Ah that ubiquitous Boiler! Ever present in my mind, although I am pushing 90.
Came all about when the SS Waratah ran aground on Jack Jones Rocks at the southern end of Sharky Beach. To cut a 42-page story into two paragraphs, it all began when one of our well-known “Southerly Busters” walloped the ship, king-hitting it at about 60km/h. This then broke one of the mooring hawsers, forcing the ship backwards.
Right at this time Captain McCauley had the ship on dead-slow ahead, with the propellors just idling over. When the mooring hawser broke, the ship move backwards onto the stern hawser, tangling the steel cable into the propellors. The ship was going nowhere! Except to say, wherever the now tethered ship, was allowed to travel, within the confines of the stern hawser.
No doubt, the Captain used typical mariner’s language, such as “Goodness, golly gosh”, the “B” words of “Blast and Blow” and the “D” words of Dash and Damn”, or whatever are the nautical equivalents. The ship ended up being stranded on Jack Jones Rocks.
No effort was spared to attempt a refloat. But she was stuck, good and proper to the rocks.
After a few days or so, the ship was being cut-up for scrap.
The boiler was still in the ship, sitting quite high. Four members of the Company, led by Jack Ford the Loco driver, bought the boiler for 20 pounds. Rolled it out of the ship onto the rock platform. They in turn, on-sold it for 200 pounds, on the promise of delivery.
What they did not realise, was the Boiler had a flange across the base, which fastened the boiler to the ship. The flange sat in a natural grove in the rock platform, remaining there forever. They tried to move the boiler, firstly with horse teams, then with bullocks and men with levers, but the boiler, like the Waratah, was stuck firmly within the rock shelf.
As young boys, a group of us in 1942-1944, used to pretend the boiler was a battle tank. Brian Fergusson was the Tank Captain, Fred Thompson the Lieutenant, while the crew of Gunners included myself, Jim Pollock, Reg Mathews, John Split and Kevin Cole. The “Sharky boys”, as we were known.
When the seagulls were returning to the Five Islands, after feeding on the Tempe Tip ( that’s another 1000-word essay), we would pretend they were either Bettsy Bombers or Zeros from the Japanese Air Force. We would then pretend to shoot them down. As soon as the seagulls approached our “Battle tank”, it was Brrrr, Brrrr, Brrrr, with our voices. Whenever a seagull deviated, we considered it “Shot down”.
One day a Seagull dropped a “White Bomb” between Reg Mathews and I.
“What was that?” shouted the Captain.
“A bomb,” we replied.
Fred Thompson added, “If that was a real live bomb, we would have been all blown to smithereens along with the tank.” Made us realise the difference between playing our game and a real war.
After a week or so, the Seagulls must have been annoyed by our “Machine Gun” voices and would give the “Battle Tank a wide berth. Our “Shoot down” rates dropped dramatically, even with us all Brrrr, Brrrr, Brrrring together. We considered ourselves being such good shots, we must have destroyed at least half the Japanese Air Force. Such was the imagination of young boys.
The Tank Captain “promoted” me to Corporal, while John Split and Kevin Cole were promoted to Lance Corporals.
Many years later, Peter Paul and Mary sung a song Puff the Magic Dragon, which reminded me of young boys and our summer school holidays in the Battle Tank, shooting down enemy aircraft.
When our young sisters were rather young, and the seas concordantly rough, we would take them to the boiler, watch the huge waves wash angrily over the rock shelf, then thunder into the side of the boiler, then fizzle and sputter back across platform, creating a backwash to meet the next wave. All this while actually sitting on the “monkey bars” within the boiler. It was great fun!
Around the 1970s, the boiler had become quite dangerous. Mother Nature, salt water, tripled up with the hostile environment had made some of the edges around the boiler, razor sharp. Although it still had its unique attraction to visitors. But the days were numbered.
The days of when we used to swing off the monkey bars within the boiler were gone. Rust had made the interior of the boiler highly hazardous. A scrap metal dealer from Coledale was granted permission to cut the boiler up for scrap. It was a pity, but it was so extensively rusted and downright dangerous.
Not only did he cut the boiler up, he also “pinched” many of the 3-inch dowels , which were inserted almost a metre deep into the rock platform, on which the piers for the jetty were placed.
About the writer
Col Bruton was born in Marrickville on 2 June 1934. He lived in a fibro weekender in the middle of Sharky Beach and attended Coledale Public, often going barefooted to school via Sharky Beach and The Menzies. “From an early age, I learnt the difference between high tides and big seas because it determined how I went to school. All up, I have 10 academic and technical qualifications; was the most qualified person on the then Water Board staff of over 12,000; spent most of my time in hydraulic control diagrams and in water investigations.” Col also taught civil engineering at Wollongong Tech. He was active in Surf Life Saving, Illawarra Canoe Club, Illawarra Alpine Club and Kosciuszko Ski Patrol, a Skiing Judge and Honorary Ranger. Col says: “Worked from 1950 to 2008. Retired? Not bloody likely.”