Apart from Admiral Pasley, two officers who participated in Lord Howe's
victory on "the glorious First of June," had an important influence upon
the later career of Flinders. The first of these, Captain John Hunter,
had served on the flagship Queen Charlotte. The second, Henry Waterhouse,
had been fifth lieutenant on the Bellerophon. Flinders was under the
orders of both of them on his next voyage.
Hunter had accompanied the first Governor of New South Wales on the
Sirius, when a British colony was founded there in 1788, and was
commissioned by the Crown to assume the duties of Lieutenant-Governor in
case of Phillip's death. When the office fell vacant in 1793, Hunter
applied for appointment. He secured the cordial support of Howe, and Sir
Roger Curtis of the Queen Charlotte exerted his influence by recommending
him as one whose selection "would be a blessing to the colony" on account
of his incorruptible integrity, unceasing zeal, thorough knowledge of the
country, and steady judgment. He was appointed Governor in February,
1794, and in March of the same year H.M.S. Reliance, with the tender
Supply, were commissioned to convey him to Sydney.
Henry Waterhouse was chosen to command the Reliance, under Hunter, at
that officer's request. He expressed to the Secretary of State a wish
that the appointment might be conferred upon an officer to whom it might
be a step in advancement, rather than upon one who had already attained
the rank of commander; and he recommended Waterhouse as one who, though a
young man and not an old officer, was "the only remaining lieutenant of
the Sirius, formerly under my command; and having had the principal part
of his nautical education from me, I can with confidence say that he is
well qualified for the charge."
It is probable that Flinders heard of the expedition from his Bellerophon
shipmate, Waterhouse, who by the end of July was under orders to sail as
second captain of the Reliance. Certainly the opportunity of making
another voyage to Australian waters, wherein, as he knew, so much work
lay awaiting an officer keen for discovery, coincided with his own
inclinations. He wrote that he was led by his passion for exploring new
countries to embrace the opportunity of going out upon a station which of
all others presented the most ample field for his favourite pursuit.
The sailing was delayed for six months, and in the interval young
Flinders was able to visit his home in Lincolnshire. Whatever opposition
there may have been to his choice of the sea as a profession before 1790,
we may be certain that the Donington surgeon was not a little proud of
his eldest son when he returned after a wonderful voyage to the isles of
the Pacific and the Caribbean Sea, and after participation in the recent
great naval fight which had thrilled the heart of England with exultation
and pride. The boy who had left his father's house four years before as
an anxious aspirant for the King's uniform now returned a bronzed seaman
on the verge of manhood. His intelligence and zeal as a junior officer
had won him the esteem and confidence of distinguished commanders. He had
looked upon the strangeness and beauty of the world in its most remote
and least-known quarters, had witnessed fights with savages, threaded
unmapped straits, and had, to crown his youthful achievements, striven
amidst the wrack and thunder of grim-visaged war. We may picture his
welcome: the strong grasp of his father's hand, the crowding enthusiasm
of his brother and sisters fondly glorying in their hero's prowess. The
warnings of uncle John were all forgotten now. When the midshipman's
younger brother, Samuel Ward Flinders, desired to go to sea with him, he
was not restrained, and, in fact, accompanied him as a volunteer on the
Reliance when at length she sailed.
Hunter took not merely an official but a deep and discerning interest in
the colonisation of Australia. He foresaw its immense possibilities,
encouraged its exploration, promoted the breeding of stock and the
cultivation of crops, and had a wise concern for such strategic
advantages as would tend to secure it for British occupation. He
perceived the great importance of the Cape of Good Hope from the point of
view of Australian security; and a letter which he wrote to an official
of the Admiralty while awaiting sailing orders for the Reliance (January
25, 1795), is perhaps the first instance of official recognition of
Australia's vital interest in the ownership of that post. There was cause
for concern. The raw and ill-disciplined levies of the French, having at
the outbreak of the Revolutionary wars most unexpectedly turned back the
invading armies of Austria and Prussia, and having, after campaigns full
of dramatic changes, shaken off the peril of the crushing of the
fatherland by a huge European combination, were now waging an offensive
war in Holland. Pichegru, the French commander, though not a soldier by
training, secured astonishing successes, and, in the thick of a winter of
exceptional severity, led his ragged and ill-fed army on to victory after
victory, until the greater part of Holland lay conquered within his grip.
