vegetable, for even the gumtrees common in this part, were not to be seen. Our view to the southward was very limited, embracing only the Montgomery Islands of Captain King; they consist of six small rocky islets resting on an extensive coral flat, that we afterwards observed to be dry at low-water, and which extended to a large low sandy island, lying six miles west from them; the latter was not seen by Captain King, in his distant view of this neighbourhood. The eastern and largest of the Montgomery Isles stands on the extreme of the coral flat; we found it to be 70 feet high, and bore South-West by South 7 miles from this point of Freshwater Cove. The latitude we obtained in the course of the night gave a result of 15 degrees 49 minutes south.
April 10.
At daylight we continued pursuing our South by East course, following the same kind of low straight rocky shore, as that of yesterday afternoon. We passed inside a reef fronting the shore from a mile south of Freshwater Cove; this passage was about half a mile wide and from 7 to 12 fathoms deep. Having the flood-tide in our favour, we proceeded rapidly, and at the end of four miles, found the trend of the coast suddenly changed to East-North-East for two miles, when it again took a southerly direction, forming a chain of high rocky islets. Deferring our examination of the main, lying about a mile in the rear of these islets, we kept on our South by East course, in the direction of some very high land now seen for the first time. Three miles further brought us to a small rocky islet, where we landed for a set of angles.
Our hopes were considerably raised on reaching the top of this islet, by finding that we looked in vain for land towards the head of Collier Bay; the high land to the southward proved to be the south point of a large bay, having on its northern side similar high ranges.
LIZARDS.
This island was overrun with a great variety of lizards, in consequence of which we named it Lizard Island. During our stay here, two birds,* rare on this part of the coast, were shot; they were of a smaller kind than any I had before seen, and differed from them in plumage, being without the white collar round the neck. Leaving Lizard Island, we continued our southerly route, and ere long saw more land ahead, lying like a blue cloud on the horizon. Ten miles brought us abreast of the high land we had first seen, and six more to the southern point of a bay, lying on its south-western side, where the duties of the survey again obliged us to land. We considered ourselves now entering once more on the new lands of Australia, as Captain King could scarcely have had even a distant glimpse of this part; his extreme southern position being abreast of Freshwater Cove, from whence he describes the view of the coast as follows. “The land to the southward trended deeply in, and appeared to me much broken in its character.” We therefore naturally looked on everything here with a greater degree of interest, and with the view of affording time to examine the country, and determine the position of this point by observation, I arranged to pass the night in its vicinity.
(*Footnote. Haematopus picatus, described in the Appendix to Captain King’s work on Australia.)
HEAD OF COLLIER BAY.
The view from this station, blighted our hopes of finding an opening leading into the interior from Collier Bay, for we could trace the land all round the head of it, forming high ranges without a single break. This malapropos discovery, materially diminished the pleasure we had before experienced, on first seeing a new part of the continent. About twenty miles west from where we stood, were a group of islands, which I was able to identify as those seen from Bathurst Island, near the eastern entrance point of King’s Sound; they appeared to extend about ten miles in a northerly direction, from the western point of Collier Bay.
AN EAGLE SHOT.
Whilst using the theodolite, we came within the searching glance of a hungry eagle, which soaring over our heads for some time, at length swooped within range of our guns, when he paid for his curiosity with the loss of his life. This was the only rapacious bird we saw in Collier Bay, and appears to be of the species Falco leucogaster Latham.* On examination, the stomach contained fish and part of a small snake, and from what I have since observed this bird frequents the sea coast. Their nests are very large, built on bare spots in the shape of a pyramid; some of them measuring three feet in diameter, and six high. To convey a better idea of the size and exposed situation of the nests of these birds, I may state that on low parts of the coast, they were often used as surveying marks. This projection, which we called Eagle Point, is of a siliceous sandstone formation, intersected by nearly vertical veins of quartz, and forms a spur thrown off from a high range four miles to the south-eastward. We did not find any water in the few miles of country traversed in the course of the afternoon, yet everything wore a rich green appearance, and the scenery in some of the dells we crossed, was very picturesque, and quite alive with birds and insects; flights of many-coloured parakeets swept by with a rapidity that resembled the rushing sound of a passing gust of wind. Among the trees, I noticed for the first time the Banksia, common in Western Australia; Mr. Cunningham, the botanist who accompanied Captain King, did not consider its indigenous empire extended to the North-West coast. Of the other kinds, and which complete all the variety we observed on this part of the continent, were the mimosa, acacia, papyrus, and two sorts of Eucalyptus; there were also several plants of the order Leguminosae.
(*Footnote. Figured in Mr. Gould’s work on the Birds of Australia as Ichthyiaetus leucogaster.)
THE SEABREEZE.
We had a breeze throughout the entire day, from North-East till 1 o’clock, then West-North-West till near midnight; this westerly or seabreeze, reached us within ten minutes of the time it did yesterday, a regularity we found to prevail the few days we spent on this part of the coast. The tide (being near the spring) fell in the night 36 feet, leaving the greater part of the bay dry at low-water. Our observations for latitude placed Eagle Point in 16 degrees 10 1/4 minutes south.
April 11.
We left with the first streak of dawn, and pursued our course to the southward, passing inside a small reef lying half a mile west from Eagle Point. The eastern shore now took a South by West direction, forming shallow bights, flanked by hills of moderate elevation; our next station was an islet at the head of Collier Bay, bearing South-South-West 1/2 West 15 miles from Eagle Point: it was in the mouth of a shoal bay about three miles deep in a West-South-West direction, the shores of which were lined with mangroves and overlooked by a high rocky ridge. The width of Collier Bay, at its entrance 20 miles, was here only six.
NARROW INLET.
The western shore ran in a North-West by West direction, a straight rocky coast, over which rose abruptly a range of barren heights. The tide stream gradually weakened as we approached the head of the bay, where it scarcely exceeded half a knot, and the soundings decreased to seven fathoms, with a kind of muddy sand bottom; but the clearness of the water, and the equal duration of the flood and ebb streams, afforded the most conclusive evidence of the small opening we now discovered in the South-East corner of the bay being nothing more than an inlet. It bore from this islet East-South-East four miles, yet as a drowning man catches at a straw, so did we at this inlet, and were soon in the entrance, which we found to be half a mile wide, with a very strong tide rushing out. After some difficulty we landed on a high rocky island in the mouth of it, the summit of which afforded us a good view of the inlet, which within the entrance widened out and was about two miles deep. A point prevented our seeing the eastern extreme, which Mr. Helpman was sent to examine; he found it extended two miles in an East-North-East direction, and like the other parts of it, to be lined with a scanty growth of mangroves, and flanked by high rocky land. The shape of this inlet resembles that of a bottle with a broad base, and being subject to a tidal change of level of 36 feet, it is easy to imagine with what violence such a body of water must rush through the narrow entrance to keep on a level with the slow-moving waters of the bay outside. The cause of this great rise of tide in the head of Collier Bay, may be attributed to there being no escape for the vast body of water flowing into it. The land over the depth of this inlet which I have before spoken of, as being barren rocky heights, bounded our view to the southward; it bore South-South-East three miles, and lies in latitude 16 degrees 25 minutes South and longitude 124 degrees 25 minutes East being the farthest point we determined towards the centre of the continent. The extreme position reached in that direction by Lieutenant Lushington of Lieutenant Grey’s expedition, bears from this point, North 64 degrees East fifty miles. Thus terminated our explorations in Collier Bay, and although we had not the good fortune to find it the outlet of some large opening leading into the interior, still we succeeded in setting at rest the speculation, such a deep indentation of the coastline had hitherto afforded, and increased our geographical knowledge of this part of the continent 35 miles.
RETURN OF THE BOATS.
In the afternoon we commenced our return to Port George the Fourth, from which we were then distant about 80 miles; after delaying to examine two islands lying North by East four miles from the inlet, of slate formation, we reached a narrow point six miles further down the bay, in time to save a true bearing from the sun’s amplitude. We were surprised to find this point also composed of the same kind of grey slate. The islands we examined differed from those of the same formation in King’s Sound, having steep precipitous sides to the North-West instead of to the South-East. As it was by this time nightfall we did not proceed farther.
April 12.
Towards the morning there was a South-East breeze which brought the thermometer down to 76 degrees; it generally ranged between 80 and 96 degrees.
RAFT POINT.
The large bay discovered on our way to the southward now became the point of interest, and as daylight closed in the boats were secured in a small sandy cove, just within its southern point, where there were several native rafts, constructed precisely in the same manner as those seen in King’s Sound, from which circumstance we called the place Raft Point. Immediately over it was the high land first seen in coming down the bay; huge masses were rent from its lofty frowning crags, on which the rays of the setting sun produced the most grotesque figures. A beautiful stream of water fell into the sea, in leaping cascades, half a mile inside the cove. Several rock kangaroos were seen on the heights; and after securing observations with some early stars, for latitude, which placed Raft Point in 16 degrees 4 minutes South, we tried an experiment to get a shot at the kangaroos, by setting fire to the grass and small wood growing at the base, and in the interstices of the rocks.
A CONFLAGRATION.
This part of the country being very dry, a fire was soon kindled, and in a few minutes the cliffs resounded with the noise of the flames, as they darted fiercely upwards, revealing their riven sides, and occasionally bursting out behind large masses of strange figured rocks to the no slight risk of our sportsmen, who were perched upon them. Seabirds, frightened from their resting places, screamed fearfully, and the dismal howl of the wild dog, equally alarmed, sometimes fell on the ear amidst the roaring of the dangerous element, which in the intense darkness of the night we could not but admire. Whilst gazing on this wild scene, I could not help speculating on the probable cause the natives would assign for this great conflagration; the bright glare of which must have extended over several miles of country, perhaps alarming and doubtless causing deep consultation amongst the wise men of their tribes. It may also have taxed their power of invention, as they never use large fires in the night, except in wild stormy weather, when the creaking trees, and moaning wind, give them a dread of a visit from the Evil Spirit.
April 13.
Being anxious to examine the range over the cove, I desired Mr. Helpman to explore the North-East corner of this large bay, and the main lying behind the islands, fronting the coast to the northward of it. We accordingly moved off on our several occupations at an early hour. After much difficulty Mr. Fitzmaurice and myself found ourselves on a tableland of sandstone formation, elevated by measurement 900 feet above the sea level, and by far the highest land yet noticed on this part of the continent; the prospect here was very cheerless; similar but lower ranges met the eye in every direction towards the interior, those overlooking the eastern shore of the bay, were from 6 to 700 feet high. There appeared to be a large island in its North-East corner, which fell back about 10 miles, and like many other parts of it was lined with a growth of mangroves. A string of smaller islands extended three miles from the north point, leaving an entrance only two miles wide. A sandstone ridge similar to that on which we stood, rose abruptly from the north point, but of less elevation. I was not a little surprised to find that Lieutenant Grey had seen land from 2 to 3000 feet high, only about 30 miles from the height on which we stood, but as he had not the means of measuring these great elevations, and as Captain King, who was within 20 miles of the high land alluded to, does not notice it, yet mentions some hills from 3 to 400 feet high, 15 miles further to the North-East, I am induced to believe that Lieutenant Grey may have over-estimated the height of the land he saw.*
(*Footnote. Mounts Trafalgar and Waterloo, which are not nine hundred feet high, are the first points of the continent that meet the eye from seaward.)
