The following is an account of the disaster, given in the Melbourne Argus:—

The Loch Vennachar left Glasgow bound for Melbourne on 6th April, 1892, with a crew of 33 all told and 12 passengers, four of whom were ladies. All went well with the ship until she reached lat. 39° 55′ S., long. 27° 21′ E., when at 8 o’clock on the evening of 3rd June the barometer began to fall ominously and sail was promptly shortened. Darkness lifted soon after 5 o’clock in the morning and the break of day showed the terrific head seas that swept down upon the vessel, lashed by the north-east gale. (At this time both watches were aloft fighting to make the foresail fast.) Captain Bennett, who was on the poop, saw the danger of his crew and at once resolved to sacrifice the sail. He sang out to the mate to send the men aft and the hands, who had been lying out on the pitching foreyard, gained the deck in safety and reached the poop in time. As they did so, two enormous waves bore down upon the ship, which rode slowly over the first, and sank to an interminable depth in the trough at the other side. Whilst in this position the second wave came on towering halfway up the foremast, and broke on board, filling the lower topsail 60 feet above the deck, as it came.

Hundreds of tons of water swept over the ship in a solid mass from stem to stern, thundering inboard on the port side of the foc’s’le and racing away over the main deck and over the poop, where most of the crew were standing. Every man on the poop was thrown down, and when they regained their feet they perceived that the foremast and mainmast were over the side, and the mizen topmast above their heads had disappeared. Not a man on board actually saw the spars go or even heard the crash of the breaking rigging so violent was the shock and so fierce the howling of the hurricane. The cook was washed out of his galley and swept overboard, the galley being completely gutted of everything it contained.

For nine days after her dismasting, Loch Vennachar lay unmanageable, rolling in the trough of the sea, whilst the gale still raged. At last with immense difficulty a jury mast was rigged forward and a sail set on the stump of the mizen mast; in this trim Captain Bennett managed to get his lame duck into Port Louis, Mauritius, after five weeks under jury rig. The ship lay in Mauritius for five months whilst new masts and spars were being sent out to her from England. On the arrival of the masts, Captain Bennett and his crew showed their smartness by completely rerigging her in 10 days, the cost of the refit coming to £9071.

On 18th November Loch Vennachar at last proceeded on her voyage, and after a light weather passage arrived in Port Phillip on 22nd December 260 days out from the Clyde. As soon as her anchor was on the ground, her crew assembled at the break of the poop and gave three ringing cheers for Captain Bennett and his officers, who had brought them safely through such a trying time. For saving his ship under such difficulties, Captain Bennett was awarded Lloyd’s Medal, the Victoria Cross of the Mercantile Marine.

In November, 1901, when anchored off Thameshaven outward bound to Melbourne with general cargo, Loch Vennachar was run down by the steamer Cato. The steamship struck her on the starboard bow, and the Loch liner went down in 40 feet of water. All on board, however, were saved, including a parrot and a cat, the only cat to escape out of seven on the ship.

The Loch Vennachar lay at the bottom of the Thames for a month and was then raised. After repairs and alterations to the value of about £17,000 were made on her, she was pronounced by experts to be as good as the day she was launched; and she once more resumed her place in the Australian trade.

About September, 1905, when bound from Glasgow to Adelaide, she came on the overdue list. On 6th September she was spoken “all well” by the ss. Yongala, 160 miles west of Neptune Island. But as the days passed and she did not arrive, grave anxiety began to be felt. On 29th September, the ketch Annie Witt arrived at Adelaide, and her captain reported picking up a reel of blue printing paper 18 miles N.W. of Kangaroo Island. This paper was identified as part of Loch Vennachar’s cargo. A search was made on Kangaroo Island and wreckage was discovered which made the disaster only too sure. It was concluded that she had run on the Young Rocks in trying to make the Backstairs Passage. Captain Hawkins, late of the Loch Ness, was in command, having taken her over from Captain Bennett the year before.

As if the fatal curse of Jonah had been transmitted from father to son, T. R. Pearce, a son of the twice wrecked Tom Pearce, was one of the apprentices lost in her.

“Salamis”—an Iron “Thermopylae.”