From the sandy beach, Robbie watched the Grosvenor starting to break up that afternoon. The stern broke loose and was driven ashore. Robbie waded into the surf and helped some of the passengers scramble to safety. As others floated in on pieces of wreckage, the officers made a count. Of the 138 people on board, only 15 were lost. At the time, Robbie had felt encouraged.
Then the walking started. To begin with, they had all decided to stay together. It seemed safer. The local tribesmen seemed greedy for any metal objects but otherwise were not very friendly. All the crew had as weapons were their pocket knives and a couple of cutlasses. The muskets were useless for they had no powder. But they were slowed down by little children who went so slowly and men who were sick. It was clear that the fitter and stronger men had to move on as fast as they could, to send help back to the weaker ones.
‘Two weeks of walking,’ the captain had assured them. ‘That will bring you to the nearest farms.’ He had seemed very certain. Robbie never saw him again after they split up into separate groups – and that was some three months ago.
For a while, they had traded their belongings and clothes in exchange for food. But the Pondo tribesmen had started to rob them during the night. Once, in a village, when they had nothing left to offer in exchange, Robbie had watched the food they so longed for being given to the dogs.
Again, he blessed the day he had learned to swim, for when they came to each river mouth, it was the swimmers who could get across while the rest had to go inland to find a crossing. Robbie stayed with two seamen, Francisco di Lasso and Barney Leary. His friend Tom had died of hunger weeks before. Once, Francisco had spotted a porpoise in the shallow water near a river mouth and had managed to grab it by the tail. The three of them hauled it ashore and feasted on its tough, salty flesh – uncooked, for they had no means of making a fire.
Robbie and his companions were lucky. They were among the nine who reached civilization. Rescue parties did rescue seven seamen and two Indian maidservants. Otherwise all they found were a few sun-bleached skeletons dressed in rags.
The sad fate of those who survived the wreck of the Grosvenor on 4 August 1782, on what is now called the Wild Coast, was unconnected with any thoughts of sunken treasure. The ship was certainly carrying a full cargo which included money and diamonds. But the legend of fortunes hidden beneath the waves probably came from a newspaper article in February 1880. A certain Sidney Turner had found about 50 gold coins washed up on the beach at Lambasi Bay, which the Natal Mercantile Advertiser took as proof that ‘there must have been large quantities of bullion on board’.
The word ‘bullion’ conjured up dreams of wealth and so the great search began! Fortune hunters arrived with a steam crane, a dredger vessel, tunnelling equipment, and some even began building a 400-metre breakwater around the wreck. The crashing seas defeated all attempts and washed away all traces of the breakwater. Eight iron cannons, coins and pieces of broken porcelain are the only treasures so far recovered from the Grosvenor.
Yet the legend lives on. The fabled Peacock Throne of the great Moguls of India, shaped as two golden peacocks, made of solid gold with their spreading tail-feathers encrusted with diamonds and rubies and other precious stones, was stolen (they say) from a temple in Delhi. Locked in brass-bound oak chests, the throne was smuggled on board the Grosvenor and stowed away in the hold. Naturally there was no mention of it on the list of cargo. Such a priceless treasure would be worth millions and more – if it was ever on board. The great mystery remains unresolved to this day.
The Wild Coast
The coast of the Eastern Cape is rightly named! From Port Edward in the north to the Kei River in the south there stretches 250 kilometres of coastline as wild as any in Africa. There is no comfortable coast road, for the land is carved into jagged valleys by the rivers running seawards from the Drakensberg. The Grosvenor was wrecked at the northern end of this coast, one of many ships which have perished on its cruel rocks. One of the holiday resorts is Coffee Beans which is said to be named after a wrecked shipload of coffee beans which took root on the shore.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
DIANNE STEWART’S DEDICATION
For my mother, Leslie
JAY HEALE’S ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To the widow and daughter of the late John S. Brown for permission to adapt his story of the Cape Wagtail’s Necklace; to Major van Straten at the Castle of Good Hope for her help in tracing at least some of the Castle’s supposed ghosts; and to Angus McBride for his superbly evocative illustrations.
REFERENCES USED INCLUDE:
Myths and Legends of Southern Africa (Penny Miller); The Best of Lawrence Green (Maureen Barnes); Shipwreck! (Jose Burman); Bantu Folktales (Jessie Hertslet); Folklore of South Africa (AC Partridge); Discovering Southern Africa (TV Bulpin); Illustrated Guide to Southern Africa (Reader’s Digest)
African Myths and Legends Page 10