The Last Voyage: To India and Australia, in the 'Sunbeam'

The approach to the Dutch town of Macassar is very fine, and no doubt the beauty of its situation, as well as its convenience as a place of call for ships of all nations, caused it to be selected as the first European port in the East Indies. The roadstead was fairly full of shipping, which included a gunboat, one or two steamers, and several large sailing-ships. Pratt went ashore the instant the health-officer and harbour-master (these officers being combined in one person) had left, in order to find out the capabilities of the place; for we had been unable to gather anything from our first visitor, who could not speak a word of anything but Dutch, and contented himself with handing in a bundle of ship's papers, printed in every known language under the sun, and allowing us to select therefrom the one which suited us. Pratt soon returned, reporting, to our joy, that there was an ice-making machine ashore, and that, although it was only a little one, and would take nearly thirty-six hours to make the required quantity, we were promised a thousand pounds of ice by 7 a. m. to-morrow, or half as much again by one o'clock. After some deliberation the latter arrangement was agreed to.

About four o'clock we all landed, and under the guidance of the best interpreter to be found – a Chinaman who could speak nearly twelve words of English – we set off to inspect the ancient Dutch East Indian town. It is the oldest European settlement in the Eastern Archipelago, and has the air of respectability which belongs to old establishments of every kind and in every part of the world. In comparing Macassar with Singapore, it must be remembered that under Dutch administration the community is left in a much greater degree to its own resources. Of the results of the two systems of government, in relation to the general prosperity, there is no room for doubt and uncertainty. The exclusive policy of the Dutch, the obstacles opposed to commerce, when not carried on under the national flag, have produced a lethargy and stagnation, with which the marvellous growth of free and untrammelled trade at Singapore offers a striking contrast. The Dutch have but a slender hold over the Celebes. The physical configuration of the island is singularly straggling. To this circumstance it is probably due that the population is divided, both in race and language, into several distinct tribes.

Outside Fort Rotterdam a large level space is reserved as a public park. Its drives are shaded by fine avenues. In the outskirts of Macassar the streets become lanes, passing through rich groves of tropical vegetation. The slender dwellings of the native population, formed of matting stretched on a light framework of bamboo, are seen peering out from underneath the overhanging canopy of dense foliage.

Having called on the Governor, we drove to the Hôtel Macassar, where, with the assistance of the captain of a Norwegian ship, dinner got itself ordered. After taking this precaution we drove out into the country, or rather the suburbs, to look at a large collection of native arms, from this and the surrounding islands. We were specially interested in the narrow Dyak shields and the wider ones which come from further north, as well as in the masks, skulls, and war-cloaks from Bali, Lombook, and Sumbawa, the musical instruments and weapons peculiar to Celebes, and the spears and kreises from all parts. So badly arranged were they, however, and kept in such a dark outhouse, that it was impossible to appreciate their value properly. After inviting the owner – a superintendent of police – and his family to visit the yacht, we continued our drive among pretty villas and bungalows, surrounded by the usual tropical fence, with gorgeous flowers and fruits inside it, until we came to a wealthy Chinaman's house and garden. The house was full of quaint conceits, and in the garden was a very pretty artificial pond surrounded by splendid ferns and palms, looking something like a natural lake in the midst of a tropic jungle. Then we drove on, through more valleys and past more gardens, to the Government coal-stores, which Tom inspected with interest, and which, he was told, contained at that moment 5,000 tons of coal. Afterwards, some of the party went on board the Dutch gunboat 'Bromo,' which acts as guard-ship, and is now coaling alongside.

The Netherlands Company's steamship the 'Bajara' sails to-morrow at 4 a. m., and the mail closes at six o'clock to-night; so it was necessary to hurry back on board in order to get our letters and journals ready in time, though we had luckily foreseen this emergency. The dinner was very good, and was served in a nice cool airy room at the hotel, landlady, waiters, and all being extremely civil, though we could scarcely exchange a single word with any of them.

