‘Atacama’, 1898

The ‘Atacama’ was a 1,298 ton wooden barquentine. The vessel left Newcastle with a crew of 17, bound for San Diego, California, with a cargo of 1,700 tons of coal on January 29th 1898. On Sunday 6th February, when about 300 miles offshore, the ship sprung a leak. This became so severe that the crew abandoned ship and took to the lifeboats at 8pm on Wednesday 9th February. At the time the conditions were calm.

Newspaper reports pick up the story:

‘Sail was hoisted on the little boat which contained the rescued at 9 o'clock on Thursday morning, and a north-northwest course was shaped with the object of making the coast of New South Wales. In this way 240 miles of clear run was made by Saturday morning without the slightest discomfort.

Then, however, came the first gale, which had proved so fatal to other craft. The wind blew on Saturday night with such violence that the little craft was tossed about. Then the weather moderated, but on Sunday morning the sea became rougher than ever, so that recourse had again to be had to the sea anchor, and oil bags also were hung over the side. Rain was falling in torrents.

One sweeping billow then came up and turned the boat turtle. The occupants were thrown into the raging waters together with food and stores, the captain's compass and chronometer being also lost. Worst of all, the boy Allen had disappeared. His companions had wrapped him in an overcoat and blanket and placed him in the stern of the boat. The wrapping, however, proved fatal, for when the boat capsized he was unable to disentangle himself and sank immediately.

Steiner and Pinto rose alongside the boat, and so could grasp the keel at once, but Captain Spruitt was washed away, and it was only through the assistance of Figuera that he was enabled to reach the craft. The other two at this time were holding on to the keel, in dire distress.

Providence, however, had not abandoned them, for another heavy sea struck the boat and it righted.
The captain was then with difficulty rescued, and the boat was bailed out. The situation of the little band hardly needs description. They lay there in a waterlogged craft without food or water.
One of their number was utterly prostrate, tied to the seat, and save Figuera, who behaved heroically, the other members of the little band were so worn out that they could give no assistance in the navigation of the boat. The compass and sextant were gone, and any course steered had to be done by dead reckoning.

The boatswain kept infusing hope into his companions, and they began to share his belief that the shore would yet be reached.

At 5 o'clock on Tuesday morning the wind was favorable, and sail was hoisted all day. They expected to reach the coast, but then a calm came up, in which the sail was no longer of any avail. They suffered fearfully from the wind and sun. To assuage the pangs of hunger, Figuera tells that he tore a couple of buttons from his coat, and put them into his mouth, and finallv he was driven to drink from the sea.

On Wednesday morning a slight breeze sprang up, and sail was once more hoisted. Land could then be seen, and finally this morning they hove in sight of the German ship Industrie, and a course was shaped for her. But a tug (the ‘Leveret’ – one of a number of vessels sent to search for survivors) perceiving them, swooped down upon them, took them (the only four survivors) on board, giving them such necessaries as they required and brought them to Sydney.’

‘News of the disaster had preceded the arrival of the tug at Circular Quay, and when the Leveret berthed there a large gathering of warm-hearted shipping people pressed forward to offer comforts for the distressed. Their immediate wants had been attended to by those on the rescuing steamer, but the shrunken features of the four men, their haggard looks, and their extreme physical weakness told that they had passed through an experience far more severe than normally falls to the lot of those who go down to the sea in ships. So worn out were the poor creatures that they wearily refused the kind attentions of those who surrounded them, and asked merely to be allowed to get where rest and quiet could be found.’

‘A ship's boat was later washed ashore at Shell Harbor (earlier the ‘Coomonderry' had reported passing the empty lifeboat, waterlogged, seven miles south of Kiama), which is believed to be that in which Captain Spruitt and three of his crew left the vessel,'

'The Sydney gold medal and £10 were today presented by the National Shipwreck Relief Society to boatswain Figuera, the hero of the Atacama disaster. While in Sydney it transpired Figuera expressed a desire to enter the coastal services of this colony. Messrs. J. and A. Brown therefore decided to find a position for him in one of their colliers, either the Duckenfield or Alice.’