My Family Tree

England Births and Christenings
Name Henry Chatfield
Gender Male
Christening Date 07 Jun 1826
Christening Place SAINT NICHOLAS,DEPTFORD,LONDON,ENGLAND
Father's Name Francis Chatfield
Mother's Name Lucretia
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Possible twin to Charles.
Buried with sister-in-law, Ann Isabella, wife of Charles and his nephew, Alfred Thomas, son of Charles and Ann.
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Memorial
Family grave Inscription
In
Memory of
Henry Chatfield
who lost his life
in command of the steam ship
CAWARRA
which foundered off Newcastle
July 12th 1866
in the 43rd year of his age
Also
Alfred Thomas Chatfield
who died May 9th 1870, Aged 15 months
And
Ann Isabella Chatfield
wife of Charles Chatfield
who died October 6th 1871
Aged 40 years.
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Find A Grave Memorial# 124854559
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A detailed report of the funeral can be found on pages 51-54 Records of Newcastle 1873 by John Bingle.
(http://www.newcastle.nsw.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0007/69631/Records_of_Newcastle_NSW.pdf)
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The Sydney Morning Herald - Wednesday 22 August 1866
DEATHS
On the 12th July, whilst in command of the ill-fated steamship Cawarra, HENRY CHATFIELD, formerly of Canton-place, Poplar, and nephew of Mr. Henry CHATFIELD, of H. M. Dockyard, Deptford, four years chief officer and eight years commander in the service of the A. S. N. Company, leaving an affectionate wife and five young children to mourn their loss. Henry Chatfield is buried at the 'old' Christ Church grounds, King St, Newcastle. He was 43 yrs old. Born abt 1822/3.
Tombstone: In Memory of Henry Chatfield who lost his life in command of the steam ship CAWARRA which foundered off Newcastle (NSW) July 12th 1866 in the 43rd year of his age. Also Alfred Thomas Chatfield who died May 9th 1870 aged 15 months and Ann Isabella Chatfield wife of Charles Chatfield who died October 6th 1871 aged 40 years.
Captain Chatfield was an experienced officer, and has been in the A.S.N. Co.'s employ since 1854, when he came out to the colony as chief officer of the Illalong, s., of which vessel Captain Knight, of the City of Brisbane, s., was then commander. He is the first Captain who navigated a steamer up the Fitzroy River to Rockhampton. Captain Chatfield leaves a widow and five children. He was about 35 years of age at the time of his death.
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The Sydney Morning Herald, Thursday 23 August 1866
CHATFIELD - July 12th 1866, whilst in command of the ill-fated steamship Cawarra, Henry CHATFIELD, formerly of Canton-place, Poplar, and nephew of Mr. Henry CHATFIELD, of H. M. Dockyard, Deptford, four years chief officer and eight years commander in the service of the A. S. N. Company, leaving an affectionate wife and five young children to mourn their loss.
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The Sydney Morning Herald Tuesday 6 June 1871
On Monday, 5th of June, by the Rev. William Curnow, at the Wesleyan Chapel, York-street, Sydney, Robert Sindel, store-keeper, of Queanbeyan and Manaro, to Mary Anne Galbraith, youngest daughter of the late Henry Galbraith, of London, formerly of Glasgow, and sister-in-law to the late Henry Chatfield (Nee ELEANOR GALBRAITH), commander of the ill-fated steamship Cawarra.
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The Sydney Morning Herald Wednesday 12 July 1882
CHATFIELD - In loving remembrance of Captain Henry CHATFIELD, who was lost in the ill-fated s.s. Cawarra, July 12 1866
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For another detailed article on the loss of the Cawarra see:
http://trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/1271320?searchTerm=chatfield%20birth&searchLimits=
http://lakescan.customer.netspace.net.au/Cawarra.pdf
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Chatfield (Jul 07 Red) http://www.curiousfox.com/uk/rsn.lasso?vid=70052&eid=116468&-nothing
I am compiling a family history and the Chatfield family members from Stephney and Deptford are part of the history, We are directly related to Master Mariner Henry Chatfield who was drowned in 1866 on the Newcastle coast NSW Australia. His father was Francis CHATFIELD, His mother Lucretia Horne (STONE not Horne) married about 1820 at St George, Hanover Square. Possibly he had brothers Francis, Charles and others. The family records are not complete and we would like to find out more. We also have a very early tree with only a few dates on it starting with a Michael and Nicholas Chatfield or Chatylde from Ditchling and then Francis Chatfield from Ovring and George CHATFIELD, Mayor of Chichester in 1586. we would appreciate any help reseaching our English forebears. Thank you.
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Elegaic Lines on the loss of the Steam Ship “Cawarra” at Newcastle, 12th July 1866.

Ah, mourn, Newcastle! A most dismal sight
Afflicts thy coast – most unexampled woe –
Here widows’ cries with orphans’ sobs unite,
And tears of sympathy all eyes o’er flow –
Wailing, with a deep-felt sorrow,
Thy sad fate, proud ship, CAWARRA!

Vain was they conflict with the furious storm;
Vain every effort maid by steam of sail;
A little further – danger had been gone,
And though hadst weathered the terrific gale;
Still we gazed, and chill’d with horror
Saw the founder – proud CAWARRA!

