surfresearch.com.au  newspapers : surf-bathing, 1870-1900

Sixteen persons, guests of "Tucker's," at Shark River, had a very narrow escape from drowning on Saturday while taking a surf bath.
The beach is a very safe one, but it so happened that two or three of the bathers in question took it into their heads to make a test of an unexplored portion of it, where the breakers appeared to be the most inviting.
The party consisted of Mr. Frank Hatfield, and his sister Cecilia, Mr. Joe Fox, Mr. Thomas Gilhooly, Miss Hattie Rutter, Miss Fanny Rutter, Mr. Robert Fox, Miss Katie O'Hara, Miss Beatty, Sir John Brophy and his sister Katie, Miss Emily McCallum, Mrs. Rowley, Miss Emma Tucker, Miss Lizzie Garland, and Signor Hermani, the well-known opera singer.
The water was delightfully warm when the bathers stepped into the waves, and they at once began to enjoy themsehes to their hearts' content.
Under the excitement of the moment they neglected to drag the rope, provided for the safety of bathers, after them and to this neglect was partially due the ternble expenence which followed.
The party did not venture out very far, but they found the surf so "splendid" that they forgot all about their bearings and so, when they finally made up their minds to go ashore, they discovered that they had been dnfted a considerable distance north of the rope-stake where they had started into the water.
This "trifle" gave no uneasiness to any of the party, and in twos and threes each made his or her way toward the shore as well as was possible under the circumstances, the sea at the time running very high and the presence of a strong undertow beginning to make itself felt.
The foremost of the bathers had already reached within a distance of thirty feet from the shore when of a sudden the bottom of the sand underneath their feet seemed to drop away, and in another second they were floundering in the surf with the water fully a fathom deep, the fact is, they had walked into one of the numerous holes with which the sea, beating hard upon the soft sand during the gale like that of Fnday, so often honeycombs a shallow beach.
Miss Emma Tucker and Miss Fanny Rutter were the first to fall into the trap.

They sank for a moment out of sight, and on coming to the surface screamed for help.
Their cries attracted the attention of Mr. Gilhooly, who was in shallow water a short distance from them, and he at once rushed to their assistance.
The moment he reached her side Miss Tucker, in going down a second time, threw her arms about him, and clutched him so closely that he was unable to strike for the shore, and the three - Miss Rutter having hold of him also - sank beneath the waves.

Gilhooly managed, on conimg to the surface, to get his arms free, and, telling the two girls to cling to him, made a dash for the shore.
It was a hard tug but the tide, fortunately, was beginning to flood and he finally succeeded in landing ma charges on the dry beach safely, though more dead than alive.
Almost at the same time that this struggle for life began, the other bathers were striking out right and left for the shore, they too having got into one of the storm traps.
So intent was each two or three who happened to be together when they got beyond their depth, that the enes of alarm of the others who were in twos and threes, and were in like danger were unheeded by them Mr., Brophy, like Mr. Gihooly, had a terrible struggle of it not only to save himself, but the ladies who happened to be near him, when they got into the holes in the sand.
He seized his sister Katie with a firm grip with one hand while Miss Hattie Rutter, Miss Beatty, Miss 0'Hara and Miss Lizzie Garland, hung to him - each clinging to whatever part of his bathing dress they could get hold of- with a grasp of death.

To swim, under the circumstances, was an impossible, and the whole party were again and again earned down by the waves.
By plunging forward, the best way they could, and taking advantage of every shore-bound wave that came roaring along, by throwing himself forward on its crest, Sir Brophy, with his load utterly exhausted, at last reached the shallow water.

Miss McCallum and Mrs Rowley had a very narrow escape of it too.
Utterly helpless, beyond their depth, and pulled downward and farther away from the shallow water by every wave that receded from the beach after it had struck, they certainly would hav e been lost but that Mr Joseph Fox, luckily an expert swimmer, discovered them in time.
When he reached them they had already been carried away quite a distance from the line of the stake, but he battled his way through the breakers determinedly, each of the ladies holding with one hand to his back, and was fortunate enough to get them ashore safely.
Mr. Hatfield and his sister had a like expenence to the others.
Thanks to the efforts of the former, and the assistance the others gave him when the danger they were in was discovered, they both reached the shore in safety, but not until they had become almost helpless.
Horace Rutter, a youngster about nine years of age, who was on shore at the time, had presence of mind enough, it should be mentioned, when he finally discovered the peril of the bathers, to throw the rope out, so that those struggling in the water were able to reach it, and pull themselves in out of the breakers when once they had got out of the deep water.

