BASS AND FLINDERS
The details of Australian sea exploration are beyond the scope of this
work, but in a future chapter some reference will be made to the
marvellous quantity and splendid quality of naval surveying in Australian
waters.
The story of Flinders and Bass, of the work they performed, and the
strange, sad ending to their lives is worth a book, much more the small
space we can devote to it. Much has been written about these two men, but
the best work on the subject, that written by Flinders himself, has now
become a rare book, to be found only in a few public libraries, and too
expensive for any but well-to-do book-lovers to have upon their shelves.
The printing in New South Wales by the local Government of the records of
the colony has led to the discovery of a quantity of interesting material
never before published, and in this there is much relating to Flinders and
Bass--so much, in fact, that the work of the two men could be described
from contemporary letters and despatches, material, if not new to
everyone, certainly known to very few.
The dry technicalities of the surveying work, interesting enough to the
people of those places on the coasts of Australia which are now
flourishing seaports, but where not a century ago Bass and Flinders landed
for the first time, are too local in their interests to warrant more than
a passing reference here. The bold explorers met with so many stirring
adventures that the present writers can only "reel off the yarn," and let
lovers of topography go, if they are so inclined, to the charts, and study
how much valuable map-making, as well as exciting incident, these young
men crowded into their lives.
When Hunter returned to New South Wales in the _Reliance_ to take office
as governor, he brought with him Matthew Flinders as second lieutenant;
and to Sir Joseph Banks, whose influence secured the appointment, this is
only one of the many debts of gratitude owed by New South Wales for his
foresight and honesty in making such selections. Flinders was then
twenty-one years of age. His father was a surgeon at Donington, a village
in Lincolnshire.
[Illustration: GEORGE BASS. From a miniature. From "The Historical
Records of New South Wales" [Sydney, 1889, etc.]. _To face p._ 168.]
_Robinson Crusoe_, so he himself tells us, sent him to sea, and his
departure from home was soon followed by that of his brother Samuel.
Matthew served first in the _Scipio_ under Pasley; then he accompanied
Bligh in the _Providence_ to Tahiti, and thence to the West Indies (this
was Bligh's successful bread-fruit voyage); then he was in the
_Bellerophon_, and was present at Lord Howe's victory, "the glorious 1st
of June." Two months later he left in the _Reliance_ for Sydney.
The surgeon of the _Reliance_ was George Bass. From his boyhood Bass
wanted to be a sailor, but was apprenticed, sorely against his will, to a
Boston apothecary. His father was a farmer at Sleaford, in Lincolnshire;
but his mother was early left a widow. The lad served his apprenticeship,
duly walked the hospitals, and his mother spent most of her small
substance in starting him in business as a village apothecary in his
native county. Then, like so many before and since his time, unable to
overcome his first infatuation, he threw all his shore affairs to the wind
and obtained an appointment to the _Reliance_.
Governor Hunter, it will be remembered, took a keen interest in the
exploration of Australia, and he had for some time suspected the
existence of a strait between Van Diemen's Land and the main continent.
Full of desire for adventure and tired of the routine life of a penal
settlement, Flinders and Bass, soon after they landed in the colony, found
a new occupation in the pursuit of fresh discoveries, and Hunter willingly
lent them such poor equipment as the limited resources of the colony
afforded.
A month after the arrival of the _Reliance_ at Sydney the two friends set
to work, and in an eight-foot boat, which they appropriately named the
_Tom Thumb_, went poking in and out along the coast-line, making
discoveries of the greatest local value. Then began work destined to be of
world-wide importance.
Take the map of Tasmania and look at a group of islands at its north-east
corner; they are in what was later on to be called Bass' Straits. Among
them are two named Preservation and Clarke Islands; these and Armstrong
Channel commemorate the wreck of the _Sydney Cove_, which occurred on
February 9th, 1797. The _Sydney Cove_ was an East Indiaman bound from
Bengal to Sydney; she sprang a leak, was with difficulty navigated to the
spot named Preservation Island, and there beached.
[Illustration: CAPTAIN MATTHEW FLINDERS, R.N. From the "Naval Chronicle"
for 1814.] [Sidenote: _To face p_. 170.]