Wednesday, April 20th.– Went ashore at 7.30 with Tom, Mabelle, Baby and Mr. Pritchett. The latter goes home to-day in the 'Bajara.' The morning was fairly cool. Mabelle and I went to one or two shops and tried to make some purchases; but, between our ignorance of the language and our poverty in the current coins of the country, we did not meet with much success. While we were at one shop, a very smart lady drove up in a neatly turned-out victoria and pair. She was dressed exactly like all the natives, except that the materials of her costume were better. A sarong, worked in a peculiar native way with wax, was wound round her waist, and a snowy white close-fitting linen jacket trimmed with lace and insertion formed the rest of her costume. Her hair was neatly fastened up with a comb, but her feet were bare, except for prettily embroidered slippers.

After breakfast most of the party went off on various shopping expeditions, for it will be Muriel's birthday to-morrow, and we are all providing suitable offerings for the occasion. Mabelle and Mr. Pemberton also went to the police-officer's residence to try and bargain for some of the arms which we had seen last night. There were eight or ten weapons which I should dearly like to possess. However, it proved to be hopeless to attempt to drive a bargain, for the collection could not be broken up, and I did not care to give the price asked for the lot. The owner presented me, however, with a magnificent Gordonia rubra, which I regarded as a great acquisition, having long searched vainly for this very plant. It is a specially perfect specimen, with beautiful feathery tips. After great trouble Mr. Pemberton also succeeded in buying for me a few spears, kreises, and baskets from Celebes, Sumbawa, and Bali, together with some so-called tortoiseshells (really turtle-shells) of a larger size than any that we had seen before. Still more pleased was I to get ten skins of the exquisite birds-of-paradise which Wallace so well describes. He considered himself amply repaid for toil and hardship by the discovery of their previously unknown splendour, which one can quite imagine, even in their dried and imperfectly prepared state. I have seen them alive at Singapore in an aviary, and they are indeed gorgeous.

Meanwhile Tom and I had returned to the yacht, where we were endeavouring to hasten such necessary preparations as coaling, watering, and provisioning. I vainly tried to get a little rest, notwithstanding a stream of visitors, including the Governor, Commandant, and many others. We all lunched ashore, and found most of the officers messing at the hotel, but at a separate table.

After further trouble in money-changing we went on board the yacht again, to find that the plentiful washing of decks, so necessary after coaling, was in full force, as well as the general air of confusion always prevailing before setting off on a long voyage. There being no chance of a start at present, Mr. Pemberton kindly went off to try to get back a cheque which Tom had given for the tortoiseshells and birds-of-paradise already paid for by me on shore. Pratt reported that he had the greatest difficulty in getting his stores off intact; for as fast as he had bought a thing and paid for it, the object or objects – as in the case of twenty-four chickens – suddenly disappeared into the recesses of the market again, and had to be hunted up with great difficulty and many excuses and subterfuges on the part of the sellers. The poor man with the cheque soon came on board, looking very frightened, and bringing a peace-offering of large green lemons and a bunch of the finest gardenias I had ever seen, the blossoms being eighteen inches round.

Just before dark we got under way. After our long passage under steam everybody pulled at the ropes – Tom, children, and all – as if they had never seen sails set before; the men working with a will, and shouting their loudest and merriest songs. All sounded most cheery; but the wind was unsteady, and the result was that the sails, which had been sent up with the fervent hope that they might remain set for the next six weeks, had to be lowered abruptly in as many minutes, and the anchor hastily dropped, to avoid a Dutch brig moored close to us, into which we were rapidly drifting in consequence of a sudden shift in the wind. The poor brig having already been in collision, and having lost her bowsprit and foretopmast, it would indeed have been hard to damage her again, though I expect we should have got the worst of it, for she was of a good old-fashioned bluff build. It was annoying to fail in getting under way under sail, and still more so to have to wait two hours while steam was being got up. At 8.30 p. m. we started again, more successfully this time, and proceeded quietly through the night.

Thursday, April 21st.– Muriel's birthday. Ceased steaming at 6 a. m. A heavy roll throughout the day, with occasional strong squalls. All suffering more or less from the motion. At noon we had steamed sixty-three miles and sailed twenty-one. In the afternoon the weather improved. At 7 p. m. the ship was put before the wind in order to let Neptune come on board, after which the ceremony of crossing the line was carried out with due solemnity and with great success. The costumes were capital, the procession well managed, and the speeches amusing. Muriel was delighted with an offering of shells, and Neptune finally took his departure amid a shower of one rocket (we could not afford more for fear of accident) and a royal salute of eight rifles. We could watch the flames of the tar-barrel in which Neptune was supposed to have embarked, as it rose and fell on the crests of the waves for many miles astern, looking like a small phantom ship.