DOUBTFUL BAY.
From subsequent information, I called this Doubtful Bay; the tide ran into it at the rate of from 1 to 3 knots, but the clear appearance of the water, and entire absence of driftwood, afforded strong grounds for supposing that it did not receive the waters of any river. Leaving Raft Point, we crossed over to the islands on the opposite side, for a few angles on their southern extreme, and afterwards made the best of our way to Freshwater Cove. The day had, however, closed in long before arriving there, and in the extreme darkness of the night the Cove was difficult to find. Indeed my companions could not believe we were there until one of the men returned with a keg of water from the stream in the head of it.
MR. HELPMAN’S REPORT.
Mr. Helpman joined us at sunset, and gave the following report of his proceedings: “On leaving the cove at Raft Point, we passed along the south shore for two miles, and landed on a point that afforded a most commanding view of the bay, and the openings in its North-East corner, which appeared to be formed by a large island lying near the shore. This supposition afterwards proved to be correct, on landing at a point fronting its western extreme, from whence I was enabled to trace the shore round the North-East corner of the bay, till I identified it as the same we had seen on the eastern side of the island from the station just left. From the still and discoloured state of the water, I felt satisfied there was no opening in the North-East corner of this bay. I am, however, willing to admit it may have been more satisfactory to others if there had been sufficient time at my disposal to have actually gone round the island. We now hastened off to examine the mainland, lying behind a chain of islands to the northward, where we also failed to discover an opening.”
MOUTH OF THE GLENELG.
As this account of Mr. Helpman’s coincided with the opinion I had formed of the other parts of the coast, I was induced at that time to come to the conclusion that the river Glenelg which I found Lieutenants Grey and Lushington had discovered, on my return to the ship, did not communicate with the sea in this neighbourhood, as Lieutenant Grey had supposed, but took a South-West direction, flanking Collier Bay, and terminating in the mangrove openings on the eastern shore of Stokes’ Bay in King’s Sound. My opinion was strengthened by Lieutenant Lushington having seen from his furthest position (which has already been given) a very high bluff point to the southward, distant 6 or 7 miles, and a line of cliffs under which he conceived that an opening of the sea or a river may run. Further experience has convinced me of the great difficulty attending the discovery of the mouths of rivers in Australia, and as Mr. Helpman did not actually visit the North-East corner of Doubtful Bay (named in consequence) I am inclined to believe there is a possibility of the mouth of the Glenelg still being found there.
April 14.
We were on our way to Point Hall before the eastern hills had received their golden hue from the rays of the rising sun, and landed to ascend the summit of that headland from the bay, on its South-East side, which proved to be a safe anchorage, except with South-West winds, having a small islet in its centre. We ascended the height on the lee side, and as the sun was now approaching the zenith the heat became very oppressive; but the air was quite perfumed with the rich fragrance of different gums. This warm aromatic odour we always experienced in a slighter degree on first landing in North-western Australia.
REMARKABLE TREE.
I noticed a tree quite new to me, it was of stunted growth, bearing a fruit resembling a small russet apple, which hung in clusters at the extremity of small branches; the skin was rough, covering a pulp that had an acid flavour, inside of which was a large stone, and I observed a white fluid exuded from the branches when broken. Although this was almost a solitary tree, I have since learnt it grows in the southern parts of the continent. As the woodcut and description given in page 82, Volume 1 of Sir Thomas Mitchell’s work on Australia, is almost identical with this fruit, it must be indigenous to a great extent of country, since Sir Thomas Mitchell found it in latitude 29 degrees 50 minutes South whilst by us it was discovered in 15 degrees 40 minutes South. We did not observe any other change in the vegetation on this point; of birds we saw but few, chiefly parrots, some of which we shot. A coast range of brown grassy hills prevented our seeing anything of the interior. To seaward there was neither islet nor reef to interrupt the blue surface of water that bounded our view in the far north-west.
Descending we embarked from a cove on the North-East side, where the boats had been ordered to meet us; between this and one on the opposite side there was only a narrow neck of low land. It is singular that we should not have seen any natives, or even traces of them anywhere excepting at Raft Point, during the whole of this cruise.
THE SLATE ISLES.
Pursuing our northerly course, we reached a small group of islands, named from their formation, Slate Isles. Finding that all the material required here for the chart could not be collected this evening, I desired Mr. Helpman to go on to Brecknock harbour, to sound and examine its southern shore the next morning, whilst Mr. Fitzmaurice and myself remained to complete the survey hereabouts.
April 15.
We were on the top of the northern Slate Island early; a small islet with a reef off its northern extreme, bore north a mile and a half, and a low sandy isle, West 1/4 North about 15 miles; this was a most unwelcome discovery, as it lay in the track of vessels approaching Brecknock Harbour, and which Captain King must have passed very close to in the night without being aware of it. We were fortunate in being able to intersect our lines to the extremes of all the islands forming the north side of Camden Sound from this station, which rendered it one of great importance. Of the interior we saw even less than from Point Hall, and the prospect if possible was more cheerless.
Our again meeting rocks of transition origin, led us to infer that the soil in the neighbourhood was of a better quality, as the decomposition of rocks of this class furnishes a much more fertile soil than sandstone of recent formation.
Leaving the Slate Islands, we reached Entrance Isle, in Brecknock Harbour, in time to secure observations for the rates of the chronometers, which we found had been performing admirably; they placed the sandy bay on the east side of Entrance Isle, in longitude 124 degrees 30 minutes East; the latitude as before given, 15 degrees 27 1/4 minutes South.
FERTILE COUNTRY.
At this place Mr. Helpman rejoined us, having completed the examination of the south shore of the harbour; from a high hill over it he discovered some fine country, bearing East-South-East about eight miles. In speaking of it, he says, “I was invited to the top of this hill by the certainty of a good view of the interior over the low land forming the south-eastern shore of the harbour, and most amply was I repaid for the toil of ascending it, by feasting my eyes on a most luxuriant well-watered country, lying at the eastern foot of a remarkable peak, visible from Port George the Fourth. To the North-East there lay a range of hills,* apparently of no great elevation.
(*Footnote. Macdonald Range of Lieutenant Grey, considered by him 1400 feet high.)
BRECKNOCK HARBOUR.
Part of this rich land extended to within five miles of the south-eastern part of Brecknock Harbour.” The proximity of such fertile land to this fine port was of great importance, and induced us to consider it a great addition to our discoveries in north-western Australia. Under this impression, I trust the following brief description of it may not be without its value in the eyes of some of my readers. Brecknock Harbour is six miles deep, extending gradually from a width of one and three quarter miles at the entrance to five at the head, and has a depth of water varying from five to seven fathoms, with a soft muddy bottom. The few observations on the tides our short visit afforded, make the time of high-water, on full and change day, about half an hour before noon, when the rise is nearly thirty feet, and the strength of stream in the entrance nearly two knots.
LIEUTENANT GREY.
April 16.
Although very anxious to learn if they had in the ship heard anything of Lieutenant Grey’s party, still I did not like to break through my usual rule of indulging in a thorough cleansing of men and boats, before making our appearance on board, we therefore did not make an early start. In clearing Roger Strait, we heard the cry of a native, who was seen with the aid of a spy-glass, perched on a distant cliff, watching our movements. I scarcely believed it possible to have heard his shrill voice so far. We reached the ship, lying in Port George the Fourth, early in the afternoon, and found on board a most welcome addition to our little party, in the person of Lieutenant Grey. I met him again, with feelings of the greatest satisfaction; for though none were, perhaps, fully aware of it, a feeling of despondency as to the fate of himself and his companions, had more than once occurred to me, which each day’s delay much increased, and which this agreeable rencounter at once effectually removed. Poor fellow! gaunt misery had worn him to the bone; and I believe, that in any other part of the world, not myself alone, but Lieutenant Grey’s most intimate friends, would have stared at him without the least approach to recognition. Badly wounded, and half starved, he did, indeed, present a melancholy contrast to the vigorous and determined enthusiast we had parted from a few months before at the Cape, to whom danger seemed to have a charm, distinct from success.
No sooner had we ascertained the safety of the rest of the party, than, as might be supposed, we fell into a long and animated conversation upon the success of the expedition. They had discovered a river, called by them the Glenelg, and a tract of fine country, which, from Lieutenant Grey’s description, I instantly recognised as being the same Mr. Helpman had seen from Brecknock Harbour.
A spot, sixty miles in a South-South-East direction from Hanover Bay, indicates their furthest distance towards the interior. The rugged nature of the country in the neighbourhood of this coast, and its vast distance from the interior, from whence it is further removed than any other part of the continent, justify the expression of an opinion that this was an ill-chosen spot for the debarkation of an expedition for inland research; though unquestionably its proximity to our East Indian possessions, would make it, if suitable in other respects, a most valuable spot for colonization. I shall always regret that Lieutenant Grey and his companions had not the advantage of starting from the Fitzroy, or exploring yet further the unknown course of the Victoria, by which I am now convinced, a most successful attempt to reach the interior might be made.
Alas! while we cannot but regret the prodigal sacrifices of health and energy made to acquire such a limited knowledge of a part of the continent, hitherto utterly unknown, we must not forget to do justice to the perseverance which opposing obstacles could defeat, but not daunt; and in what it did accomplish, furnished additional motives to renewed exertion, and useful suggestions by which more fortunate followers may reap the success deserved by, though denied, to the first adventurers.
The worn and haggard aspect of Lieutenant Grey and all his companions, spoke of itself how severe had been the hardships they were called on to endure: I need not say that their wants were relieved with the utmost eagerness of frank hospitality, and that their tales of hair-breadth escapes and moving accidents awoke all ears, and stirred in every heart. To meet with a countryman in a foreign land, is of itself generally an agreeable incident: the tones of one’s native language, or the reminiscences of one’s earlier and happier years, which such a meeting recalls, are sure to bestow upon it a pleasure of its own. What was it then to meet a former fellow voyager, and a friend? To meet him after almost despairing of his safety? and to meet him fresh from a perilous and partially successful attempt to penetrate into the same unknown and mysterious country, a further and more perfect acquaintance with which was a prime object of my own personal ambition, no less than of public duty with all engaged in our present adventure? Those who have known the communion of sentiment and interest, which it is the tendency of one common purpose to create among all by whom that purpose is shared, can most readily and most perfectly understand with what deep and mutual interest Lieutenant Grey and myself heard and recounted all that each had done since our parting at the Cape.
Several anecdotes of his adventures confirmed my own experience, and add weight to the opinions I have before expressed. From his description of the tribes his party had encountered, he must have been among a people more advanced in civilization than any we had hitherto seen upon this coast. He found several curious figures,* images, and drawings, generally in colours, upon the sides of caves in the sandstone rock, which, notwithstanding their rude style, yet evince a greater degree of advancement and intelligence than we have been able to find any traces of: at the same time it must be remembered that no certain date absolutely connects these works with the present generation: the dryness of the natural walls upon which they are executed, and the absence of any atmospheric moisture may have, and may yet preserve them for an indefinite period, and their history read aright, may testify not the present condition of the Australian School of Design, but the perfection which it had formerly attained.
