17 July 2011 - Black River Stadium, Queensland

Sunday morning does not normally equal a sleep in for us, but as the Tour de France progresses across the Pyrenees and keeps Chris up later than ever, it was this morning. Out here in the country, thirty kilometres out of Townsville, clouds covered the sky and we were glad that we had decided to continue with the museum theme.

It was just short of eleven o’clock when we entered the Museum of Tropical Queensland, just in time to watch the firing of the six pound cannon. While the desk person suggested that Chris in his covered shoes would be a perfect candidate to assist with the ritual, there were more than enough children over eight years old adequately foot-clad. In fact there were children of every age and every personality there, so much so that we regretted having ignored our neighbours’ advice to avoid weekend museum visits. While I totally support (and would encourage) parents to take their children to museums and galleries, to initiate them in to an appreciation of cultural matters, I would also have them withdraw their little darlings from the premises the moment the children show signs of hunger, boredom or in fact, anything less than a half hearted interest. Or alternatively maybe these places should charge people over the age of say forty, only half price entry on days when there are likely to be children sharing the place. Now I know that readers, particularly my own children, will be horrified that I should even think such a traitorous thought. But such is life! No doubt I upset old people with my own children when they were young, or did I?

Just like Reef HQ, the Museum of Tropical Queensland is again a must-do for visitors to Townsville. The central exhibit or theme, or at least the one that captured me above and beyond anything else, was that surrounding the story of the HMS Pandora. This ship together obviously with its captain and its crew, was sent by the British Admiralty from England in pursuit of the mutineers of the Bounty. Bligh and those of the Bounty’s crew who refused to go with Christian Fletcher and his mates who had been seduced by the women of Tahiti, were put in a small boat and set adrift. They eventually found their way to Timor, and back to England to tell their tale.

Fletcher in the meantime, with his rebellious lot, set off and settled on Tubuai, then had problems with the natives, took off again dropping fourteen of the mutineers at Tahiti, and went on east to settle on Pitcairn Island. Of course all of this is history and has been celebrated in many films on the big screen.

When Captain Edwards of the Pandora arrived in Tahiti, he captured the fourteen left by Fletcher, who by this time had formed relationships and had children to the sexy Tahitian wahines. He rounded them up and chained them up in a box built on the poop deck, which became known as Pandora’s Box. Then he upped anchor and wended his way west looking for Fletcher and his wily lot. En route the captain and his crew called on islands and gathered a fabulous collection of collectibles, all to be taken home to put on the mantle-piece or sold to Sotherbys, but no trace of the remaining elusive mutineers.

Off the Great Barrier Reef, the ship came to grief and thiry one of the crew were lost together with four of the prisoners still in chains. They found their way to a sandy cay and after a couple of days toasting in the sun, managed to salvage four long boats and enough provisions to carry them through to Batavia in Timor, a distance of over 1,000 miles across the Arafura Sea. From there they were taken back to England courtesy of the Dutch Government, and to meet their various fates: hanging for three of the prisoners, exonerated at a court martial for the captain, further adventures at sea for some and returning to their relatively mundane lives for the rest.

The Pandora lay just over thirty metres beneath the waves on the reef, burrowing further into the sand each year that passed. Then in 1977, the wreck was discovered, and in the years that followed, several archeological expeditions were undertaken. A huge number of artifacts are on display in the museum, with excellent interpretive and story panels and DVDs. The curator advises that one hour be allowed to visit this section of the museum; obviously I was absorbed for much longer than that.

As an aside, but within the area of shipwreck, is the story of the SS Yongala, a passenger ship bound from Melbourne to Cairns with 122 souls on board along with a race horse and a breeding bull. It was lost in 1911 with only the body of the horse being washed ashore and no further clue to its demise. In 1958, the wreck was discovered and the mystery solved. Today it is established as an artificial reef and is a popular tourist destination for those with a yen for scuba diving.

We returned to the cruiser and the park bench that has become our regular picnic place, before immersing ourselves yet again in the museum. Even more children had arrived, all fired up with renewed energy from their lunch, and so our wandering around the rest of the museum was marred by noise and activity that distracted and detracted from the informative exhibitions.

There is a good display of geological history with the normal explanations of the changes in the earth’s crust, exhibits of weird and wonderful creatures who dwell in the deep and deeper parts of the oceans, a section devoted to human life in the tropics which featured spiders, denghi fever, and other such joys, and a rainforest display. The one exhibit that did catch my attention was that all about coral. While the Reef HQ had offered a gallery of colour and the visual wonders of these marvellous animals, the museum explained in a concise manner, the fact that coral is in fact just that, an animal, and also explained and showed in an amazing DVD, the reproduction process of these weird and wonderful creatures.