Friday, April 22nd.– Bad night; heavy squalls throughout the day. Made and rounded the Paternoster at 8 a. m. Much cooler on deck; no apparent difference below.

At noon we had come 174 miles under sail, and were in lat. 7° 56´ S., long. 116° 56´ E. In the afternoon we made the entrance to the Allas Strait.

The Strait of Allas is one of several navigable channels by which ships can pass from the confined waters of the Eastern Archipelago into the Indian Ocean. It divides the island of Sumbawa, famous for possessing the most active volcano in the world, from the island of Lombok. At the eastern end of Lombok, a magnificent peak rises to a height of 12,000 feet, and overshadows the narrow channel beneath with its imposing mass. The effects of scenery were enhanced by a sharp squall, which drove us into the strait at a thrilling speed, under half-lowered canvas. When the squall cleared away the peak of Lombok stood forth clear of cloud, in all its majesty and grandeur, backed by the glorious colours of the evening sky. During the hour of twilight a massive cloud rested motionless in the sky immediately above the peak. Beneath this lofty and imposing canopy, and seen more dimly in the fading light, this solitary mountain presented by turns every feature that is sublime and beautiful in landscape.

Saturday, April 23rd.– To-day proved lovely after the rain, but there was very little wind. At noon we had come 66 miles under steam, and 62 miles under sail. I have felt wretchedly ill for the last few days, and seem to have lost both sleep and appetite. The motion, I have no doubt, has something to do with my indisposition, for we are going close-hauled to a wind from one quarter, and there is a heavy swell on the other, so that we roll and tumble about a great deal without making much progress. Every scrap of the Macassar ice has melted in these three days, instead of lasting three weeks, as did the ice from Singapore. This is a terrible blow, though we are consoled by the thought that the weather will be getting cooler every day now, and that we shall therefore want it less. Unless exceptionally fortunate in making a quick passage, I fear, however, that we shall run short of provisions before reaching our first Australian port, Macassar having proved a miserable place at which to take in stores.

At 4.30 p. m. we found ourselves suddenly, without any warning, in a curiously disturbed stretch of sea. It was like a tidal wave, or a race off a headland, except that there was no tide and no cape, and we were many miles from land. I immediately thought of Wallace and the volcanic waves which he alludes to, especially when I observed that the water was covered with greenish yellow objects, which at a first hasty glance I took for spawn of some kind. We soon had buckets and nets over the side, and fished up some of the floating particles, which proved to be bits of pumice-stone, rounded by the action of the waves, and covered with barnacles from the size of a pin's head upwards. So thickly were they encrusted that it was almost impossible to recognise the original substance at all. The barnacles, with their long cirri projecting and retracting quickly in search of food, gave the whole mass an appearance of life and motion very curious when closely observed in a basin. There were sea-anemones among them, and one little bit of stick, of which a long black snake or worm had scooped out the interior and thus made itself a home. Saribowa, said to be one of the most active volcanoes, is not far distant from the spot where we picked up the pumice-stone.

It is a lovely, clear, starlight night, with no black clouds to threaten coming squalls of wind or rain. The breeze, though not so fair as we could wish, is at any rate cool and refreshing, and the reduced temperature is felt as a great relief to all on board. Even the poor carpenter, who has been ill for some time past, is beginning to look better, though his eyes are still very painful. I am sorry for him, poor man, and for ourselves too, for his services are wanted at every turn just now. We are making all ready for the bad weather, which we may fairly expect to meet with when once in mid-ocean. All the big boats have been got in-board to-day, chairs have been stowed below, the top of the deck-house cleared of lumber and live-stock, cracked panes of glass replaced, battening-down boards looked out, new ropes rove, and all preparations made for real hard sea work. How I wish we were going down the east coast of Australia, inside the barrier-reef, instead of down the stormy west coast! I dread this voyage somehow, and begin even to dislike sailing. Perhaps my depression is partly caused by that stupid boy Buzzo having allowed my favourite lark, which I had brought from Hyderabad, to escape to-day. He sang much more sweetly and softly than most larks, and was a dear little bird, almost as tame as my pet bullfinch. Now he must meet with a watery grave, for he was too far from land when he flew off to reach it.