(*Footnote. Illustrated in Lieutenant Grey’s first Volume.)
LIGHT-COLOURED NATIVES.
Lieutenant Grey too, like ourselves, had seen certain individuals in company with the natives much lighter in colour, and widely differing in figure and physiognomy from the savages by whom they were surrounded; and was inclined to believe that they are descended from Dutch sailors, who at different times, suffering shipwreck upon the coast, have intermarried with its native inhabitants: but as no authentic records can be produced to prove that this portion of the coast was ever visited by Dutch navigators at all, I am still more disposed to believe that these lighter coloured people are Malays, captured from the Trepang fishers, or perhaps voluntarily associating with the Australian, as we know that the Australian not unfrequently abandons his country, and his mode of life, to visit the Indian Archipelago with them.
Before pursuing any further the train of speculation in which my thoughts naturally enough arranged themselves, owing to this meeting with Lieutenant Grey, it may be as well to advert to the circumstances under which he and his party were found by Captain Wickham. It seems that on moving into Port George the Fourth, the ship’s guns were fired in order to apprize the wanderers, if within hearing, that friends and aid were at hand. These signals were heard on board the Lynher, and were at once rightly understood to denote the presence of the Beagle. At that time, however, the master of the Lynher–the schooner which Lieutenant Grey had chartered at the Cape, was himself in no small perplexity as to the fate of those he had transported to this lonely coast; and was now growing exceedingly anxious at their non-appearance.
The next morning, the 9th, Captain Wickham started in the yawl for Hanover Bay, in order to prosecute the search at the point where he knew Lieutenant Grey’s depot was to be established, and on rounding the headland the first welcome object that met his eye was the schooner at anchor. Captain Wickham learnt from Mr. Browse the master, that the period for which the schooner was chartered having expired, he was only waiting the return of the expedition from motives of humanity. The further care of Lieutenant Grey and his comrades was at once undertaken by Captain Wickham, by whom it was determined, owing to the shortness of provisions on board the Beagle, to proceed to Timor on the return of the boats, in the hope of being able to revictual there, leaving some conspicuous record of his recent visit, with hidden letters declaratory of his proceedings, and promising his speedy return. A party was immediately despatched on shore, and upon the face of the sandstone cliff they painted in characters of gigantic proportion, Beagle Observatory. Letters South-East 52 paces. Of necessity compelled to wait for the boats, Captain Wickham returned to the Beagle.
CAPTAIN WICKHAM’S MEETING WITH LIEUTENANT GREY.
On the morning of the 15th, Lieutenant Grey, accompanied by two of his party, made his appearance upon the shores of Hanover Bay, after a twelve weeks wander in the interior; during which, great hardships, fatigue, and peril had been undergone, and much curious and valuable information collected. Hearing of the proximity of the Beagle, he lost not a moment, but hastened to assure Captain Wickham that the whole party was safe, and spent the evening of the 15th–that previous to my return–among those who sympathized with his sufferings, and heartily welcomed him once more on board. After the first greetings had been exchanged between us, Lieutenant Grey professed the utmost anxiety to hear whether, during our late excursion in the boats, we had discovered the mouth of the Glenelg, the river first seen by him on the 2nd of March. I was of course compelled to inform him that we had found no trace of any river, although the coast from Port George the Fourth to the bottom of Collier Bay, an extent of nearly one hundred miles, had been examined, and with the exception I have already noticed, too closely to admit of mistake.
AN EVENING WITH LIEUTENANT GREY.
The next afternoon I followed Lieutenant Grey round to Hanover Bay, distant twelve miles from the Beagle’s anchorage. On the passage I noticed that the remarkable bluff, spoken of by Captain King, had been omitted in the charts, and a low rocky point marked in its place. It was after sunset when we reached the schooner in Hanover Bay; the greater part of the night was devoted to an examination of Lieutenant Grey’s plans of his expedition, and the drawings with which various events in it had been illustrated. All these were executed with a finished carefulness one could not have expected to find in works carried on in the bush, and under such varied circumstances of distraction and anxiety as had followed Lieutenant Grey’s footsteps: though terribly worn and ill, our opportune arrival, and the feeling that he was among those who could appreciate his exertions, seemed already to operate in his recovery. Upon an old and tattered chart, that had indeed done the state some service, we attempted to settle the probable course of the Glenelg, the knotty question held us for some hours in hot debate; but as in a previous paragraph, I have rendered my more deliberate opinions, I need not here recount the varied topics discussed during that memorable evening: but it may be readily imagined with how swift a flight one hour followed another, while I listened with eager impatience to Lieutenant Grey’s account of a country and people till now unknown even to English enterprise. He appears to have seen the same kind of grape-like fruit* that we observed in King’s Sound.
(*Footnote. Grey’s Australia Volume 1 page 211.)
THE ENCAMPMENT.
I took the boat in the afternoon at high-water to proceed to the encampment, which we were then able to approach within a quarter of a mile. It was situated in the depth of a creek, into which a clear and sparkling stream of fresh water poured its abundance: the shore was formed of enormous granite boulders, which rendered it hardly accessible except at high-water; and the red sandstone platform which is here the nature of the coast, was abruptly intersected by one of those singular valleys which give so marked and so distinctive a characteristic to Australian geology. The separated cliffs approach to within about a quarter of a mile of each other, and then–still preserving their precipitous form–recede some three miles inland, in a southerly direction, and there rejoining, make any passage from Walker’s Valley* to the interior a barely practicable feat.
(*Footnote. So named by Lieutenant Grey to commemorate the services rendered by the surgeon of his party in finding a road from it to the interjacent country.)
TIMOR PONIES.
The encampment consisted of a few roofless huts, placed irregularly upon a carpet of rich grass, whereon six Timor ponies were recruiting after the fatigues of a journey in which they appeared to have borne their full share of privation and danger. Their marketable value was indeed but small, and Lieutenant Grey had, therefore, determined to leave them behind in the unrestrained enjoyment of their natural freedom.
My visit was made after the encampment had been finally abandoned, and the thought that a little spot once tenanted by civilized man was about to be yielded to that dreary solitude from which for a while he had rescued it, made the pilgrimage a melancholy one. The scene itself was in strict keeping with such thoughts–the rugged and lofty cliffs which frown down upon the valley–the flitting shadows of the watchful eagles soaring far over my head–and the hoarse murmurs of the tide among the rocky masses on the beach–ail heightened the effects of a picture engraven on my memory too deeply for time itself to efface.
While the men were preparing for embarkation I strolled with Lieutenant Lushington up the valley, a little beyond the late encampment: the Timor ponies were busily engaged upon the fresh grass; near the banks of a beautiful pool in which we both enjoyed a freshwater bath, I noticed a small coconut tree, and some other plants, which he and his companions had benevolently endeavoured to naturalize here: they seemed healthy enough, but I should fear the rank luxuriance of surrounding and indigenous vegetation will render the ultimate well-doing of the strangers exceedingly doubtful. Assisted by our boats the whole party embarked in the early part of the afternoon, and appeared highly delighted to find themselves again on board the schooner. I was much impressed with the emphatic manner in which Lieutenant Lushington bid the shore a hearty farewell. The same evening the Lynher was moved round to Port George the Fourth–thus affording us an opportunity of welcoming all our former fellow-voyagers once more on board the Beagle; where we spent one of those delightful evenings, known only to those who have been long separated from the rest of the world.
LEAVE PORT GEORGE THE FOURTH.
On the 9th we left Port George the Fourth on our return to Swan River, in company with the Lynher, in which Lieutenant Grey and his party had arranged to proceed to the Mauritius. A finer port than this, in some respects, can hardly be imagined. Like Hanover Bay, over which, however, it possesses the advantage of an easier access from the sea, it affords safe anchorage, abundance of fresh water, plenty of fuel, and a fine beach for the seine: but the numerous islands and reefs which skirt this coast greatly reduce the value of both these harbours. The Master of the Lynher told me of certain tidal phenomena remarked by him during his protracted visit to Hanover Bay: he had noticed that the highest tides always occurred on the fourth day after the full or change of the moon, and that they then attained a maximum height of twenty-five feet; while during the neaps the difference between high and low-water sometimes did not exceed twenty-four inches!
During the short time that we were in this neighbourhood, the prevailing winds were from South-East and to East from after midnight till noon, and from West to North until midnight. Our progress through the day was but slow; the wind light and most provokingly foul at West-North-West.
ISOLATED ROCK.
While standing towards a small island bearing North and by West five and a half miles from Point Adieu, we discovered a single rock with apparently deep water all around it, and just awash at low-water. It bore North-West and by West three-quarters of a mile from this island, which resembles Red Island, and Captain King’s group of the Rocky Islands, in that calcined-like appearance which has by turns given them red and brown for a distinct appellation. In the afternoon we saw the sandbank laid down in Captain King’s chart; it appeared a white rocky islet. The night was spent beating to the westward, between it and Red Island, against a light breeze.
April 20.
At daylight, whilst standing to the South-West the water shoaled rapidly though regularly from 20 to 6 fathoms, we then tacked, Red Island bearing South-East one mile and a quarter; in standing out (north) the water deepened suddenly and almost immediately to 15 fathoms. I imagine this shoal to be a continuation of one laid down by Captain King, extending two miles south from Red Island: passing the latter on our way to Port George the Fourth we had 28 to 30 fathoms, two and a half miles from its North-West side.
April 21.
We continued to make but little progress to the westward, scarcely averaging more than a mile per hour: the soundings indicating that we were still on the coral ledge that skirts the whole of this coast, northward of Cape Leveque; on the raised parts of which are numerous reefs of an irregular size and almost invariably trending from West to North-West. The number of these low coral reefs already known, and the probable number of those yet undiscovered, make this rather a dangerous sea, and must have a tendency to lessen the value of the North-West coast of Australia for purposes of forming settlements. In the afternoon we saw again the reef discovered and named after the Beagle. Steering West-North-West we passed four miles from its northern side in soundings varying from 41 to 47 fathoms.
REMARKABLE RIPPLINGS.
April 23.
Towards the close of this day we passed through a line of very remarkable ripplings, extending in a north and south direction, which we knew indicated some great inequality in the bottom, but whether from deep to shoal water was a matter of some anxiety; therefore, with leadsmen in the chains and the men at their stations for working ship, we glided into this streak of agitated water, where plunging once or twice she again passed into the silent deep. We sounded ineffectually with 86 fathoms in the ripplings; for some time before the soundings had been regular 52 and 55 fathoms fine sand, and four miles beyond it we had 146 fathoms, but did not succeed afterwards in reaching the bottom with 200 fathoms. This line of disturbed water, therefore, marks the edge of the bank of soundings fronting this part of the coast, from which the nearest point, Cape Leveque, bore South-East 195 miles.
PART FROM THE LYNHER.
The Lynher having to pursue a more westerly course, we were of necessity, though reluctantly, obliged to part company this evening: the few evenings we passed together at sea were rendered very pleasant and amusing by the crews singing to each other as the vessels, side by side, slipped stealthily through the moonlit waters.
