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

Wednesday, August 3rd.– There was still a bright moon, and as we approached Emerald the country, seen by its light, looked most picturesque. At Emerald, the rail to Springsure branches off from the main line to Barceldine. In the early morning, as we were passing Fernlee, where the Government line ends, our servants produced some welcome tea. From there we ran on to Springsure, where our arrival caused great excitement, for it was really the opening of the line, ours being the first passenger train to arrive at the township. By about half-past eight we were all dressed, and went to a comfortable inn, some on foot and some in waggonettes, where we breakfasted.

After watching experiments with various horses, to see which were best and quietest, we started in a couple of buggies for the opal-mines, or rather opal-fields, of Springsure. We had not driven far when we came to a fence right across the high road, and had to go some way round over rough ground and across a creek to avoid it. This did not excite any astonishment in the mind of the gentleman who drove us, and he seemed to think it was a casual alteration owing to the new line; but on a dark night the unexpected obstruction might prove inconvenient. When the top of the hill where the opals are to be found was reached, we all got out and set to work to pick up large and heavy stones with traces of opals in them, as well as some fragments of pumice-stone with the same glittering indications. We were shown the remnants of a rock which had been blown up with dynamite to get at a magnificent opal firmly imbedded in it. The experiment resulted in rock, opal, and all being blown into fragments, and nothing more has ever been seen of the precious stone. Our search not proving very successful, we proceeded to the large sheep-station of Rainworth. This fine property originally belonged to Mr. Bolitho, and I was told that it then consisted of 300 square miles of country thoroughly well stocked, with excellent buildings, and – what is to be most valued in this dry and thirsty land – a running stream, which had never been known to be empty, even in a ten years' drought. The question of water becomes a serious consideration out here, where every full-grown beast is supposed to drink and waste ten gallons of water a day. The drive to the station was very pleasant. We passed a racecourse, where a little race-meeting was going on. It looked a very simple affair, and we were told that once a year all the sporting population in what Australians call 'the neighbourhood,' extending for some hundred miles around, assemble here to try their nags against one another.

We seem rather unlucky about accidents, for on our way down a steep hill the horses suddenly became restive; and if it had not been that our driver sent them spinning down one hill at full gallop, and up the next, thus leaving them no time for kicking, and preventing the carriage from ever touching them, we should probably have had a repetition of our smash the other day. We did not see a single kangaroo all the way, but passed a number of good-looking cattle and horses. Years ago this country swarmed with game, and was so eaten up that the ground looked as bare as your hand, the pasture being undistinguishable from the roads. By a strenuous effort the settlers killed 30,000 kangaroos on a comparatively small area on the Ekowe Downs, the adjoining station to this, and thousands more died at the fence, which was gradually pushed forward, in order to enclose the sheep and keep out the marsupials.

By-and-by we arrived at a smart white gate in the fence, which a nice little boy dressed in sailor costume, who had accompanied us from Springsure, opened for us. These paddocks held some merino sheep. Some fine timber had been left, so that the station looked more like an English gentleman's estate than any place we have yet visited. We jolted wearily over huge boulders and great slabs of rock, and went up and down tremendously steep pitches in the roads, until at last we arrived at Rainsworth, where we received the warmest welcome from Mr. and Mrs. Todhunter. After luncheon I stayed in the verandah and rested, whilst the rest of the party went out to look round the station and the opal-fields.

The view from the verandah of the house up to the Rainsworth mountain was remarkable, its most conspicuous feature being the peculiar-shaped hill, 1,500 feet high, with its top cut off, leaving a table-land, where what is called opal-glass is found. This substance resembles opal in its consistency, except that it is white and transparent and does not possess prismatic colours like imprisoned rainbows. Before we left, Mrs. Todhunter kindly gave me some curious specimens of limestone, stalactites, and stalagmites, picked up on the surface of the black soil in the neighbourhood, besides two very curious little iron balls, joined together like a natural dumb-bell. We left in good time, and had an uneventful drive home. I felt curious to know the value of this fine station, and was told it was 40,000l. This, certainly, if correct, does not seem high for an extra-good station with a comfortable house on it, besides stables, farm-buildings of every possible kind, a well-stocked though rather neglected garden and orchard, a large wool-shed some ten miles off, and a practically inexhaustible supply of water. Besides all this, there are plenty of well-fenced paddocks, containing 30,000 sheep, 200 bullocks, and some horses; also drays and carts, and other farming implements.