The crew, many of whom were Lascars, were saved, with a few stores. Then
the long-boat, with the mate, supercargo, three European seamen, and a
dozen Lascars, was despatched in an endeavour to reach Port Jackson, the
only occupied part of the great continent, and bring succour to their
starving shipmates. They set out on the 28th February, were driven ashore;
their boat was battered to pieces on the rocks, and they escaped only with
their lives. This happened on the 1st of March, the scene of this second
misfortune being a little distance to the north of Cape Howe, 300 miles
from Sydney. These castaways were the first white men to land in what is
now the colony of Victoria. (The spot where the boat was lost is just over
the border.) After resting the men then all set out to march along the
coast to Sydney.
Sixty days later three exhausted creatures reached Wattamolla harbour,
near what is now the National Park of New South Wales, about 18 miles
south of Sydney. The remainder of the castaways had dropped and died of
exhaustion on the march, or had been speared by the blacks. Those who
survived had purchased their lives from the savages with shreds of cloth
and buttons from their ragged clothing, and had kept themselves alive
with such shell-fish as they could find upon the beaches. At Wattamolla
they had halted to cook a scanty meal of shell-fish, and the smoke of
their fire revealed their presence to a fishing boat from the settlement
at Port Jackson. The fire by which this cooking was done was made from
coal found on the beach there; so reported brave Clarke, the supercargo of
the _Sydney Cove_, who found it.
As soon as Hunter heard of the discovery he determined to examine the
place. In a despatch home he says:--
"So I have lately sent a boat to that part of the coast, in which
went Mr. Bass, surgeon of the _Reliance_. He was fortunate in
discovering the place, and informed me he found a stratum six feet
deep in the face of a steep cliff, which was traced for eight
miles in length; but this was not the only coal they discovered,
for it was seen in various places."
The place was named Coalcliff, and this was the first discovery of the
great southern coalfields of New South Wales. Hunter, writing to the Duke
of Portland under date of March 1st, 1798, shall tell the next incident of
Bass' career:--
"The tedious repairs which His Majesty's ship [Sidenote: 1798]
_Reliance_ necessarily required before she could be put in a
condition for again going to sea having given an opportunity to
Mr. George Bass, her surgeon, a young man of a well-informed mind
and an active disposition, to offer himself to be employed in any
way in which he could contribute to the benefit of the public
service, I inquired of him in what way he was desirious of
exerting himself, and he informed me nothing could gratify him
more effectually than my allowing him the use of a good boat and
permitting him to man her with volunteers from the King's ships. I
accordingly furnished him with an excellent whale-boat, well
fitted, victualled, and manned to his wish, for the purpose of
examining along the coast to the southward of this port, as far as
he could with safety and convenience go. His perseverance against
adverse winds and almost incessant bad weather led him as far
south as the latitude of 40°00 S., or a distance from this port,
taking the bendings of the coast, of more than 600 miles." (This,
remember, was accomplished in a whale-boat.) "He coasted the
greatest part of the way, and sedulously examined every inlet
along the shore, which does not in these parts afford a single
harbour fit to admit even a small vessel, except a bay in latitude
35°06, called Jarvis' Bay, and which was so named by one of the
transport ships, bound here, who entered it, and is the same
called by Captain Cook Longnose Bay. He explored every accessible
place until he came as far as the sourthermost [sic: southernmost]
parts of this coast seen by Captain Cook, and from thence until he
reached the northernmost land seen by Captain Furneaux, beyond
which he went westward about 60 miles, where the coast falls away
in a west-northwest direction. Here he found an open ocean
westward, and by the mountainous sea which rolled in from that
quarter, and no land discoverable in that direction, we have much
reason to conclude that there is an open strait through, between
the latitude of 39 and 40'12 S., a circumstance which, from many
observations made upon tides and currents thereabouts, I had long
conjectured.
"It will appear by this discovery that the northermost [sic:
northernmost] land seen by Captain Furneaux is the southernmost
extremity of this coast, and lays in latitude 39.00 S. At the
western extremity of Mr. Bass' coasting voyage he found a very
good harbour; but, unfortunately, the want of provision induced
him to return sooner than he wished and intended, and on passing a
small island laying off the coast he discovered a smoke, and
supposed it to have been made by some natives, with whom he wished
to have an opportunity of conversing. On approaching the shore he
found the men were white, and had some clothing on, and when he
came near he observed two of them take to the water and swim off.
