Monthly Archives: October 2024

Devonport: A Hidden Gem in Tasmania’s History

Devonport’s history begins with the joining of two settlements, Torquay and Formby, on either side of the Mersey River. These small communities, founded in the 1850s, were independent at first. In 1893, the towns merged to become Devonport. The joining of these two settlements was meant to symbolize unity. But in truth, rivalry remained beneath the surface for many years.

On the east bank, Torquay was built by the hands of fishers and farmers. Their focus was always on the river, where the fish were plentiful, and the land was rich for crops. Formby, on the west bank, grew from merchants and traders, who saw the river as a route for business. Devonport, therefore, was born from a union of necessity, not necessarily of shared values.

In 1907, Devonport became a municipality. It was the first step towards modernity, but it wasn’t until Prince Charles of Wales visited in 1981 that Devonport was declared a city. By then, it had grown into Tasmania’s third-largest city, with a population that reflected its newfound urban status.

Despite its small size, Devonport’s people were innovative. Around 1901, the Finlayson family made history by building what many believe to be the first steam car in the southern hemisphere. Their foundry, small and modest, soon gained a reputation across Tasmania for its forward-thinking designs.

Later, in 1934, the Holyman family established a shipping business that would eventually evolve into Australia’s first airline to connect the mainland with Tasmania. Their story is still told today, a testament to Devonport’s pioneering spirit.

But Devonport’s mark on history wasn’t just industrial. It was also political. The town became the birthplace of Joseph Lyons, Australia’s tenth Prime Minister, and his wife, Enid Lyons, the first woman elected to the House of Representatives. Enid’s achievements were monumental. After Joseph’s death, she continued to serve her country, inspiring generations of women to follow in her footsteps. Today, their home, “Home Hill,” stands as a museum, a symbol of Devonport’s place in Australian political history.

But the most remarkable story in Devonport belongs to a woman whose name has largely been forgotten, though her deeds were far from ordinary.

The Story of Alice Gurney

Alice Gurney was a local shopkeeper. She ran a small general store that sat on the corner of Torquay Road. By all accounts, she lived a simple life. No one would have expected her to play a key role in solving a crime that gripped Devonport in the 1950s.

One evening, a young boy went missing. His name was Matthew Reid. He had gone to the riverbank to fish, as many boys did back then, but he never returned. The town searched for him for days. The police, the townspeople, even those from neighboring communities came to help. But there was no sign of Matthew.

Alice watched all this from her shop. She saw the men leave each morning with hope in their eyes, only to return at night with nothing to show for their efforts. On the fifth day, Alice noticed something. There was a man, a stranger, who had arrived in town the day Matthew disappeared. He had claimed to be a traveling salesman, but something about him made Alice suspicious.

She watched him carefully. He would sit at the local pub each night, talking with whoever would listen. But he never seemed interested in selling anything. Instead, he asked about the search for Matthew. Alice found this odd. She kept her distance, listening, observing, until one night, the man said something that caught her ear. He mentioned the riverbank, describing a detail about the rocks there that only someone who had been at the exact spot where Matthew was last seen would know.

Alice went to the police the next day. She told them about the man. At first, they dismissed her. After all, she was just a shopkeeper. But Alice insisted. “Watch him,” she said. “He knows something.”

Reluctantly, they agreed. The police began to follow the man, watching his every move. And sure enough, he led them to Matthew’s body, hidden in a shallow grave near the river. The man had killed the boy over a petty argument and had been pretending to help with the search all along.

The town was in shock. No one had suspected the stranger. But Alice had trusted her instincts. When the man was arrested, the townspeople couldn’t believe it. Alice had solved the crime.

Years later, people would still talk about the boy who went missing. They would speak of how he had been found, and how a quiet woman had been the one to bring justice to his family.

The Twist

But there was one thing Alice never told anyone. Not even the police. She had known the man from long ago. He wasn’t just a stranger. He was her cousin, a black sheep of the family who had left town years before. She had recognized him the moment he walked into her shop, but she had kept quiet. She had waited, biding her time, knowing that eventually, he would reveal himself.

And when he did, she made sure justice was served.

Alice’s secret died with her. She never spoke of it to anyone. But in her quiet way, she had protected her town, all while hiding the truth that would have made her part of the very crime she helped solve.

Faith and Discovery: Hamilton’s Early Settlers

Hamilton was settled by the 4th Waikato Regiment Militia in 1864. Captain William Steele led them. They arrived on the Rangiriri, a small steamboat, on 24 August. As the boat came up the river, the local people stood on the banks, watching quietly. Among the passengers was Teresa Vowless. She held her baby in her arms but passed the child to another woman as they neared the shore. Without a word, she leapt into the river. Teresa wanted to be the first settler to set foot on this new land. Some said it was her faith in God that drove her. She believed she had been led there for a reason.