In January he entered Amsterdam. There was a strong element of Republican
feeling among the Dutch, and an alliance with France was demanded.
When this condition of things was reported in England, Hunter was alarmed
for the safety of the colony which he was about to govern. The Cape of
Good Hope was a Dutch possession. Holland was now under the domination of
France. Might not events bring about the establishment of French power at
the Cape? "I cannot help feeling much concerned at the rapid progress of
the French in Holland," he wrote, "and I own shall not be surprised if in
consequence of their success in that country they make a sudden dash at
the Cape of Good Hope, if we do not anticipate them in such an attempt.
They are so very active a people that it will be done before we know
anything of it, and I think it a post of too much importance to be
neglected by them. I hope earnestly, therefore, that it will be prevented
by our sending a squadron and some troops as early as possible. If the
Republicans once get a footing there, we shall probably find it difficult
to dislodge them. Such a circumstance would be a sad stroke for our young
colony."
The course which Hunter then advised was that which the British
Government followed, though more because the Cape was the "half way
house" to India, than for the protection of Australian interests. An
expedition was despatched later in the year to protect the Cape against
French occupation, and in September the colony, by order of the
Stadtholder of Holland, accepted British protection.
The Reliance and the Supply left Plymouth on February 15th, 1795, amongst
a very large company of merchantmen and ships of the navy convoyed by the
Channel Fleet under Lord Howe, which guarded them till they were beyond
the range of possible French attacks and then sailed back to port.
From Teneriffe, which Hunter reached on March 6th, he wrote a despatch to
the Government stating his intention to sail, not to the Cape of Good
Hope, but to Rio de Janeiro in Brazil, and thence to New South Wales. His
avoidance of the more direct route was due to the causes explained above.
"In the present uncertain state of things between the French and Dutch,"
he had written before sailing, "it will be dangerous for me to attempt
touching at the Cape on my way out;" and writing from Rio de Janeiro in
May he explained that he did not "conceive it safe from the uncertain
state of the Dutch settlements in India to take the Cape of Good Hope in
my way to Port Jackson, lest the French, following up their late
successes in Holland, should have been active enough to make an early
attack on that very important post." In a despatch to the Duke of
Portland he commented strongly on the same circumstance, expressing the
opinion that "if the French should be able to possess themselves of that
settlement it will be rather unfortunate for our distant colony."
Hunter had to complain of discourteous treatment received from the
Portuguese Viceroy, who kept him waiting six days before according an
interview, and then fixed an appointment for seven o'clock in the
evening, when it was quite dark. "As His Excellency was acquainted with
the position I held, I confess I expected a different reception," wrote
Hunter; and he was so much vexed that he did not again set foot ashore
while his ships lay in port. The incident, though not important in
itself, serves, in conjunction with Hunter's avoidance of the Cape, to
illustrate the rather limp condition of British prestige abroad at about
the time when her authority was being established in Australia. With her
army defeated in the Low Countries, her ships deeming it prudent to keep
clear of the Cape that formed the key to her eastern and southern
possessions, and her King's representative subjected to a studied slight
from a Portuguese official in Brazil, she hardly appeared, just then, to
be the nation that would soon shatter the naval power of France, demolish
the greatest soldier of modern times, and, before her sword was sheathed,
float her victorious flag in every continent, in every sea, and over
people of every race and colour.
On this voyage, as on all occasions, Flinders kept a careful record of
his own observations. Sixteen years later, a dispute arose, interesting
to navigators, as to the precise location of Cape Frio in Brazil. An
American had pointed out an error in European charts. It was a matter of
some importance, because ships bound for Rio de Janeiro necessarily
rounded Cape Frio, and the error was sufficiently serious to cause no
small risk if vessels trusted to the received reckoning. The Naval
Chronicle devoted some attention to the point; and to it Flinders sent a
communication stating that on consulting his nautical records he found
that on May 2nd, 1795, he made an observation, reduced from the preceding
noon, calculating the position of the Cape to be latitude 22 degrees 53
minutes south, longitude 41 degrees 43 minutes west. His memorandum was
printed over a facsimile of his signature as that of "a distinguished
navigator," and was hailed as "a valuable contribution towards clearing
up the difficulty concerning the geographical position of that important
headland."* (* Naval Chronicle Volume 26.) For us the incident serves as
an indication of Flinders' diligence and carefulness in the study of
navigation. He was but a midshipman at the time, and it will be noticed
that it was a personal observation which he was able to quote, not one
taken as part of his duty as an officer.
