SS Warrimoo: A Victorian case of Hogmanay time travel

As SS Warrimoo – an 1892 passenger steamer and cargo liner – lazily sliced through dark mid-Pacific waters between Vancouver and Australia, time travel beckoned. Not that anyone really knew it yet, even as the clock ticked closer to midnight.

A new era gestured. Time’s march towards Victoriana’s final stretch of the 19^th century stirred an array of emotions. The previous 100 years had become symbolised by an industrial ripple effect spawned by advancements in railways and shipping. Now that December 31, 1899 had descended, melancholy excitement for the future enveloped the globe. None less so than the passengers and crew aboard SS Warrimoo.

After all, time is a funny thing. Hogmanay offers an opportunity to look forward, alongside reflection on the last 12 months. We are defined by time, and we celebrate each tick of the clock accordingly.

Contemplation over past experiences amid planning and resolutions for a new year has become human nature. Especially when so far from home, slicing through midnight seas in the pitch blackness.

Thoughts of this calibre no doubt entered the minds of those on board, none less so than Warrimoo’s navigator. Having figured out the ship’s exact location – LAT 0º 31' N and LONG 179 30' W – he feverishly called for the captain; a gentleman by the name of John DS Phillips.

Presenting the map in a rabid fashion, Phillips and his crew quickly established a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to place themselves in two centuries at once.

Only a matter of miles from the International Date Line, it was a navigational anomaly they couldn’t pass up. Having called the ship’s fellow navigators to the bridge to confirm SS Warrimoo’s position, Phillips recalibrated the engine speed and set a course to, quite literally, sail through history.

A date with history

The clear night and calm waters worked in Warrimoo’s favour. With a freshly conceived mission to spearhead an incoming year, as midnight on December 31 approached, SS Warrimoo now straddled the International Date Line just as the clock consumed those final seconds of 1899.

Courtesy of the swift navigation and timely calculations, the bizarre circumstances created a freak shattering of – as Doctor Who would call it – the Space- time continuum. At the strike of midnight, the bow of the ship resided in the Southern Hemisphere, where it was currently the middle of summer, whereas the stern remained in the Northern Hemisphere’s mid-winter.

Those forwards were in a new calendar year, the first people on earth to witness the hail of an incoming century, whereas those aft were in the old, and the final segment of humanity to bid farewell to a century of industrialism and societal advancement.

If a passenger wished to postpone entry into the new year, then they could simply walk to the rear of the ship; where it was still December 31, 1899. If you ignore the fact that our 20^th Century didn’t begin until 1901, then the SS Warrimoo can claim to have existed in two centuries simultaneously, too. A bit like Cher.

Debunking the story

Although the Warrimoo’s story sounds remarkable, playing with time in that stretch of water happens every day. The International Date Line ensures that any ship, person or object briefly mounts two time zones. The same applies to any vessel that momentarily straddles the equator, simultaneously present in both the Northern and Southern Hemisphere, and therefore in both summer and winter accordingly.

That doesn’t mean the tale isn’t worth noting. It remains a navigational masterpiece of timely proportions, especially considering that navigation of the era involved manual calculations and – literally – guidance by the stars.

The only confirmation of Warrimoo’s time-bending journey comes from a small report in The Sydney Morning Herald, published in January 1900. Even then, it doesn’t mention anything about traversing the wormhole.

It’s this point that casts the seeds of doubt. Yes – courtesy of reporting from January 1900 – SS Warrimoo was in the right area at the right time, but it would be almost impossible to prove they got the exact location correct. Victorian navigational technology was not accurate enough to have pinpointed an exact latitude/longitude, leaving historians perplexed as the feat cannot be officially verified.

The plot thickens when you delve deeper into the records, and discover that the ship’s time-defying achievement wasn’t fully reported until a Canadian newspaper article was published in 1942, by which time the SS Warrimoo rested firmly upon the seabed.

Scepticism over any historical claim would certainly build when four decades pass before a claim comes forward. Then there’s the missing documentation. The account could well be true, but as copies of the ship’s log and accounts from other Warrimoo occupants – other than Captain Phillips – are not available, the only claim we have comes from the 1942 Canadian article.

As such, the ship’s infamous achievement remains open to question. Still – even if the ship’s story is purely speculative or hypothetical, it’s a fascinating slice of shipping heritage nonetheless. The imagination runs wild, and it's surely only a matter of time before the occasion becomes a Sci-fi plot for Hollywood to plunder.

What happened to SS Warrimoo?

SS Warrimoo called the River Tyne her home, built by Swan Hunter in Newcastle and launched on May 28, 1892, before completion in July of that year. Ordered by the founder of Huddart Parker Limited – James Huddart – the ship was intended for his New Zealand and Australian Steam Ship Company route between ports in Australasia.

However, the ship’s first mission involved ploughing the waves towards the fjords of Norway before a change of plan. Warrimoo also had a sister ship, SS Miowera, which was launched on July 25 and completed in October 1892. Both Miowera and Warrimoo were transferred to the new service between Australia and Vancouver, British Columbia.

It wasn’t long before the New Zealand Shipping Company purchased both vessels, although the Warrimoo was promptly bought by a competitor known simply as the ‘Union Company’.

Things progressed nicely with dozens of successful voyages recorded in Warrimoo’s journal. The future looked bright, but fate had other ideas. Commandeered as a troop ship upon the outbreak of WWI, the vessel carried men and supplies overseas as part of the New Zealand Expeditionary Force.

Warrimoo almost made it through the war. The ship was practically in the clear. Then disaster struck on May 18, 1918.

As part of a convoy carrying troops from Tunisia to France, SS Warrimoo collided with the French destroyer Catapulte. As a direct result. Catapulte’s depth charges broke free and dropped into the water, subsequently detonating and sinking both ships. A total of 58 men aboard Catapulte were killed, alongside one person aboard Warrimoo.

The Miowera didn’t fare much better, running around on Christmas Day, 1916. She’s still there, now integrated with a reef. The ship’s cylinder-head block pops above the surface during low tide and the wreck can be accessed by experienced divers during the summer months. Her resting place will forever be near Bergen, Norway.

As for Warrimoo herself, despite her time travel, her tomb within the inky blackness off the coast of Tunsia won’t be disturbed any time soon. At least she has the Catapulte for company.