WHEN the little lugger Mystery sailed from Newlyn in November 1854 the 12,000 miles to Melbourne, Australia, there was little publicity.

This is astonishing compared to today's media feeding frenzy. Little news of the venture was carried in the newspapers of the time – even in the local Cornish Telegraph – of the departure, before the advent of The Cornishman.

From the first days I learned of this miraculous voyage I have taken the deepest interest.

When the plaque at Newlyn Mission was unveiled to mark the 1954 centenary I was there as a young journalist. Since then I have amassed enough documents from Cornwall and Down Under to use as Mystery ballast. I have gone through the master's log with finger-tip care. When the 150th anniversary came along in 2004 I arranged for the plaque on Newlyn's old pier to be unveiled by Colonel Edward Bolitho.

There is no end to the stream of inquiry and interest now that Pete Goss with his Spirit of Mystery has bubbled it all to boiling point.

It is good to know he has engines on board in reserve. He may well have need of them. One must hope the few on board will be able to cope with the trials and tribulations of the oceans in this small craft. As they know, it will be no Australian cruise.

Let me remind readers of the words of crew member Philip Curnow Mathews, one of the two who stayed in Australia and who became a surveyor with the Lands Department in Victoria.

A 'surprise' letter appeared in the Penzance newspaper Cornish Telegraph in 1874 correcting "one or two" errors from a story published earlier that year (two decades after the voyage).

"We never betook ourselves to fishing, as you stated, but sold the boat immediately after our arrival at Melbourne and followed other avocations.

"The Mystery was 16 tons (builder's measure), not six tons. She was 33 feet length of keel, and 11 feet 6 inches breadth of beam".

He had sent the letter from Fitzroy, Melbourne, over two months before it was published.

"I am the only one of the crew now remaining in this part of the world.

"I would also inform you that the Mystery is the smallest craft on record that ever made such a long voyage".

The Mystery was sold in 1855 for £150 in the same year as the arrival, and was finally wrecked in Keppel Bay, Rockhampton, in March 1869. None of the original crew was on board.

My copy of Mr Mathews' death certificate shows he died in Australia on November 13, 1896, aged 65, and is buried at Melbourne. His wife, English Wright Harvey, had died five years earlier.

Describing the voyage, he had said they were eight days from Newlyn to Madeira and on the 35th day out reached the island of Trinidade.

"On March 14, 1855 we cast anchor in Hobson's Bay, Melbourne, thus accomplishing the voyage in 116 days, including seven days' stoppage at the Cape of Good Hope, where we put in for a supply of water."

This second leg was the tough one, encountering a "very heavy gale" on February 18, "which necessitated our riding to raft for nine or ten hours.

"Riding to raft is a system adopted for safety. Ships heave-to under such circumstances."

On February 23 there was a "another heavy gale when they again rode to raft for four or five hours".

Mr Mathews commented: "Of the seven men who came to Australia, five returned to their native home." By 1874, when he wrote the letter, three of them had died, he added, and cook Lewis "died in Castlemaine, Victoria, some ten years ago".

What of the others? William Badcock, who stayed in Victoria for a while, worked as a warder boatman in the Penal Department at Melbourne from Apri1 1855 to December 1858 and then returned home. The last survivor, he died in 1906, aged 85 – it is said he had 12 children and there are descendants in the district today.

Charles Boase died in Newlyn in 1874, while Capt Nicholls, an experienced deep sea mariner, who had worked between South America and Wales in the copper trade, died in London in 1869 after being knocked down by a cab.

Mathews' sister emigrated to Victoria in 1867, and met Thomas Wade Mills from Cornwall on the ship Panama. They later wed and descendants live in Victoria today.

So many questions and riddles remain. For a start Mystery is an unusual name for a fishing boat in those old days. Often they had a Methodist ring to them, such as Guide Me, or they would take the name of loved ones in the home family – Boy Willie and United Boys in my family's case.

'Mystery' it was – and still is. The whole adventure, as time passes, seems more of an enigma.

Why on earth did they leave home, wives and families behind? Was fishing that difficult? No child benefits nor pensions in those times. Was it a way to take part in the gold rush?

Yet most were on their way back to Newlyn within a few months.

Why did they not become involved in the fishery when they took nets on board as ballast? There was talk that they tried but found there were different techniques required.

With Melbourne's rising population and status, catching fish and providing food by experienced fishermen would seem a strong bet for success.

No, within months they had sold their triumphant boat.

Only one is known to have gone to the gold fields at Bendigo, Job Kelynack, to see his brother Charles, who had the surprise of his life! He came home and died in Cardiff in 1903.

Why did they scarper back to Newlyn so soon after selling?

These are the 'Mysteries' and the story has always, to me at least, raised more questions than it answered.

As one who can claim a link with the Captain – my great uncle Richard Nicholls (yes, the same) was a direct descendant – I feel a personal interest.

I keep posing one major question that has never been answered to my satisfaction.

