The DC-3 Aviation Museum
Proudly presents:
Dakota 6832
"Flying Fishcart"
Part - 2b
submitted By: Robin Stobbs
r.stobbs@ru.ac.za
As luck would have it, Hunt had called in at Moroni on the 20th December
to collect the Ngazija football team who, together with the team from Nzwani,
were to play a series of inter-island matches in Maore.
Hunt had just arrived in Mutsamudu when he heard of the coelacanth catch
and its arrival in the town and he went ashore to look at the fish.
He immediately recognised it as a coelacanth although it looked somewhat different from the picture
he had been given by Margaret and JLB in Zanzibar.
This fish had no first dorsal fin but he, Hunt, was convinced that it was the fish Smith was looking for.
He promised the fishermen that he would take the fish to Dzaudzi and, should it be the one
Smith wanted he would return with the promised 50 000 Francs reward.
Hunt later told that he had paid a reward to the fisherman in order to strengthen his claim of ownership
should the French authorities prove troublesome.
It is not known, however, just what portion of the reward he paid,
to whom it was paid, nor when the payment was made.
We only know, from Hunt's correspondence with Smith,
Lehr's records and later conversations held between Quentin Keynes and Ahamadi,
that the fishermen received their reward in full.
Hunt was convinced that he now had the fish that Smith wanted and knew
that already it had been dead for far too long without preservation
and that the fierce tropical heat was aiding decay all the time.
He was unable to locate the local medical doctor so he cut the fish and salted it
as Margaret Smith had shown him only a fortnight before in Zanzibar.
Hunt knew there was no means of international communication from Mutsamudu
so he promptly embarked the Nzwani football team and set sail for Maore.
Early next morning Hunt's trim schooner, "Nduwaro" nosed through
the narrow channel in the outer reef and into the little harbour of Dzaudzi,
a satellite islet on Maore's outer reef and the capital town of Maore at that time.
Hunt sought out the local medical doctor, Dr. Lacouture (?le Coutre),
who was able to provide 5 litres of formalin. This they injected into the fish.
Meanwhile Hunt had cabled Smith and, after having a local fundi make
a zinc-lined wooden box for the specimen,
busied himself with his trading business and looking up old friends while awaiting Smith's arrival.
Smith, concerned that French authorities might impound 'his fish',
was anxious to leave as soon as possible.
His concern over possession of 'his' fish transcended even the threat of bad weather.
There was still, however, that little social event at the Governor's house.
Smith detested rich foods and sticky iced cakes but forced himself into social niceties
for the sake of Hunt and the aircrew.
All he wanted to do was to get home safely with his fish.
Smith paid Hunt the œ100 (plus a further œ100 towards Hunt's expenses)
and promised that further specimens might also fetch a similar reward.
The aircrew, having never seen such a beautiful island before,
were keen to see more of the Comoros
(and one or two of the administrator's female staff)
and would gladly have stayed longer. JLB had also never been to the Comoros
(and, incidentally, never went there again)
but, oblivious of the beauty of the islands around him,
he was determined to leave as soon as possible.
Smith, in his book "Old Fourlegs" tells of having to depart in a hurry in order to evade an approaching cyclone.
Another myth! The story of a cyclone was, in fact, nothing more than a concoction by the aircrew
who were anxious to stay a little longer in this island paradise!
Despite some anxious girlfriends back home, and a good New Year's Eve party,
the aircrew were not above trying for a few more hours of R&R on Maore.
The aircrew made every use of the cyclone excuse to stay on but Smith pulled authority
of the Prime Minister himself
- perhaps he also felt that since proper diplomatic channels had not been opened
and clearance had not been obtained from French authorities in Madagascar,
someone might attempt to confiscate 'his' fish.
Smith claimed to have hastily recorded all relevant details but, unable to speak French,
had to rely on Hunt interpreting everything for him.
Incredibly, Smith did not even enquire about the fisherman who had provided this specimen
nor did he attempt to address Affane Mohamed.
All Smith's information regarding the coelacanth's catch and subsequent handling
was acquired second hand. Affane's disappointed comment on the whole affair was,
"J'assistais …à la scène en simple spectateur!"
A touch of sour grapes, perhaps, since his participation automatically ensured
an immediate and substantial social elevation and he was, after all,
only acting on behalf of the fishermen who had actually caught the fish.
