29 Nov 1884 On 28th November, at her residence, Wellington Terrace, Frances, relict of Samuel J. Wordsworth, Esq., writer of the Signet, Edinburgh, and daughter of Robert Young, Esq., of the General Post Office, Edinburgh, aged 58 years

2 Dec 1884 Mrs Frances Wordsworth, known as the heroine of the Crozets, she being the only female who escaped at the wreck of the Strathmore, and for many months participated in the hardships and suffering of the survivors until rescued, died on Saturday aged 58

2 Dec 1884 ... the incident of the wreck are no doubt still familiar to most of our readers. After recovering in a measure from the sufferings of that trying time, Mrs Wordsworth returned to England and eventually came to New Zealand with her son and daughter. The former with his family, settled at the Wairarapa; the latter resided with her mother in Wellington and the two followed the occupation of teaching music and dancing. But Mrs Wordsworth never entirely overcame the shock her constitution received at the wreck and during the subsequent struggle for life on the island. She had been ailing a considerable time and died last Saturday of general breaking up of the system. The son referred to together with his wife and family resided in this district till a few months ago when they left for Silverton

NOTE (from the 'wreck of the Strathmore' above) ... There was only one lady on board the Strathmore, a Mrs. Wordsworth, who was accompanied by her son, both being saved. For these two a separate shelter was made some distance from the others. Mrs. Wordsworth when taken into the boat had on only a nightdress and petticoat. She was treated with special care and attention. Her son gave a graphic account of their life on the island. "The first night," he said, "my mother had a few planks to lie upon, but her legs were nearly broken by the number of people crowding in under the canvas. The two following nights we slept in a sort of open cave, and though covered with frost and with icicles hanging over our heads, we preferred it to our experience of the first night. After this we had a little shanty of our own.

"The food we chiefly lived on was albatross, of which the young gave more eating than the old, being larger and heavier. Another bird we used was one which we at first thought was a 'mollyhawk,' but we afterwards discovered they were what the sailors call 'stink-pots.' They were very large birds with strong beaks. I remember getting a bite from one which hurt through a Wellington boot, trousers, and drawers. We caught these birds by chasing them into rough places, where they found it difficult to rise, and we then killed them with clubs. Our favourite vegetable was a sort of moss with long spreading roots, and we were often so hungry that we ate dirt and all. Owing to the season of the year the nights were very long, fifteen hours, which we tried to pass in sleep. Our dreams were generally of food in some shape, but there was always a feeling in the background that spoiled these dream feasts.

"When my mother got ashore she was wet through, starving, and cold. One of the sailors took the shirt off his back and gave it to her; and she also had a pair of men's trousers, a pair of men's drawers, a pair of stockings, an overcoat, and other odds and ends, all given her by the sailors. The coarse, rank flesh of the seabirds disagreed with her, and she suffered much from low fever and a dreadful bowel complaint. She was reduced to a perfect skeleton, and was so weak that I had to turn her over in the night when she wanted a change of position. Although she had been very subject to rheumatism she was never troubled with it while on the island, in spite of her great privations. Our clothes were seldom quite dry, and we often had to lie down in absolute slush, with the rain beating on our faces, but none of us took cold, owing, I suppose, to the ammonia in the guano-covered soil.

"Nearly all of us suffered from diarrhoea, and similar trouble, and the wine and spirits were invaluable. A small salt cellar of wine, or spirits and water, was served out nightly until finished, except a bottle of wine and a bottle of rum, which were buried for the use of the sick.

"Two dishes I prepared for my mother were brains of birds, fried, and the heart and liver minced with moss. We had no salt, and flavoured our dishes with gunpowder and sea water.

"When the wood we had collected for firewood was all finished, except a few sticks we kept for the purpose of cleaning the birds we used for food, we tried to keep the fire going with turf, but it merely smouldered slowly. Luckily someone threw a skin on the fire one day, and we were surprised and delighted to find that it burned readily. That, of course, solved the fuel problem. To save our matches we kept a sort of lamp going, feeding it with oil made from the fat we scraped off the bird skins.

"We seldom could clean ourselves, the dirt being too fast on to permit of cold water taking it off. However, we had a method of cleaning our faces by rubbing them with the bird skins, afterwards rubbing them with the feathers.

"At one time we were very hard up for food, having only two birds left. We were very weak and low-spirited. One day some of the party went to the other side of the island where we were wrecked, and there they saw a number of large mud-nests, with a great lotpage 108 of beautiful white birds, 'mollyhawks.' They were so tame that they flocked down at our feet. We killed about a hundred, and had such a feast off the tails! The appendage was cut off close to the back, the long feathers pulled out, and the tail being grilled for a time in the fire, was considered a great delicacy. Another real delicacy came at this time?the mutton birds and birds of a similar kind. Later on we got some eggs."
Mrs. Wordsworth and her son afterwards resided for some years in England, and later came out to Taranaki to live ... more at above link