Sunday, April 24th.– Weather still calm, fine, and hot, but no wind. Our little stock of coal is running very low, for we have been obliged to get up steam again. At 11.30 we had the Litany, at which I was able to be present, on deck. At noon we had steamed 127 miles, and were in lat. 11° 25´ S., long. 116° 39´ E. Tom is getting much better again, but is rather anxious at not having picked up the Trades so soon as he had expected. He now much regrets not having taken more coal and provisions on board, as he fears that the voyage may be unduly prolonged. We had quite a serious consultation to-day with the head-steward on the subject of ways and means, for the strictest economy must be practised as to food and water, and the most must be made of our coal. Oh for another twenty-five tons in reserve!

You may imagine what the heat has been during the last few weeks, when, with the thermometer standing at 80° to-day, people found it so chilly that they could not even wait until to-morrow to get out their warm clothes!

Monday, April 25th.– Fine and hot, with, alas! no wind. Ceased steaming for a brief space, but, as we made no progress, resumed after twenty minutes' pause. At noon we had come only eight miles under sail and 158 under steam, and were in lat. 13° 58´ S., and long. 114° 52´ E. The afternoon was showery, and hopes were entertained of a change of wind. A little breeze – a very little one – came out of the squalls, and we ceased steaming about six o'clock.

Tuesday, April 26th.– A breeze sprang up in the course of the night, and we ceased steaming at 8 a. m. In the shade, and in a draught, the thermometer stood at 77°. Everybody was – or at least many were – crying out for blankets and warmer clothing. The breeze increased almost to a gale, and we were close-hauled, with a heavy swell, which made us all very uncomfortable.

Wednesday, April 27th.– At 4 a. m. went on deck with Tom. Weather much finer and wind fairer. We must hope that yesterday's curious little moon may have changed our luck. All day it continued finer, and in the afternoon the wind freshened, and shifted a point or two for the better, sending us along, at higher speed and right on our course; so that we must not grumble, though the motion was still most unpleasant.

Thursday, April 28th.– I have been suffering much from neuralgia, and last night could not sleep at all, so that although this was really a lovely day I was unable to enjoy its pleasant beauty. At noon we had come 148 miles under sail, and were in lat. 18° 36´ S., long. 109° 26´ E. There was no variation in the compass to-day, this being one of the spots in the world where a similar state of things is observable.

At 5.30 p. m. we had the third nautical entertainment of the present voyage, which was quite as varied and successful as usual. Mr. Pemberton's recitation from Tennyson, and Tab's humorous account of Father Neptune's visit to the 'Sunbeam,' were the novelties on this occasion. There were also some excellent songs by the crew, a pretty ballad by Muriel, and a reading by Tom; Mabelle being as usual the backbone and leader of the whole affair. I managed to sit through it, though in great pain, but was obliged to go to bed directly after.

Friday, April 29th.– The weather is now really lovely. Painting and varnishing are still the order of the day. At noon we had sailed 143 miles, and were in lat. 20° 40´ S., long. 107° 52´ E. Again there was practically no variation in the compass, and if we only go far enough we shall soon have an extra day in one of our weeks!

Saturday, April 30th.– After a very bad night, during which I suffered agonies from neuralgia, I woke feeling somewhat better. We are now bowling along before a brisk trade-wind, which produces a certain amount of motion, though the vessel is fairly steady on the whole. At noon we had sailed 162 miles, and were in lat. 22° 32´ S., long. 105° 53´ E. The wind freshened in the afternoon as usual, but died away slightly during the night, which was beautifully clear and starlit. Everybody is full of spirits, and I hear cheery voices on deck with the least little bit of envy, I fear, as I lie in my bed below.

Sunday, May 1st.– The merry month of May does not commence very auspiciously, with a dirty grey sky, a still dirtier grey sea flopping up on our weather bow, and half a gale blowing. Fortunately it is from the right direction, and we make good progress.