They proved to be seven of a gang of fourteen convicts who escaped
from hence in a boat on the 2nd of October last, and who had been
treacherously left on this desolate island by the other seven, who
returned northward. The boat, it seems, was too small for their
whole number, and when they arrived at Broken Bay they boarded
another boat [lying] in the Hawkesbury with fifty-six bushels of
wheat on board; then they went off with her to the northward,
leaving their old boat on shore.
"These poor distressed wretches" (the seven convicts discovered by
Bass), "who were chiefly Irish, would have endeavoured to travel
northward and thrown themselves upon His Majesty's mercy, but were
not able to get from this miserable island to the mainland. Mr.
Bass' boat was too small to accommodate them with a passage, and,
as his provision was nearly expended, he could only help them to
the mainland, where he furnished them with a musket and ammunition
and a pocket compass, with lines and fish-hooks. Two of the seven
were very ill, and those he took into his boat, and shared his
provisions with the other five, giving them the best directions in
his power how to proceed, the distance" (to Sydney) "being not
less than five hundred miles. He recommended them to keep along
the coast the better to enable them to get food. Indeed, the
difficulties of the country and the possibility of meeting hostile
natives are considerations which will occasion doubts of their
ever being able to reach us.
"When they parted with Mr. Bass and his crew, who gave them what
cloaths they could spare, some tears were shed on both sides. The
whale-boat arrived in this port after an absence of twelve weeks,
and Mr. Bass delivered to me his observations on this adventur'g
expedition. I find he made several excursions into the interior of
the country wherever he had an opportunity. It will be sufficient
to say that he found in general a barren, unpromising country,
with very few exceptions; and, were it even better, the want of
harbours would render it less valuable.
"Whilst this whale-boat was absent I had occasion to send the
colonial schooner to the southward to take on board the remaining
property saved from the wreck of the ship _Sydney Cove_, and to
take the crew from the island she had been cast upon. I sent in
the schooner Lieutenant Flinders, of the _Reliance_ (a young man
well qualified), in order to give him an opportunity of making
what observations he could amongst those islands; and the
discoverys which was made there by him and Mr. Hamilton, the
master of the wrecked ship, shall be annexed to those of Mr. Bass
in one chart and forwarded to your Grace herewith, by which I
presume it will appear that the land called Van Dieman's, and
generally supposed to be the southern promontory of this country,
is a group of islands separated from its southern coast by a
strait, which it is probable may not be of narrow limits, but may
perhaps be divided into two or more channels by the islands near
that on which the ship _Sydney Cove_ was wrecked."
The exploring cruise in a whale-boat had lasted from December 3rd, 1797,
to February 25th, 1798, and we have before us a log kept by Bass of the
voyage. Bass describes in detail all that Hunter tells in his despatch,
but the intrepid explorer scarcely mentions the hardships and dangers with
which he met. Incidentally he tells how the boat leaked, what heavy seas
were often successfully encountered, and how "we collected and salted for
food on our homeward voyage stormy petrels" and like luxuries.
Flinders meanwhile, as Hunter says in his despatch, had been sent in the
colonial schooner _Francis_ to bring back the castaways [Sidenote: 1799]
from the _Sydney Cove_, who remained anxiously waiting for succour on
Preservation Island. On the way down the young lieutenant discovered and
named many islands and headlands--the Kent group, the Furneaux group, and
Green Cape are only a few names, to wit--and he came back fully convinced
that the set of the tide west "indicated a deep inlet or passage through
the Indian Ocean." He had no time on this trip to make surveys, but on his
return to Sydney he found that George Bass had just come in in his
whale-boat with his report. Hunter and the two young men agreed that the
existence of the strait was certain, and that the next thing to do was to
sail through it.