On reaching Springsure we found some excitement prevailing on account of a mob of a thousand cattle having passed near the town. These mobs of cattle are obliged by law to travel six miles a day at least, unless they have cows and young calves with them, when the compulsory distance is less. They feed all the way on their neighbours' ground, so to speak, and travel many thousands of miles, occupying months on the journey. A clever stockman loses very few beasts on the way, and such men command high wages. They often undertake the journey at their own risk, and are paid only for the number of cattle actually delivered. I was, as usual, too tired to go out again, but the rest of the party set off to see the cattle-camp, and had a long walk over a rough road; but they declared the sight well rewarded them for their trouble. The cattle were preparing to settle down for the night; whilst the camp-fires were just being lit, and beginning to twinkle in the early twilight. On one side a brilliant red sunset glowed, and on the other the moon was rising and shedding her silver light upon the scene. It was so tempting to remain out that the sightseers were rather late for dinner; after which we took up our old quarters in the railway carriages, and started on our homeward journey. This proved much more comfortable than the outward trip, for the railway officials had kindly stopped nearly all the draughts.

Thursday, August 4th.– I awoke about five, and was at once struck by the strange appearance of the moon, which did not look so big as usual, and had assumed a curious shape. I gazed at her in a lazy, sleepy way for some time, until it suddenly occurred to me that an eclipse was taking place, whereupon I roused myself and got my glasses. I was very glad not to have missed this, to me, always most interesting sight, especially as I had not the slightest idea that an eclipse would occur this morning. The atmosphere was marvellously clear, and I saw it to absolute perfection.

We reached Rockhampton about 6 a. m., and were put into a quiet siding till eight, by which time we had dressed and were ready to go and breakfast at the comfortable railway hotel. There was just time for a satisfactory talk about arrangements for future movements before eleven o'clock, when the Mayor arrived to take us, in quite a procession of buggies, to the hospital. Here Doctor Macdonald met us, and I was put into a chair and carried through the various wards of an excellently planned and perfectly ventilated building. Everything looked scrupulously clean, and the patients appeared happy and well cared for. Several instances were pointed out to me by Doctor Macdonald in which the St. John Ambulance would have been of great use. I heard of one case of a man who had come down 200 miles with a broken leg, no attempt having been made to bandage it up. The poor fellow arrived, as may easily be imagined, with the edges of the bone all ground to powder and the tissues surrounding it much destroyed. Then there was another case of an arm broken in the bush, and the poor man lying all night in great agony; and again of another stockman who crushed his knee against a tree while riding an unbroken horse. The instances are too numerous to mention where the knowledge of how to make the best of the available means of relief and transport would have saved much needless suffering. There were some good rooms for convalescent patients, besides paying wards.

Everything looked bright, cheerful, and sunny except the ophthalmic wards, which, if I may use such an expression, displayed an agreeable gloom. Here, all was painted dark green, and the system of ventilation seemed quite perfect, for air without light was admitted and the temperature equalised, this being an important factor in bad cases. Ophthalmia appears to be quite a curse in Australia, as we have already found to our cost, through Tom's suffering from it. There were nice shady verandahs to this part of the hospital, and comfortable chairs for the patients to sit and lounge in, besides a pretty garden. Not far off, in the compound, stood the various quarters for the nurses and servants, and the dead-house, and dissecting-room, with other necessary though painful adjuncts to a hospital. The doctor's cheerful bungalow, also near, was surrounded by a pretty garden.

A rough drive over a bad road took us to the Botanical Gardens, which are enclosed by the most charming fence I have ever seen; or rather by a fence made beautiful by the luxuriant creepers growing over it. A mass of the brilliant blossoms of the orange Thunbergia venusta, purple Bougainvilleas, and ivory-white Baumantia extended from end to end and side to side. This fence encircled a lavish growth of palms of all kinds and shapes and sorts and sizes, and many other tropical plants, which quite overshadowed the common European shrubs. These seem to flourish to perfection in winter here, and include verbenas of all colours, and unusual size and brilliancy; a great profusion of phloxes, the Phlox Drummondi being a perfect weed, and scenting the whole air. These taller flowers were intermixed with mignonette, musk, and many dear old home favourites; while all one side of the garden was taken up by a bush-house full of splendid palms. Ferns, various Alsophilas, Lycopodium scandens, Vanillas, Hoyas, flourished in great variety. Pink and red Bougainvilleas were growing on standards outside, among the orange-trees, and beyond lay lagoons covered with the far-famed blue, red, and pink lotus-lilies of Rockhampton.