The land, however, was far from what the settlers expected. Much of it was swamp. They had been promised fertile ground, but many struggled to farm. By 1868, most of the settlers had given up and left. Hamilton’s population dropped from 1,000 to 300. Those who stayed had to rely on faith that somehow, their future would improve. In 1875, hope came in the form of a brickworks that opened in town, offering jobs and a sense that Hamilton could grow. But for many, faith was the only thing keeping them going.


In 1882, Eliza Beckett came to Hamilton. She was a widow with three children, and her life had been hard. After her husband died in an accident, she had little to her name. A distant cousin had told her about Hamilton. “Go there,” they said. “They need workers, and you’ll find a fresh start.” Eliza believed it was God who had guided her path. She had been praying for a way forward.

At first, she found work at the new brickworks, hauling clay. It was back-breaking labor, but she was thankful for the work. “God provides,” she often said, though the men around her didn’t understand why a woman would speak of faith while working in such rough conditions. Eliza saved her wages, trusting that one day, she would leave Hamilton for a better life.

One day, while working, Eliza overheard a conversation between two men. One was Thomas White, a local landowner, and the other was a man she didn’t recognize. He was quiet and spoke with conviction. They were standing by the kiln, talking in low voices. “The land’s no good,” Thomas muttered. “I don’t care what the others say—it’s cursed.”

Eliza listened, intrigued. The quiet man responded calmly. “It’s not the land, Thomas. It’s what lies beneath it. There’s something here—something God has hidden for a reason.”

Eliza pondered his words. That evening, as she prayed with her children before bed, she thought about what she had overheard. She believed that if God had hidden something, it would only be revealed when the time was right.


Days passed, and soon there was talk of a strange discovery. A local worker had uncovered something unusual while digging near the swamp. Eliza couldn’t get the details, but people whispered about it in town. Some said it was an ancient relic. Others spoke of bones. No one seemed to know for sure.

Eliza’s curiosity grew. She believed this might be connected to the conversation she had overheard. One afternoon, as she left the brickworks, she saw Thomas White again. He was standing with a group of men outside the general store. “We should’ve left it alone,” he was saying. “We’ve disturbed something that was meant to stay buried.”

Eliza approached. “What did you find, Mr. White?”

He looked at her, hesitant. “Best not ask, Mrs. Beckett. It’s not for us to know.”

Eliza didn’t push, but later that night, she prayed. She asked for guidance, for God to show her what this discovery meant. The next day, she walked out to the edge of town, to the place where the land was boggy and still. She found the spot where the men had been digging. The ground was freshly disturbed, and Eliza, believing this was God’s way of answering her prayers, began to search.

She found something half-buried in the mud. It was small, heavy, and wrapped in cloth. As she unwrapped it, a strange feeling came over her. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it felt important—holy, even. She believed it was a sign.


A week later, two men came to her door. One was Thomas White. The other was the quiet man from before, his eyes filled with a certain intensity.

“Mrs. Beckett,” Thomas said, “we need to talk.”

Eliza stepped outside, her Bible clutched in one hand. “What about?”

Thomas sighed. “You took something from the ground. We need it back.”

Eliza’s heart raced. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The quiet man stepped forward. “There are two ways to look at this,” he said calmly. “Some believe it’s a blessing, something sacred. Others say it’s dangerous, meant to stay hidden. Which do you believe?”

Eliza stood firm. “I believe God has a plan. If He wanted it hidden, He wouldn’t have let me find it.”

The man nodded. “Perhaps. But not all things revealed are meant for us.”

Eliza prayed that night, holding the strange object close. She asked for wisdom, for a sign that she was doing the right thing. The next day, she returned to the place where she had found the object. There, she felt a stirring in her spirit, something telling her to let go. She knew it was time to return what she had taken.

She found Thomas White in town the following morning. “You were right,” she told him. “It wasn’t meant for me.”


In the end, Eliza understood that what she had found wasn’t a treasure or a curse. It was a test of faith. She had believed God had given it to her, but in truth, He was asking her to trust Him enough to let it go. She had always been faithful, but now, she saw that true faith wasn’t about holding on—it was about surrender.

Hamilton went on, with its struggles and its growth. And Eliza Beckett remained a woman of faith, known for her quiet strength and wisdom. In the end, the object was never spoken of again, but those who knew the story understood its lesson. It was not what was found in the ground that mattered, but what was found in the heart.

Managing Katherine’s Floods: A Tale of Resilience

Katherine is a town in the Northern Territory of Australia, located on the banks of the Katherine River. It sits 320 kilometers southeast of Darwin, where the outback meets the tropics. The town began as a small outpost in the 1870s, built to support the Australian Overland Telegraph Line that connected Darwin with Adelaide. Back then, it was just a handful of tents, some rough shelters, and a steady flow of dusty travelers. The town grew slowly, shaped by its location along one of the country’s key transport routes. People passed through, some stayed, and gradually, Katherine began to take form.