With mixed emotions the aircrew prepared for their return flight and were airborne by 10:05HRS
and having spent less than three hours on Maore.
Smith graphically wrote in "Old Fourlegs" that the aircraft had to dodge an approaching cyclone
but in reality the only 'dodging' done was the normal navigational practice of swinging
the aircraft through a 60 and 120 degree dog-leg in order to establish the true drift vector
essential for setting course directly for Lumbo.
Pre-programmed by the advancing cyclone story of the aircrew Smith took this to be
a storm-dodging manoeuvre but had he looked closely at the weather outside he might
have realised that all he was able to see was the normal accumulation of cumulo-nimbus
clouds associated with a typical kaskazi season.
Tragically, though, a cyclone did pass close by the island some days afterwards,
causing considerable damage to the island and completely wrecking Hunt's little schooner.
After Smith's departure Hunt returned to Nzwani and, on the 30th December,
presented Ahamadi with the balance of his enormous reward.
Despite his trying to capture further coelacanths, and collect the rewards posted
by the French in Madagascar, Ahamadi was never again to catch another coelacanth.
Comoran fishermen had yet to become disillusioned from futile attempts
to catch a coelacanth 'on demand' and this is, perhaps, our first indication
that despite every attempt to target a coelacanth they always were,
and have been ever since, only an unpredictable, accidental bycatch.
Members of the aircrew (all alive and well in 1995) still remember with a little humour
the small, thin, determined, dedicated, obsessed and somewhat humourless scientist.
More than once they had to firmly point out that, while on the ground he might
be the expedition leader, the boss, but once in the aircraft he was only a passenger
and under the strict and total command of the Captain.
In an attempt to get this scientist to unwind a little the aircrew decided to play a prank:
they concocted a radio message that they claimed to have intercepted which was
to the effect that the French air force had scrambled a number of fighters
to intercept the Dakota in order to recover their fish.
Smith's single comment was
"outfly them"
- he wasn't about to give up his coelacanth but obviously had little idea
of the relative airspeeds of fighter aircraft compared to the somewhat sedate Dak!
The return flight was uneventful. It might not have been so, however,
had Smith fired up his "Primus" stove as he had wanted.
It seems that JLB felt the aircrew needed some hot coffee and was busy preparing
his "Primus" stove when his activities drew the attention of 'Vanski' van Niekerk.
Horrified at the very real risk of being blown apart he alerted the officers
who then had to persuade Smith that lighting his stove would surely end in the aircraft's destruction.
Smith was most reluctant to give in and only backed down when it was pointed out to him
that a mid-air explosion would also result in the loss of the coelacanth!
Smith attempted to justify his actions by telling the aircrew that he had often boiled
up a kettle on his "Primus" in a small dinghy with many pounds of gelignite explosive stacked nearby.
The event is still talked about in South African Air Force circles.
Refuelling stops were again made at Lumbo (12:05Hrs to 12:55Hrs pm)
and Lourenzo Marques (6:20Hrs to 6:45Hrs pm) and at 9:00Hrs pm they landed
back at Durban's Stamford Hill Aerodrome.
Although tired after the events of the past two days Smith had to face a barrage
of reporters and record a radio broadcast.
Smith spent a restless night with his coelacanth in its zinc-lined wooden box
alongside his bed in the Natal Command headquarters.
The aircrew had assured Smith that the heavy box would have been perfectly safe
left in the aircraft but Smith would not hear of it and insisted that it not leave his sight.
At 04:50Hrs am the next day (30th December) they left Durban for Cape Town,
landing briefly at Grahamstown to pick up Margaret Smith.
Dr. Malan had travelled up to Cape Town from his holiday cottage especially for the occasion.
The fish was shown to the public for the first time. The press were inquisitive;
Malan was not particularly impressed and just a little worried about the implications of evolution
and all that he had heard of Darwin and man and apes;
Smith was overjoyed with his successful 'capture';
the Dakota had another 4500 miles and 34 hours 'on the clock';
and the aircrew wanted only to return to their respective girlfriends and the New Year's Eve party.
Because this fish differed in some ways from the East London specimen JLB believed
it to be a different species. Imagine his feelings at the time?
