PROCEEDING down the stream in a boat belonging to the William, I was met at the gangway by a fine large black shaggy dog, which was generally on duty; and which opened his mouth wide as any boat approached the side of the vessel. His name was "Sailor Boy," and though he could not go aloft, he could keep watch on deck as well as any of the crew. I soon made friends with him, and also with the cabin-boy, who was a native of Kangaroo Island, and was called Harry. As there were now two Harrys on board, it was necessary to make a clear distinction; therefore I was known as "White Harry," and my namesake as "Black Harry." I also made friends with the steward, who was a colored man, not very dark, and of fine features; and I found it to my advantage to be on good terms with this important functionary. My quarters were close by the steward's pantry, and in the matter of food I fared very well. Though I did not sit down at the cabin table, I had the opportunity of partaking of the good things that were going, or such of them as were left.

      There were seven or eight vessels at the anchorage, situated nearly opposite the present Port, which at that time gave no signs of the important place it would become. Mangrove bushes occupied the place of the future wharves, and it is surprising to know of the transformation that was effected at the New Port in a very short space of time. As I intend to make mention hereafter of the opening of this place, I shall on the present occasion simply give a brief description of the inner anchorage, it being understood that only vessels of light draught came thus far. Large vessels, before they discharged their cargo, anchored a few [36] miles lower down the stream; and sent their cargo up by boats to the Old Port. As there were no steam-tugs or steam-launches, the loaded boats had to be towed up for several miles, oftentimes against wind and tide. At the inner anchorage the vessels were anchored in single line, a short distance from each other; and the one that occupied the leading position was a kind of hulk, in which the pilots found comfortable quarters. They had a drum-and-fife band on board, the sound of which on a quiet evening could be heard for some distance up and down the stream; in addition to which most of the vessels had music and singing when the day was done, which sounded sweetly on the water.

      During the day the scene was enlivened with the boats going to and from the vessels at the lower anchorage, the Lascars and other seamen singing their boat-songs, which helped them in their labor of rowing and relieved the monotony of their work. While we were lying at the anchorage, a boat, heavily-laden, came down from the Old Port one Saturday evening with stores for one of the vessels. On coming alongside it was swamped, and sank; and one of the men in it was drowned. On Sunday morning two or three boats, supplied with drags, proceeded to search for the body; and after a few hours' labor it was brought up, and placed in the boat in which I was allowed to have a seat. Whether an inquest was held I know not, but it was reported that the accident occurred in consequence of some in the boat having indulged too freely in strong drink. There can be no doubt as to the fact that many accidents, attended with fatal consequences, could be traced to a similar cause.

      The shore business being finished, the good brig William set sail, and proceeded on her voyage to Launceston. The wind being fair, and the vessel a fast sailer, we arrived at the entrance to the River Tamar in three days; but here our troubles began. There were no steam tug-boats in those days, and a distance of forty miles had to be traversed to reach the town. The bends in the river, some of which were rather narrow, precluded the possibility of anything like plain sailing. The sails were kept unfurled, and when there was a slant of fair wind, they were set; when it was otherwise, the services of the boat were put into requisition to tow us till we got another slant of wind; and this process was repeated for nearly three days and three nights. The scenery on the river is of a very varied character, and some of it very pretty. Occasionally the land is heavily-timbered from the water's edge to a considerable height, and this mostly applies to the narrow reaches. Again, the water spreads out far and [37] wide, fringed with fine agricultural and pastoral land; very little appearing to be unfit for cultivation. In after years fields, farms, orchards, and homesteads could be seen in the more favored parts, with a small jetty and boat for the use of the owners and occupiers. In the immediate vicinity of Launceston the water spreads out to a great width when the tide sets in, leaving the locality a large swamp when it recedes. There is also a bar, which can only be passed by vessels of large tonnage at high water, but very few of these visit Launceston, Hobart being the chief seaport of the island.