April 24.
Still pursuing a West-South-West course, at the slow rate of forty miles daily, our position at noon was latitude 15 degrees 40 minutes South longitude 120 degrees 41 minutes East. During the day we passed within fifteen miles of the Lively’s reef, and from the numbers of terns and other small seabirds, seen for the last three days, there can be little doubt of its whereabouts being known, and that during that time we had been in the neighbourhood of other reefs still undiscovered.
April 27.
We experienced the long rolling swell of the Southern Ocean, which, as well as our reckoning, informed us we were rounding North-West Cape; at the same time we began to feel a steady breeze from the South-East and the northerly current which there prevails. As we were now approaching the usual track of vessels bound from Australia to India, we were not unprepared for the somewhat unusual sight of a strange sail: an object always of some little interest, but which becomes quite an event to those whose duty leads them into the less frequented portions of the deep.
THE TRYAL ROCKS.
The increasing trade now carried on between Sydney and the gorgeous East, has converted the dividing sea into a beaten track; and as no further evidence has been brought forward to confirm the reported existence of the Tryal Rocks, asserted to lie directly in the course steered by vessels making this passage, I cannot but adhere to Captain King’s opinion, that Tremouille Island and its outlying reefs, situated in the same latitude as that in which the Tryal Rocks are supposed to lie, have originated the mistake;* one, be it observed, of longitude, in which particular the accounts of earlier navigators must always be received with caution.
(*Footnote. Subsequent explorations have proved this to be the case.)
ANECDOTES OF MIAGO.
While our return to Swan River was thus baffled and delayed by the long and almost unbroken continuance of foul winds, it afforded some diversion to watch the countenance and conduct of Miago, who was as anxious as anyone on board for the sight of his native land. He would stand gazing steadily and in silence over the sea, and then sometimes, perceiving that I watched him, say to me, “Miago sing, by and by northern men wind jump up:” then would he station himself for hours at the lee-gangway, and chant to some imaginary deity an incantation or prayer to change the opposing wind. I could never rightly learn to whom this rude melody was addressed; for if anyone approached him near enough to overhear the words, he became at once silent; but there was a mournful and pathetic air running through the strain, that rendered it by no means unpleasing; though doubtless it owed much of its effect to the concomitant circumstances. The rude savage–separated from all his former companions, made at once an intimate and familiar witness of some of the wonders of civilization, carried by his new comrades to their very country, and brought face to face with his traditionary foes, the dreaded northern men, and now returning to recount to his yet ruder brethren the wonders he had witnessed–could not fail to interest the least imaginative.
Yet Miago had a decided and most inexplicable advantage over all on board, and that in a matter especially relating to the science of navigation: he could indicate at once and correctly the exact direction of our wished-for harbour, when neither sun nor stars were shining to assist him. He was tried frequently, and under very varying circumstances, but strange as it may seem, he was invariably right. This faculty–though somewhat analogous to one I have heard ascribed to the natives of North America–had very much surprised me when exercised on shore, but at sea, out of the sight of land, it seemed beyond belief, as assuredly it is beyond explanation: but I have sometimes thought that some such power must have been possessed by those adventurous seamen who, long before the discovery of the compass, ventured upon distant and hazardous voyages.
I used sometimes, as we approached the land of his nativity, to question him upon the account he intended to give his friends of the scenes he had witnessed, and I was quite astonished at the accuracy with which he remembered the various places we had visited during the voyage: he seemed to have carried the ship’s track in his memory with the most careful accuracy. His description of the ship’s sailing and anchoring were most amusing: he used to say, “Ship walk–walk–all night–hard walk–then by and by, anchor tumble down.” His manner of describing his interviews with the “wicked northern men,” was most graphic. His countenance and figure became at once instinct with animation and energy, and no doubt he was then influenced by feelings of baffled hatred and revenge, from having failed in his much-vaunted determination to carry off in triumph one of their gins. I would sometimes amuse myself by asking him how he was to excuse himself to his friends for having failed in the premised exploit, but the subject was evidently a very unpleasant one, and he was always anxious to escape from it.
In spite of all Miago’s evocations for a change of wind we did not see Rottnest Island before the morning of the 25th. The ship’s track on the chart after passing the North-West Cape, resembled the figure seven, the tail pointing towards the north. We passed along the south side of Rottnest, and by keeping its south-western extreme shut in with the south point, cleared the northern end of the foul ground extending North-North-West from a cluster of high rocks called the Stragglers.
RETURN TO SWAN RIVER.
As Gage Road was not considered safe at this time of the year, the ship was taken into Owen’s anchorage under the guidance of Mr. Usborne. We first steered for the Mew Stone, bearing south, until the leading marks could be made out; they are the western of two flat rocks lying close off the west side of Carnac Island and a large white sand patch on the north side of Garden Island. The rock must be kept its own breadth open to the eastward of the highest part of the patch; these marks lead over a sort of bar or ridge of sand in 3 and 3 1/2 fathoms; when the water deepened to 5 and 7 fathoms, the course was then changed to East-South-East for a patch of low cliffs about two miles south of Fremantle, which brought us up to Owen’s anchorage in 7 and 8 fathoms, passing between Success and Palmelia Banks.
Thus concluded our first cruise on this almost hitherto unknown part of the continent; and looking at its results we had every reason to feel satisfied, having appended 300 miles of new land to our geographical store, and succeeded in an object of paramount interest in this country, the discovery of a river. Besides the nautical information obtained, some additions were made to the secondary objects of the voyage, by increasing our knowledge of the natural history and indigenous productions of North-western Australia.
CHANGES OF TEMPERATURE.
During the period of our visit we had a temperature varying from 76 to 125 degrees; the weather generally fine, with moderate south-easterly winds, and occasionally heavy squalls from the eastward, excepting in the month of February and part of March, when we experienced heavy falls of rain, accompanied by fresh westerly winds. But as these changes have already been noticed in the diary, it is needless to enter into further detail about them here.
CHAPTER 1.8. SWAN RIVER TO SYDNEY.
Miago’s reception by his countrymen.
Whale Fishery.
Strange ideas entertained by Natives respecting the first Settlers. Neglected state of the Colony.
Test security of Owen’s Anchorage.
Weather.
Celebration of the Anniversary of the Colony. Friendly meeting between different Tribes. Native beggars.
Personal vanity of a Native.
Visit York.
Description of Country.
Site of York.
Scenery in its neighbourhood.
Disappointment experienced.
Sail from Swan River.
Hospitality of Colonists during our stay. Aurora Australis.
Gale off Cape Leeuwen.
Stormy passage.
Ship on a lee shore.
South-west Cape of Tasmania.
Bruny Island Lighthouse.
Arrive at Hobart.
Mount Wellington.
Kangaroo Hunt.
White Kangaroo.
Civility from the Governor.
Travertine Limestone.
Leave Hobart.
Singular Current.
Appearance of Land in the neighbourhood of Sydney. Position of Lighthouse.
Entrance and first view of Port Jackson. Scenery on passing up the Harbour.
Meet the Expedition bound to Port Essington. Apparent increase of Sydney.
Cause of Decline.
Expedition sails for Port Essington. Illawarra.
Botany Bay.
La Perouse’s Monument.
Aborigines.
Meet Captain King.
Appearance of Land near Sydney.
MIAGO’S RECEPTION BY HIS COUNTRYMEN.
We were considerably amused with the consequential air Miago assumed towards his countrymen on our arrival, which afforded us a not uninstructive instance of the prevalence of the ordinary infirmities of our common human nature, whether of pride or vanity, universally to be met with both in the civilised man and the uncultivated savage. He declared that he would not land until they first came off to wait on him. Decorated with an old full-dress Lieutenant’s coat, white trousers, and a cap with a tall feather, he looked upon himself as a most exalted personage, and for the whole of the first day remained on board, impatiently, but in vain prying into each boat that left the shore for the dusky forms of some of his quondam friends. His pride however could not long withstand the desire of display; yielding to the impulse of vanity, he, early the following morning, took his departure from the ship. Those who witnessed the meeting described it as cool on both sides, arising on the part of his friends from jealousy; they perhaps judging from the nature of his costume, that he had abandoned his bush life. Be that as it may, the reception tended greatly to lower the pride of our hero; who through generosity (expending all his money to purchase them bread) or from a fear of being treacherously speared, soon convinced his former associates how desirous he was of regaining their confidence. He did not, however, participate in the revelry then going on amongst the natives at Fremantle, where, at this period of the year, they assemble in great numbers to feast on the whales that are brought in by the boats of a whaling establishment–which I cannot allude to without expressing an opinion that this fishery, if properly managed and free from American encroachments, would become one of the most important branches of industry.
During the time that Miago was on board we took great pains to wean him from his natural propensity for the savage life by instilling such information as his untutored mind was capable of receiving, and from his often-expressed resolutions we were led to hope a cure had been effected; great was our disappointment then on finding that in less than a fortnight after our arrival, he had resumed his original wildness, and was again to be numbered amongst the native inhabitants of the bush. To us he had been the source of great mirth, by the absurd anecdotes he sometimes related about his countrymen. His account of their conjectures respecting the arrival of the first settlers may amuse the reader; he said, “the ships were supposed to be trees, and the cattle large dogs (the only animal besides the kangaroo known to them) whose size and horns excited such alarm, that one which strayed into the bush being met by a party of natives made them climb up the nearest trees in the greatest terror.”
STATE OF THE COLONY.
It may give some definite idea of the neglected state of this infant colony, to mention that during the entire period of our absence–a space of six months–there had been but one arrival there, and that not from England. The solitary visitor was H.M.S. Pelorus from the Indian station. The want of communication with the mother country was beginning to be felt severely, and in matters of graver moment than mere news. Many necessary articles of home manufacture or importation, scarcely valued till wanted, were now becoming almost unattainable: one familiar instance will illustrate at once how this state of things presses upon the comfort of the colonists; the price of yellow soap had risen to four shillings per pound!
OWEN’S ANCHORAGE.
The usual winter anchorage in Cockburn Sound, being seven miles from the town of Fremantle, the colonists were naturally very anxious to see tested the equal security of one which we had chosen within half that distance. The point was fairly tried, and very satisfactorily determined during the heavy weather which we experienced on the 31st of March, and 11th of June, which did not raise more sea than a boat at anchor could have ridden out with safety. These gales lasted about forty-eight hours each, commencing at North by West and gradually blowing themselves out at West-South-West. In each instance a heavy bank of clouds in the north-west gave us a day’s notice of their approach. The indications of the barometer were less decisive; its maximum was 29.3.
The weather in the interval between these gales was wet and unsettled; but afterwards, until our departure, it continued remarkably fine with an average temperature of 60 degrees.
The winds at this season prevail from the land, the seabreezes being both light and very irregular.
ANNIVERSARY OF THE COLONY.
