I Gazed Again And Again, And, As The
Darkness Above Became More Dense, The Silence Of Evening More Profound,
And
The moving lights beneath more brilliant, I could have believed them
the eyes of the Undines, who had quitted their
Cool grottos beneath the
sea to gaze on the daring ones who were sailing above them. At times one
of these stars of the ocean would seem to linger around our vessel, as
though loth to leave the admiring eyes that watched its glittering
progress.* * * * *
SUNDAY, 9, lat. 37 degrees 53 minutes N., long. 15 degrees 32 minutes W. -
Great excitement throughout the ship. Early in the morning a
homeward-bound sail hove in sight, and as the sea was very calm, our
captain kindly promised to lower a boat and send letters by her. What a
scene then commenced; nothing but scribes and writing-desks met the view,
and nought was heard but the scratching of pens, and energetic demands for
foreign letter-paper, vestas, or sealing-wax; then came a rush on deck, to
witness the important packet delivered to the care of the first mate,
and watch the progress of the little bark that was to bear among so
many homes the glad tidings of our safety. On she came - her stunsails
set - her white sails glittering in the sun - skimming like a sea-bird
over the waters. She proved to be the Maltese schooner 'Felix,' bound
for Bremen. Her captain treated the visitors from our ship with the
greatest politeness, promised to consign our letters to the first pilot
he should encounter off the English coast, and sent his very last
oranges as a present to the ladies, for which we sincerely thanked him;
the increasing heat of the weather made them acceptable indeed.
WEDNESDAY, 12, lat. 33 degrees 19 minutes N., long. 17 degrees 30
minutes W. - At about noon we sighted Madeira. At first it appeared little
more than a dark cloud above the horizon; gradually the sides of the rocks
became clearly discernible, then the wind bore us onward, and soon all
traces of the sunny isle were gone.
FRIDAY, 28, lat. 4 degrees 2 minutes N., long. 21 degrees 30 minutes W. -
Another opportunity of sending letters, but as this was the second time of
so doing, the excitement was proportionately diminished. This vessel was
bound for the port of Liverpool, from the coast of Africa; her cargo (so
said those of our fellow-travellers who boarded her), consisted of ebony
and gold-dust, her only passengers being monkeys and parrots.
SUNDAY, JUNE 6, long. 24 degrees 38 minutes W. - Crossed the Line, to the
great satisfaction of all on board, as we had been becalmed more than a
week, and were weary of gazing upon the unruffled waters around us, or
watching the sails as they idly flapped to and fro. Chess, backgammon,
books and cards, had ceased to beguile the hours away, and the only
amusement left was lowering a boat and rowing about within a short
distance of the ship, but this (even by those not pulling at the oars)
was considered too fatiguing work, for a tropical sun was above us, and
the heat was most intense. Our only resource was to give ourselves up
to a sort of DOLCE FAR NIENTE existence, and lounge upon the
deck, sipping lemonade or lime-juice, beneath a large awning which
extended from the fore to the mizen masts.
TUESDAY, AUGUST 17, lat. 39 degrees 28 minutes S., long. 136 degrees 31
minutes E. - Early this morning one of the sailors died, and before noon
the last services of the Church of England were read over his body; this
was the first and only death that occurred during our long passage, and
the solemnity of committing his last remains to their watery grave cast a
saddening influence over the most thoughtless. I shall never forget the
moment when the sewn-up hammock, with a gaily coloured flag wrapped round
it, was launched into the deep; those who can witness with indifference a
funeral on land, would, I think, find it impossible to resist the
thrilling awe inspired by such an event at sea.
FRIDAY, 20, lat. 38 degrees 57 minutes S., long. 140 degrees 5 minutes
E. - Sighted Moonlight Head, the next day Cape Otway; and in the afternoon
of Sunday, the 22nd, we entered the Heads, and our pilot came on board. He
was a smart, active fellow, and immediately anchored us within the bay
(a heavy gale brewing); and then, after having done colonial justice to a
substantial dinner, he edified us with the last Melbourne news. "Not a
spare room or bed to be had - no living at all under a pound a-day -
every one with ten fingers making ten to twenty pounds a-week." "Then
of course no one goes to the diggings?" "Oh, that pays better still -
the gold obliged to be quarried - a pound weight of no value." The
excitement that evening can scarcely be imagined, but it somewhat
abated next morning on his telling us to diminish his accounts some 200
per cent.
MONDAY, 23. - The wind high, and blowing right against us. Compelled to
remain at anchor, only too thankful to be in such safe quarters.
TUESDAY, 24. - Got under weigh at half-past seven in the morning, and
passed the wrecks of two vessels, whose captains had attempted to come
in without a pilot, rather than wait for one - the increased number of
vessels arriving, causing the pilots to be frequently all engaged. The
bay, which is truly splendid, was crowded with shipping. In a few hours
our anchor was lowered for the last time - boats were put off
towards our ship from Liardet's Beach - we were lowered into the first
that came alongside - a twenty minutes' pull to the landing-place -
another minute, and we trod the golden shores of Victoria.
Chapter III.
STAY IN MELBOURNE
At last we are in Australia.
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