DEDICATED TO
EARLY PIONEERS WHO SETTLED
HAHNDORF
THIRD SIGN
DRAFT NO 1
FROM WHERE, AND WHEN DID THEY LEAVE?
Unprecedented mild spring weather greeted some 500 members of Pastor Kavel’s Old Lutheran congregation who began to assemble beside the Oder River downstream from the river crossing bridge at Tschicherzig in early May 1838. The vast majority of them had never undertaken a lengthy river journey before, let alone a long voyage across oceans which they had never seen and could scarcely imagine. Who amongst the company suddenly remembered the Prussian king’s recent forceful warning that the whole emigration idea was indeed a very ill-conceived scheme involving great risks? Certainly there would have been no idea of founding new villages to inspire and comfort these risk-takers. But there was no turning back now.
Forming a first group, some 200 travellers went aboard two long, flat-bottomed river barges on Friday 8 June 1838. Next day, thousands of onlookers gathered on the river banks and the wooden bridge crossing the Oder to watch the leave-taking. Similar scenes accompanied several later departures soon afterwards. Never before had such a huge contingent of people left this part of the world at one time. Not surprisingly, the 1838 emigration to South Australia would be remembered in the area for years to come.
Once several formal and countless informal expressions of farewell shouted across the water had concluded, the epic journey commenced. Further curious crowds blocked bridge crossings all the way the barges took by river and canal to Berlin, with very mixed exchanges from well-wishers and detractors at each point. Led by their elders, the emigrants kept up a continuous succession of prayers and hymns to remain cheerful and firm of purpose.
Progress was slow, as water in the Oder was unusually low, because catchment rains had been poor for some time in the Upper Silesian mountains to the south. Occasionally, the barges moored near the many river-side towns, and passengers had the opportunity to go ashore for a period to stretch their legs. The fit and able-bodied had further chance for exercise when hand-tugging and heaving along thick ropes while helping guide the barges through the Friedrich Wilhelm Canal. It took a fortnight to reach the Prussian border and then another week of travel along the Elbe River to Hamburg where the sea journey would begin.
In the bustling harbour, the huge vessel Prince George and the much smaller Bengalee lay at anchor, ready for the long voyage to South Australia. Fourteen of Hahndorf’s founding families made their way there in one or other of these two ships, the Prince George also stopping at Plymouth in England in order to take Pastor Kavel aboard. Because the majority of the passengers hailed from the village of Klemzig, the Prince George later was often referred to as the Klemziger Schiff.
Even before this initial group of people had sailed from Hamburg on Sunday 8 July 1838, another two barges bearing further Old Lutherans reached the harbour. These folk numbering some 200 had to board their vessel, the Danish ship Zebra, on 29 July 1838, at Altona, a Danish river port downstream from Hamburg. Media and general public interest in the emigration was absolutely intense and many visitors arrived to talk to the passengers and inspect the ship. Most of these emigrants would eventually form the bulk of Hahndorf’s founding families.
After more than a month of final preparations, including the pauper burial of several children who died suddenly, the Zebra left Altona harbour on Sunday morning 12 August 1838, watched from both river banks by a crowd of people too many to be counted. The Zebra would later be referred to as the Kayer Schiff, because most of its passengers originated from Kay, a sizable village a few kilometres to the west of Klemzig.
Soon after, back at Hamburg’s main harbour, some forty more Old Lutheran families who also had August Kavel as their pastor had just arrived after that same Oder river journey, but originating from the western border areas of Province Posen with Brandenburg. Scenes similar to those which had accompanied the loading and departure of the three earlier vessels were played out for the Catharina, which left Hamburg for South Australia on Friday 21 September 1838. A handful of future Hahndorf founding families was aboard. Not surprisingly, the Catharina would become identified for future generations as the Posener Schiff.
None of the four captains and their crews had ever been to Australia before, let alone to South Australia, and the ships’ owners had to stand the cost of purchasing accurate chronometers, as well as expensive maps which might never be used again. The ships’ hulls had to be specially caulked and sheathed to withstand the strain of sailing through oceans containing widely differing navigational conditions. To increase the likelihood of a more profitable undertaking, as much general cargo as could safely be brought aboard for South Australia was loaded, with detailed instructions for obtaining possible return goods from the East Indies and elsewhere to help fill the empty ships. All these matters were included in detailed charter contracts which all parties concerned gathered to sign. From then on, the captain and crew on the Prince George, the Bengalee and the Catharina could concentrate soley on the practical tasks for undertaking their voyage safely.
