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It is no
wonder that our Cape is called the Cape of Storms, for the waters
of Table Bay are lashed every year by winter gales. For hundreds of
years sailing ships have been torn apart here and their wreckage
scattered on the waves. So bad is the weather that governors of old
forbade ships to anchor in Table Bay from May to August. They were
ordered to rather seek the calmer waters of Simonstown.
But captains
were not always good at taking orders. They often defied governors
when it came to matters of the sea. Such a one was the captain of
De Jonge Thomas, who risked casting anchor here. He was convinced
that they could ride out the Northwesterly wind. But the wind rose
to a gale and soon a terrible storm broke upon them out of the sea.
All night, mountains of waves crashed over the ship, and tore the
anchor ropes loose, one by one. Just after midnight the desperate
captain gave the order to fire the cannons. Only one anchor rope
still held. The ship was surely doomed. The burgers of Cape Town,
safe in their beds, heard the distant booms of distress above the
screaming of the wind. One of those who lay listening was a dairy
farmer, Wolraad Woltemade.
In the pitch
darkness there was nothing they could do to help the men at sea.
Just before dawn the last anchor rope snapped, and De Jonge Thomas
was driven by breakers onto a sandbank near the Salt River mouth.
It was June 1, 1773. Many lives were lost as the ship started to
break up, but a good count of survivors were left hanging on to the
hull for dear life. Some sailors attempted to swim ashore, but most
of those perished in the icy cold waters. Only the strongest
swimmers of those who struck out for the shore made it against the
current from the river mouth.
A crowd
stood huddled on the beach in the pale dawn. Some came to watch,
others to offer help to any sailor who might be washed ashore
alive, and then there was some rougher folk intending to loot and
pillage any cargo that was thrown up by the waves. Governor van
Plettenberg sent thirty guards to maintain order, assist in the
salvaging of the cargo, offer help to sailors, and of course to
stop the looters from making of with any spoils. Corporal Christian
Ludwig Woltemade was one of these soldiers. He was the youngest son
of Wolraad.
At the break
of the day, Wolraad set out on horseback into the howling wind and
lashing rain, to take provisions to his son. Who am I to sit
here at home by the fire while others have to endure the fury of
this storm? He got up, packed some warm food in a bag, grabbed
his coat and hat, and saddled his great horse. He then rode out
into the storm. At the shore he saw a pitiful sight, for the ship
had her back broken in the tug and thrust of the wild breakers.
Even above the crashing surf he could clearly hear the cries of men
as they threw themselves from the splintering deck into the sea.
Very few were helped alive from the waves. Woltemade only paused at
the crest of the dune for a short moment. He raised his hand to his
forehead and looked hard from the foaming beach to the
sandbank.
Then, saying
not a single word, he threw down the bag of food, dug his heels
into his horse's sides and cantered down the sand slope into the
boiling sea. Bystanders watched on in silence as the great horse
plunged into the waves and began to swim towards De Jonge Thomas.
Was Woltemade mad? He surely will not return alive.
Everyone on the beach watched with bated breath as the 65 year old
dairy farmer's figure rose and fell with the waves. There he
is, can you see him, in the surges just below the heaving
decks! Wolraad turned the horse and called for two men to jump
into the sea, and grab onto the horse's mane and tail. They only
hesitated a moment, and then made the leap, whereupon Wolraad urged
the horse forward and dragged them to shore. As they drew in, men
ran into the foam, helping the stumbling sailors ashore. Without a
word, Wolraad Woltemade turned his gallant horse back into the sea.
Four men he brought ashore this way, then six, eight, ten,
twelve… as he staggered shorewards with the thirteenth and
fourteenth Woltemade paused for a moment. He laid his head on his
horse's neck and felt the quivering exhaustion in its body. The
strained breathing of his brave companion told him that it was near
the end of its strength. He himself was by now totally done in too.
He ran his hand over the long wet nose, felt the soft nostrils and
saw how red the eyes were, whipped by salt water for a couple of
hours now. Could we go once more? Only once ? he muttered
softly.
Then the
sound of splitting timbers could be heard across the water. Wolraad
turned and saw the deck breaking up. Men screamed as they were
sucked into the troth. Without thinking Wolraad turned his horse
and spurred it back into the sea. Once more they struggled in the
heaving water below the ship. But this time, instead of two, more
than ten grabbed onto the horse, onto mane and tail, saddle, girth
and stirrups. Wolraad tried to stop them in vain…
Wait. Let go or we
shall all go down!
Wait. I'll come back again!
His words was lost in the wind. In their panic they did not hear a
word. They clung to each other, to Wolraad and to the horse. A
shudder ran through the exhausted horse, it tried to raise it's
head above the water, to breathe fresh air, but then went down.
Wolraad, his great-hearted horse and the men all disappeared
beneath the waves.
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The Dutch
East India Company provided amply for his widow and children, and
named a ship "Held Woltemade" after him. The Union of South Africa
King's Medal for Bravery, instituted in 1939, bore a depiction of
Woltemade's heroic act on its observe. In 1970 the Woltemade
Decoration for Bravery was instituted as the highest civilian
decoration for bravery in South Africa. This was replaced in 1988
by the Woltemade Cross for Bravery. The Woltemade Cross was
discontinued in 2002, as part of the move towards establishing a
new South African honours system, following the advent of majority
rule.
Sadly, the
story of this heroic deed was also removed from all school history
books. I could not find a memorial stone in the area apart from a
weathered plaque in Flamingo Vlei where he presumably had his farm.
In time this story will be forgotten. I wanted to place the cache
at the Salt River mouth. One can get there but it is a major
mission, as you have to navigate your way past harbour security,
and dodge big trucks in a container yard. Furthermore the area
where this act of bravery played out is currently very uninspiring.
It is at the edge of an industrial area, and littered with garbage.
When I visited the area, I was also slightly concerned about my
safety as it is a very secluded area. I am adding it as a waypoint
for completeness sake, but do not recommend this as an
option.
I placed the
cache about halfway between Wolraad's farm and the river mouth. I
picked a spot with the waters of Table Bay in sight. Depending on
the weather the sea will have different moods.
There is a
cache in Gauteng dedicated to a brave young man who was awarded the
Woltemade Decoration for Bravery (Silver). A definite Must-Do cache
when you are in the area.
Not Forgotten