The Reliance arrived at Port Jackson on September 7th, and in the
following month Flinders, with a companion of whom it is time to speak,
commenced the series of explorations which made his fame.
This companion was George Bass, a Lincolnshire man like Flinders himself,
born at Aswarby near Sleaford. He was a farmer's son, but his father died
when he was quite a child, and his mother moved to Boston. She managed
out of her widow's resources to give her son an excellent education, and
designed that he should enter the medical profession. In due course he
was apprenticed to a Boston surgeon, Mr. Francis--a common mode of
securing training in medicine at that period. He "walked" the Boston
hospital for a finishing course of instruction, and won his surgeon's
diploma with marked credit.
Bass had from his early years shown a desire to go to sea. His mother was
able to buy for him a share in a merchant ship; but this was wrecked,
whereupon, not cured of his love of the ocean, he entered the navy as a
surgeon. It was in that capacity that he sailed in the Reliance. He was
then, in 1795, thirty-two years of age.
All the records of Bass, both the personal observations of those who came
in contact with him, and the tale of his own deeds, leave the impression
that he was a very remarkable man. He was six feet in height,
dark-complexioned, handsome in countenance, keen in expression, vigorous,
strong, and enterprising. His father-in-law spoke of his "very
penetrating countenance." Flinders called him "the penetrating Bass."
Governor Hunter, in official despatches, said he was "a young man of a
well-informed mind and an active disposition," and one who was "of much
ability in various ways out of the line of his profession." He was gifted
with a mind capable of intense application to any task that he took in
hand. Upon his firm courage, resourcefulness and strength of purpose,
difficulties and dangers acted merely as the whetstone to the finely
tempered blade. He undertook hazardous enterprises from the sheer love of
doing hard things which were worth doing. "He was one," wrote Flinders,
"whose ardour for discovery was not to be repressed by any obstacle nor
deterred by danger." He seemed to care nothing for rewards, and was not
hungry for honours. The pleasure of doing was to him its own recompense.
That "penetrating countenance" indexed a brain as direct as a drill, and
as inflexible. A loyal and affectionate comrade, preferring to enter upon
a task with his chosen mate, he nevertheless could not wait inactive if
official duties prevented co-operation, but would set out alone on any
piece of work on which he had set his heart. The portrait of Bass which
we possess conveys an impression of alert and vigorous intelligence, of
genial temper and hearty relish. It is the picture of a man who was
abundantly alive in every nerve.
Flinders and Bass, being both Lincolnshire men, born within a few miles
of each other, naturally became very friendly on the long voyage to
Australia. It was said of two other friends, who achieved great
distinction in the sphere of art, that when they first met in early
manhood they "ran together like two drops of mercury," so completely
coincident were their inclinations. So it was in this instance. Two men
more predisposed to formulate plans for exploration could not have been
thrown together. A passion for maritime discovery was common to both of
them. Flinders, from his study of charts and books of voyages, had a
sound knowledge of the field of work that lay open, and Bass's keen mind
eagerly grasped the plans explained to him. It would not have taken the
surgeon and the midshipman long to find that their ambitions were
completely in tune on this inviting subject. "With this friend," Flinders
wrote, "a determination was found of completing the examination of the
east coast of New South Wales by all such opportunities as the duty of
the ship and procurable means could admit. Projects of this nature, when
originating in the minds of young men, are usually termed romantic; and
so far from any good being anticipated, even prudence and friendship join
in discouraging, if not in opposing them. Thus it was in the present
case." The significance of that passage is that the two friends made for
themselves the opportunities by which they won fame and rendered service.
They did not wait on Fortune; they forced her hand. They showed by what
they did on their own initiative, with very limited resources, that they
were the right men to be entrusted with work of larger scope.