Bathing Machines at Coogee.
IT is somewhat singular that bathing machines, although much very ordinary spectacles on the favorite beaches of the British Islands and the Continent, have only been introduced to the holiday-making Sydneyite very recently.
From the pencil of our artist we have a graphic sketch of the metamorphosis which has taken place on the sands of "Wave-worn Coogee", as Kendall has it.
We see the crisp waves foaming on the stainless sands; and, in the immediate background, the grey storm-defying promontory, crowned with a few windy trees, and terminating in a ridge of cruel dun colored rocks, amid the gulfs and hollows of which the ocean has moaned unceasingly, perhaps since the first day that dawned upon our planet.
For geologists tell us this is the oldest of the continents.
A truce, however, to prehistoric speculations !
Let us, before wending tramwards, notice the folks in the foreground.
Im- primis ; visible on the left is the grimy gentleman on horseback, who may be connected with the bathing machine, but is possibly the hotel ostler.
He seems a curious mixture of timidity and braggadocio.
Be sure, if he be the ostler, there will be some hilarious sport when "he urges on his wild career" into the surf.
We have been there; and, without wishing any special harm to the equestrian, have enjoyed the fun.
Presently, perhaps, you will notice a small crowd collect to watch the capering of the man and his faithful 'steed.
Then, conscious that he is the cynosure of all eyes, the rider will try to show his horsemanship.
But his Rosinante, like the boy in Mr. Pears' soap advertisement, may dislike a cold application, and hence antagonisms may arise. Finally, after a mutual exhibition, which rarely fails to interest a delighted audience, you will, perchance, see the reflective steed using his trump-card, lodging his discomfited rider in the "yeasty waves," and scampering homeward, probably conscious of having topsy-turvied the "otherside."
Near, there are the happy-hearted, rosy-cheeked children, who think that to be bare-footed on the sandy margin of the sea is to be indeed luxurious.
Not far away, behold madam, intent upon patronising the bathing machine ; and, in the immediate foreground, observe a brace of ladies, evidently criticising her costume as she disappears and resigns herself to the tender mercies of the old weatherbeaten janitor.
So that everyone appears pleased, and, when all return homeward, they feel invigorated by the unpolluted ozone of the sweet sea air, and the lovely surroundings of the charming seaside resort.

Notes
http://museumvictoria.com.au/reb/history/

P3259 Catalogue, 'Centennial International Exhibition 1888-1889, Melbourne', Mason, Firth & McCutcheon, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia, 1888-1889 (OF).

Read more: http://www.powerhousemuseum.com/collection/database/?irn=324715#ixzz16dLXEMvK
Under Creative Commons License: Attribution Non-Commercial

The image below, circa 1911, illustrates a collection of Polynesian antiquities similar to those displayed at the 1888 Exhibition of Womens' Industries, detailed above.
Note the "surf-ridding board" on the right.

Bisho, Joseph R.:  In the Curio Shops. The Mid-Pacific Magazine  Published by  Alexander Hume Ford,  Honolulu, Territory of Hawaii,  Volume 1, Number 5,  May,1911, page 559.

Perhaps the most ordinary danger of the sea shore - if danger can be called ordinary - is what are known as the three waves.
The breakers, as a rule, come in a series of three.
Sometimes the three are small, and sometimes are very heavy, but, as a rule, the sequences run about the same size.
Imagine a bather inside the surf line, with the surf breaking over a bar about fifty or one hundred feet from shore. Those big green waves that rise higher and higher as they come toward him do not seem very formidable.
The first one rears its head before it reaches him with an angry swish ; a curl of foam, like a feather edge, crops out along the top, and fills the air with spray.
Then the wave takes a more decided shoreward curl, the line of foam becomes deeper, there is a crash as it drops to the level, and the bather finds himself thrown down in a caldron of seething surf.
Say he is in three feet of water on the level.
After the wave has passed he struggles to his feet choking, gasping and half blind with the salt water.
He doesn't really know what has happened, but he has a dim idea that something has hit him.
Before he has time to collect his senses the second of the series is upon him, and he.goes down again.
He is dazed and confused, and he flounders around hopelessly.
The third wave is always the finishing stroke, and gives the life-saver, if there is one, a chance to do some work. Guided by an outstretched arm flung above the water involuntarily, or by a bobbing head with which the surf is playing football, he drags the unsophisticated one out on the sand.
That is the most common danger of the surf.

"THE SYDNEY MAIL"- Every visitor to Sydney goes, as a matter of course, to Manly and as a residential suburb it has grown from a village, proudly referered to as "Our Village", to a considerable town.
What this progress has been is bought home in a very fine series of illustrations in this week's "Mail," which show not only the familiar Manly steamers and the sights of the "Brighton of the South," but include a striking picture of the surf bathing which is indulged in in the early mornings on the ocean beach.

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