Did they see far too much of each other those 116 days and nights, in fine weather and in foul, to have had enough of working, living, eating, sleeping and talking together?

Was the achievement of arrival the end of the dream? Did they, during those hours, weeks and months on that little craft, come to dream of home, home, home, as most Cornish folk do? Did they yearn for hearth and home, wife and children, Mount's Bay and chapel during the steady trials and tribulations – and maybe talk of little else? Did they row and fall out, cramped in as they were?

There was no link with home as there would be today – no radio, no mobile phone, no nothing. All was blank; they had only their imaginations and their personal concerns.

It took four months for news of their arrival at the South African Cape to reach Newlyn, and another four for news of reaching Melbourne.

What must those at home have thought? What is said to have begun as a gesture in the Star Inn and developed over the kitchen table at Vine Cottage...did it turn sour?

As far as I can fathom the crew spoke and wrote little or nothing of the tremendous journey when they returned. No enterprising journalist from far-off Penzance ventured across Newlyn Bridge to ask that essential question of just what did happen.

Those who expect descriptive tales of dramatic adventure at sea, personal conflict and opinion, will be disappointed by the log book of Capt Nicholls.

He kept a meticulous and detailed daily true 'mariner's log' without histrionics and colour. He referred to his colleagues, his crew, as "people".

What a pity there is such sparsity of knowledge about the voyage. Today's science would have brought day-by-day reports with exciting action film.

He reports the daily weather conditions – and it was astonishing the lugger reached Madeira within about a week.

On December 4 "several flying fish came on board during the night. Daylight spotted a barque from Singapore."

There were regular notes on sail settings because of the changes in weather conditions. The winds feature powerfully in his story, in more ways than one.

On December 20, they were "shipping a great quantity of water on deck". He made sure there were no idle hands and on Tom Bawcock's Eve, 23 December, "made the island of Trinidade and Martin Van Rocks".

On Boxing Day – no report of Christmas festivities – they spoke to the brig Callao, bound for Liverpool and sent a letter by them. The first link with home.

A feature of January 5 was "several albatross about, the first for the passage," commented Capt Nicholls. Work for the "people" included stropping a new cork fender, making and repairing clothes, repairing and caulking work and, he remarked, in strong gales and big seas "our little bark behaves nobly".

Several albatross arrived on another afternoon "but not fortunate to catch any". In fine clear weather on January 18, they moored close to HM Dockyard at Simon's Bay, and the crew began "overhauling rigging and cleaning mast", then "airing nets and restoring hold".

They went to a church service on the Sunday on the guard ship, and next day they were "underweigh (sic) for Table Bay to take mail to Melbourne".

The mail was on board on the Wednesday, and then they were off, "cheered by the ships in port while passing them". Soon came a change in the weather and Capt Nicholls set storm sails and at midnight "storm~ gales with a tremendous heavy sea making".

The Master was pleased "our gallant little vessel rides it surprisingly". He commented "people variously employed" on the way, and on February 11 "a small flying fish came on board" but there was no mention of food, the crew by name nor conduct.

Came larger gales and tremendous seas; carried away the second "mizzin yard". Next morning came "a complete hurricane at 8am and seas mountains high".

They had prepared the 'raft' for riding head to the wind with a large foresail weighted down. I imagine it was set with salt water casks adding to the brake.

What a man! "Our gallant little vessel riding beautifully, not shipping any water whatever". And soon after the hurricane the 'people' were "cleaning paint work and painting ship inside".

Then another hurricane arrived "with mountains of sea and very heavy rain. Brought the ship head to wind, not being prudent to run any longer. Ship riding very easy to a raft prepared for the purpose". This raft was hauled back on board at 7pm on Friday, February 23.

A prudent and shrewd Master he was, making wise decisions by the hour and detailing it all. There were even heavy showers of snow and sleet, the heavy gusts meant the Mystery was "running under bare poles". But on February 27, with the storm abated, they "broached the second barrel of pork".

A terrific gale greeted the final days of the voyage, then again "a complete hurricane continuing", the worst they had experienced since leaving England.

More damage, but they brought the lugger "head to wind and the raft prepared." It rode to raft on March 10 "to enable us to stem the briny ocean, not shipping any water."

At 11pm that night the Master wrote that they "had made Australian land." They were abreast of Cape Otway on March 13 "calm and cloudy." They hove to at 2pm next day, Capt Nicholls obtained his certificate from the customs at Port Philip Heads and proceeded to Hobson's Bay with the two pilots on board.

And on a joyful note he recorded "let go of anchor in Hobson's Bay, thus completing the adventurous passage."

What a great mariner he proved to be. No men overboard, nor seriously injured. He brought them safely Down Under.

And what a challenge faces Captain Goss as he heads for Australia.

We must hope he finds the same conditions that pleased Capt Nicholls on November 18, 1854, as he left with "light airs from the N East."

At 9am all hands were on board, "slipped from the moorings and made sail for Australia.

"At noon a pleasant breeze and cloudy weather."

Bon voyage.

article copyright THE CORNISHMAN

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