      When we reached our destination, Captain Thom made enquiry as to whether there was any opening for me in the house of Griffiths & Co.; and finding there was not, he did not know how to dispose of me. He made certain enquiries in town with a view to ascertain if a situation could be found for me; but in this case he was unsuccessful. What was to be done? There was no vessel sailing for Adelaide, and the William was bound for Sydney. The only alternative that presented itself was that I should go to Sydney; and to this I made no objection. My outfit, however, was scarcely sufficient for another voyage, and I had no money wherewith to make an addition to it. Young as I was, I was not one to meet troubles half-way, and I determined to do the best I could under the circumstances. One Sunday, while we were staying at Launceston, Black Harry and I went for an outing up the gorge leading to the Cataract Falls. Taking the upper track, on the top of the steep hill leading to the Falls, I found no difficulty in getting along, but on our return my companion led me by a more difficult and dangerous route. The hillside being very steep, it was necessary at times to hold on to tufts of grass to avoid being precipitated to the bottom over projecting rocks; and looking up on one of these occasions I was saluted by a friendly voice at the top, with a caution that if I did not take care I would not see my mother again. I took the warning kindly, and decided that as there was, some distance down the hill, a water-race which supplied a mill at the bottom of the gorge, I would go on hands and knees along the boards placed over the otherwise open channel. This was rather an uncomfortable method of travelling, but in this way I succeeded in reaching a place of safety. My companion, who was a fast and first-rate climber, might laugh at me as much as be liked; but I considered that "discretion is the better part of valor." Being nearly ready for another start, Black Harry and I were sent in the boat up to the wharf to bring down some sheep. [38]

      We took the boat up alright, but when we attempted to return with our living freight, the tide was against us; and we made but little progress. It was ultimately found necessary to return to the wharf and obtain some assistance, and with this help we reached the brig. We accomplished the journey down the Tamar in a much shorter time than was occupied in going up; and were soon on our way to Sydney. On leaving Launceston I was informed that I would have to shift my quarters, and instead of being near the steward's pantry I must go before the mast. I did not take kindly to my new quarters in the forecastle, but there was no help for it; and I determined to make the best of my unfavorable surroundings. I made friends with the cook, and occasionally got some scraps, and by this means fared a little better than the sailors. For some reason or other I seemed to have got out of the captain's good graces, and the only way I could account for this was that he did not like the responsibility he had incurred in taking me away from home.

      We had a favorable passage to Sydney, and on arrival there Captain Thom endeavored to get me a situation, but no opening was found for me, and I began to feel a little uncomfortable. He may have thought that I would take to a seafaring life, but though at one time this had been the height of my ambition, I began to think that after all there was "no place like home." I was now farther away from home than I had ever been in my life, and I found that I was really getting homesick. At the wharf next to where we were lying I found there was a schooner named the Kate, which was bound for Adelaide; and I asked Captain Thom if he would enquire of the captain whether he would take me to Adelaide if I worked my passage. The captain of the schooner seemed inclined to comply; and I had an interview with him, which resulted in his agreeing to take me on condition that I would do what work I could. I told him plainly that I could not go aloft, as I always felt giddy when I went up any height; but I would do anything I could on deck. With this my prospects brightened, and I looked forward with some degree of pleasure to the time for leaving Sydney.

      While I was at this originally convict settlement, I had an opportunity of witnessing a sight, which I feel quite sure will never be seen again in that city. I was going along the street one day and heard the clanking of chains, which I was informed was the "chain-gang" going to work. These unhappy men had chains fastened to their legs, so that every step they took sounded out that they were convicted felons. Arriving at the place where [39] they were to commence their labors, the chains were not removed, and every stroke necessitated the clinking of these encumbrances. The work performed was in the public streets and thoroughfares, and consisted of making holes in the rock for blasting purposes. Groups of two and three were lifting up and letting down a long piece of iron, and every movement told its tale of woe to passers-by. Such a public exhibition might have a deterrent effect upon the spectators, but it was calculated to have a degrading and hardening influence upon the actors.