Nevertheless it is unwarrantable to assume that Governor Hunter
discountenanced their earliest efforts. It was presumably on the passage
quoted above that the author of a chapter in the most elaborate modern
naval history founded the assertion that "the plans of the young
discoverers were discouraged by the authorities. They, however, had
resolution and perseverance. All official help and countenance were
withheld."* (* Sir Clements Markham in The Royal Navy, a History, 4 565.)
But Flinders does not say that "the authorities" discouraged the effort.
"Prudence and friendship" did. They were not yet tried men in such
hazardous enterprises; the settlement possessed scarcely any resources
for exploratory work, and the dangers were unknown. Official countenance
implies official responsibility, and there was not yet sufficient reason
for setting the Governor's seal on the adventurous experiments of two
young and untried though estimable men. When they had shown their
quality, Hunter gave them every assistance and encouragement in his
power, and proved himself a good friend to them. In the circumstances,
"prudence and friendship" are hardly to be blamed for a counsel of
caution. The remark of Flinders is not to be interpreted to mean that the
Governor put hindrances in their way. They were under his orders, and his
positive discountenance would have been effectual to block their efforts.
They could not even have obtained leave of absence without his approval.
But John Hunter was not the man to prevent them from putting their powers
to the test.
No sooner had the two friends reached Sydney than they began to look
about them for means to undertake the exploratory work upon which their
minds were bent. Bass had brought out with him from England a small boat,
only eight feet long, with a five foot beam, named by him the Tom Thumb
on account of her size.* (* Flinders' Papers "Brief Memoir" manuscripts
page 5. Some have supposed the measurements given in Flinders' published
work to have been a misprint, the size of the boat being so absurdly
small. But Flinders' Journal is quite clear on the point: "We turned our
eyes towards a little boat of about 8 feet keel and 5 feet beam which had
been brought out by Mr. Bass and others in the Reliance, and from its
size had obtained the name of Tom Thumb.") In this diminutive craft the
two friends made preparations for setting out along the Coast. Taking
with them only one boy, named Martin, with provisions and ammunition for
a very short trip, they sailed the Tom Thumb out of Port Jackson and made
southward to Botany Bay, which they entered. They pushed up George's
River, which had been only partly explored, and pursued their
investigation of its winding course for twenty miles beyond the former
limit of survey. Upon their return they presented to Hunter a report
concerning the quality of the land seen on the borders of the river,
together with a sketch map. The Governor was induced from what they told
him to examine the country himself; and the result was that he founded
the settlement of Bankstown, which still remains, and boasts the
distinction of being one of the pioneer towns of Australia.
The adventurers were delayed from the further pursuit of their ambition
by ship's duties. The Reliance was ordered to convey to Norfolk Island an
officer of the New South Wales Corps required for duty there, as well as
the Judge Advocate. She sailed in January, 1796. After her return in
March, Bass and Flinders, being free again, lost no time in fitting out
for a second cruise. Their object this time was to search for a large
river, said to fall into the sea to the south of Botany Bay, which was
not marked on Cook's chart. As before, the crew consisted only of
themselves and the boy.
It has always been believed that the boat in which this second cruise was
made, was the same Tom Thumb as that which carried the two young
explorers to George's River; indeed, Flinders himself, in his Voyage to
Terra Australis, Volume 1, page 97, says that "Mr. Bass and myself went
again in Tom Thumb." But in his unpublished Journal there is a passage
that suggests a doubt as to whether, when he wrote his book, over a
decade later, he had not forgotten that a second boat was obtained for
the second adventure. He may not have considered the circumstance
important enough to mention. At all events in the Journal, he writes: "As
Tom Thumb had performed so well before, the same boat's crew had little
hesitation in embarking in another boat of nearly the same size, which
had been since built at Port Jackson." There was, it is evident, a second
boat, no larger than the first, or that fact would have been mentioned,
and she was also known as the Tom Thumb. She was Tom Thumb the Second.
Only by that assumption can we reconcile the Voyage statement with the
Journal, which, having been written up at the time, is an authoritative
source of information.