We were just in time to share in the annual festivities with which the inhabitants celebrate the formation of the colony. Horseracing, and many other old English sports showed that the colonists still retain the tastes and habits of home. Some of the aborigines took part in the amusements of the day with evident enjoyment: and we were surprised to find that in throwing the spear they were excelled by an English competitor. We hardly know how to reconcile this fact with our own favourite theories upon the perfection of the savage in the few exercises of skill to which he devotes his attention, and were obliged to take refuge in the inadequate suggestion that the wild man requires a greater degree of excitement than his more civilised competitor, to bring out, or call into action, all the resources of his art. Among the natives assembled were a small party from King George’s Sound: they had come to Perth, bearing despatches from that place. The good understanding which appeared to exist between them and their fellow-countrymen in this district, led me to believe that by bringing different tribes more frequently together, under similar happy auspices to those which convened the meeting of to-day, much might be done to qualify the eager and deadly hatred in which they are too prone to indulge.
The natives in the town of Perth are most notorious beggars: the softer sex ply this easy craft even more indefatigably than the men. Their flattering solicitations and undeniable importunity seldom altogether fail of success, and “quibra (i.e. ship) man,” after the assurance that he is a “very pretty gentleman,” must perforce yield to the solicitation “tickpence give it um me.”
There was one amongst them, who from some accident had lost several of his toes. When in conversation, if he fancied any person was observing his foot, he would immediately endeavour to conceal the part that was thus disfigured by burying it in the sand. Another instance, exemplifying how prevalent is the frailty of vanity in the heart of man in his primitive condition.
VISIT YORK.
As a little time was required to give the ship a slight refit and the crew some relaxation, it afforded an opportunity of visiting York, situated about sixty miles east from Perth, and at that extremity of the colony. Accordingly, one murky afternoon a small party of us were wending our way over the Darling Range. Long after dark the welcome bark of dogs rang through the forest in the still dark night, assuring us that shelter was at hand, and we soon found ourselves before a large fire in the only house on the road, enjoying, after a dreary wet ride, the usual fare at that time at the out-stations–fried pork and kangaroo. About this tenement was the only spot of land along the whole line of road that could at all lay claim to anything like fertility; at which I was the more surprised, as our route intercepted the direction in which patches of good land are generally found in this part of the continent. The soil of this little piece was of a rich black mould and well watered by a neighbouring spring. Our road lay in some places over tracts of loose white sand, and in others round and over low ironstone hills. Descending from one of these heights to a rich narrow flat, the presence of three or four houses informed us we were within the township of York. The position of the level it occupies forms the western bank of the river Avon, which is now and has been for some time past nothing more than a chain of waterholes. In this neighbourhood the hills lie detached from one another in irregular directions, and are composed of granite; from the summit of one on the western side of the town we looked over a vast expanse of undulating forest land, densely wooded, with scarcely a grassy patch to break the monotony of the view. To give an idea of the personal labour early settlers are obliged to undergo, I may mention that we found Mr. Bland, the most wealthy colonist in Western Australia, engaged in holding the plough. I was disappointed in my visit to this part of the country as it did not leave a favourable impression of its fertility–still it afforded me an opportunity of judging by comparison of the quality of the soils in Western Australia and on the banks of the Fitzroy, and I was happy to find I had not overrated the latter.
The odium of a recent murder in the vicinity committed by natives had led to their absenting themselves just now from York, but a few of their numbers too young for suspicion were employed in the capacity of servants and appeared sharp and intelligent lads.
SAIL FROM SWAN RIVER.
On the 20th of June we took leave of our friends in Western Australia, proceeding out of Owen’s anchorage by a passage recommended by the Harbour-Master, in which we found half a fathom less water than the one through which we entered. During our stay there, nothing could exceed the kindness with which we were welcomed, and we experienced that proverbial hospitality of colonists which in this instance we shall ever remember with feelings of the most sincere and heart-felt pleasure.
It may appear out of place inserting it here but on our first arrival at Swan River in November last, we saw the Aurora Australis very bright.
At midnight of the 23rd of June we passed Cape Leeuwin, the south-western extremity of the continent; named by the first discoverer in 1622, Landt van de Leeuwin or the land of Lions. The wind which had increased since the morning to a fresh gale from the northward, now suddenly veered round to the westward, accompanied with rain and causing a high cross-sea.
GALE OFF CAPE LEEUWIN.
These sudden shifts of wind frequently raise a very dangerous sea off Cape Leeuwin.* This made the third gale we had experienced since the 30th of May, and is recorded here from its commencing at North-East instead of at north, the usual point at which gales in these regions begin. During the stormy weather which prevailed throughout the passage, we were unceasingly attended by those majestic birds and monarchs of the ocean–the White Albatross (Diomedia exulans) which with steadily expanded wings sailed gracefully over the surface of the restless main in solemn silence, like spectres of the deep; their calm and easy flight coursing each wave in its hurried career seemed to mock the unsteady motion of our little vessel as she alternately traversed the deep hollows and lofty summits of the high-crested seas.
(*Footnote. In a gale off this Cape in 1836, H.M.S. Zebra was compelled to throw her guns overboard.)
July 6.
It was our intention to have passed through Bass Strait, but finding we were unable to weather King Island bore up on the 6th for Hobart. On the evening of the same day we were by a sudden change of the wind placed in one of those perilous situations in which both a good ship and sound gear are so much required; the wind, which had been northerly throughout the day, about 8 P.M. veered round to west, blowing a heavy gale with a high sea; and since we had now run about halfway along Van Diemen’s Land, left us with an extensive and dangerous shore under our lee. Through the dismal gloom of the night, during which there was incessant rain with a succession of heavy squalls, the angry voice of nature seemed indeed to be raised in menace against us, and it was not until the close of the next day that a slight abatement of the weather relieved our anxiety for the safety of the ship. During the night the wind backed round to the North-West and the sky became once more partially clear. Early on the morning of the 8th we descried the south-western extremity of the land of Van Diemen, discovered in 1633 by the celebrated Dutch Navigator, Abel Tasman, and so named by him after the Governor of Batavia, under whose authority the voyage thus crowned with success had been performed.
TASMANIA.
To this portion of Australasia I shall systematically apply the name of Tasmania, in honour of that adventurous seaman who first added it to the list of European discoveries. The same principle appears to have been recently acted upon by the Government in creating the Bishopric of Tasmania, and I may therefore plead high authority to sanction such innovation:* higher perhaps than will be required by him who calls to mind that hitherto the navigator who added this island, and the scarcely less important ones of New Zealand to the empire of science, has been left without a memorial, the most befitting and the most lasting that universal gratitude can consecrate to individual desert. The insular character of Tasmania was not fully ascertained till the year 1798, when the intrepid Bass, then surgeon of H.M.S. Reliance, while on a whaleboat cruise from Sydney, discovered the strait which bears his name.
(*Footnote. Mr. Greenough, late President of the Geological Society, in his anniversary address to that body on the 24th of May, 1841, remarks that, “It is much to be regretted that Government has not recognised Tasmania as the name of that island, improperly denominated Van Diemen’s Land. The occurrence of a second Van Diemen’s Land on the northern coast of Australia occasions confusion; and since Tasman, not Van Diemen, was the first discoverer of the island, it would be but just that whatever honour the name confers should be given to the former navigator.” Journal of the Royal Geographical Society of London volume 11 1841 part 1.)
SOUTH-WEST CAPE.
Towards 10 A.M. steering East by South before a long rolling sea, we passed about six miles from the South-west Cape of Tasmania. There was no opportunity at the time of determining exactly the amount of error in the position assigned to it in the present charts, but we were satisfied that it was placed at least five miles too far south. The Maatzuyker Isles, a group a few miles to the south-east of this cape, are also incorrectly laid down. The view of this headland was of a very impressive and remarkable character, and to add to the usual effect of its lonely and solitary grandeur, a heavy sea still vexed and swelling from the turbulence of the recent gale, was breaking in monotonous regularity against its white and aged face; rising a thousand feet precipitously above the level of the sea, and terminating in a peak, rendered yet more conspicuous by a deep gap behind it.
The adjacent coast had a singularly wild, bare, and storm-beaten appearance. We beheld the rugged and treeless sides of barren hills; and here and there, where vegetation struggled with sterility, its stunted growth and northern inclination caused by the prevailing winds testified to an ungenial clime; high, bare-faced peaks appeared occasionally through the thick clouds that girdled them, and the whole coastline forcibly reminded us of the dreary shores of Tierra del Fuego.
BRUNY ISLAND LIGHTHOUSE.
On opening d’Entrecasteaux Channel, we observed a splendid lighthouse erected by Sir John Franklin, on the South-West extremity of Bruny Island, and which serves to guide entering vessels clear of the shoals in the mouth of that channel, formerly fatal to so many a luckless voyager, wrecked within sight of the hoped-for shore, upon which he might never set his foot. The situation of the lighthouse appears admirably chosen, and it may readily be seen in the daytime, a wide gap being cut in the woodland behind it. In alluding to the great improvement in the navigation of d’Entrecasteaux Channel, by the erection of the lighthouse on Bruny Island, it must be remembered that we are indebted to the indefatigable exertions of Lieutenant Burnett, R.N., who had been appointed Marine Surveyor to the colony by the Admiralty, for a knowledge of the exact position of its dangers. In prosecuting this service, I grieve to say, his life was lost, by the upsetting of a boat in one of those sudden gusts of wind which sweep down the steep valleys on the sides of that channel. This sudden termination of Lieutenant Burnett’s labours has been deplored alike by the colony, and by the profession of which he was so bright an ornament.
We entered Storm Bay after dark against a strong North-West wind, which quite vindicated the title of the bay to the name it bears, and so much delayed our progress, that it was morning before we were abreast of the Iron Pot lighthouse at the entrance of the Derwent River, and after dark before we reached Sullivan’s cove, Hobart.
Although the passage up the river was tedious and annoying from the adverse and squally wind that prevailed throughout the day, we were almost repaid for the delay by the scenery each tack brought to our view, and to which the remembered aspect of the shores we had so recently quitted, seemed by contrast to add a yet more delightful verdure.
As we proceeded, we noticed since our last visit, several bare patches in the woodlands, where the axe and the brand of the enterprising colonists had prepared the way for that cultivation under the influence of which the landscape wore in places an almost English aspect. This fancied resemblance–inspiring by turns delightful anticipation and fond regret–was heightened by the occasional addition of many pretty little cottages scattered along the sloping banks of the river, and adding to the luxuriant appearance of the country, the peaceful grace and sanctity of home.
July 19.
We were detained at Hobart till the 19th, the bad state of the weather rendering it impossible to complete the requisite observations for rating chronometers, etc.
MOUNT WELLINGTON.
We had two or three snowstorms during the time, but even in fine weather the proximity of Mount Wellington, towering above Hobart, and throwing its strange square-headed shadow across the still waters of Sullivan’s cove, must always render Fort Mulgrave an unfavourable spot for observations, from its arresting the progress of each passing cloud. The pleasure of our return was very much enhanced by the kind hospitality with which we were received by the inhabitants, and the officers of Her Majesty’s 21st regiment. From Sir John Franklin the Governor, we experienced all the attention and courtesy–all the frank and generous hospitality which it was in his power to bestow. Had we been without the claims of previous acquaintance to have recommended us to his best offices, the fact that our voyage was intended to advance the cause of science, would have been quite sufficient to interest in our welfare, one who has achieved a reputation as enduring as it is honourable, amid the perils and trials connected with an Arctic campaign of discovery.