The sun became very hot, and I was glad to be carried back to the carriage and to drive straight to the boat, and so on board the yacht to rest, while the remainder of the party went shopping in the town. In the afternoon we all went in the steam-launch to see the Creek Meat Canning Factory – a concern which has lately changed hands, and holds some of the largest contracts in the world for supplying armies and navies with tinned meat. The quality is excellent. Mr. Bertram, the manager, met us at the pier, at which we had considerable difficulty in landing, for the tide was low. After a little time and trouble we managed to reach the shore, and went through the works, which are most interesting. The manufactory stands on the bank of the river close to a pretty lake embosomed amongst hills, and surrounded with paddocks, where the cattle rest after being driven in from distant stations.

We were all safe on board the yacht by 9 p. m., and at ten o'clock the anchor was weighed. The night was fine, and we only stopped at intervals to allow the pilot to reconnoitre, or to wait for a rise of tide. This is a most curious river, and might well be made the scene of a romance by some poetical person. It is only every ten or twelve days that craft drawing over ten feet can get up or down the river, and then only by the light of the moon. By day no large vessel can reach Rockhampton.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE EAST COAST

Friday, August 5th.– At 1.30 a. m. we anchored off Johnstone Point, and at 8 o'clock we hove anchor and proceeded to the mouth of the Fitzroy River. The pilot left us at 10.30, and we proceeded out to sea under sail. There was a strong wind from the south-east, and I was glad to stay in bed all day. We passed through the Cumberland Isles, and Tom had a rather anxious night, as the navigation was very intricate.

Saturday, August 6th.– The morning broke clear and fine, the fresh breeze still continuing. The scenery during the day was lovely, and I was carried into the deck-house in order that I might enjoy it. The views were more like the Inland Sea of Japan than the tropical scenery, made up of cocoa-nut palms, tree-ferns, and coral islands, which I had been looking for. The mountain shapes were very beautiful, as were also the bays and inlets, and the varied colours of the land, sea, and sky gave brilliancy and effect to the landscape. The east coast of Australia at this season of the year is a perfect cruising-ground for yachtsmen. The Great Barrier reef, extending for a distance of 1,000 miles from Swain Reefs to Cape Yorke, protects the coast from the heavy swell of the Pacific. The steady breezes from the south-east are favourable for sailing, especially in the direction in which we are steering.

At 4 p. m. we were off Pine Island, a small islet of the Percy group, on which a light has been established. From Pine Island onwards to the Whitsunday Passage the navigation recalls the experiences of many pleasant summers on the west coast of Scotland. The inner route, which we followed, passes between numberless rocks and islands. The Percy Isles form a distinct group, extending twenty miles from north to south, and eight miles from east to west. To the westward of the Percy Isles a still larger group has received the collective name of Northumberland, the several islands being distinguished by familiar Northumbrian names. Advancing northwards, at a distance of some sixty miles from the Percy group, the Cumberland, Sir James Smith, and Whitsunday groups form a continuous archipelago on the eastern side of the passage. The highest peaks attain an elevation little short of 1,000 feet. The islands are for the most part richly wooded. Some peaks are clothed with timbers to the summit, others are smooth and grassy, a few are bare of vegetation. The rocks are magnificent. Paternoster rises sheer from the water to a height of more than 900 feet.

'Turning from the sea to the mainland, the coast-range at a short distance inland forms a continuous barrier, varying in height from 3,000 to upwards of 4,000 feet. At Whitsunday Passage, through which we passed on the afternoon of August 6th, the line of coast is broken by Cape Conway, which, at its south-eastern extremity, rises to a height of 1,637 feet. A chain of peaks extends northwards from Cape Conway to Mount Drysander, and forms a fine amphitheatre of hills on the western side of the Whitsunday Passage. On the eastern side is a group of islands, of which Whitsunday, the largest, is eleven miles long, while Whitsunday Passage is twenty miles in length. At its narrowest part it is contracted to a breadth of two miles. On the mainland side the passage opens out into the fine natural harbour of Porte Molle. On the eastern side the line of shore is broken by the bays of Whitsunday Island, and the channels which divide it from the smaller islands, by which it is completely surrounded.'