They left Sydney on March 25th, intending to stand off to sea till
evening, when it was expected that the breeze would bring them to the
coast. But they drifted on a strong current six or seven miles southward,
and being unable to land, passed the night in the boat. Next day, being
in want of water, but unable to bring the Tom Thumb to a safe landing
place, Bass swam ashore. While the filled cask was being got off a wave
carried the boat shoreward and beached her, leaving the three on the
beach with their clothes drenched, their provisions partly spoiled, and
their arms and ammunition thoroughly wet. The emptying and launching of
the boat on a surfy shore, and the replacing of the stores and cask in
her, were managed with some difficulty; and they ran for two islands for
shelter late in the afternoon. Finding a landing to be dangerous they
again spent the night, cramped, damp, and uncomfortable, in their tossing
little eight-foot craft, with their stone anchor dropped under the lee of
a tongue of land. Bass could not sleep because, from having for so many
hours during the day had his naked body exposed to the burning sun, he
was "one continued blister." On the third day they took aboard two
aboriginals--"two Indians," Flinders calls them--natives of Botany Bay,
who offered to pilot them to a place where they could obtain not only
water but also fish and wild duck.
They were conducted to a small stream descending from a lagoon, and rowed
up it for about a mile until it became too shallow to proceed. Eight or
ten aboriginals put in an appearance, and Bass and Flinders began to
entertain doubts of securing a retreat from these people should they be
inclined to be hostile. "They had the reputation at Port Jackson of being
exceedingly ferocious, if not cannibals."
The powder having become wet and the muskets rusty, Bass and Flinders
decided to land in order that they might spread their ammunition in the
sun to dry, and clean their weapons. The natives, who increased in number
to about twenty, gathered round and watched with curiosity. Some of them
assisted Bass in repairing a broken oar. They did not know what the
powder was, but, when the muskets were handled, so much alarm was excited
that it was necessary to desist. Some of them had doubtless learnt from
aboriginals about Port Jackson of the thunder and lightning made by these
mysterious pieces of wood and metal, and had had described to them how
blackfellows dropped dead when such things pointed and smoked at them.
Flinders, anxious to retain their confidence (because, had they assumed
the offensive, they must speedily have annihilated the three whites), hit
upon an amusing method of diverting them. The aboriginals were accustomed
to wear their coarse black hair and beards hanging in long, shaggy,
untrimmed locks, matted with accretions of oil and dirt. When the two
Botany Bay blacks were taken on board the Tom Thumb as pilots, a pair of
scissors was applied to their abundant and too emphatically odorous
tresses. Flinders tells the rest of the story:
"We had clipped the hair and beards of the two Botany Bay natives at Red
Point,* (* Near Port Kembla; named by Cook.) and they were showing
themselves to the others and persuading them to follow their example.
Whilst therefore the powder was drying, I began with a large pair of
scissors to execute my new office upon the eldest of four or five chins
presented to me, and as great nicety was not required, the shaving of a
dozen of them did not occupy me long. Some of the more timid were alarmed
at a formidable instrument coming so near to their noses, and would
scarcely be persuaded by their shaven friends to allow the operation to
be finished. But when their chins were held up a second time, their fear
of the instrument, the wild stare of their eyes, and the smile which they
forced, formed a compound upon the rough savage countenance not unworthy
the pencil of a Hogarth. I was almost tempted to try what effect a little
snip would produce; but our situation was too critical to admit of such
experiments."
Flinders treats the incident lightly, and as a means of creating a
diversion while preparing a retreat it was useful; but it can hardly be
supposed to have been an agreeable occupation to barber a group of
aboriginals. What the heads were like that received Flinders'
ministrations, may be gathered from the description by Clarke, the
supercargo of the wrecked Sydney Cove, concerning the natives whom he
encountered in the following year (March 1797): "Their hair is long and
straight, but they are wholly inattentive to it, either as to cleanliness
or in any other respect. It serves them in lieu of a towel to wipe their
hands as often as they are daubed with blubber or shark oil, which is
their principal article of food. This frequent application of rancid
grease to their heads and bodies renders their approach exceedingly
offensive."
But the adventure, by putting the blacks into a good humour, enabled Bass
and Flinders to collect their dried powder, obtain fresh water, and get
back to their boat. The natives became vociferous for them to go up to
the lagoon, but the natives "dragged her along down the stream shouting
and singing," until the depth of water placed them in safety. Flinders,
in his Journal, expressed the view that "we were perhaps considerably
indebted for the fear the natives entertained of us to an old red jacket
which Mr. Bass wore, and from which they took us to be soldiers, whom
they were particularly afraid of; and though we did not much admire our
new name, Soja, we thought it best not to undeceive them."