I was able to attend the Litany at 11.30, and evening service at 4. At noon we had sailed 153 miles, and were in lat. 24° 39´ S., long. 104° 14´ E., and were fairly out of the tropics. In fact, everybody is now grumbling at the cold, and all the animals and birds look miserable, although the thermometer still stands at 69° in the shade. Perhaps the fresh breeze makes us so chilly, though it does not affect the thermometer.

Monday, May 2nd.– The weather is finer, though it still keeps squally; but the wind is baffling, and we were sailing a good deal out of our course during the night. At noon we were in lat. 26° 44´ S., long. 103° 50´ E. I managed to go to the deck-house to-day for lunch, and remained on deck a little afterwards. Just before sunset we saw several sea-birds, and a splendid albatross with a magnificent spread of wing. It was wonderful to watch its quick turns and graceful skimming flight, so swift, and yet with hardly any perceptible movement.

Tuesday, May 3rd.– A fine day, very smooth, almost calm. Carried away the strop of the mizen-topsail-sheet block and rove new sheets. At noon we had sailed 140 miles, and were in lat. 28° 54´ S., long. 103° 12´ E.

At 2.30 a large fish was observed close to the vessel. He was from twenty to thirty feet long, and must have been either a white whale or a shark swimming on his back, and so snowy white as to make the sea, which was of a beautiful clear ultramarine blue, look pale green above him, like water over a coral reef. The creature did not rise above the surface, so we had not a good view of him, and he gave no sign of a disposition to 'blow,' though we watched him for more than half an hour. This makes me think that he must have been a shark, and not a whale, as the others assumed.

At 4 p. m. the fires were lighted in order to enable us to get within the influence of the true west wind, for we had reached the edge of the trades. About 6 p. m. we commenced steaming.

Wednesday, May 4th.– A fine day, with a moderate sea and a little imaginary breeze. At noon we had come eighty-six miles under steam and forty under sail, and were in lat. 30° 24´ S., long. 124° 26´ E. The temperature at noon in the shade was 65°, which we found very cold.

At 4 p. m. we saw a steamer hull down. In about an hour we had approached each other sufficiently close to enable us to ascertain that she was the 'Liguria,' one of the Orient Line, bound for Adelaide. We exchanged a little conversation with signal flags, and, having mutually wished each other a pleasant voyage, parted company. This was the first ship seen since leaving Macassar. The evening bitterly cold.

We have just seen a splendid lunar rainbow, and I suspect it forebodes a good deal more wind than we have lately had. It was perfect in shape, and the brilliant prismatic colours were most distinctly marked. I never saw such a rainbow, except as the precursor of a circular storm. I only hope that, should we encounter such a gale now, we may get into the right corner of it, and that it will be travelling in the right direction. I wish it would come in time to run up our weekly average to a thousand miles by midday.

Thursday, May 5th.– At 5 a. m. I was awakened by being nearly washed out of bed on one side and by a deluge of water coming into the cabin on the other. A squall had struck us, and we were tearing along with the lee rail under water, the rain meanwhile pouring down in torrents. The squall soon passed over, but there was every appearance of the wind increasing, though the barometer still stood high. Squall followed squall in quick succession, the wind increasing in force, and the sea rapidly rising. It soon became plain that we were in for a gale of some kind, and a very little later it became equally evident that, in accordance with the law of storms, we must be in the north-west quadrant of a circular storm, the centre of the disturbance being somewhere to the south-east. Sails were furled, others were reefed, and all was made fairly snug.

At noon we had run 136 miles to the north-east since the early morning, but we had not quite reached our estimated weekly average of a thousand miles. At noon we were in lat. 31° 29´ S., long. 105° 48´ E., with Cape Entrecasteaux 546 miles distant. The barometer stood at 30·10, and the temperature fell to 60°.

Several times during the morning the lee cutter had been in imminent danger of being lifted right out of the davits and carried away. About two o'clock the topmasts were struck; an hour later the skylights were covered over with tarpaulin, and a good deal of battening down took place on deck. Below, the stewards were employed in tautening up things which had been allowed to get rather slack during the long spell of smooth weather which we have had of late, nothing like a storm having been encountered for weeks, or indeed months.