Cape Gloucester was reached in about three hours after we had issued from the Whitsunday Passage. Rounding the cape, we anchored for the night close under the land.

Sunday, August 7th.– The morning dawned clear and bright, and we sent off two men in the dinghy to land on Gloucester Island. They took the dogs for a run ashore, and I asked them to collect what they could in the way of shells or greenery. They did not bring back much of either, but reported that the island was very pretty and had a nice sandy shore, with forests running down almost to the water's edge, and quantities of parrots and parrakeets. We had church at half-past ten, and directly after service went across to Bowen, anchoring a short distance from H.M.S. 'Paluma.' Bowen is a small town, but the harbour is spacious. The sea was rather rough, and we found some difficulty in communicating with the shore; but after lunch all the party landed in the large cutter. I was sorry to hear that Bowen is rapidly dwindling and losing its trade; the inhabitants hope, however, to recover some of their former vitality when once the network of railways is extended to their little town. Later on the officers of the 'Paluma' came on board, and seemed pleased to meet people lately from Europe; for they have been on this station several years, surveying the Barrier Reef. Our own shore party returned late, having much enjoyed their expedition and the long walk. They had picked up a good many curiosities, including one of the largest and finest hawksbill-turtle shells I had ever beheld. It had been most carefully polished by a lighthouse-keeper on one of the reefs, who had caught the creature himself. A great many telegrams were received this evening, all referring to the various kind arrangements proposed for us at Townsville and elsewhere.

Monday, August 8th.– Weighed anchor at daybreak, and were pushed merrily forward by strong S.E. breezes. We sailed swiftly up the coast as far as Townsville – a pretty-looking town of foreign appearance, with its wharves and business-houses close down on the beach, whilst the villas and private residences stand on the little nooks and corners of a hill at the back. The officers of H.M.S. 'Myrmidon,' which was lying in harbour, soon came on board to see us. They had broken their rudder-head outside the Barrier Reef, where they too were hard at work surveying, and had come into Townsville for repairs. The anchorage proved rolly, there being no protection whatever, and I had rather an uncomfortable night.

Tuesday, August 9th.– At daybreak Tom moved the yacht out to the shelter of Magnetic Island, where the coal-hulks lie, some six miles off Townsville. There we kept boxing about all the morning, under the mistaken idea that it was quite smooth. Meanwhile some supplies were taken on board; but as I was not well enough to undertake the long expeditions which had been planned, and the rest of the party declared that it would not be possible to go without me, they were given up. After landing and taking a walk through Townsville, the shore-going people pronounced it to be quite as clean-looking and prosperous as Bowen, but with more business going on. The town, which has a population of 12,000, is built on a tongue of land between the sea and Ross Creek. It consists of one main street containing banks, public offices, counting-houses, and well-supplied stores and shops. The bustle in the streets and the flourishing and prosperous appearance everywhere were quite cheering. Townsville owes its prosperity to its railway, which is already opened to a distance of two hundred miles into the interior, and which has made it the port for a wide area of pastoral country and for several promising gold-fields.

The bay of Townsville is open, and the shoal water extends some two miles from the beach. A breakwater is in course of construction, and dredging operations are being prosecuted with energy, so that the defects of the port will in course of time be remedied. We started with the same strong trade-wind up the coast, passing through some pretty picturesque islands and roads, hoping to anchor at Dungeness for the night. Finding it impossible to get up there before dark, we anchored in Challenger Bay, under shelter of Palm Island, shortly after sunset. Soon after we had dropped anchor aboriginal blacks were reported alongside, and on going on deck I saw two miserable-looking objects in the frailest of boats. Indeed the craft looked like the pictures of an ancient British coracle, and was so light and unseaworthy that every wave washed into it. They had nothing for sale except some commonplace and evil-smelling shells, which they were anxious to exchange for tobacco and biscuits, evidently preferring these commodities to money. We bought all the shells they had, and they were so well satisfied with their bargain that they returned later on with another bucketful of conchological curiosities, which were also purchased. They looked most harmless individuals; but having been warned by Captain Bridge never to trust the natives here, we thought it better to set a double watch for the night, more as a matter of precaution than from any fear of actual danger. Though they may have the reputation of being friendly, and may be certified as such in books of sailing directions and on the Admiralty charts, one can never feel sure of their disposition. A trifling event may have occurred since the last report was made which would alter the disposition of the whole tribe towards Europeans. Some officers may have landed to shoot, and walked over the crops of the natives without apologising or offering them remuneration, not knowing that they had done anything wrong. Drunken sailors may have landed, and so changed the friendly attitude of the inhabitants to deadly enmity towards the next arrivals. I honestly believe that a great many of the reported outrages in the South Sea and other savage islands are due more to a temporary misunderstanding between blacks and whites than to any cold-blooded barbarity or love of bloodshed on the part of the natives.