Gold mining brought the first real boom to the town. In the late 1800s, prospectors found gold in the nearby hills. Miners arrived in droves, hoping to strike it rich. The town expanded quickly, with pubs, general stores, and boarding houses popping up overnight. But like most gold rushes, it didn’t last. The gold ran out, and many left, leaving behind a quieter, more stable settlement. Farming took root, and cattle ranches spread across the plains surrounding the town. The river, prone to flooding during the wet season, became both a blessing and a curse, nourishing the land but sometimes bringing disaster.

World War II changed everything. In 1942, Japan bombed Darwin, and Katherine suddenly found itself on the front line of Australia’s defense. The town became a staging post for troops moving north, and airstrips were built to support the war effort. One of these would eventually become RAAF Base Tindal, 17 kilometers southeast of town. After the war, Katherine continued to serve a strategic military function, with the base playing a key role in local employment and the town’s economy.

Tourism became important in the latter half of the 20th century. Katherine’s proximity to Nitmiluk National Park, home to the famous Katherine Gorge, drew visitors eager to explore the stunning landscapes and ancient rock art. People came to see where the outback met the tropics, to experience a place where rugged red cliffs rise over lush green waterways. Today, Katherine is the fourth largest town in the Northern Territory, a hub for travelers on the Savannah Way, and a gateway to both history and nature.


One person who saw the town’s evolution firsthand was a local woman named Rose Carter. Born in the 1950s, Rose grew up when Katherine was still a rough-and-tumble place, with dusty streets and the smell of cattle drifting in from the surrounding ranches. Her father was a rancher, and she spent her childhood riding horses, mending fences, and learning how to survive in the harsh landscape. By the time she was in her twenties, she knew every corner of the town and its surrounding wilderness.

Rose wasn’t a woman to settle for a quiet life. She had an idea that could change the way Katherine approached its biggest problem: the river. Every wet season, the Katherine River would flood, sometimes causing major damage to homes and businesses. It had happened several times in her life, and each time, the town would have to rebuild. Rose thought there had to be a way to manage the water better, to prevent the damage before it happened.

She spent years studying how other towns dealt with floods. She learned about levees, flood barriers, and water management systems. But there was resistance. Katherine was a small town, and people were used to doing things a certain way. They weren’t keen on the expense or the effort required to build flood defenses. Some said Rose was wasting her time.

But Rose was stubborn. She gathered support slowly, convincing local officials to listen to her ideas. By the time she was in her forties, her plan for a series of levees and flood diversion channels was starting to take shape. The town had never seen anything like it, and while many doubted it would work, they were willing to give it a try.

The levees were built just in time. In 1998, a record wet season hit, and the Katherine River rose higher than it had in decades. But this time, instead of the water rushing into town, it was diverted away, held back by the levees that Rose had fought so hard to build. People marveled at the sight—the river, still powerful, but no longer a threat. Rose became a local hero overnight.

For years, Rose was celebrated as the woman who saved Katherine. But there was one detail about her plan that few people knew. She had discovered something strange while working on the flood defenses. During the early stages of construction, Rose had found an old underground passage that ran beneath the town, following the river’s path. It was ancient, far older than anything the town had ever known. Some believed it was a natural formation, a forgotten cave system. Others thought it had been created by early settlers or explorers.

Rose never spoke much about the passage, but rumors spread. Some said it led to hidden chambers deep within the gorge, others that it connected to old gold mines. A few even whispered that the passage held secrets about the river itself—how it rose and fell, and why it flooded the way it did. But Rose kept quiet, only sharing vague details with a few close friends.

One day, years after the flood levees were built, a young historian from Darwin came to town. He had been researching Katherine’s history and had heard about the underground passage. He was determined to find it, convinced that it held the key to understanding Katherine’s past. He asked Rose to help him. She agreed, but on one condition: they would never speak of what they found.

Together, they explored the passage, and what they discovered was shocking. It wasn’t natural at all. It had been carved out deliberately, but not by settlers or miners. The passage was much older, and it led to a chamber deep under the riverbank. There, etched into the walls, was something Rose had never expected to see—an ancient map of the river, marking its flow, its floods, and something else. A second, hidden river running beneath the Katherine.

Rose realized, with growing horror, that her flood defenses hadn’t stopped the river at all. They had only delayed it. The hidden river was still rising, building pressure, waiting to break free. She had saved the town, but only temporarily. And now, she had to decide what to do next.

She never told anyone about the chamber, not even the historian. He left Katherine soon after, his research incomplete. Rose kept the secret, watching the river, waiting. The town still saw her as a hero, but Rose knew that one day, the water would come again, and this time, nothing could stop it.