Pastor Kavel and GF Angas’s attorney, Charles Flaxman, had the support of the congregation’s elders to maintain sound order amongst the passengers aboard the Prince George, which completed its journey to South Australia in good time and without undue incident. The eight families of Pastor Kavel’s congregation and several independent ones sailing in the tiny Bengalee managed their own affairs at sea, although the consumptive ship’s doctor, Dr Satterup, understandably caused quite a stir by dying suddenly while enjoying his early morning cup of coffee and a cigar. Similarly, the Catharina passengers settled down contentedly under the guidance of several congregational elders and a teacher of severely disciplinarian qualities, Friedrich Krumnow.
For everyone aboard the Zebra, events proved not so fortunate. The idea was for the ship’s doctor, a young Danish physician named Dr Mathiesen, to be generally responsible for good order amongst the passengers and report any problems to Captain Hahn for his final judgement. Not long out of medical school, Mathiesen lacked life experience. He made poor decisions under pressure when trying to cope with multiple medical emergencies arising from the extreme tropical heat, occasional severe ocean storms and unfamiliar diet experienced during the voyage. Recorded Hahn in his journal: Scurvy had also affected many of [the passengers] and increased their suffering, for they had very swollen feet and legs, and their teeth became loose in their mouths. Eventually, frazzled Mathieson quarrelled irreconcilably with his patients and their families.
Unrest spread. Sickly passengers showing little improvement, and with idle time on their hands, began fighting with each other over the most trivial matters. Church elders even held rival worship services at opposite ends of the Zebra, both groups endeavouring to out-sing and out-preach each other.
Fortunately, Dirk Hahn understood the situation perfectly. Indeed a most humane person, from the time of leaving Altona, he had made it a habit to talk to individual passengers whenever possible and was soon left in no doubt of their fine character under normal conditions. Captain Hahn had to work hard personally, and inspire his crew to join him as well, to restore and then maintain sound order for the greater part of the Zebra’s voyage. The captain wrote copious notes outlining many of the troubles in case evidence was needed for what he felt would end up in numerous court cases in South Australia.
Shortly before Christmas Day, an elderly woman died at sea, her last illness caused by dissention in her family, so she announced on her deathbed. Suddenly, on 27 December 1838, land loomed ahead at midday. Voyage tribulations slipped away from mind. Passengers shouted for joy to glimpse Kangaroo Island. A day later, the second anniversary of South Australia’s proclamation, the Zebra anchored off Holdfast Bay, the first non-British vessel to arrive in the colony since European settlement.
Rather more modestly than at Altona, the Zebra and its passengers nevertheless quickly became the centre of attention. Groups of prominent colonists clambered aboard and inspected conditions minutely, proclaiming themselves highly satisfied with the blooming health and dignified behaviour of the Old Lutherans decked out in their neatest Sunday best. Into the bargain, the ship itself had been especially cleaned and spruced up. Detailed congratulatory news items duly appeared in the newspapers to inform the wider community.
Amid much joy at being re-united, Pastor Kavel also arrived to live on board the Zebra with his flock, while Captain Hahn went ashore to begin talking with further government officials and influential private citizens. Some of the adult passengers risked wading ashore as well, accompanied by a number of the children carried on the backs of kindly sailors, all intent on having a closer glimpse at their new homeland.
Unfortunately, conditions were unsatisfactory for South Australia’s newest colonists and cargo to be unloaded at Holdfast Bay. Further delay followed while the Zebra waited for favourable winds to move slowly northward along the coast towards Port Adelaide. Under the guidance of the harbour pilot, the Zebra cautiously manoeuvered safely across the entrance bar and anchored in the harbour basin, ready for a convoy of lighter boats in relays to commence the slow business of transferring passengers and cargo to dry land. The date was 2 January 1839.
More than six weeks earlier, the Prince George and the Bengalee had arrived at Port Adelaide on 18 November 1838, while the Catharina anchored some three weeks after the Zebra, on 20 January 1839. Some five hundred German-speaking Prussians were at last free to roam, suddenly faced with the huge challenge of adapting to life in a British colony, where just about everything was completely out of their experience.