On March 25 they anchored "under the innermost of the northern
islets...We called these Martin's Isles after our young companion in the
boat."* (* Journal.)
They were now in the Illawarra district, one of the most prolific in New
South Wales;* (* McFarlane, Illawarra and Monaro, Sydney 1872 page 8.)
and the observation of Flinders that the land they saw was "probably
fertile, and the slopes of the back hills had certainly that appearance,"
has been richly justified by a century's experience.
The two friends and their boy had to remain on the Tom Thumb for a third
night; but next afternoon (March 28) they were able to land unmolested,
to cook a meal, and to take some rest on the shore. "The sandy beach was
our bed, and after much fatigue and passing three nights of cramp in Tom
Thumb it was to us a bed of down."
At about ten o'clock at night, on March 29th, the little craft was in
extreme danger of foundering in a gale. The anchor had been cast under
the lee of a range of cliffs, but the situation was insecure, so that
Bass and Flinders considered it prudent to haul up the stone and run
before the wind. The night was dark, the wind burst in a gale, and the
adventurers had no knowledge of any place of security to which they could
run. The frowning cliffs above them and the smashing of the surf on the
rocks, were their guide in steering a course parallel with the coast.
Bass held the sheet, Flinders steered with an oar, and the boy bailed out
the water which the hissing crests of wind-lashed waves flung into the
boat. "It required the utmost exertion to prevent broaching to; a single
wrong movement or a moment's inattention would have sent us to the
bottom."
They drove along for an hour in this precarious situation, hoping for an
opening to reveal itself into which they could run for shelter. At last,
Flinders, straining his eyes in the darkness, distinguished right ahead
some high breakers, behind which there appeared to be no shade of cliffs.
So extremely perilous was their position at this time, with the water
increasing despite the efforts of the boy, that Flinders, an unusually
placid and matter-of-fact writer when dealing with dangers of the sea,
declares that they could not have lived ten minutes longer. On the
instant he determined to turn the boat's head for these breakers, hoping
that behind them, as there were no high cliffs, there might be sheltered
water. The boat's head was brought to the wind, the sail and mast were
taken down, and the oars were got out. "Pulling thus towards the reef,
through the intervals of the heaviest seas, we found it to terminate in a
point, and in three minutes were in smooth water under its lee. A white
appearance further back kept us a short time in suspense, but a nearer
approach showed it to be the beach of a well-sheltered cove, under which
we anchored for the rest of the night." They called the place of refuge
Providential Cove. The native name was Watta-Mowlee (it is now called
Wattamolla).
On the following morning, March 30th, the weather having moderated, the
Tom Thumb's sail was again hoisted, and she coasted northward. After a
progress of three or four miles, Flinders and Bass found the entrance of
Port Hacking, for the exploration of which they had made this cruise. It
was a much-indented inlet directly south of Botany Bay, divided from it
by a broad peninsula, and receiving at its head the waters of a wide
river, besides several small creeks; and was named after Henry Hacking, a
pilot who had indicated its whereabouts, having come near it "in his
kangaroo-hunting excursions." The two young explorers spent the better
part of two days in examining the neighbourhood; and anyone who has had
the good fortune to traverse that piece of country, with its grassed
glades, its timbered hillsides, its exquisite glimpses of sapphire sea
and cool silver river, its broken and diversified surface, rich with
floral colour--for they saw it in early autumn--can realise how satisfied
they must have felt with their work. After a nine days' voyage, they
sailed out of Port Hacking early on April 2nd, and, aided by a fine wind,
drew up alongside the Reliance in Port Jackson on the evening of the same
day.
The Reliance was an old and leaky ship. She had seen much service and was
badly in need of repairs. "She is so extremely weak in her whole frame
that it is in our situation a difficult matter to do what is necessary,"
wrote Hunter to the Secretary of State. Shipwrights' conveniences could
hardly be expected to be ample in a settlement that was not yet ten years
old, and where skilled labour was necessarily deficient. But she had to
be repaired with the best material and direction available, for she was
the best ship which His Majesty's representative had at his disposal. The
Supply was pretty well beyond renovation. She was American built, and her
timbers of black birch were never suitable for service in warm waters.
