A Tragedy of the Flood. William Coomber’s Story 1852 – 1890.

Gympie has seen many tragedies during it’s history of mining and floods, however the following story has to be one of the saddest we have found.  It involved the Coomber family and events which occurred during the year of 1890 which was one of Gympie’s major flood years.  

Here is the story of William Coomber, the widowed husband, and the childless father, as told last week to a representative of the Courier. Grizzled and browned by years of strenuous labour, his limbs stiff and battered, his eyes sunken, his face bearing the signs of a great grief, and his whole aspect speaking of a fierce struggle with death, his words came painfully, earnestly, slowly :-

“My name is William Benjamin Coomber. I was born at East Maitland, New South Wales, in the year 1852, but came early to Queensland. My life has been a hard one. My parents were poor, and I was left to make my way as best I could. God knows I have fought hard to do it until – until – this last blow came. Now I feel as if all my strength was gone, and “Well, I am 37 years of age, and thirty of those years have been spent in knocking about Queensland – prospecting, farming, station hand, timber-getting, and so on. For seven years I was a stockman with Mr. William North, of Fenelon and Northbrook, near Ipswich. It was about 1874 when I left him and came to Gympie. I was mining in the Louisa and was one of those that pegged out the 4 Phoenix. In 1882 I was married before the registrar in Maryborough to Cecilia Maria Lost. She was then only 16, but we loved one another, and a good and faithful wife she was until the last.
I went timber getting at Noosa and fencing near Gympie, yet I never seemed to make much headway, though I never spent my earnings in drink. But times were dull, and the pay was not large, and as the children came it was more and more of a struggle to make ends meet. We had three children, a boy of 5, William, a girl of 3, Anna, and a baby girl, little Elizabeth, the boy was named after me – such a pretty little fellow he was, fine and upright, with a smile as bright as the morning. Well! they are all gone now.
We went to Glastonbury ten weeks ago It is a small township on the banks of a creek, a few miles from Gympie. There are a few farmers around about, and the men employed in the two or three mines. I had a job of fencing, which I hoped would last some time, for I had been out of work and did not know where to turn. However, it was finished in three weeks, and not knowing what else to do, I started prospecting.
We had no money, but Mr. Schollick and others would not see us starve, and the wife made a little by washing and baking for the men camped about the mines.
I remember that Monday well. I had been out all day and had come across an outcrop on the side of a gully, which looked very well. I broke off a piece and brought it home at evening to show my wife. She met me at the door of the little humpy we were living in, and I showed her the specimen. That looks nice, she said. Yes, I said, I think it’s a good thing. Please God says she we want it badly enough.
I noticed she was looking tired and asked her if anything was wrong. She said she had a bad headache ‘ Well,’ said I, I’ll put the kettle on and make you a cup of tea, that will do you good’ I put the kettle on and made the tea and after that the children were put to bed I was going to do something with a fishing net I was making, but I felt rather tired with the day’s tramp, so the wife thought we’d better go to bed. ‘Just go out, will you, William ‘ she says and put a sheet of bark over the fire in case it rains, as I want to bake tomorrow. I went out and put a sheet of bark over the fire and just then a flash of lightning came and showed me that the creek was rising. ‘Hallo!’ says to the wife “the creek’s rising”. She came out and looked and we had a lot of discussion as to what had caused it for it was not raining then where we were although there were heavy clouds about. “Well” I says, I won’t go to bed yet awhile, in case there is any danger Not that I dreamt we were in real danger, but I knew that we were in a bad place if the creek should overflow. You see the humpy was like in the centre of a triangle, with the ground sloping away from it all round. On one side of the triangle ran the Glastonbury creek, on another a creek running into the Glastonbury, and on the third side was a gully connecting the two. There was a high ground behind us, but we had to go over this gully to reach it.
Well, I went in for a few minutes, and presently slipped the bark window aside. The water seemed quite close, yet still it was not raining, or only a drop or two occasionally. I looked out of the door, and the water from the creek in front was within 15ft of us. Even then I did not realise the danger, but I called out to the wife to dress the children, as we might have to shift. She woke the children, and dressed them, they did make a bit of trouble, but Anna and Wally chattered about going for a walk in the dark. I stood at the door till she was ready. Soon she said, “I’m ready.” I stepped out to see where the water was, and at the third step I walked into it. The night was then dark as pitch, and the clouds hung so low that you would think you could touch them.