The colonial sloop _Norfolk_, built at Norfolk Island, a few months
before, to carry despatches, was selected for the service. She was very
small, only 25 tons burden. Flinders was given the command, and Bass was
sent with him. The sloop was accompanied by a snow called the _Nautilus_,
which was bound to the Furneaux group on a sealing expedition. The voyage
lasted from October 7th, 1798, till January 12th, 1799, and in that period
the explorers circumnavigated Van Diemen's Land, making so many
discoveries and naming so many places, that a mere mention of them would
fill a chapter. At the end of his log, Flinders tells us that on arrival
at Port Jackson--
"to the strait which had now been the great object of research,
and whose discovery was now completed, Governor Hunter, at my
recommendation, gave the name of Bass' Straits. This was no more
than a just tribute to my worthy friend and companion for the
extensive dangers and fatigues he had undergone in first entering
it in the whale-boat, and to the correct judgment he had formed
from various indications of the existence of a wide opening
between Van Dieman's Land and New South Wales."
Six months later the _Norfolk_, with Flinders on board, sailed along the
north coast, making many discoveries, but missing the important rivers.
Then he returned to England in the _Reliance_. His tried comrade and
friend, Bass, had already left the colony when the _Norfolk_ entered
Sydney Heads, and _his_ after-adventures and still mysterious fate, so far
as can be conjectured, are told in what follows.
A company was floated in England to carry stores to Port Jackson on the
outward trip, and load for return at the islands in the Pacific or such
ports as could be entered on the South American coast. A ship called the
_Venus_ was purchased for the purpose, and Bass and his father-in-law (he
had just married) and their relations held the principal shares in her.
The ship was under the command of one Charles Bishop; but Bass sailed in
her as managing owner and supercargo.
The _Venus_ arrived safely at Sydney, and Bass made a contract with the
authorities to bring a cargo of pork from Tahiti. On his return from this
voyage another contract was concluded between him and Governor King to
continue in this trade. Meanwhile Bishop, the master of the vessel, had
fallen ill, and Bass took command; and the following letter, dated Sydney,
February 3rd, 1803, and written to Captain Waterhouse, his brother-in-law,
in England, was the last news his friends ever heard from Bass:--
"I have written to you thrice since my arrival from the South Sea
Islands. In a few hours I shall sail again on another pork voyage,
but it combines circumstances of a different nature also.
"From this place I go to New Zealand to pick up something more
from the wreck of the old _Endeavour_ in Dusky Bay, then visit
some of the islands lying south of it in search of seals and fish.
The former, should they be found, are intended to furnish a cargo
to England immediately on my return from this trip; the fish are
to answer a proposal I have made to Government to establish a
fishery, on condition of receiving an exclusive privilege of the
south part of New Zealand and of its neighbouring isles, which
privilege is at once to be granted to me. The fishery is not to be
set in motion till my return to old England, when I mean to seize
upon my dear Bess, bring her out here, and make a _poissarde_ of
her, where she cannot fail to find plenty of use for her tongue.
"We have, I assure you, great plans in our heads; but, like the
basket of eggs, all depends upon the success of the voyage I am
now upon.
"In the course of it I intend to visit the coast of Chili in
search of provisions for the use of His Brit. Majesty's colony;
and, that they may not in that part of the world mistake me for a
contrabandist, I go provided with a very diplomatic-looking
certificate from the governor here, stating the service upon which
I am employed, requesting aid and protection in obtaining the food
wanted. And God grant you may fully succeed, says your warm heart,
in so benevolent an object; and thus also say I. Amen, say many
others of my friends.... Speak not of So. America, where you may
hear I am digging gold, to anyone out of your family, for there is
treason in the very name.... Pleasing prospects surround us, which
time must give into our hands. There are apparent openings for
good doings, none of which are likely to be tried for till after
my return and dissolution of partnership with Bishop, a point
fully fixed upon. With kind love to Mrs. W. and all your family, I
am, even at this distance and at this length of time, and under
all my sad labours, as much as when I saw you."
At this time Bass was a young man of thirty-four, [Sidenote: 1817]
"six feet high, dark complexion, wears spectacles, very penetrating
countenance," says his father-in-law. Nothing more was heard of the
_Venus_ or her crew until there arose a rumour that the ship had been
taken by the Spaniards on the coast of Peru. A Captain Campbell, master of
the _Harrington_, is alleged to have made the statement that a Spanish
gentleman told him that Bass had been seized when landing from his boat
and carried to the mines, and that the ship was afterwards taken and the
crew sent to share the fate of their chief. The cause of this seizure was,
says one unauthenticated account, because Bass requested permission to
trade, was refused, and then threatened to bombard the town.