Shortly after the discovery of Port Hacking, Hunter set about the
overhauling of the vessel that was at once his principal means of naval
defence, his saluting battery, his official inspecting ship, his
transport, and his craft of all work. He wanted her especially just now,
for a useful piece of colonial service.
The Governor had received intelligence from Major-General Craig, who had
commanded the land forces when Admiral Elphinstone occupied the Cape of
Good Hope, that a British protectorate had been established at that very
important station. As Hunter had himself made the suggestion to the
Government that such a step should be taken, the news was especially
gratifying to him. Amongst his instructions from the Secretary of State
was a direction to procure from South Africa live cattle for stocking the
infant colony. He had brought out with him, at Sir Joseph Banks'
suggestion, a supply of growing vegetables for transplantation and of
seeds for sowing at appropriate seasons. He now set about obtaining the
live stock.
The Reliance and the Supply sailed by way of Cape Horn to South Africa,
where they took on board a supply of domestic animals. The former vessel
carried 109 head of cattle, 107 sheep and three mares. Some of the
officers brought live stock on their own account. Thus Bass had on board
a cow and nineteen sheep, and Waterhouse had enough stock to start a
small farm; but it does not appear that Flinders brought any animals. "I
believe no ship ever went to sea so much lumbered," wrote Captain
Waterhouse; and the unpleasantness of the voyage can be imagined, apart
from that officer's assurance that it was "one of the longest and most
disagreeable passages I ever made." The vessels left Cape Town for Sydney
on April 11th, 1797. The Supply was so wretchedly leaky that it was
considered positively unsafe for her to risk the voyage. But her
commander, Lieutenant William Kent, had a high sense of duty, and his
courage was guided by the fine seamanship characteristic of the service.
Having in view the importance to the colony of the stock he had on board,
he determined to run her through. As a matter of fact, the Supply arrived
in Sydney forty-one days before the Reliance (May 16), though Hunter
reported that she reached port "in a most distressed and dangerous
condition," and would never be fit for sea again. Kent's memory is
worthily preserved on the map of Australia by the name (given by Flinders
or by Hunter himself) of the Kent group of islands at the eastern
entrance of Bass Strait.
The Reliance, meeting with very bad weather, made a very slow passage.
Captain Waterhouse mentioned that one fierce gale was "the most terrible
I ever saw or heard of," so that he "expected to go to the bottom every
moment." He wondered how they escaped destruction, but rounded off his
description with a seaman's joke: "possibly I may be intended to be hung
in room of being drowned." The ship was very leaky all the way, and
Hunter reported that she returned to port with her pumps going. She
reached Sydney on June 26th.
The unseaworthy condition of the Reliance had an important bearing on the
share Flinders took in Australian discovery, for it was unquestionably in
consequence of his being engaged upon her repair that he was prevented
from accompanying his friend Bass on the expedition which led to the
discovery of Bass Strait. This statement is proved not only by the
testimony of Flinders himself, but by concurrent facts. Waterhouse wrote
on the return of the ship to Port Jackson, "we have taken everything out
of her in hopes of repairing her." This was in the latter part of 1797. A
despatch from Hunter to the British Government in January, 1798, shows
that at that time she was still being patched up. Flinders recorded that
"the great repairs required by the Reliance would not allow of my
absence," but that "my friend Mr. Bass, less confined by his duty, made
several excursions." Finally, it was on December 3rd, 1797, while the
refitting was in progress, that Bass started out on the adventurous
voyage which led to the discovery of the stretch of water separating
Tasmania from the mainland of Australia. But for the work on the
Reliance, there cannot be the shadow of a doubt that Flinders would have
been with him. Duty had to be done, however; the "ugly commanded work,"
in which, as the sage reminds us, genius has to do its part in common
with more ordinary mortals, made demands that must take precedence of
adventurous cruising along unknown coasts. So it was that the cobbling of
a debilitated tub separated on an historic occasion two brave and loyal
friends whose names will be thought of together as long as British people
treasure the memory of their choice and daring spirits.