SAILING TO SYDNEY
THE travellers set sail for Sydney in a calm and beautiful afternoon
when earth and sea seemed at peace. The sea sparkled in the sunlight as
if set in diamonds and the vessel fairly danced over the waters as it
sailed out of Bass Strait into the dark waters of the blue Pacific. The
afternoon passed quietly and toward evening all gathered on deck to see
the sunset, for Australia is noted as the land of wonderful sunsets, and
from the sea these can be viewed in all their splendour.
Gold, crimson, yellow, pink, from brilliant to soft, from light to dark,
the clouds changed in countless colour schemes, bewilderingly beautiful.
The whole sky was a dome of softest rose, then a flaming crimson, then
pearly-tinted heliotrope; the sea, too, shone in varying shades of
beauty, until all melted and blended into one exquisitely soft shade of
deep-toned purple, and into this the smiling stars stole one by one, the
countless stars of the southern night, and above all shone the glory of
the Southern Cross.
"Oh, Father," whispered Jean, "I have never seen anything so beautiful!
Is the sunset always like this in Australia?"
"This was a particularly fine one, daughter, but whenever the sun sets
it is a thing worth looking at."
"How quickly it has grown dark after all that splendour," said Mrs.
Hume, looking at the sky over which the clouds were passing.
"I don't like the look of the sky," said Mr. Hume. "I'm afraid there is
a squall coming."
"Worse than a squall, sir," said a sailor, hurrying by. "It looks to me
like a hurricane."
The air had grown suddenly warm and the sky was overhung with heavy
clouds, while flashes of lightning blazed across the sky. Suddenly a
great waterspout seemed to rise up like an inky-black pillar from sea to
sky. The ship tossed about and pitched so badly that it was impossible
to keep one's feet and Mr. Hume led his little party to the cabin.
[Illustration: "'I THOUGHT PACIFIC MEANT PEACEFUL,' SAID FERGUS."]
"Oh, Father! what shall we do?" cried Jean, frightened.
"Go to sleep is the best thing to do if you can," he said, and the
children were put to bed in their berths, in which they could hardly
stay, so violent was the pitching of the ship.
The wind howled and roared and, as the storm kept up all night, there
was little sleep in the cabin. When the morning came it was little
better. Sea and sky were dull gray, save where the foam-crested waves
broke in sheets of spray against the sides of the vessel, sending the
foam high into the air.
"It is a cross sea," said the sailor on the look-out and the captain
shook his head. "It's a bad outlook," he said. "I don't like the gray
water."
"I thought Pacific meant peaceful," said Fergus, who stood clinging to
his father on deck, looking at the wonderful scene. "It doesn't seem
peaceful to me," as a great wave broke over the deck and drenched him to
the skin.
"Like most peaceful things, it is terrible when it is roused," said Mr.
Hume. "There is a strong current running up and down this eastern shore
of Australia and it often sets vessels quite out of their course.
Sometimes they are washed miles out of their way, and occasionally, in
the darkness, run upon one of the little islands which dot this sea."
"Is Tasmania one of them?" asked Fergus.
"We have long since passed Tasmania," said his father. "But there are
many little islands between here and Sydney. There! What is that?" he
exclaimed. Suddenly it seemed as if land sprang at them through the fog
and they were almost upon a rocky shore. So near to it was their steamer
that there was barely time to put about and it was only by the quickest
action that they escaped the rocks. The steamer lurched and rolled,
pitched and tossed in the gale, but she passed the rocks in safety, and
as afternoon waned and night drew on, the storm grew less, until by
midnight the sea was quiet. The morning of the third day broke in a
golden splendour, the air was fresh and cool, the sky and the sea were
as blue as a sapphire, the children glad to be out of the stuffy cabin
and up on deck.
"If the weather continues like this we shall not be long in reaching
Sydney," said Mr. Hume. "And I am sure we shall all be glad to get
there."
"What kind of a place is Sydney?" asked Fergus.
"It is a fine city, my boy, and very different from what it was when
Botany Bay was peopled with felons."
"What are felons?" asked Jean.
"Felons are people who have done wrong and must be kept in prison for
punishment in the hope that they will learn to do right," answered Mr.
Hume. "Botany Bay was named by the botanist Joseph Banks who was with
Cook when he made his first voyage in 1770. It is an inlet near Sydney
and the English sent their criminals there until 1840. Such men as
behaved well when they reached the colony were allowed to leave the
penal settlement upon tickets, and were called 'ticket of leave men.'
