During the 32 years she sailed the ocean, between the day she first took the water on the River Clyde and the day she foundered when being towed down to an Argentine port, the ship Wellington had a most adventurous career.

the Wellington was a ship of 1250 tons, and she was built by Robert Duncan at Port Glasgow in 1874 for Patrick Henderson, who later amalgamated with the Shaw Savill Company, and it was under the house flag of the company that she made most of her voyages to New Zealand.

Almost On Three Kings.

the Wellington made only one voyage to Auckland, and on that occasion she very nearly left her bones on the Three Kings, a danger that has been a menace to shipping for years and is still unlighted. Mr. James Morris, now residing in Auckland, who was a passenger from London on this occasion, arriving here in January, 1882, has sent me an account of the incident. He writes:—

"The running into a mountainous iceberg was not the only miraculous escape which this good ship had, as on the trip when I was a passenger to Auckland we had a narrow escape of running on to the Three Kings. I kept a diary or the voyage, and I find this entry: Dec. 29, 1881—wind light; ship logged only 87 miles during past 24 hours. Towards evening there was a dense mist, dull weather having prevailed for several days. The officers calculated we were some 30 to 40 miles north of the Three Kings. Suddenly the fog lifted and the islands were revealed right ahead. As quickly as possible the ship's head was turned out to sea, giving the Kings a wide berth. Some of the passengers were much alarmed; some cried; some clung hold of the sailors, and others knelt down and prayed for their deliverance.'" Captain Cowan was in command on this occasion.

Under favourable conditions the Wellington had a great turn of speed, and Mr. Morris in his letter mentions that on December 2nd she ran 342 knots, which gives an average of over 14 miles an hour.

Run Down.

On another occasion, when on a voyage to Wellington, the ship was in collision in the English Channel. She left London with immigrants on October 11, 1890, and on the following day the collision occurred. She had her stem, jib-boom, and all head gear carried away and a large hole knocked in her bow.

"The pilot left us in the Downs at 3 a.m. on October 12th," said Captain Cowan, "and at 6.40 a.m., while the ship lay becalmed in a dense fog, a steamer crossed her bows and came in collision with her. The stem, jib-boom, and all head gear were carried away and large holes were knocked, in each bow. We were obliged to put back and the ship was towed to port by the tug which had never left her side. The steamer that ran us down proved to be the Adolf Dieppe, of 800 tons, belonging to Antwerp. She, too, suffered considerably, her bridge, funnel. and mainmast having been carried away and a large hole, partly under her waterline, knocked in her side. The fog was very dense the whole time and the whistles of various steamers could be heard on all sides. The Adolf Dieppe appeared to be coming at full speed, but ported her helm in the hopes of getting across the ship's bow. She was a very low boat, and the damage to her bridge, funnel and mainmast was done by the ship's jib-boom. the Wellington was towed back to London and placed in dry dock, where upon examination it was found that 24ft of the stem was smashed completely away, while a large number of plates on each bow had to be taken out and replaced, the work taking fourteen days.

A Miraculous Escape.

The most wonderful escape the Wellington had was in 1893, when she was bound from Picton to London with frozen meat. The story was told me by Mr. Andrew Aitken, the burly Scottish mate of the Takapuna ferry steamer Pupuke, who was one of the crew of the Wellington on this memorable voyage. The ship left Picton on May 12, 1893. It was not until three weeks later that she got clear of the land. About halfway between New Zealand and Cape Horn, while running out of a hurricane, with goose-winged main topsail, the ship pooped a sea, which broke the arm of the man at the wheel and sent the mate through the hen coop, breaking his legpage 48in two places. During this gale the ship logged fourteen knots, which it must be admitted was pretty good for a vessel under bare poles except for the goose-winged main topsail. For the landsman it may be as well to explain that a square sail is "goose-winged" when the middle part is furled to the yard and only the corners (clews as they are called) are hauled out, this giving the sail the appearance of a goose's wing.

From New Zealand to the Horn there is usually a fair wind, and in the case of the Wellington it was considerably more than that; so much so that the ship found herself away to the south-east of that stormy corner. Right up to the Horn the course was by dead

the Wellington At Port Chalmers.

reckoning (the weather had been so bad) and Mr. Aitken says they were so far to the eastward that they sighted South Georgia.

Crashes Into A Berg.