      When the time arrived for me to take my departure, the Kate was lying in the stream, and a boat was to be sent to convey me to her. I had taken leave of Captain Thom and my friends on board the William, and was waiting on the wharf for the boat that was to take me off. As soon as I saw it coming for me, I took hold of the painter or line of a whaleboat that was fastened to the wharf and gave it a pull that would bring it, as I thought, sufficiently near for me to jump into it, so as to he ready to get into the Kate's boat on arrival. In my haste to get away I miscalculated the distance, and instead of jumping into the whaleboat I jumped into the water. I had my few "belongings" in my hand, tied up in a handkerchief; and I kept fast hold of these, whatever the consequences might be. I felt I was sinking, and that I ought to pray; but I only knew the Lord's Prayer, and I concluded that I should mentally repeat it. I have read of the intensity of thought which those have experienced who were supposed to be in a drowning condition, and how the leading events of a life-time are crowded into a few moments; and I can quite believe it.

      Providentially the boat from the Kate came up at the critical time, and I was pulled up with my luggage and taken on board, not drowned, but something like a drowned rat. When I got on board the Kate I had no dry change of raiment, but spread out the contents of the handkerchief, and the clothes I had on had to be dried by means of external and internal heat.

      When night came on I made enquiry as to my sleeping accommodation, and I found that there was no room for me in the forecastle, which was small and was occupied by the sailors. Beyond the forecastle was the chain locker, or place for the cables; and further back still was a place for storing the spare sails. I was informed that this dark hole was the place where I was to sleep, not in a soft bed or with a pillow for my head; but on the hard rolls of sails. This was certainly hard lines, but sleep I did when I turned in at night, without any light to show me which [40] was the best place to select for the purpose. To these uncomfortable quarters I had to grope my way night after night over the chain cables; but I could congratulate myself that I was saved the trouble of making my bed. It is said that "as you make your bed, so you must lie on it," but I had no bed to make; and as regards bedclothes I had to wear the same at night as I did through the day.

      It is surprising how we can adapt ourselves to circumstances, be they ever so unfavorable, with the exercise of a little patience and self-denial; not that there is much virtue in exercising these where there is no alternative.

      Sailors as a rule have a good supply of the necessaries of life, but they have not many comforts; and still fewer of what are considered luxuries. Men who have so many hardships and discomforts ought certainly to be supplied with good and wholesome food, however plain; but it not infrequently happens that the stores are not examined before they are shipped, and when opened are found far from what they ought to be. In the case of the Kate nearly all the stores were bad, very bad; and it might be supposed that they were the clearing out of some old ship-chandler's shop. The biscuits were mouldy, the beef was nearly rotten and decidedly highly-flavored, the tea passable, but the sugar about as bad as it could be, leaving a large amount of earthy matter in the pannicans when it was dissolved. There was great deal of grumbling about the provisions, and it was concluded that as the captain was a Jew, and had a pecuniary interest in the vessel, he had purchased on the "cheap and nasty" principle. His olfactory nerves being at fault was the excuse for the smell of the meat, but no excuse could be framed for the other provisions, which were really unfit for human beings. Another serious grievance was that, though there was a light for the cabin and the binnacle, the captain would not provide any lamp or light of any kind for the forecastle. Rigid economy was the order of the day, though it is doubtful whether there was any real economy in the long run.

      Shortly after leaving Sydney we had contrary winds and rather rough weather, which revealed the fact that our rigging was not in good order. When the wind and weather permitted, the sailors were sent aloft to repair the rigging, and on these occasions I was sent to take the helm. At other times I was employed making spun-yarn, and at sundry other work on deck; and I think on the whole I gave compensation for the free passage granted me. The wind continuing contrary, the captain bore up for Twofold Bay; but, just as we were entering, the wind changed [41] in the right direction, and we put out to sea again. In making sail the fore-topgallant sail was to be unfurled and set; and I was ordered aloft for the purpose. Whether the captain was troubled with a bad memory, or disregarded what I said in Sydney, as to going aloft, I know not; but I remonstrated with him, and reminded him that I had informed him that my head would not admit of my doing so. He ordered me again and again to go up and loose the sail, then he swore at me; and at last I went up as far as I could. I found, however, that if I attempted to go up higher than the cross-trees I should certainly fall, from giddiness. He got into a great rage, and I do not know what the consequences would have been if a young man, the super-cargo of the vessel, had not taken compassion upon me, and gone up and loosed the sail. I waited up in the rigging till the captain's anger had somewhat subsided, and then ventured down on deck, escaping the rope's-ending I might have expected.