Lieutenant Fitzmaurice was at Valparaiso in 1803, and he states that all
British prisoners in Chili and Peru had been released, and that he had
heard of Mr. Bass being in Lima five or six years before. A letter in the
Record Office, London, dated Liverpool, New South Wales, December 15th,
1817, says:--
"I have just heard a report that Mr. Bass is alive yet in South
America. A capt'n of a vessel belonging to this port, trading
among the islands to the east, fell in with a whaler, and the
capt'n informed him he had seen such a person, and described the
person of Mr. Bass. The capt'n, knowing Mr. Bass well, is of a
belief that, [from] the description that the master of the whaler
gives of him, it's certainly Mr. Bass, being a doctor, too, which
is still a stronger reason.
I am, etc., THOS. MOORE."
And so in this sad fashion, his fate a mystery, perhaps the victim of
savages on some lonely Pacific island, perhaps dragging his life out a
broken-hearted prisoner in the mines of Peru, the gallant young explorer
passes out of history.
When Flinders returned to England he found an enthusiastic admirer and a
powerful friend in Sir Joseph Banks. The young lieutenant was getting
ready for publication a small book describing the circumnavigation of Van
Diemen's Land, and while he was doing this Banks induced the Admiralty to
prepare H.M.S. _Investigator_ for surveying service in Australian waters
and give Flinders charge of her, with the rank of commander. Banks had
everything to do with the arrangements for the expedition; and how much
was thought of his capacity for this work is shown by a memo from the
Secretary to the Admiralty in reply to a request [Sidenote: 1800]
from the naturalist:--
"Any proposal you may make will be approved; the whole is left
entirely to your decision."
The _Investigator_, formerly the _Xenophon_, was a sloop of war, and was
fitted out in a most elaborate fashion for the cruise, carrying with her
an artist (Westall), a botanist (Brown), an astronomer (Crossley), and
several other scientists.
Among her officers were Samuel Flinders, second lieutenant and brother of
Matthew, and a midshipman named John Franklin, afterwards Sir John
Franklin, the Arctic explorer and at one time governor of Tasmania. Her
total complement numbered 83 hands. The _Lady Nelson_, a colonial
government brig, was ordered, on the arrival of the _Investigator_ at Port
Jackson, to join the expedition and act as tender to the larger vessel,
and her history is scarcely less remarkable than that of the little vessel
_Norfolk_, Flinders' old command, which by this time had been run away
with by convicts, and "piled up" on a beach near Newcastle, New South
Wales.
The _Investigator_ sailed, and Flinders made Cape Leeuwin on September
7th, 1801. He ran along the south and east coasts, met the Baudin
expedition in Encounter Bay, and entered Port Phillip on April 26th, 1802,
and found that the _Lady Nelson_ had preceded him in the February before.
Arriving in Sydney in May, he sailed again a couple of months later to the
northward, surveying the Great Barrier Reef, Torres Straits, the Gulf of
Carpentaria, and the coast of Arnhem's Land. By this time the ship was too
unseaworthy to prosecute further work, so Flinders sailed round the entire
continent by way of the Leeuwin, and finally arrived in Sydney harbour
again in June, 1803.
In these voyages he performed exploring work that is now a part of English
history, and his charts of the Australian coasts were the foundation of
all others that have since been made. He either first used the name of
Australia or adapted it to the great continent, and New Holland, after the
publication of his charts, began to be a name of the past.
Most of the remainder of this story can best be told in the words of
Flinders and from the narratives of his officers.
The long and rough voyage of the _Investigator_ had shaken her poor old
carcase terribly, as the following summary of [Sidenote: 1805]
an examination by the captains of the men-of-war then in Sydney Harbour
and others will show:--
"On the port side out of ninety-eight timbers, eleven were sound,
and sixty-three were uncertain if strained a little; on the
starboard five out of eighty-nine timbers were good, fifty-six
were uncertain, and twenty-eight rotten; the planking about the
bows and amidships was so soft that a stick could be poked through
it."
Considering all these defects it was not worth while to keep her, so she
was converted into a hulk in Sydney Harbour. But later on it was found
that by cutting her down it might be possible to navigate her to England.