It was at a quarter to four the morning after sighting this land that the look-out man cried out "Ice!" the ship seemed to be right on top of it. There in the dark loomed a great iceberg, "with more mass than Rangitoto," says Mr. Aitken.

"Down with your helm" rang out the order, and as the ship came up into the wind she just struck the berg with her shoulder. There was a deafening crash as the jibboom and everything on the foremast above the lower mast came down, while about thirty feet of the ship's head was crumpled. The forecastle was a litter of wreckage and ice that had come crashing down on the deck. Everyone on board thought his last moment had come.

In the forecastle, where the watch below was fast asleep, there was a scene of confusion. Being a light sleeper, Mr. Aitken jumped out of his bunk at the first cry from the look-out, and quickly realising the position called out: "It's all right, boys; we've struck ice, but we are clear of it now!" When the crash came it seemed as though the ship's side must be stove in. Sleeping in the next bunk to Mr. Aitken was a lad, and, like all youngsters, he was a sound sleeper. It is to be hoped he never wakened, as the crumpled iron plates crushed his body flat, and he did not even cry out.

An Awful Death.

The fate of a sailor named Fleming was not so merciful. He was caught under the debris, and nothing could extricate him. As soon as possible Mr. Aitken (who was Fleming's particular chum, having known him on a previous ship) made his way through the ice and found the unfortunate man in an awful plight; in fact he was so terribly injured that it was a marvel that he lived. "For Heaven's sake, Andy, get a gun and put me out of my agony," shrieked the injured sailor. It would have been a kindness to accede to his prayer, butpage 49that was impossible. Mercifully he soon afterwards lost consciousness, but he lingered until about eight o'clock that morning.

Upon going down into the forehatch where the coal for the refrigerator was carried it was found that two of the plates had been wrenched apart, letting daylight through, but fortunately the ship was not damaged below the waterline. It was a miracle that with all that crushing weight forward—ice from the berg and the wrecked spars and rigging—no more serious damage was done to the hull.

For three days the crew were up cutting the wreckage away and clearing the awful confusion made by the fall of the

the Wellington After Her Terrible Experience Among The Ice.

top hamper. "I was five days before I got to the wheel," says Mr. Aitken, "and while we were getting things as shipshape as was possible there was no question of steering the old ship; we were just drifting about."

"Now We Know."

"When it was all over," continued Mr. Aitken, "Captain Cowan, with tears in his eyes, said to me, 'Now we know what happened to the Dunedin.' I did not know the ship he was referring to, but she had left New Zealand in 1890; loaded with frozen meat for the Old Country, and was never heard of again. Naturally her disappearance was much discussed by the skippers in the trade."

After the tangle aloft had been cleared away the Wellington's crew were able to set the foresail, and a course was made for Rio de Janeiro, where the ship refitted. At that time there was one of those frequent South American wars on, the navy fighting the army in this instance, and there were a number of foreign men-o'-wars in the harbour, included among the number being several British. In spite of the knocking about she had received, the Wellington's engineers managed to keep the refrigerators going all right, and a good deal of the meat was sold to the shipping at Rio. Captain Cowan, the master of the Wellington, was a fine seaman and a fine gentleman, says Mr. Aitken.

Captain Cowan.

Captain Cowan, commanded the Wellington when she was first launched, and he made 19 voyages to New Zealand, bringing many thousand immigrants from London and Glasgow to the chief ports in New Zealand, but mainly to Lyttelton and Port Chalmers. Captain Cowan was much esteemed by his passengers as a gentleman, and he was a very fine sailor. Before taking over the Wellington he commanded the Wild Deer, Helenslee and Margaret Galbraith and other ships running to the Dominion.

the Wellington made some very good passages to New Zealand, her best run port to port being 74 days from Glasgow to Port Chalmers (70 days land to land)page 50in 1877-78. On her first voyage Home in 1875 the Wellington ran from Port Chalmers to London in 69 days. The ship put a fine finish to her record in the trade. This was in 1904. She left Lyttelton on February 13 of that year, loaded with wool, and ran to the English Channel in 75 days. At the end of this voyage, her last under the British

Captain Cowan.

flag, she was sold by the Shaw Savill Company to S. O. Stray, of Norway, for the low sum of £3150. It was on December 3, 1906. that this craft of many adventures met her doom. She was being towed from Gulfport, U.S.A., to Rosario, Argentine, and had to be abandoned on her beam ends, and afterwards foundered.

Following is the list of the Wellington's passages to New Zealand: