to this day. About her were other famous ships: The Paramatta, frigate built, all her ports painted white; La Hogue, a similarly built ship; the smart Damascus and, in the harbour, the John Duthie of the same line as the Ann Duthie. The apprentices of both ships often visited each other.

       8. The Paragon Hotel, Sydney

      Although Francis Cobbold and his fellows had nothing to do with the actual loading of the ship, they were not allowed to be idle. They were kept employed by unbending and sending down the sails , overhauling the running gear, and washing down the deck at the end of each day. A favoured duty was that of night watchman when, after all the officers had come on board and retired, it was customary to curl up in the companion way and do the watching in their dreams.

      Eventually the Ann Duthie sailed from Sydney and the days mounted into weeks, governed by the renewed routine of sea life aboard a clipper. The inevitable high seas and strong winds were encountered as the ship approached the Horn.

       9. The Clipper Route followed by ships sailing between England and Australia/New Zealand

      Each successive gale was more violent than the one before, and Francis Cobbold's earlier experience of the sea became as nothing to the roaring tempest which almost overwhelmed the ship when rounding the Horn. The darkness of the night hid the white, serrated summits of the mountainous waves, while above the deck the sails which could not be taken in were torn to ribbons and blown away one after another.

      Night shut down on the ship like the lid of a box. The cacophonous elements took charge of the vessel wallowing in the troughs and shuddering on the heights. Out of the surrounding blackness, the white-capped walls of water sprang into ghostly visibility like the hands of demon spirits trying to pull the ship down to the bottom. In the saloon, the passengers held continuous service to God, beseeching his mercy and succour, some of them weeping, others terror-stricken and silent, a few courageous souls singing and praying and calmly prepared for death.

      At the break of the poop stood the Captain, his white face surrounded by his wind-whipped whiskers and hair. The carpenter stood by, his hands clamped about the haft of his broad axe, waiting for the order to cut the lanyards that held the standing rigging of the foremast and thus let everything go.

      All night long Birnie stood at his post, tensed and reluctant to give the order to Chips, delaying the decision until it should be inevitable. Many others in his position would have accepted defeat. When dawn came, however, the wind moderated