The unfavourable state of the weather also prevented us from visiting and enjoying the alpine scenery in the neighbourhood of Hobart.
KANGAROO HUNT.
We did, however, get a few miles from the town upon one occasion, when the fox-hounds of a gentleman, Mr. Gregson, who will be long remembered in the colony for his pedestrian and equestrian performances–met in the neighbourhood to hunt the kangaroo. A thoroughly English appreciation of all that promised sport, led a large party of us to join the meet, at a place called the Neck. The turnout was by no means despicable: the hounds were well bred, though rather small–perhaps an advantage in the sort of country over which their work lies. A tolerable muster of red coats gave life and animation to the scene, and forcibly reminded us of a coverside at home.
The hounds found a large kangaroo almost immediately upon throwing off, and went away with him in good earnest. There was a burning scent, and from the nature of the country, over which we went for some distance without a check, the riding was really desperate. The country was thickly wooded, with open spaces here and there, in which fallen trees lay half hidden by long grass. Riding to the hounds was therefore as necessary as dangerous, for once out of sight it was almost impossible to overtake or fall in with them. Most of the field rode boldly and well, yet I remarked one or two casualties: early in the run, a gentleman was swept off his horse by the projecting branch of a tree, under which he was going at a reckless pace, and another had his hat perforated immediately above the crown of his head. Yet notwithstanding the annoyance of ferrying our horses across the Derwent, we returned to Hobart, very much pleased with the day’s sport.*
(*Footnote. In the first volume of the Tasmanian Journal, will be found an animated description of Kangaroo-hunting with these hounds, by the Honourable H. Elliot, who mentions that on one occasion a large kangaroo gave them a run of eighteen miles.)
WHITE KANGAROO.
In a gentleman’s house there, I saw for the first time, a specimen of an Albino or white variety of kangaroo, Halmaturus bennettii.* Another object that interested me greatly was a quarry of travertine limestone, in the neighbourhood of Hobart, where I saw the impression** of leaves of plants, not in existence at present, and of a few shells of ancient species.
(*Footnote. One of this rare kind, was presented by Sir John Franklin to her Majesty, in whose menagerie at Windsor it died, and was sent afterwards to the British Museum, where it now may be seen.)
(**Footnote. Drawings of these impressions, together with the shells will be found in Count Strzelecki’s scientific work.)
SAIL FROM HOBART.
We sailed from Hobart on the 19th of July and carried a strong fair wind to within a few days’ sail of Sydney, when we experienced a current that set us 40 miles South-East in 24 hours; this was the more extraordinary as we did not feel it before, and scarcely afterwards; and our course being parallel to the shore, was not likely to have brought us suddenly within the influence of the currents said to prevail along the coast. The ship’s position was 40 miles east of Jervis Bay when we first met it.
July 24.
This morning the clearness of the atmosphere enabled us at an elevation of 50 feet, to distinguish the light near the entrance of Sydney Harbour, while at a distance of thirty miles from it. Its site has been admirably chosen for indicating the position of the port from a distance at sea, but it has been placed too far from the entrance to be of much service to vessels when close in shore.* The low land in the vicinity of Sydney and Botany Bay, presents a striking contrast with the coast of the Illawarra district, a little further southwards; where the sea washes the base of a lofty range of hills, which sweeping round some distance in the rear of the two former places, leaves an extensive tract of low country between them and the sea. Upon the summit of these hills there rest almost invariably huge clouds, which serve even through the gloom of the darkest night, to assure the anxious navigator of his position.
(*Footnote. Some years since a ship with convicts was driven at night by a South-East gale, close in with the light, and was obliged to run for the harbour, but being then without anything to guide her into the entrance, was wrecked on the south point. The loss of life was dreadful. The light lately erected near the Sow and Pigs reef, has in some measure remedied the evil here pointed out: but being too far within, and on the south side of the entrance, it is not made out till, with southerly winds, a ship has approached dangerously close to the North Head.)
APPROACH TO SYDNEY.
On approaching Sydney, a stranger cannot fail of being delighted with his first glance at the noble estuary which spreads before and around him. After sailing along a coastline of cliffs some 200 feet in height, and in general effect and outline not unlike those of Dover, he observes an apparent breach in the sea-wall, forming two abrupt headlands, and ere he has time to speculate upon the cause of that fancied ruin, his ship glides between the wave-worn cliffs into the magnificent harbour of Port Jackson. The view which solicits the eye of the sea-wearied voyager as he proceeds up the harbour, is indeed well calculated to excite a feeling of mingled admiration and delight–the security and capacity of the port–its many snug coves and quiet islets with their sloping shores, sleeping upon the silver tide–pretty white cottages and many English-looking villas peeping out here and there from their surrounding shrubberies, and the whole canopied by a sky of ethereal blue, present a picture which must at once enchant the most fastidious observer.
We found lying in the famous cove of Sydney, H.M.S. Alligator and Britomart, commanded by Captain Sir Gordon Bremer, and Lieutenant (now Captain) Owen Stanley, going to form a settlement at Port Essington on the North coast; an expedition of much interest, particularly to us, from having some old shipmates engaged in it.
CONTRAST WITH SOUTH AMERICA.
On first arriving at Sydney from South America, I was much struck with the strange contrast its extensive and at the same time youthful appearance presented to the decrepit and decaying aspect of the cities on that continent. We had then been visiting colonies and settlements founded centuries ago, by a nation at that time almost supreme in European influence, and planted with every circumstance of apparent advantage upon the shores of a fertile and luxurious continent given by the immortal Genoese to the crown of Spain. We had found them distracted by internal commotions, disgraced by ignorance, debased by superstition, and defiled by slavery.
COLONISATION.
In Sydney we beheld with wonder what scarce half a century had sufficed to effect; for where almost within the memory of man the savage ranged the desert wastes and trackless forests, a noble city has sprung as though by magic from the ground, which will ever serve both as a monument of English enterprise, and as a beacon from whence the light of Christian civilisation shall spread through the dark and gloomy recesses of ignorance and guilt. The true history of our Australian possessions; the causes which have led to their settlement; the means by which they have been established; the circumstances by which they have been influenced; and the rapid, nay, unexampled prosperity to which they have attained; present some of the most curious and most important laws of colonisation to our notice. Without attempting so far to deviate from my present purpose as to enter here on a deduction from the data to which I have alluded, it cannot be denied that, in the words of an eloquent writer in Blackwood, “a great experiment in the faculty of renovation in the human character, has found its field in the solitudes of this vast continent: that the experiment has succeeded to a most unexampled and unexpected degree: and that the question is now finally decided between severity and discipline.” What else remains, what great designs and unfathomed purposes, are yet reserved to grace this distant theatre, I pause not now to guess. The boldest conjecture would probably fall very far short of the truth. It is sufficient for us to know that Providence has entrusted to England a new empire in the Southern seas. Nor can we doubt that there as elsewhere throughout the various regions of the habitable globe, the same indomitable spirit which has achieved so many successes, will accompany those whom heaven has appointed as pioneers, in that march of moral regeneration and sound improvement long promised to the repentant children of earth.
QUARANTINE ESTABLISHMENT.
We were sorry to find that it had been necessary to form a quarantine establishment in the North Harbour, in consequence of the diseases brought to the country by emigrant ships. A number of tombstones, whitening the side of a hill, mark the locality, and afford a melancholy evidence of the short sojourn in the land of promise which has been vouchsafed to some.
EXPEDITION TO PORT ESSINGTON.
It not being the favourable season for commencing operations in Bass Strait, we remained at Sydney until November, and embraced the opportunity of clearing out the ship. Our stay was undiversified with incidents, and it may as well therefore be briefly passed over. Among the few occurrences worth mentioning, was the departure of the expedition sent out to form a settlement at Port Essington on the northern coast. Its object was simply military occupation, it having been deemed advisable about that time to assert practically the supremacy of Great Britain over the Continent by occupying some of its most prominent points; but as soon as its destination became known in the colony, several persons came forward as volunteer-settlers, and expressed the greatest anxiety to be allowed to accompany the expedition. Their views extended to the establishment of a trade with the islands in the Arafura sea; and certainly they would have been far more likely to draw forth the resources of the country, than a garrison, whose supplies are brought to them from a distance, whose presence holds out no inducement to traders, and who are not impelled by any anxiety for their own support to discover the riches of the soil. For these reasons the determination of Government not to throw open the lands, and their refusal to hold out the promise of protection to the individuals who expressed a desire to accompany the expedition, are greatly to be regretted. In a vast continent like Australia, so remarkably destitute of fixed inhabitants, it would seem that every encouragement should be afforded to persons desirous of locating themselves on unoccupied tracts. There is a great difference besides, between giving rise to delusive hopes–inducing people as it were under false pretences to repair to new settlements–and checking the spirit of colonisation when it manifests itself. Every young establishment must go through a certain process. It is necessary that some should pioneer the way for others; and endure hardships the beneficial results of which may be enjoyed only by their successors. Had advantage been taken of the enterprising spirit that prevailed at the time of which I speak, the germs of a fresh settlement would have been deposited at Port Essington, which must ultimately have risen into importance. A great stream of emigration was pouring into the south-eastern portion of Australia, and it would have been wise to open a channel by which some portion of it might have been drawn off to the northern coast. But such were not the views entertained by the authorities concerning this matter. They seemed apprehensive of incurring the blame of encouraging the speculating mania which raged so extensively at Sydney, and which has reacted with so pernicious an effect upon the colony.* the expedition accordingly retained its purely military character. However, I may add, that the Bishop of Australia attended to the spiritual wants of the settlement by sending with it a church in frame.
(*Footnote. On our arrival at Sydney in 1838, we found speculation at its height: land-jobbers were carrying on a reckless and most gainful trade, utterly regardless of that revulsion they were doomed soon to experience. Town allotments that cost originally but 50 pounds were in some instances sold, three months afterwards, for ten times that sum. Yet amid all this appearance of excessive and unnatural prosperity there were not wanting those who foresaw and foretold an approaching change. To the withdrawal of the convicts, solely at the expressed wish of some of the most wealthy colonists, has been traced much of the decline that followed; and the more recent pages in the history of Sydney will fully bear out the opinions expressed by Captain Fitzroy when he visited it in 1836: he says, “It is difficult to believe that Sydney will continue to flourish in proportion to its rise. It has sprung into existence too suddenly. Convicts have forced its growth, even as a hot bed forces plants, and premature decay may be expected from such early maturity.”)
BOTANY BAY.
During our stay at Sydney we paid a visit to Botany Bay, which from the circumstance of its being the point first touched at by Captain Cook, naturally possesses the greatest interest of any place in the neighbourhood. Our way thither lay over a sandy plain, into which the coast range of low hills subsides. There is little or no verdure to relieve the eye, which encounters aridity wherever it turns; and the sand being rendered loose by frequent traffic, the foot sinks at every step, so that the journey is disagreeable to both man and beast. These inconveniences, however, were soon forgotten on our arrival at our destination, amidst the feelings excited and the associations raised by the objects that presented themselves.
MONUMENT TO LA PEROUSE.