      There were in all nine of us on board the Kate, namely, the captain, mate, super-cargo, cook, four seamen, and myself. One of the watches consisted of the captain and two seamen, and the other of the mate and the same number of seamen. I was not included in either of them, and was only expected to be engaged in all-day duties. One of the two seamen in each watch had to take the helm, and the other, when the weather was favorable, was sent aloft to repair the rigging; sometimes, as already intimated, both seamen were aloft and I was at the helm. I rather liked the steering of the vessel, as it gave me a feeling of self-importance; and though I could not "box the compass," I knew the points fairly well.

      Soon after leaving. Twofold Bay the fair wind failed us, and we encountered rough weather; so rough, in fact, that we had to take shelter under the lee of Flinders Island. In going through Bass's Straits we had a great treaty in exchanging some barracuda for the bad beef served out to us. This fish is very voracious, and will eagerly seize almost any kind of bait, even a piece of red rag or cloth. Our cargo, which consisted of maize in bulk, caused us a great deal of trouble, the pumps at times lifting up almost as much maize as water; which besides causing loss to the owner was attended with danger to the vessel and risk to our lives. As we drew near to Backstairs Passage the sailors succeeded in catching a porpoise, and as we were short of oil, I was ordered to try it down, and by this means secure a fresh supply. The sailors naturally concluded that as they had caught the fish they would now have a light; but the greedy captain took possession [42] of the oil as ship's stores, and darkness was still to reign in the forecastle. This reign, however, though of only short duration, embittered the minds of the seamen, and they determined, if possible, to have their revenge.

      After a tedious tempestuous passage of about three weeks we reached the outer anchorage of Port Adelaide on a Saturday evening. The wind on our arrival was blowing half a gale, and there was every appearance of what the sailors call "a dirty night." This was the captain's first visit, and he could not easily find out where the anchorage was; as there was neither lightship nor lighthouse to indicate the locality. He went down to the cabin time after time to consult his charts, but seemed a bit bewildered; and was undecided what to do. The mate had been to Adelaide, and gave the captain the benefit of his knowledge of the place, urging him to anchor as speedily as possible, or the vessel would be on the rocks. The night was advancing, and all of us were being kept in a state of great suspense. At length the captain gave the order: "Let go the anchor!" and we felt a relief when we found we were being held fast by it. When daylight dawned upon us on Sunday morning the wind was still blowing hard, and the waves tossed us about pretty freely; but still the anchor was holding on, and keeping us off the rocks.

      During that Sunday morning a pilot came off in a whaleboat, but it was too rough for the boat to come alongside. A strong line was thrown, which was made fast to one of the stays; and when a wave lifted up the boat, the pilot sprang on board. One after another the men followed until all were safely on the deck of the vessel, and the boat was made fast astern. In anticipation of these visitors our cook made a large sea pie, one of the ingredients of which was certain parts of the porpoise which had been caught a short time previously. It was really a treat to us all, and all hands being seated on the deck, I had the honor, as cabin-boy, pro tem., of waiting upon the whole of this "mess." After justice had been done to the sea pie, the pilot gave orders for the anchor to be hauled up; and under a small spread of canvas he sailed the vessel into the "narrows," where we anchored in quiet waters, and the voyage might be considered at an end.

      In the afternoon a boat came down, and brought a supply of spirits, which the sailors purchased; evidently intending to have a jollification after all their hardships and privations. In the evening, after the occupants of the cabin had retired to rest, I could hear from my dark hole that the spirits were taking effect, [43] and that the crew were up to some mischief. They were planning to go and serve the old fellow out for the treatment he had meted out to them, especially in not allowing them to have a light in the forecastle. They decided to go down to the cabin and bring away the cabin lamp, but the captain appeared to be aware that some mischief was brewing, and kept his weather-eye open. I was informed that when the captain heard their footfalls on the steps leading down to the cabin, he called to the mate to fire on any man that was bold enough to venture down. They were not so far gone in liquor as not to know they were in serious danger, and therefore beat a retreat without the cabin lamp. On reaching the Port the men were so thoroughly disgusted with the Kate and her captain, that they, with the mate, left the vessel. The said mate afterwards commenced business in Hindley Street as a tobacconist, but what became of the others I do not know. [44]

[CLACE 36-44]