- Author
- Colin Randall
- Subjects
- Biographies and personal histories, History - WW1
- Tags
-
- RAN Ships
- None noted.
- Publication
- September 2025 edition of the Naval Historical Review (all rights reserved)
By Colin Randall
When a young Gladys Taylor of Mossyrock in Washington State, USA, stowed away aboard the merchant schooner A.B. Johnson in Willapa Bay in 1917, bound for Australia, she had no idea her adventure would bring her in contact with a modern-day pirate, or that battles would ensue leaving her marooned on a tropical island in the South Pacific.
On 4 August, the German raider Seeadler, captained by Count Felix von Luckner, who sunk A.B. Johnson, had broken up on the reef while anchored outside of Mopelia’s lagoon and the crews of all ships were eventually marooned on the island of Mopelia. There were two camps, one German and one American, with individual huts for the captains.
Building, hunting turtles, gathering coconuts, and swimming parties kept life interesting for all the castaways. For Gladys, life on the island was a fantasy come true. With her new status as Captain Peterson’s wife, she was shielded and pampered, her role as stewardess forgotten.
According to the Tacoma Times, Gladys said on her return from San Francisco: “The sea, the glory of a strange land, the sweet winds, starry nights around campfires, and the thrilling uncertainty of tomorrow – every woman hankers for just that at some time in her life.”
As the days passed, the German Von Luckner grew restless and with a select group of men took Seeadler’s long boat and set out for Fiji to capture another vessel. Instead, he had to surrender to a British lieutenant and became a prisoner of war in New Zealand for the remainder of the conflict.
Captain Smith and some his crew, after two attempts in an open boat, made it to Pago-Pago to secure help. The castaways were subsequently taken to Tahiti on 6 October, and then on to San Francisco.
His crew back in Mopelia heard about his capture on the radio, so when the French trading vessel Lutece anchored at Mopelia, Seeadler’s Lieutenant Kling, marched out and took her at gunpoint. The Germans renamed the vessel Fortuna and sailed away eastwards. However, they ran aground near Easter Island and were taken into custody by local government authorities.
“The day the rescue vessel came I did not know whether to be glad or sorry. Something finer and more wonderful than I had ever before known was drawing to a close. I almost wept when Mopelia, the island of my adventure, faded on the horizon,” Gladys said.
According to the International News Service, Gladys was quoted as saying, “Won’t my mother be glad to know I’m safe.” And she was. In all accounts, that is the end of the story of the young woman-child described as having a fire inside her, who just wanted to see the world. Perhaps that is true, however a more recent genealogical hunt has now shed new light on Gladys Taylor’s story.
She was born in Mossyrock in 1884 to farmers Frank and Ada Swigert. She married Neil W. Taylor of Raymond, a town on the Willapa, in 1916. Then a Gladys Taylor got on a boat at Willapa Bay in 1917. The Swigert family were prominent in Mossyrock and kept extensive family records, and yet the story of Gladys is not among them. A daughter leaving her husband to stow away on a ship bound for Australia would be a scandal. Gladys remarried in 1922, a fellow named William Henry Cassidy, a projectionist from Portland.
But in Gladys’ words, “I trusted to luck when I stowed away at Willapa Harbor that May Day. And I trusted to luck on Mopelia Island. It played me true, and I have no regrets.”