Within the entrance of the bay, on the northern side, stands a monument* erected to the memory of La Perouse, that being the last spot at which the distinguished navigator was heard of, from 1788, until 1826, when the Chevalier Dillon was furnished with a clue to his melancholy fate by finding the handle of a French sword fastened to another blade in the possession of a native of Tucopia, one of the Polynesian group. By this means he was enabled to trace him to the island of Mannicolo, on the reefs fronting which his ship was lost.
(*Footnote. On the eastern side is engraven: A la Memoire de Monsieur de la Perouse. Cette terre qu’il visita en MDCCLXXXVIII. est la derniere d’ou il a fait parvenir de ses nouvelles.
Also: Erige au nom de la France par les soins de MM. de Bougainville et Du Campier, commandant la fregate La Thetis, et la corvette L’Esperance, en relache au Port Jackson, en MDCCCXXV.
On the western side: This place, visited by Monsieur de la Perouse in the year MDCCLXXXVIII, is the last whence any accounts of him have been received.
Also: Erected in the name of France by MM. de Bougainville and du Campier, commanding the frigate the Thetis and the corvette the Hope, lying in Port Jackson, A.D. MDCCCXXV.
On the north: Le fondement pose en 1825; eleve en 1828.
On the south: Foundation laid in 1825, completed 1828.)
Close by, on the same point, stands the tomb of a French Catholic priest, named Le Receveur, who accompanied La Perouse, as naturalist, in his circumnavigation of the globe, and died at this great distance from his native land. A large stump of a tree rising near, “marks out the sad spot” where lie mouldering the bones of the wanderer in search of materials to enrich the stores of science. No doubt many a hope of future fame expired in that man’s breast as he sank into his last sleep in a foreign clime, far from his home and friends and relations, such as his order allowed him to possess. The applause of the world, which doubtless he fancied would have greeted his labours at the end of his perilous journey, he was now robbed of; and he must have felt that few would ever recollect his name, save the rare voyager who, like myself, having encountered the same dangers that he had braved, should chance to read his short history on the narrow page of stone that rests above his grave.
CAPE SOLANDER.
Another object of greater interest to the Englishman is observable on Cape Solander, the opposite point of the bay. It is a plate set in the rock, recording the first visit of the immortal Cook, to whose enterprise the colonists are indebted for the land that yields them their riches, and which must now be invested in their eyes with all the sanctity of home. Surely it would become them to evince a more filial reverence for the man who must be regarded as in some respects the father of the colony. Let us hope that they will one day raise a monument to his memory, which to be worthy of him must be worthy of themselves–something to point out to future generations the spot at which the first white man’s foot touched the shore, and where civilisation was first brought in contact with the new continent.
ILLAWARRA.
But though Botany Bay is interesting from the associations connected with it–I am quite serious, though the expression may raise a smile on some of my readers’ lips–the tract of country best worth seeing in the neighbourhood of Sydney, is Illawarra, commonly called the Garden of New South Wales. By a change in the formation from sandstone to trap, a soil this here produced capable of supporting a vegetation equal in luxuriance to any within the tropics. In the deep valleys that intersect the country, the tree-fern attains a great stature, and throwing out its rich spreading fronds on all sides forms a canopy that perfectly excludes the piercing rays of even an Australian sun. It is impossible to describe the feelings of surprise and pleasure that are excited in the mind of the traveller as he descends into any one of these delightful dells: the contrast in the vegetable kingdom strikes him at once; he gazes around on the rich masses of verdure with astonishment, and strongly impressed with the idea that enchantment has been at work, involuntarily rubs his eyes and exclaims, “Am I in Australia or in the Brazils?”
ABORIGINES.
Few only of the aborigines of the neighbourhood of Sydney are now to be seen, and these are generally in an intoxicated state. Like most savage tribes they are passionately addicted to spiritous liquors, and seek to obtain it by any means in their power. Out of a sugar bag, with a little water, they manage to extract a liquor sufficient to make half a dozen of them tipsy; and in this condition, as I have observed, they most frequently presented themselves to my view. They are in every respect a weak, degraded, miserable race, and are anything but a favourable specimen of the benefits produced by intercourse with polished nations on an uncivilised people. However, the natives of Australia vary as strangely as its soil; the members of the tribes that dwell about Shoalhaven and the small southern ports, and come up in coasting vessels, are good-looking, useful fellows, and may hereafter be made much of. I noticed also, in my circumnavigation of the continent, a remarkable diversity in the character of the natives, some being most kindly disposed, while others manifested the greatest hostility and aversion. My whole experience teaches me that these were not accidental differences, but that there is a marked contrast in the dispositions of the various tribes, for which I will not attempt to account. I leave in the hands of ethnologists to determine whether we are to seek the cause in minute variations of climate or in other circumstances, physical or historical. This I can say, that great pains were formerly taken to civilize the natives of Sydney, gardens were given them, and numerous attempts made to inculcate habits of order, and communicate a knowledge of European arts; but no advantageous results ensued, and it was at length deemed impossible not only to improve them, but even to prevent their deterioration. I cannot determine whether this evinces a natural inaptitude in the savage to learn, or too great impatience in the teachers to witness the fruits of their labours, and a proneness to be discouraged by difficulties.
“IS THIS GRASS?”
In the journal of my residence at Sydney I find as the result of one day’s experience, the following laconic and somewhat enigmatical memorandum: “Is this grass?” The question implies a doubt, which it would not be easy for any person unacquainted with the circumstances of time and place, to solve: but the reader, when he has seen the explanation, will understand why very pleasing associations are connected with this brief note. I was going down to the jetty late one evening, when I met a party just landed, evidently complete strangers in this quarter of the world. Their wandering and unsteady glances would have convinced me of this fact, had their whole appearance left any doubt about the matter: among them were some ladies, one of whom suddenly detached herself from her companions, and directed as it were by instinct through the gloom, hastened towards a few sods of turf, pressed them exaltingly with her foot, and exclaimed in a light, joyous, happy voice–through which other emotions than that of mere gladness struggled–“Is this grass?” The words were nothing. They might have been uttered in a thousand different tones and have not fixed themselves on my memory; but as they fell in accents of delight and gratitude from the lips of the speaker, they told a whole story, and revealed an entire world of feeling. Never shall I forget the simple expression of this newcomer, whose emotions on first feeling the solid earth beneath her tread, and touching a remembrance of the land she had left in quest of another home, will be incomprehensible to no one who has crossed the ocean.
CAPTAIN KING.
We met several persons at Sydney from whom we received valuable information, and particularly Captain King, who, as the reader may recollect, commanded the first expedition on which the Beagle was employed. His great scientific attainments must ever attach respect to his name, and his explorations on the Australian coast, previous to the survey in which we were engaged, together with his father’s services as Governor of New South Wales, give him and his children a lasting claim upon the country. The information he furnished on this and subsequent occasions was extremely valuable.
RISING OF THE AUSTRALIAN CONTINENT.
An observation of his gave rise in my mind to very curious conjectures; he told me that where he used formerly to anchor the vessel he commanded in the head of Sydney cove, there was now scarcely sufficient water to float even a boat. As the deposits of the small stream that flows into it could not have produced this change, I was led to examine the shore of the harbour, when I found what seemed to me to be the marks of the sea higher than its present level; this, coupled with the decrease in the soundings we found in Darling Harbour, leads to the legitimate inference that this part of the continent is rising; and my reader will recollect that it is a prevalent theory that the whole of the vast plains of Australasia have but recently emerged from the sea.
CHAPTER 1.9. BASS STRAIT.
Leave Sydney.
Enter Bass Strait.
Island at Eastern entrance.
Wilson’s Promontory.
Cape Shanck.
Enter Port Phillip.
Tide-race.
Commence Surveying Operations.
First Settlement.
Escaped Convict.
His residence with the Natives.
Sail for King Island.
Examine Coast to Cape Otway.
King Island.
Meet Sealers on New Year Islands.
Franklin Road.
Solitary Residence of Captain Smith. Soil.
Advantageous position for a Penal Settlement. Leafless appearance of Trees.
Examine West Coast.
Fitzmaurice Bay.
Stokes’ Point.
Seal Bay.
Geological Formation.
Examine Coast to Sea Elephant Rock. Brig Rock.
Cross the Strait to Hunter Island.
Strong Tide near Reid’s Rocks.
Three Hummock Island.
Rats.
The Black Pyramid.
Point Woolnorth.
Raised Beach.
Coast to Circular Head.
Headquarters of the Agricultural Company. Capture of a Native.
Mouth of the Tamar River.
Return to Port Phillip.
West Channel.
Yarra-yarra River.
Melbourne.
Custom of Natives.
Manna.
Visit Geelong.
Station Peak.
Aboriginal Names.
South Channel.
Examine Western Port.
Adventure with a Snake.
Black Swans.
Cape Patterson.
Deep Soundings.
Revisit King and Hunter Islands.
Fire.
Circular Head.
Gales of Wind.
Reid’s Rocks.
Sea Elephant Rock.
Wild Dogs.
Navarin and Harbinger Reefs.
Arrive at Port Phillip.
Sail for Sydney.
Pigeon House.
Drought.
Mr. Usborne leaves.
Before quitting Sydney I must express my gratitude for the hospitality we experienced during our stay, which prepared us with greater cheerfulness to encounter the difficulties we might expect to meet with in the boisterous waters that rolled between the then imperfectly known shores, and islands of Bass Strait. It was not until the 11th of November that we bade adieu to our friends, and sailed to commence our contemplated operations. On the 14th we passed the rocky islands (Kent’s Group) at the eastern entrance of the Strait, their barren and bleak appearance bespoke the constant gales that swept over them, checking every tendency to vegetation. As we approached them the soundings decreased to 28 fathoms, the observation of which fact apprises vessels coming from the eastward in thick weather, of their proximity. After leaving these islands we progressed but slowly, and the passage through the Strait promised to be tedious: yet, as the wind was fair and the weather fine, we had no reason to complain, considering moreover the remarkably mild reception we met with in the Funnel, the name commonly and most appropriately given by the colonists to Bass Strait, from the constant strong winds that sweep through it.
WILSON’S PROMONTORY.
On the 17th we passed Wilson’s Promontory, the southern extremity of Australia, connected with the main by a low sandy isthmus, only left dry it is probable of late years. It is a very mountainous tract, rearing its many peaks in solemn grandeur from the waves and burying their summits* at most seasons of the year, in a canopy of grey mist. On some occasions, however, the bold outline of the mountains is relieved against a clear sky, and their loftiest points catch the first rays of the morning sun, as it rises from the eastern ocean. Many small islands are dispersed over the sea in front of this promontory, and partake of its character, being apparently the tops of mountains thrusting themselves up from the deep, and suggesting the belief that new countries are about to be disclosed. Passing Port Western, generally called Western Port, a high mound on the south-eastern extremity of Grant Island was the most conspicuous object. The next remarkable feature in the coast is Cape Shanck, a projection at the western end of a long line of cliffs. Lying close off it is a rock, named, from its exact resemblance, Pulpit Rock.
(*Footnote. Nearly 3000 feet high.)
PORT PHILLIP.
