In the early 1800s, a man named Thomas Lipson sailed into the rugged coastline of what is now Port Lincoln. Lipson was charmed by the landscape. The harbor stretched out before him, calm yet full of potential. He admired the fertile land, which he thought would feed many people. But when Colonel William Light arrived a few years later, he was not impressed. Light faced the wild westerly winds, harsh islands, and jagged reefs that seemed to rise out of the water without warning. These obstacles gave him pause.

“It’s a trap for ships,” Light said, standing on the deck of his vessel, his eyes scanning the unforgiving coast. “No merchant ship will safely navigate here after a long voyage.”

Lipson disagreed. “Look beyond the reefs. The land will reward those willing to tame it.”

But Light shook his head. He saw no future for a settlement in such a treacherous spot. He was looking for something different—better farmland, fresh water, and safer shores for the city he envisioned. Eventually, he chose Adelaide for settlement, leaving Port Lincoln behind.

Even without Light’s blessing, others were eager to try their luck in Port Lincoln. The first settlers arrived in March 1839 on ships named Abeona, Porter, and Dorset. By the following year, the population of the town had grown to 270 people. They built stone houses and opened shops in an area that would later be called Happy Valley. It wasn’t a big town, but it had grit. The people who chose Port Lincoln wanted a fresh start, a place to build something new, and they weren’t scared of hard work.

The land was difficult, though. Early on, settlers struggled to grow enough crops to sustain themselves. The weather was unpredictable. Some seasons saw little rain, and the soil was not as rich as Lipson had believed. But they persevered. The pioneers built a hotel, a blacksmith’s shop, and a store. Ships came and went, bringing supplies and news from other parts of the colony.

Governor George Gawler soon recognized the potential of this growing settlement. On 3 October 1839, he proclaimed the whole area, from Cape Catastrophe to the Spencer Gulf, as one district. He named it the District of Port Lincoln, and for a time, people believed it might grow into a major city.

The Story of Martha Seaton

Martha Seaton lived in Port Lincoln her whole life. She was born in one of the stone houses built by the first settlers and spent her days by the sea. Like her mother and grandmother, she learned the ways of the land. She knew which plants could survive the dry seasons and which fish were best caught at different times of the year.

As she grew older, Martha became a respected woman in town. She was known for her quiet wisdom. Whenever there was trouble, people came to her for advice. But Martha didn’t say much. She listened.

One afternoon, she sat on the beach with her old friend, Mr. Harris. He had lived in Port Lincoln even longer than she had.

“They say the sea gives and takes,” Mr. Harris said, gazing out at the waves.

Martha nodded. “It has a mind of its own.”

Mr. Harris smiled. He had heard her say that before. “You’ve seen more than most of us. Do you ever regret staying here?”

“No,” Martha replied simply. “There’s always been enough. For me, anyway.”

But deep down, she knew she had kept a secret for years.

When she was younger, Martha had done something unexpected. She had built a boat. Not just any boat, but a small, sturdy vessel, made for one. She never told anyone why she built it, or what she planned to do with it. It took her two years to finish the craft, carefully choosing every piece of timber. She worked in secret, out by the rocks where no one came.

One night, after it was finished, she took the boat out to sea. There had been rumors of a hidden cove, far beyond the reefs. The sailors called it “The Quiet Bay,” and they said whoever found it would never want for anything again.

Martha set out at dusk. The winds were rough, and the waves slapped against the hull of her small boat. She steered with a steady hand, trusting her instincts. Hours passed. The town disappeared behind her. The moon was high when she finally found it—a calm stretch of water, hidden by towering cliffs. She stayed there for a while, alone with the stars, before heading back to shore.

She never spoke of it. No one asked.

Years later, when her friend Mr. Harris died, Martha was left with few companions. But the sea never left her. She went out fishing most mornings, sitting quietly on the rocks. One day, the townspeople noticed something strange—Martha had stopped coming to the market, and no one had seen her for days.

They searched the coast and found her boat missing. It seemed she had set out to sea again, but this time, she never returned.

People said she had gone to The Quiet Bay to live out her days in peace, away from the world. Others whispered that she had always known something about the sea that the rest of them didn’t.