I then for the first time saw how serious our situation was. I rushed into the humpy and caught Anna and Willy up in a blanket while my wife wrapped the baby in another blanket and followed me out. We made at once for high ground behind us, but we had only got a couple of hundred yards when I saw something white in the gully that we had to cross. A flash of lightening came and showed me that we were hemmed in by the water. We thought what we should do, and the wife says, ‘Let us get back to the humpy; it is on high ground.’ By this time the water was ankle deep as we walked, and the current in the creek was rushing down furiously. It commenced to rain a little, steadily.
When we got back to the humpy, I saw that was not safe, so we went to a big fallen tree close by, and I put the wife up on a strong limb, about 6ft. From the ground, with the two girls in her arms. Then I got up on a same limb with the boy in my arms, and the dog came up too and sat beside us, and we sat there a minute and listened to the water coming down. The noise was an awful roar, and every now and again you could hear the sharp snap of a tree breaking, and then the crash as it fell into the water. All this time the lamp had been shining on the table in the humpy, and it somehow gave us hope and cheered us a bit.
As we sat on the limb, we could hear the water swirling beneath us, and I thought if I could get a bit of rope, I could tie Willy up on a higher branch. So I got down, and waded into the humpy for the fishing net. The water was just level with the table, but the lamp was still burning. I got the fishing net, and clambered up on the limb again, and looked round at the humpy. The lamp was out. Then, for the first time, I thought our case was desperate. In another minute a log was washed against the humpy, and the next flash of lightening showed that it was gone.
We sat a little longer on the limb, I with Willy in my arms, and the wife with the two girls just above us. Suddenly the end of a big log came against the arm that I was holding on with, and the boy and I were knocked off. The water was up to my neck. I sang out to my wife to stick to the limb, and holding the boy in my arms, sometimes wading and sometimes swimming, trying to avoid the logs coming down in all directions, I attempted to reach a heavy bullock wagon that one of the farmers had left near the humpy. For a bit the current seemed to help me towards it, but it took a turn before I reached the wagon and carried me towards the creek. Sometimes I was out of the water, but oftener underneath. As I was swept along I caught hold of a tree or bush, but it broke in my grasp. Then I was washed to a big tree, It was too thick to span, but I helped the boy on my back with his arms round my neck, and climbed up above the water. I held on until a heavy log came down and jammed me against the tree, and I slipped down again. The boy fell of my back, but the log floated away, and I climbed up the tree with him again, slipping up and down.
Then I heard my wife calling to know where I was. Her voice sounded quite close, though you could not see 6ft. The tree on which she was had been washed down further by the force of the current. I called out in reply, and she spoke again. The last words I heard her say were ‘Take care of Willy.’ Just then the boy said, ‘Daddy, I feel so cold. At that time he had his arms around my neck, while I was clinging to the tree, and the water was bubbling round both of us. God help me! I could do nothing more for him. He cuddled his face round and kissed me. A few minutes afterwards I heard a queer sort of catching gurgle in his throat, and he slipped of my shoulders and fell silently into the water. It was then about midnight. I tried to catch him as he fell, but he was carried away into the darkness. I swam over to where I had Heard my wife’s voice. I found the limb on which I had placed her. She and the children were gone, and the limb was almost covered by a mass of rubbish and floating drift. After that I remember nothing more. They tell me that early in the morning, when the water subsided, I was found by a search party from the township wandering dazed and exhausted half a mile or so from where the humpy stood. My shirt was torn to ribbons, and my arms were wounded, as you see them. The body of my wife was found next day about four miles down the creek, on the opposite side to our house; the bodies of the children were found also, two on the same day, nearer the humpy, and one on the Wednesday, still further down the stream. They lie all together in Glastonbury Cemetery. It is hard to bear. God knows it is hard to bear. They loved me so.”

This is William Coomber’s story, told with tear filled eyes and broken voice. There are few to match it for tragic intensity in the sad records of Australian pioneers. In a single night wife, children snatched away by death, and such a death! Adrift in the awful darkness, chocked by the surging waters, buffeted by floating logs and trees, with the cataract roar deafening the ears, struggling until strength goes- this is a death terrible indeed.
A Tragedy of the flood – The Brisbane Courier Tuesday 4 February 1890“

“On Saturday morning a man named Coomber proceeded by train to Brooweena to get work, but he became suddenly ill and died in the carriage between Mungar and Myrtle Creek. The deceased had been ailing for a long time, having been in the Hospital for several weeks.
A post mortem examination was made yesterday, but revealed nothing of an unusual character.
It is worth mentioning that this man Coomber was the unfortunate fellow who lost his wife, children, and home, in the tremendous flood of water that came down Glastonbury Creek, near Gympie, one night at the beginning of the year.
Maryborough Chronicle, Wide Bay and Burnett Advertiser – Monday 4 August 1890“

This story was compiled by Conny Visini and it appeared previously on our Facebook page.

Source: Trove