In a small bay on the east side of this headland we caught a glimpse of some rich valleys; but from thence for a distance of 16 miles, the coast retains a barren sandy character to Port Phillip, which we reached on the afternoon of the 18th. We scarcely found any ripplings in the entrance, an occurrence of extreme rarity; for it will readily be imagined that a body of water required to fill a bay thirty miles deep and twenty broad, passing through an entrance one mile and a half in width, must rush with great violence; and when we take into account the extreme unevenness of the bottom (soundings varying from 40 to 25 and even 9 fathoms) no surprise can be felt that such a stream, particularly when opposed to a strong wind, should raise a dangerous sea. The force of it may be conjectured from a fact of which I was myself witness. Standing on one of the entrance points, I saw a schooner trying to get in with all sails set before a fresh breeze, and yet she was carried out by the current. Another observation is also recorded for the guidance of the stranger passing into the port. When in the middle of the entrance, a low clump of dark bushes breaking the line of white sand beach beyond Shortlands Bluff, was just seen clear of the latter.
The first appearance of Port Phillip is very striking, and the effect of the view is enhanced by the contrast with the turbulent waves without and in the entrance. As soon as these have been passed, a broad expanse of placid water displays itself on every side; and one might almost fancy oneself in a small sea. But the presence of a distant highland forming a bluff in the North-East soon dispels this idea. Besides this bluff (called by the natives Dandonong) Arthur’s Seat, and Station Peak are the principal features that catch the eye of the stranger. The latter, called Youang by the natives, is one of a small group of lofty peaks rising abruptly out of a low plain on the western shore of the bay; whilst Arthur’s Seat towers over the eastern shore, and forms the northern extremity of a range subsiding gradually to the coast at Cape Shanck.
Anchoring close to the southern shore, about three miles within the entrance, we set to work in good earnest with our surveying operations–in the first place selecting a conspicuous spot for observation, from which all the meridians of our work in the western part of the Strait were to be measured. For the sake of my nautical readers I may mention that the western extreme of the cliffy patches on the south shore of the bay, marks the place chosen. The nature of our employment confining us to the neighbourhood of the entrance, we had no opportunity of visiting the town of Melbourne, situated near the northern side of the bay. This capital of Australia Felix had for a long time been known to some squatters from Tasmania; but to Sir Thomas Mitchell the inhabitants must ever feel grateful for revealing to the world at large the fertility of the districts in its neighbourhood. It is not a little singular that the attempt to form a settlement at this place in 1826 should have failed. A fort was built and abandoned, and of the party of convicts who accompanied the expedition, two escaped and joined the natives, by whom one was murdered, whilst the other, contriving by some means to ingratiate himself with them, remained in their company until 1835, when he was discovered by the settlers from Tasmania. During the eleven years he had passed in the bush, without coming in contact with any other European, he had entirely forgotten his own language, and had degenerated into a perfect savage. His intellect, if he ever possessed much, had almost entirely deserted him; and nothing of any value could be gleaned from him respecting the history and manners of the tribe with whom he had so long dwelt. He received his pardon and went to Hobart, but such was the indolence he had contracted that nothing could be made of him.
The southern shore of Port Phillip is a singular long narrow tongue of land, running out from the foot of the range of which Arthur’s Seat is the most conspicuous point. I infer from the limestone prevailing in it, and containing shells of recent species, that it was once much beneath its present level; in fact, that it stops up what was formerly a broad mouth of the bay, leaving only the present narrow entrance at the western extremity. Over its surface are scattered hills from one to two hundred feet in height, in the valleys between which was found some light sandy soil supporting at this time rich grass, and at various places a thin growth of Banksia, Eucalypti, and Casuarina, all stunted and showing symptoms of having been roughly used by the south wind. Near the spot we had chosen for the centre of our observations was a well of inferior water, and we did not find any better in the neighbourhood. The point in question therefore will never be very eligible as a settlement. The kangaroos are numerous and large, and the finest snappers I have ever heard of are caught off this point, weighing sometimes as much as thirty pounds. Our fishing experiments, however, were not very productive, being principally sharks; thirteen young ones were found in a single female of this species.
SAIL FOR KING ISLAND.
Bad weather prolonged our stay until the 26th of November. We had been chiefly occupied in determining the position of the mouths of the various channels intersecting the banks, that extend across the entire bay, three miles within the entrance. The most available passages appeared to be those lying on the south and west shores, particularly the former for vessels of great draught; but we did not conclude the examination of them at this time, sailing on the morning of the 26th to survey the coast to the westward. The first thirteen miles, trending West by South was of a low sandy character, what seemed to be a fertile country stretching behind it. Two features on this line are worthy of notice–Point Flinders, resembling an island from seaward, on account of the low land in its rear; and the mouth of the river Barwon, navigable for boats entering in very fine weather. On its northern bank, eight miles from the sea is the site of the town of Geelong. Passing this the nature of the country begins to change, and high grassy downs with rare patches of woodland present themselves, which in their turn give place, as we approach Cape Otway, to a steep rocky coast, with densely wooded land rising abruptly over it.
CAPE OTWAY.
The above-mentioned Cape is the northern point of the western extremity of Bass Strait, and is swept by all the winds that blow into that end of the Funnel. The pernicious effect of these is evident in the stunted appearance of the trees in its neighbourhood. It is a bold projection in latitude 38 degrees 51 minutes, and appears to be the South-West extremity of a ridge of granite gradually rising from it in a North-East direction. About half a mile off it, lies a small detached reef.
Having thus coasted the northern side of the Strait, we proceeded to cross over to Tasmania to examine the southern side. About halfway is King Island, extending in a north and south direction, thirty-five miles, and in an east and west thirteen. It lies right across the entrance of the Strait, about forty miles from either shore, and from its isolated position is well adapted for a penal settlement.
The more northern channel of the two formed by this island is the safer, and the water deepens from 47 to 65 fathoms as you approach it from the continent. Its outline is not remarkable, the most conspicuous point being a round hill 600 feet high over the northern point called Cape Wickham. We anchored in a bay on the North-West side, under New Year Island, which affords shelter for a few vessels from all winds. There is a narrow passage between the two, but none between them and the southern point of the bay, which is open to the north-west. On the summit of one of these islands boulders of granite are strewed, and they exhibit a very remarkable white appearance from seaward when the sun has passed his meridian.
A SEALER’S FAMILY.
A sealer had established himself on the north island with two wives, natives of Tasmania. They were clothed in very comfortable greatcoats made of kangaroo skins, and seemed quite contented with their condition. Their offspring appeared sharp and intelligent. In another part of my work I shall touch more fully on the history of these sealers, who style themselves Residents of the islands. They further distinguish their classes by the names of Eastern and Western Straits-men, according to the position of the islands they inhabit.
The sealers on New Year Island had a large whaleboat, which I was somewhat puzzled to know how they managed, there being but one man among them. He informed me, however, that his wives, the two native women, assisted him to work the boat, which had been well prepared for the rough weather they have to encounter in Bass Strait by a canvas half-deck, which, lacing in the centre, could be rolled up on the gunwale in fine weather.
THE MUTTON BIRD.
The principal occupation of these people during this month of the year is taking the Sooty Petrel, called by the colonists the Mutton Bird, from a fancied resemblance to the taste of that meat. It is at the present month that they resort to the island for the purpose of incubation. They constitute the chief sustenance of the sealers, who cure them for use and sale: their feathers also form a considerable article of trade. Many parts of the island were perfectly honeycombed with their burrows, which greatly impede the progress of the pedestrian, and are in some cases dangerous from snakes lying in them. The sealers told me that they had lost a cat which died within an hour after the bite of one of these reptiles. We here found cabbages and water, and the people informed us that it was always their custom to plant a few vegetables on the islands they frequented.
From the top of this island we had a good view of the Harbinger reefs, so-called from a convict ship of that name which was lost upon them and all hands perished. I was glad to find they were only two detached rocks lying three miles and a half from the shore, instead of, as reported, one continued reef lying six or seven miles from the land. They bore north six miles from our position.
CAPTAIN SMITH.
The sealers informed us that a house which we descried in the bay, was occupied by a gentleman who had met with a reverse of fortune. We accordingly paid him a visit next morning, and found that he was a Captain Smith with whom the world had gone wrong, and who had accordingly fled as far as possible from the society of civilised man and taken up his residence on the shores of King Island with his family. He had given the name of Port Franklin to the bay, which we changed to Franklin Road, from its not being worthy of the title of a Port. He was led to choose his position from its being in the neighbourhood of the only secure anchorage from all winds, and near the best soil he had found after traversing the whole of the island. According to his account it was totally unfit for rearing sheep on a large scale; the bushes and grass being so full of burrs that the wool was completely spoiled. The soil was everywhere very inferior, and a few patches only of clean land was to be found, the principal part being overrun with dense scrub and impervious thickets. There were few elevations on the island, and those not of any great magnitude, the loftiest point being scarcely seven hundred feet. The formation of the neighbourhood of Captain Smith’s house was granite: water abounds.
WEST SIDE OF KING ISLAND.
The house in which this modern Robinson Crusoe dwelt was what is called a Slab Hut, formed of rough boards and thatched with grass. He had a garden in which grew some cabbages and a few other vegetables; but he complained sorely of blight from the west winds. There are three varieties of kangaroos on the island, and plenty of wildfowl on some of the lagoons; so that supplies are abundant: but the few sheep he possessed were rendered of little value from the burrs I have before mentioned. I could not help pitying the condition of this gentleman and his interesting family–a wife and daughter and three or four fine boys. They had retained a few of the tastes and habits of civilized life, and I observed a good library with a flute and music in the Slab Hut. It was with great pleasure that I afterwards learned that Captain Smith’s prospects had brightened. He is now, I believe, a comfortable settler on the eastern side of Tasmania.
On the 29th we passed down the western shore of King Island, finding the coast to be low, treacherous and rocky. We discovered some outlying rocks a mile and half from shore, and about eleven miles south from New Year Island. The most remarkable circumstance we noticed in this part of our cruise, was the leafless appearance of the trees on the higher parts of the island. It seemed as though a hurricane had stripped them of their verdure. They reminded me strongly of a wintry day in the north.
About eight miles from the extremity of the island we discovered a bay affording good anchorage in east winds. It was afterwards called Fitzmaurice Bay. From its neighbourhood a long dark line of black cliffs stretches southward until within about three miles of the point, when the ground sinks suddenly, whence vessels are apt to be misled and to fancy that the island ends there, whilst in reality it stretches out into a low dangerous rocky point, named after the writer, for about three miles more.
SEAL BAY.
Rounding this we anchored on the eastern side of it in Seal Bay–a wild anchorage, the swell constantly rolling in with too much surf to allow of our commencing a series of tidal observations. This bay, in the mouth of which lies a small cluster of rocks, is separated from the one on the opposite side, by a strip of low sandy land, which, as I have said, may easily be overlooked by vessels coming from the westward. A ship indeed has been lost from fancying that the sea was clear south of the black cliffs that skirt the shore down from Fitzmaurice Bay. The Wallaby are numerous on this part of the island. Mr. Bynoe shot one (Halmaturus bellidereii) out of whose pouch he took a young one which he kept on board and tamed. It subsequently became a great pet with us all.