Uncertain, coy, and hard to please;
When pain and sickness wring the brow.
A ministering angel, thou!
The following account was given to the present writer by Miss Davis, one of the foregoing young ladies:—“We left ‘Lonsdale House’ directly after breakfast on Friday morning for Jubilee Point. We got down the cliff about half-past ten, intending to look for shells and seaweed. We had just reached the end of the railing, and were looking at some ‘natural aquariums,’ as they are called, when our attention was drawn to a man stretched on the sand to all appearance dead. Miss Moorman said, ‘I believe it’s a drunken man,’ but on looking closer we saw that he had a life-belt around him. We went near to him and noticed that his eyes were moving. Finding that he was not dead, I knelt down and asked, ‘Are you ship wrecked, Mr.?’ After a minute or two he replied in a faint whisper, ‘Yes,’ and shortly afterwards he gasped out ‘Refreshments,’ then immediately swooned away. We then arranged that two of us should stay by the man, dead or alive, and the other two go at once to obtain help of some kind. We saw that the man’s life-belt was clogged with sand, and also his eyes, nose and ears. With some difficulty we undid the belt, and dipping our handkerchiefs in water we wiped the sand from his face. He then came to a little, and said he felt better, but all the time till assistance came, and even after, he kept swooning away, and each time he went off we thought he was dead. We put our cloaks over him, and sheltered him from the cold wind as much as we could with our parasols, till Messrs Ramsay and Stanton came and applied the treatment usual in cases of the apparently drowned. In our small way we gave all the aid in our power. The scene was one which none of us will fail to remember, and although we do not wish to be in such another incident, still we feel it did us good to be there, for we got an object lesson, and any of us know now how to treat a person rescued from the water.” The two young ladies who ran back for assistance luckily had not gone far when they met Mr. J. Douglas Ramsay, the well-known dentist, of Elsternwick. By a strange coincidence Mr. Ramsay had been in former years a medical officer on board several ships belonging to the “Loch” line, and hence he was just the very man required for the emergency. What took place afterwards cannot be better told than in the graphic language of Mr. Ramsay himself, as given at the official enquiry, held a few hours after the discovery already related. In giving evidence Mr. Ramsay stated, “I, with my wife and her sister, Mrs. Whitelaw, went to the Ocean Beach by trap at about 10 a. m. this day (Friday, 29th December) and then walked on towards St. Paul’s, one of the highest points around. When we were within a few hundred yards of it I saw two ladies hurrying up. They came towards us and one said, ‘There is a shipwrecked sailor down there. Can you tell us where to get some stimulant?’ I replied ‘Thank God! we have some here in a flask.’ I ran down in the direction pointed out and found a man lying on the sand about seven yards from the water’s edge. He appeared to be dead. He was clad in black trousers and white shirt, stockings were on his feet, but no boots. I immediately tried if I could discover any signs of life, but could find no pulse, everything he had on was covered with sand, and his body was stiff and cold. I prized open his teeth, and poured some brandy down his throat and then commenced to work his arms to restore animation if possible. After 10 minutes I saw a few signs of life and then, assisted by my wife and the other ladies, I dragged him behind a rock for shelter from the cold wind which was blowing strong. I continued working at him for about half-an-hour and the whole of the ladies assisted me materially by rubbing, in turns, the man’s hands and arms. As soon as I saw it was likely that the man would be saved, I sent Mrs. Ramsay and her sister back to get more assistance and they both cheerfully started on the journey. Meanwhile Mr. Austin Stanton, of Collins-street, Melbourne, in company with Miss Hill, came on the scene, and he at once took off his great coat, and spread it over the man’s body, while Miss Hill took off her jacket and wrapped it round his feet, which were very much bruised. Mr. Stanton had his large St. Bernard dog, “Victor Hugo,” with him, and as warmth was now the great thing necessary, Stanton got the docile animal to lie down and nestle up close to the man’s body. It was indeed a strange sight, and one which called up feelings which I will not readily forget, to see a huge dog, in faithful obedience to his master’s orders, lying close to an apparently dead man! One could almost imagine that the intelligent animal knew the effect its conduct would produce; be this as it may, the increased warmth soon became apparent. The man opened his eyes and drew a long breath. I at once gave him some more brandy, and a better color began to appear in his face. A few moments after, he suddenly exclaimed: ‘Where is my life-belt?’ I told him it was all right, having been taken off previously. He then said: ‘Could some one go round the beach? Some of my mates might be washed up.’ In answer to questions he said his name was Bob Ponting, that he had been cook on board the steamer Alert, and that she had foundered the previous day when about three miles off the coast. From the weak state our patient was in we dared not question him further, but some of us went along the beach, without, however, finding or seeing any traces of his mates. About two hours from the time Ponting was found additional assistance came. Constable Nolan, of Sorrento, brought a party of men in a buggy. They also brought a stretcher, on which we placed the poor man, and between us we carried him up the cliffs and across to the buggy. It was no easy task, even with half a dozen willing hands, as the cliffs at this point are very steep, and after getting to the top the scrub is very thick and hard to walk through. We got Ponting into the buggy and brought him to Clark’s Mornington Hotel, Sorrento, where we arrived about 1.30 p. m. He is now receiving all care and attention. I fancy he will pull through with good nursing. Had he not been such a powerful man, he could not have stood the terrible exposure. It is a miracle that he is alive at all. He is a fine-looking man of about 30 years of age. He was only married three months ago, and was very anxious that a telegram should be sent to his wife. Of course we complied with his request as soon as possible.”
On arrival at the hotel Ponting was immediately attended to by Dr. Browning, the Government medical officer of the Quarantine Station, Point Nepean, and also by Drs. Mullen, Hutchinson and Cox, but in spite of all their skill the poor fellow showed unmistakable signs of collapsing. The life color, which had been coming back to his skin, now gradually disappeared, his body got cold and rigid and he relapsed into a complete state of coma, so much so that the medical gentlemen despaired of his case as utterly hopeless. However, after rubbing two bottles of brandy through his skin, applying hot bricks to his feet, and rolling him in warm blankets, the doctors saw that their patient was likely to recover. As the wounds on Ponting’s body—caused by the nails in the raft on which he had floated—showed signs of engendering blood-poisoning, blisters were applied to the various places with good effect. Nearly all the forepart of Friday night he lay tossing in a delirious condition and talked wildly of the terrible experience of the preceding twenty-four hours. His wife was sent for, and aided by her careful nursing the doctors knew that their combined efforts were being crowned with success. Meantime search parties had been scouring the rocky coast and they succeeded in finding seven of the ill-fated ship’s company, but they were battered and bruised almost beyond recognition. The bodies were removed from the beach and laid in a row side by side in a shed at the rear of the Mornington Hotel, and on the following day (Saturday) Ponting, having recovered consciousness and improved considerably, was carried there for the purpose of identifying his dead comrades. It was an affecting scene, and a trying ordeal for Ponting in his weak state as one by one the bodies were uncovered to his gaze. No. 1 was J. Williamson, one of the sailors; No. 2 was Page, a steerage passenger; No. 3, D. McIvor, a fireman; No, 4, W. Thompson, also a fireman; No. 5, W. Stewart, the other steerage passenger; No. 6, J, Thompson, the chief engineer, and the seventh was Captain Mathieson, the commander of the Alert.
“Strange that the ocean should come and go
With its daily and nightly ebb and flow.
Should bear on its placid bosom at morn
The bark that ere night will be tempest torn;
Or cherish it all the way it must roam,