Wednesday, August 10.– Some of the party went early ashore, and I need scarcely say they were not molested in the slightest degree, and only found a most harmless black camp of about twenty individuals, with gins nursing their babies and men walking about. They brought off a good collection of pectens, clams, helmets, conchs, pearl-oysters, and large cowries, but the specimens were not very perfect. Also a quantity of greenery in the shape of Pancratiums, Logodium scandens, climbing Lycopodium, and a curious sort of fruit off a palm, which grows in large cone-shaped clusters. They call it breadfruit in these parts, and the natives eat it; but it certainly does not look either inviting or eatable. One fruit weighed twelve, and the other over eleven, pounds.

Two more natives came alongside this morning. They had not the slightest vestige of clothing; but two men, whom I saw over the side later in the day, both sported hats, and one of them had on besides a man-of-war shirt; the other wore a very short tunic cut low in the neck and several rows of canary-coloured glass beads. We weighed at eleven, and proceeded towards Dungeness under sail. I was carried up into the deck-house to see the view, which was provokingly obscured by mists and driving rain. We found some difficulty in making our way, owing to the new buoys not having yet been entered on the Admiralty chart. Fortunately, the officers of the 'Myrmidon' had warned Tom of this fact, made more dangerous by the thick mist and fog. We ultimately arrived at Dungeness in safety, taking everybody by surprise, as no ship had ever been known to go through the southern entrance of Hinchinbrook Channel before without a pilot. The pilot, a nice old man, had been looking for us all day yesterday, as well as all last night. As we did not appear, he must have gone home, thereby losing the pleasure of conducting us into the harbour, but giving Tom the gratification of bringing the vessel in through the channel without taking a pilot.

Thursday, August 11th.– When I awoke at eight Tab and Mr. des Graz had already started on their shooting expedition, and at noon we also set forth on an excursion up the Herbert River. Tom had caused a comfortable bed to be rigged up for me in the gig, so that I was not obliged to dress, but simply got out of one bed into another. The gig was towed by the steam-launch, which also trailed the 'Flash' behind in case we might want to land in any shallow place or get aground on a sand or mud bank. After the first little fluster of moving was over it was a great pleasure to me to be once more in the open air after being shut up for what seems so long a time. It felt deliciously warm too, the temperature being 74°. The scenery was beautiful – sandy shores, green woods with high precipitous mountains in the background, covered with shiny slate-like shale, which when moist shows up like a mirror through the mist. The view so reminded me of Scotland that I felt inclined to take up my glasses to look for deer among the craggy peaks and corries. We passed the little pilot station of Dungeness, and almost directly afterwards the hamlet of the same name. It bears some resemblance to its English namesake, for it is situated on a sandy spit of land, surrounded by mangrove swamps instead of grass marshes. I noticed, too, that the people have the fever-stricken look which is sometimes seen about Lydd and that part of the country. There are only fifty-six inhabitants, men, women, and children. Dull as the surroundings seemed, it is wonderful how bright and cheerful the people who came on board yesterday seemed to be. The river, though wider, put us very much in mind of the Kuching, in Borneo – the same tropical vegetation and miles of unhealthy-looking mangrove swamps. We passed several tidy-looking little settlements on the banks, some picturesquely built of wood thatched with sugar-cane or palm-leaf, while others were constructed of corrugated iron, which must be frightfully hot in summer. The white people, so far as we could judge, as we passed up and down the river, were suffering from the climate. The Kanakas and Chinamen seemed more prosperous; and the few aboriginals looked quite happy in their natural surroundings.