However, it is not this tragedy I am sharing here – instead it is the mysterious account of the City of Auckland catching fire and being scuttled in Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland harbour on January 24, 1871.
The City of Auckland was a composite ship, constructed of iron framing, sheathed with 5½-inch teak and fastened throughout with copper. The fore and main masts were iron and the lower yards steel, while on board was a power steam winch for “facilitating the discharge and loading of cargo”.
The interior was beautifully fitted out and as decoration at the break of the poop was a “finely carved teak scroll” etched with the words “Her path is o’er the mountain wave, her home is on the deep.”
The fully rigged ship, specifically built for the London-Auckland trade, was constructed at Sunderland, England, and launched on July 6, 1869.
She became a favourite among Auckland locals who, because of her name and connection to the city, had a “sort of proprietorial feeling of regard”.
On December 12, 1870, a reporter evocatively observed that “under a cloud of canvas”, when the “noble vessel” rounded North Head she “presented a beautiful appearance with all her sails set” as she “scudded steadily under a gentle easterly breeze”.
Such was the ship’s popularity that on this second voyage to Tāmaki Makaurau “after a very rapid passage from London”, she was greeted by a huge crowd of spectators who thronged the wharf, while a flotilla of boats greeted her mid-stream.
Once the passengers and cargo were discharged, the City of Auckland was readied for the return voyage to London.
The vessel was loaded with 300 bales of flax and tow (a byproduct of flax processing), 3000 cases of kauri gum, 100 tons of guano (seagull excrement used for fertiliser), 35 tons of oil, 20 tons of tallow and 300 bales of wool – all highly combustible products.
Misfortune occurred at 2am on January 24, 1871 when, tied up at Queen Street wharf, the City of Auckland mysteriously caught fire. The nightwatchman “on board the Golden Crown” discovered the conflagration and immediately sounded the alarm. Auckland Fire Brigade were quickly “on the spot”, but a “lack of water in the pipes” meant the fire could not be readily extinguished.
Three hours later, the vessel was engulfed in flames from the “fore to the main hatches”. To protect the wharf, buildings and neighbouring ships, the decision was made to scuttle her and she was towed out into the breakwater. With holes dashed into the foremast and starboard side, seawater quickly poured into the vessel and covered the decks.
Hundreds of small boats sailed out, while “thousands thronged the wharf and hills, to watch the noble ship as she gradually sank”. Constable Carrigan courageously clambered on board, venturing below to assess the damage.
He reported that the flax was burnt and “large quantities of gum, melted by the intense heat was floating about”. According to a local reporter, this event caused the general populace to experience intense “sorrow … at the misfortune” that befell “the beautiful and favourite ship that bears the name of the city”.
The ship however, was only partially submerged, and the following day contractors set to work plugging the ship’s holes, and when one was sealed “a strong gang of men” commenced pumping out the water. Meanwhile, the ship’s engineer, George Ellis, managed to start the engine, while diver William Grant “effectively stopped up the other hole”. Two days later she was refloated.
The repairs and refurbishment of the City of Auckland cost almost as much as her initial construction. By the end of March the repairs had been completed, and she got under way for London on the morning of March 30, 1871, with a send-off of hearty cheers by Auckland well-wishers.
But back to the fire.
On February 4, 1871, the Auckland Star newspaper announced that the fire on board the City of Auckland “would suggest the suspicion of incendiarism” and a £300 reward “paid upon conviction of the person or persons concerned in setting the fire” was offered by the New Zealand Insurance Company. The cargo on board the vessel, covered by the insurance company, was valued at £30,000 – of which £25,000 worth was destroyed by fire.
Over the following year, a series of unexplained fires in and about the city occurred, all in some way connected to Thomas Russell, manager of the NZ Insurance Company.
When finally captured, the arsonist turned out to be Cyrus Haley, described as “a handsome, dignified man, very gentlemanly in manner and appearance” who had a vendetta against the insurance company and Russell, whom he had previously tried to kill.
At the end of his lengthy trial, Haley was “convicted on absolute proof and sentenced to life-imprisonment” at Dunedin Gaol.
Two years later he managed to escape, was chased, and shot in the back by Inspector Broham, and that “was the end of the coldest-blooded and most dangerous criminal of modern colonial days”.