This was done, and the old ship sailed from Sydney on May 24th, 1805,
under the command of Captain Kent, who managed with the greatest
difficulty to reach Liverpool on the 14th of October following. In his
despatch announcing her arrival he says:--
"A more deplorable, crazy vessel than the _Investigator_ is,
perhaps, not to be seen. Her maintopmast is reefed a third down;
we have been long without topgallantmasts, being necessitated to
take the topgallant rigging for running gear."
And Governor King, anxious to do Flinders justice, says:--"I hope no
carping cur will cast any reflection on him respecting the _Investigator_
... should it be so it will be an act of great injustice," and then he
alludes to the thoroughly rotten condition of the ship. He was quick, too,
to recognize the immense value of the work accomplished by Flinders, and
made him every offer of help that lay within his power to continue the
survey.
There were not more than half a dozen vessels in the colony, but Flinders
could have any one of them he liked, but they were all too small and unfit
for such a severe service. At last it was decided that he should return
home as a passenger in the _Porpoise_; some of his fellow-workers on the
_Investigator_ accompanied him, others went to the East Indies, and one or
two stayed behind. It was with a feeling of intense satisfaction that
Flinders took possession of his comfortable cabin on the _Porpoise_, for
he was looking forward to an agreeable rest after the hardships he had
undergone. The quarter-deck was taken up by a greenhouse protecting the
plants collected on the _Investigator's_ voyage, and designed for the
King's garden at Kew.
Early in August, accompanied by two returning transports, the _Cato_ and
_Bridgewater_, the _Porpoise_, under Lieutenant Fowler, sailed out of
Sydney Harbour, and steered a northerly course along the coast, closely
followed by the other two ships. With Flinders on board to consult, Fowler
had no fear of the dangers of the Barrier Reef, and with a lusty
south-east breeze, and a sky of cloudless blue, the three ships pressed
steadily northward. Four days later they arrived at a spot about 730 miles
north of Sydney, just abreast of what is now Port Bowen, on the Queensland
coast.
It was the second dog-watch, the evening was clear, and the three ships
were slipping slowly over the undulating Pacific swell. Flinders was below
chatting to his friends about old times, and the officers were having a
quiet smoke, when a cry of "Breakers ahead!" from both the quarterdeck and
forecastle rang out in the quiet night. The helm was put down, but the
vessel had not enough way on, and scarce brought up to the wind. Flinders,
for the moment thinking he was on board the old _Investigator_ again,
turned to the officer near him and said with a quiet smile: "At her old
tricks again; she wants as much tiller rope as a young wife."
A few minutes later he rose and went on deck to look around. The cry of
"Breakers ahead!" had nothing alarming in it to him, so he had not
hurried; but one quick glance showed him that the ship was doomed, for
the breakers were not a quarter of a cable's-length away, and the inset of
the swell was rapidly hurrying the ship to destruction. Two minutes later
a mountain sea lifted the _Porpoise_ high, and took her among the roaring
surf. In another moment she struck the coral reef with a thud that shook
her timbers from keel to bulwarks; then the ship fell over on her beam
ends in the savage turmoil, her deck facing inshore. So sudden was the
catastrophe that no one could fire a gun for help or for warning to the
other ships, which were following closely. As the ship rolled over on her
beam ends, huge, thundering seas leapt upon and smothered her, and the
darkness of the night was accentuated by the white foam and spume of the
leaping surf. In a few moments the foremast went, the bottom was stove in,
and all hope was abandoned; and then during a momentary lull in the
crashing breakers they saw the _Cato_ and _Bridgewater_ running directly
down upon the _Porpoise_. For some seconds a breathless, horror-struck
silence reigned; then a shout arose as the two transports shaved by the
stricken ship and were apparently saved.
But their rejoicing was premature, for a minute or two later the _Cato_
struck upon an outlying spur of the reef, not a cable-length away. Like
the _Porpoise_, she at once fell over on her side, but with her deck
facing the sweeping rollers, and each succeeding wave spun her round and
round like a top and swept her fore and aft. The _Bridgewater_ escaped,
and a light air enabled her to stand to the north out of danger.
