COFFIN SHIP.

Sunday Times, Perth, 22 September, 1946

After 30 Years Mystery Still Surrounds the Wreck of . . .

COFFIN SHIP-KOOMBANA

On the checker-board of life every man and woman stands. They are but the pawns

in a tragic game; waiting tor the invisible hand of Fate, which hovers above them, to

shift them another square .. .onwards to happiness and success; or off the board into the oblivion of death.

Sometimes the game is long ,

drawn out; sometimes Fate calls

"checkmate," and the game ends

with such dramatic suddenness

that startled onlookers can scarce

believe it's over.

So it was in the early months of

1912, when the steamship 

Koombana left Fremantle for northern

ports. Aboard her well over a hundred 

passengers, all pawns in a game that 

was to end tragically and mysteriously 

when the Koombana disappeared, taking 

them all to a watery grave.

In the history of W.A. there is

nothing so tragic as the wreck of

the Koombana . . a coffin ship in

every sense of the words. For

when she went down, the passengers, 

who had been battened below, were 

cheated of any chance they might 

have had of battling for their lives.

They were literally buried alive

in the ocean; and not one body

was ever recovered. That was the 

tragic side of it.

. At Port Hedland she took aboard more passengeHelp

The mysterious was this: Although 

the passengers must have

been battened below deck, naturally 

the crew weren't. And yet, although 

it is estimated that the Koombana 

went down only 2 hours out of Port 

Hedland, none of the bodies of the 

crew was ever found.

That would place Koombana about 23 miles north of Port Hedland if the comment takes into account the initial 2 hours spent filling tanks 3 miles out.

An interesting hypothesis, based on what and certainly excluded after a comprehensive, but unsuccessful search for Koombana in this broader vicinity?

In fact, the only remnant of the wreck 

ever seen was a state-room door which 

was found washed up on the beach.

Incorrect.

But if ever the hand of Fate

showed plain, it showed in the last

few hours that the Koombana

rode the ocean. Fate dragged men

aboard her who should never have

been there; and she went out of

her way to prevent others from

sailing to certain death.

But let's start at the beginning.

KOOMBANA was the "food

and drink" ship of the Nor'-West . . . 

much as the Koolinda is today.

To those people who battled

against the hardships of sub-

tropical northern ports, she was a

welcome sight as she arrived on

her regular trips, bringing what

few luxuries they had in life -

luxuries such as fresh fruit or

eggs, or a few vegetables, that

you and I take so much for

granted in our suburban homes.

For days before she arrived,

men seldom nodded or met in a

{By JOHN GARY}

hotel bar without remarking:

"Koombana's due on the 10th";

or, "I believe the Koombana left

Onslow yesterday."

You'll hear the same thing to-

day as they wait for the Koolinda,

keeping tab on her progress up

the coast, and hoping she may

have some "extras" aboard her.

It was early in March that the

Koombana steamed out of 

Fremantle. A dangerous month up

north, at the best of times. For,

from December to April is the

"willy-willy" season when "cock-

eyed bobs" send the pearling fleet

scuttling for safety, and level

whole towns until scarcely a house

is left standing. Residential portion 

of Onslow, it is said, has been blown 

down and rebuilt 11 times.

Still, time, tide and ships wait

for no man or no "willy-willies";

and the Koombana sailed in that

fateful March according to schedule.

She reached Port Hedland before 

the middle of the month, and

there discharged cargo and took

aboard more passengers. It was

because Koombana had put down

and picked up passengers at each

port of call that it was impossible

later to estimate, with any certainty, 

the number of passengers who were 

drowned.

For years she had been in

charge of Captain John Rees, a

veteran of the sea who knew

every inch of the nor'-west coast,

and knew every mood of its

treacherous weather.

But when she set out on her

last voyage, Rees was no longer

at the helm. Koombana was in

charge of Captain Allen.

It was while she was berthed at

Port Hedland that one of the

dreaded "willy-willies" started to

blow up.

Brave men, remembering the

death and destruction already

caused by these "blows," would

have hesitated to leave port that

day. . . . But the Koombana left,

as she was scheduled to.

Fast along the coast the news

travelled: "The Koombana has

left Hedland"; and so the people

of Broome, expecting the arrival

of relatives or stores, waited 

impatiently. . . . Waited for a coffin

ship that never came in.

Into the teeth of the "willy- '

willy" the Koombana sailed; and,

from that moment, the sea wrote

its own story ... a story that was

written in the tears and blood of

hundreds of heartbroken people. 

A story that you and I can't read.

Whether her end came suddenly; 

or whether she battled

with the storm until every plate

of her was twisted and warped,

nobody will ever know-no more

than they will ever know exactly

why such a ship should fail to

ride even such a storm.

One theory is that, when she

left Port Hedland, she was 

unballasted. Captain Allen, it is said,

had found it necessary to pump

the water from the ship's tanks so

that she could cross the bar.

Naturally, he would expect to 

replenish the tanks as soon as he

hit the open sea.

But the Koombana (according

to those who knew her) was a

top-heavy sort of a vessel; 

narrow-bottomed and wide-topped:

built for speed more than anything 

else. And it is questionable if, in the 

fury of the storm, Captain Allen had 

a chance to refill those tanks. If that be 

so, the ship was doomed from the 

moment she drew anchor at Hedland,

I completely agree. 

* + *

AND here's how Fate showed 

her hand. Over 100 passengers were 

drawn, like marionettes on strings, 

aboard the Koombana and to their 

death; yet there are scores of instances

of men and women who desperately 

wanted to make the voyage, but whom 

Fate prevented.

For instance, meet Harry Swan,

manager of the former de Vahl

sheep station at Port Hedland.

The station had recently been

bought by Davis, one of the

State's biggest pearl buyers; and

he was aboard Koombana when

she called at Hedland. He sent

for his manager, Swan.

"You've been working hard.

Swan," said Davis, when the men

met on the wharf. "Go home,

pack your port and come with me

to Broome for a spell."

But Swan shook his head.

"Can't be done, Mr. Davis. Thanks

for the invitation, but we're busy

on the station."

"What rot!" said Davis, "You've

got an overseer. Come on and no

excuses."

Still Swan was obdurate. "I've

got to get those rams to work

while the season's going, sir. I

know it's your station, but it's my

job to see that it's working

smoothly. I appreciate the invitation, 

and I'll accept it later."

Davis gave it up, walked off

muttering something about all

work and no play . . . walked

aboard ship and to his death,

while Fate smiled as it thought of

the lease of life it had given

Harry Swan.

Davis and Swan-like you and

me - just pawns in the great game.

Let no man, be he prince or pauper, 

think he is anything else.

Koolinda - courtesy WA Government archives
a visual impression is that this steamer was also top heavy; a lesson ignored?

Courtesy Trove