Brave Captain CHATFIELD, officers, and all
Thy cre – sae one have perished in the wave,
And deeper still our feelings to appal,
We watched thee sinking and no hand to sae.
Prayer alone ascended for her –
“God have mercy – lost CAWARRA!”

Hark! on the ear, the doleful minute gun
Proclaims the movement of the funeral train,
Hearses and drays in long procession come
Laden with relics from the ruthless main.
Thousand weeping mourners follow,
Sigh and say “alas! CAWARRA.”

In crescent form and piteous to behold,
There on the earth, in awful silence view,
The young, the strong, the delicate, the bold
One common grave receives THE TWENTY-TWO!
Precious hope from faith we borrow,
To assuage our grief, CAWARRA!

Oh! Lay them gently where no angry blast
Their rest shall ruffle, or their fears restore,
Their voyage is ended, and their anchor cast
Where winds and waves can never hurt them more.
Who shall boast of life tomorrow,
Let him think of thee, CAWARRA!
G. Wood,
Sydney
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The Perilous Gate
Verses written by the author of “Craddock Head” descriptive of the heroic conduct of CAPTAIN CHATFIELD, in connection with the wrecks of the “Helen Lancaster” and the “Cawarra”, the latter of which he was Commander, and with that ill-fated vessel lost his life.

A gray and weather-beaten man
Sat by me on the shore,
Ruddy and strong, although his span
Of life had reached three score;
And sitting there upon the sand,
He pointed with a rugged hand
To where, upon the other strand,
We heard the mimic roar
Of dancing wavelets in their play
And thus this grizzled man did say:

Yes, Sir, a pretty entrance –
Though, were I homebound sail,
I’d rather far stand out to sea,
Than chance that bank upon my lee
When blows a stiffish gale.
A perilous and narrow gate
That e’en the stoutest seamen hate
To enter when the wind
Blows hard from either south or east,
And each huge surge, with crest of yeast,
Comes roaring like a wounded beast.
And mountains roll behind.

‘Twas toward the close of winter,
It had blown hard all the night,
And the great sea-horses tearing by,
Tossing their glimmering manes on high,
Raced madly past the bight;
A wild southeaster lashed them
From their wide ocean home
A moment on the bank they’d glower,
Then curling up aloft they’d tower
And leap ashore in the deaf’ning shower
Of blinding spray and foam.

The sun seen through the driving haze,
Swam in a mist of blood,
As o’er the lurid heavens
Was whirled the lowering scud;
And some with dull forebodings,
From their snug homes did haste,
For many a man came here to see
If inbound craft there chanced to be,
And sailors’ wives looked anxiously
Out on the surging waste.

Past noon, a steamer making in
Out yonder you could see,
Now rolling calmed in yawning troughs,
‘Gulphed to her main crosstree;
Then climbing from the chasm,
On the white tops she’d ride,
When catching the full tempest’s force
She’d stagger in her onward course,
And plunging like a wearied horse,
Yaw over on her side.

Said I: “That’s the Cawarra”.
I knew her by her bow;
And as she neared mutely aghast
We stood there straining through the blast,
Hoping that once the Nobbys past
The harbour she might make at last
Though many there, I trow,
With knowledge of this narrow gate,
Had sick forewarnings of her fate,
For close to leeward now,
Two cables’ length, the Oyster Bank
Lay beaconed by a ship that sank
A good ten years ago.

Yes; ten good years the Oyster Bank
Was beaconed by a spar
That stood where once in like storm sank
The Helen Lancaster.
Five fathoms deep the rotting shell
Up-reared this slender spar to tell
Of a brave deed done nobly well
Upon this very bar.
Many, sir, in the Abbey sleep
Who gained their laurels on the deep
In doughty deeds of war,
Who yet have less deserved their fame
Than one of whom few know the name –
A brave and simple tar.

For when the Helen Lancaster,
In another such a gale,
Went stern-first down nigh from the town
Some thought they heard the wail
Of those sixteen poor wretches
Who climbed aloft for life,
And sat there huddled in the top
With nothing but this slender prop,
Which at each blow you’d think must drop
In the unequal strife.

There thronged then on the Nobbys
A horror-stricken crowd;
And I was there, and some there were
In pity sobbed aloud;
And some would point and some would rave,
And beg us sailor-men to save
These castaways, and baulk the grave
Of those who’d donned their shroud.

An awful sea was running,
And not in all the crew
Was one who thought boat could be brought
Those boiling breakers through;
For on the bank each roller
Broke as it onward swept,
And far and wide the seething tide
In maddest tumult leapt.

“It cannot be – no boat could live!”
A chum of mine began;
“Impossible!” – when through the crowd
A little fair-haired man
Pushed, panting as from running fast,
And peered out through the raging blast
As though the wreck to scan:

Then quickly turned and looked about,
Searching some face to find,
Stranger or friend, whom Heaven might send
Of like courageous mind.
The first mate of the Thistle –
A quiet man enough –
Though none had guessed that this stout breast,
In its blue serge, brass buttoned vest,
Held such heroic stuff.

“Now lads” he shouted shrill and clear,
“Who’ll venture it with me?
Each minute lost a life may cost
In such a tumbling sea.
With four good mates I’ll wager
We’ll bring all safe to shore –
Come, who will try?” “Three answered “I”,
And I, Sir, made the four.

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