Flinders at once took command on the _Porpoise_, a small gig was lowered
to leeward, and with half a dozen men, two odd, short oars, and shoes and
hats for balers, he set out to struggle through the breakers to a calm
ring of water beyond, where they might find a sandbank to land upon, or
get within hailing distance of the _Bridgewater_. Meanwhile Fowler was
thinking of lightening the _Porpoise_ and letting her drive further up on
the reef; but fear was expressed that she might be carried over its inside
edge, and founder in 17 fathoms of water. The two cutters were launched,
and stood by under the lee of the ship throughout the long, weary night in
case she broke up. At intervals of half an hour, blue lights flared over
the dismal scene, and lit up the strained, white faces of those watching
for the lights of the ship that was safe, and which, either not seeing or
not heeding their distress, had disappeared from view.
During the night the wind blew high and chill, the sea increased in fury,
and the ship groaned and shuddered at each fresh onslaught. Fowler,
however, was hard at work constructing a raft, ready for launching at
dawn, and his men, exhausted as they were, bore themselves as do most
British seamen in the hour of death and danger.
Flinders meanwhile had succeeded in reaching the lagoon within the reef,
and he and his men jumped out of the boat, and walked to and fro in the
shallow water to keep themselves warm and out of the wind; but they sought
in vain to discern the lights of the _Bridgewater_. But the _Bridgewater_
had sailed on to meet another fate. She reached India safely, then left
again for England, and was never afterwards heard of. It is difficult to
understand how her people could have avoided seeing the others' distress;
it is harder still to believe that, seeing their plight, the
_Bridgewater's_ company could have thus deserted the castaways. Of course,
this explanation would have been demanded, but the _Bridgewater_ was an
"overdue" ship long before the news of the disaster arrived in England.
As the sun rose, the scene looked less hopeless, and the men found that
they were near a small sandbank, on which were a quantity of seabirds'
eggs. Close by were the _Porpoise_ and _Cato_ still holding together on
the reef. Returning to the former ship, Flinders at once sent a boat to
rescue the exhausted crew of the _Cato_, who flung themselves into the
waves, and were picked up safely.
Then all hands from both wrecks--marvellous to say, only three men were
lost during the night--set to work under his directions, and collected all
the food and clothing they could possibly obtain. With the warmth of the
sun their spirits returned, and the brave fellows took matters merrily
enough, many of them decking themselves out in the officers' uniforms, for
their own clothing could not be reached. A landing was soon effected, and
a topsail yard was set up as a flagstaff, with the blue ensign upside
down, though but little hope was entertained of passing vessels in such a
place. In all there were 94 people under Flinders' care, and they made
themselves comfortable in sailcloth tents on the barren sand spit. Enough
food had been saved from the _Porpoise_ to last for three months; but to
Flinders' grief many of the papers, charts, and pictures dealing with his
explorations were sadly damaged. Among the articles saved was a picture of
Government House, Sydney, in 1802, and this and some others are now in the
possession of the Royal Colonial Institute, London.
The bank upon which the castaways lived was only 150 fathoms long by 50
broad, and about 3 feet above water. Whilst looking for firewood some of
Flinders' men found an old stern-post of a ship of about 400 tons, which
he imagined might have belonged to one of the ships of the La Pérouse
expedition.
Wearily enough the time passed, and then Flinders determined to attempt to
reach Sydney in one of the ship's boats. He chose a six-oared cutter, and
raised her sides with such odd timber as he could find. She was christened
_The Hope_, and on the 26th August he with the commander of the _Cato_, 12
seamen, and three weeks' provisions, bade farewell to their comrades, and
with a cheer, set out with bold hearts upon their voyage.
[Illustration: WRECK REEF. From an engraving by John Pye, after a drawing
by W. Westall, A.R.A. From Flinders' "Voyage to Terra Australia" [London,
1814]. _To face p. 192._]
_The Hope_ reached Sydney safely on the 8th September, and Flinders and
his companions went straight to Government House, where King was having
dinner. The Governor leapt from his chair with astonishment, almost taking
them for spectres, so half starved and distressing was their appearance.
"But," says Flinders, "as soon as he was convinced of the truth of the
vision, and learned the melancholy cause, a tear started from the eye of
friendship and compassion, and we were received in the most affectionate
manner."
Alas for poor Flinders! There were yet in store for him worse miseries,
and tears of sorrow from those nearer and dearer to him were yet to flow
in abundance in the many weary years of waiting yet to come.