They could be followed up and brought back if they misbehaved in any
way. Many of them were good men who had been led into wrongdoing and
were glad to have a chance to be good again. They went out into the
'bush,' cleared farms or sheep stations, and many of them grew rich.
Quite a number of the good citizens of Australia to-day, could, if they
would, trace their descent back to 'ticket of leave' men."
"I shouldn't think they would like to do that," said Fergus. "I wouldn't
like any one to know that my people had done wrong."
"Everybody does wrong," said Jean sagely.
"Yes, but every one isn't found out," her brother answered. "When they
are, it hurts."
"But if it's found out that they're sorry and are going to do good for
ever and ever," the little girl looked puzzled, "then does it matter?"
"Dear little childish point of view," said her mother, with a smile, and
her father added,
"It would be a good thing if older people felt so."
Sydney looked beautiful enough as their ship steamed into the bay to pay
them for their troublesome voyage. The harbour is one of the handsomest
in the world. The city is picturesquely situated upon the bold and
rocky slopes which rise from the water's edge and is defended from any
possible attack by bristling forts and batteries.
"This narrow entrance to the harbour is called 'the Heads,'" said Mr.
Hume to the children, who were dancing about asking a thousand
questions, of which their father answered the most important. "The
lighthouse is a guide to all storm-driven sailors, and also a good
lookout, should any enemies of England hope to steal upon Australia
unawares. I think Sydney one of the most delightfully situated cities I
have ever visited. It is surrounded by parks and groves where grow
bananas, orange trees, palms and all manner of tropical plants. Its
climate is healthful and life here easy and pleasant."
"The buildings seem very handsome," said Mrs. Hume, as the city came
into view, gleaming white and beautiful in the morning sun.
"The sandstone upon which the town is built gives fine building
material," said her husband, "and while, in the older part of the city,
streets are narrow and houses old-fashioned, the newer portion compares
favourably with almost any of the modern European cities.
"We are just about in now; the sailors are making ready to cast the
hawser."
"Oh, Fergus! There is Mildred!" cried Mrs. Hume to her husband, pointing
to a sweet-faced little woman who stood beside a large, burly-looking
man upon the wharf. "It is worth almost the long journey from home just
to see her again!" and she stretched out her hands to the sister whom
she had not seen for ten years.
Soon they were landed and the two sisters greeted each other joyfully.
"Elsie! How glad I am to welcome you to Australia," cried Mrs. McDonald,
while her sister said,
"Mildred, you don't look a day older than when you left Scotland!"
"Life is easy out here," said Mr. McDonald genially. "Come, all of you.
The carriage is waiting. We are glad to have a visit from you and want
it to be as long a visit as possible. We have planned all manner of
things to do during your stay."
As they drove through the handsome streets, Mrs. McDonald said,
"It is nearly time we went into the country, and after you are well
rested and have seen Sydney, Angus is going to take us up to the station
so you can see just what life is on an Australian 'run.'"[1]
"I am sure we shall enjoy it," said Mrs. Hume. "But just now I can think
of nothing to do but getting rested. The sea motion is still in my head,
and I believe that if I could go to bed and think that Jean could sleep
without danger of falling out of bed, I could sleep for two or three
days without waking up."
"We'll take care of the wee lassie and of this big boy, too," said Mr.
McDonald kindly, laying an arm about Fergus' shoulder. "Sandy is up at
the run and you will have fine times with him there, and your mother
shall rest as long as she wants to.
"But you are not seeing the sights as we pass. We think Sydney about the
finest thing on this side of the world. These buildings are a part of
the University. The College of St. Paul's there belongs to the Church of
England, and St. John's is Roman Catholic."
"It is all very handsome," said Mrs. Hume.
"How Sydney has changed since I was here," said Mr. Hume. "It is not
like the same place."
"Its growth is simply wonderful," said Mr. McDonald. "We have now all
manner of manufactories. Wagons are made here and sold all over
Australia and New Zealand. There are fine glass and pottery works, boot
and shoe factories, besides stove foundries and carriage works. Tobacco
and fine liquors are manufactured here and Sydney is really the center
of the British colonies in the South."
"Here we are at home," said his wife. "So your interesting lecture must
cease. I am sure Elsie would rather see a good cup of tea and a
comfortable bed than hear your discourse on the beauties of Sydney when
she's homesick for dear little Glasgow."
"Tea and bed will do much to do away with homesickness, and the sight of
you will do more," said her sister as they alighted from the carriage
and went up the steps of a handsome house surrounded by fine trees and a
garden radiant with flowers.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] Run is the name given to a ranch in Australia.