Not only had he been presented with an (almost) intact and relatively undamaged
coelacanth but the probable home of these fishes had been found;
and then, to top all this, here was a fish of a second species!
In acknowledgement of Hunt's essential part in this episode Smith suggested
he name this fish Malania hunti. Hunt, already anticipating French animosity
and reaction to his involvement in this snatch,
was adamant that somehow the French, or the Comoros,
should receive the honour of providing the species name.
Hunt made his living trading in French waters and the last thing he needed right then
was to be barred from continuing to make his livelihood there.
Smith then named the fish Malania anjounae in honour of Dr. Malan and the island of Nzwani.
There followed many weeks of vacillation;
Smith wrote many reports and articles in the popular press but seemed reluctant
to dissect his fish and present a full-blown scientific paper on the anatomy.
He, in fact, never did write a detailed anatomical study of the 1952 (nor any other) coelacanth.
It was actually the French who, later, made in-depth anatomical studies
and published a series of detailed works that still remain the definitive reference
on the anatomy of the coelacanth.
This find proved beyond all doubt that the East London specimen was not some throw-back
that had been preserved in some primordial ooze.
There were other coelacanths about, alive and well around the Comoro Islands.
It seemed that, at last, the true home of the coelacanth had been found
and JLB's 14 year quest was over.
The Comoro Islands were undoubtedly where this living fossil lived.
The islanders knew the fish and they even had a name for it: gombessa.
The world had to wait a further nine months before news came through
that another coelacanth had been caught.
This specimen was also hooked off the island of Nzwani.
By July 1955 the French had seven more coelacanth specimens.
It soon became apparent that all the subsequent specimens differed little
from the 1938 specimen and that the unusual shape of the 1952 fish
was probably due to a deformity as a result of an injury in its early life
- probably a shark attack - and that this was not a genetic difference.
The name Malania anjounae, given to the 1952 specimen,
was therefore not scientifically valid according to the rules of scientific nomenclature
and had to be dropped.
All known living coelacanths belong to the same single species, Latimeria chalumnae.
A few years ago I made a small scale model Dakota to put into the 'coelacanth story' display cabinets
of the JLB Smith Institute of Ichthyology.
My search for authenticity and accuracy of the particular Dakota marque
and its markings led to making contact with three of the original 'Coelacanth Flight' aircrew.
One feature bothered me and that was the fact that in every picture we had of the Dakota
its cargo door was open and the only squadron registration letters visible were "OD".
A careful search through archive material eventually revealed a copy of the affidavit
that Coudert had written for Hunt to sign in which he,
Coudert, attempted to regain a little French prestige and honour.
In this affidavit it was recorded that the Dakota had borne the squadron letters "KOD";
a fact that even the SAAF Museum and Dakota Association of South Africa were previously unaware.
Shortly after this the South African Air Force announced they were considering
modernising their large fleet of Dakotas and converting them to turboprop engines.
This announcement prompted us to request the Chief of the Air Force that 'our' Dakota be spared
and, should she be considered to be suitable, kept as an exhibit at the Air Force Museum in Pretoria.
Direct approaches to the South African Air Force were made by Lt. Gen. Willem Bergh,
of the original aircrew, Major Vic Fouche of the SAAF Museum and
Director of the South African Dakota Association and myself.
Our request was eventually granted and this historic aircraft will be preserved as a memorial
to her kind and the unique event that simultaneously wrote chapters in scientific
and aviation history as a result of that flight to the Comoros in December 1952.
On the morning of 30th December 1992
the unmistakable beat of synchronised Pratt & Whitney engines heralded the arrival of Dakota 6832,
our "Flying Fishcart" (as she had been dubbed by the 'Pretoria News' after her Comoros flight),
into Grahamstown. The event marked the 40th anniversary of that historic flight.
On board were a number of military personnel, members of the Dakota Association,
and three members of the 1952 flight:
Duncan Ralston,
Willem Bergh
and 'Vanski' van Niekerk.
It was a memorable and nostalgic occasion and I had the singular honour, and pleasure,
of affixing a brass plaque to the inner fuselage skin of 6832 recognising that it was this very Dakota
that had achieved what no other aircraft in the world had done
- a flight of some four thousand nautical miles to fetch a dead fish!
For additional information about the
"Coelacanth"
visit: http://www.dinofish.com
(To continue please use Arrows to view additional story)
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