



Produced by Nick Wall and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)









     [PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION.]


     SIX LETTERS FROM
     THE COLONIES.


     BY R. C. SEATON.


     HULL: WILDRIDGE & CO.

     MDCCCLXXXVI.




PREFACE.


I was absent from England eleven months, from November, 1884, to
October, 1885. The first three of these Letters are reprinted, with
slight alterations, from the _Eastern Morning News_. The last three
were written after my return to England. As I have not cared to keep
up the fiction of having written them from Australia, they may
contain some references to events subsequent to my return. It is
often objected, and truly enough, that travellers, who spend only so
short a time as I have in fresh countries, are not justified in
expressing deliberate opinions about them; but this does not apply
where a writer gives his impressions as such, and not as matured
opinions, or where he expresses the opinions of other people who, by
long residence or otherwise in a particular country, have had every
opportunity of forming them. I think it will not be found that I
have offended in this particular.

LONDON,

October, 1886.




CONTENTS.

                                      PAGE

       I.--VOYAGE OF THE HAMPSHIRE      7

      II.--MELBOURNE                   19

     III.--VICTORIA                    33

      IV.--SOUTH AUSTRALIA             47

       V.--TASMANIA                    60

      VI.--AUCKLAND AND SYDNEY         75




I.

The Voyage of the Hampshire.


A Voyage to Australia has in these days become so ordinary an affair
that it may seem to require an apology to attempt to describe one,
but a voyage in a sailing ship is so different from that in a
steamer that it may interest some people. It is, as a rule, only
those who go abroad for their health who prefer a sailing ship, on
account of the great length of the voyage, in allusion to which
steam people call sailing ships "wind jammers," while the sailors
retort on steamers by dubbing them "iron tanks" and "old coffins."
There is no doubt that the picturesqueness of a sea voyage is quite
destroyed by a steamer. There are no, or very few, regular sailors
on board; so much of the work is now done by steam. There are no
"chanties" or sailors' songs, which help the work to go easily. In a
steamer there is no interest in noting the course--they go straight
on, and the distance covered does not vary, or only slightly, from
day to day. The movement of a sailing ship through the water at 12
knots per hour is quite exhilarating; the ship hurries on by "leaps
and bounds." Contrast with this the labouring plunges of a
screw-steamer at the same rate. In short, romance is perishing from
the sea with the universal invasion of steam. Could the poet have
thus written of the Pirate--

     "O'er the glad waters of the deep blue sea,
     Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free,"

if the Pirate was master of a steamer? I think not. However, I do
not deny that a steamer has many and great advantages over a ship.
The chief advantage, and the only one to which I need allude, is the
prosaic but not unimportant one of better food, and this with many
people would decide in favour of a steamer. Perhaps we were
exceptionally unfortunate in this respect. The Hampshire is a barque
of 1,100 tons, and belonging to Captain Hosack, of Liverpool. She is
most commodious; the cabins are much larger than is usual in a
vessel of this size. Mine was not a large one, but it measured 8ft.
by 10ft. 6in. There is, too, a poop deck 70ft. long, which is
scarcely ever touched, even by a heavy sea. When people are
constantly in each other's society for so long they gradually throw
off many of the artificial restraints of society, and exhibit
themselves as they would in their own homes. The result is curious.
A constant process of natural selection goes on, by which like seeks
like, and the estimation in which a particular person is held by
his fellow-passengers is often very different at the close of the
voyage from what it was at the beginning. Taking all things into
consideration, however, I think the saloon passengers on the
Hampshire must be considered to have borne the ordeal very well. We
were 24 in number--rather too many for comfort--all (with two
exceptions) young men, going out to the colonies for various
reasons--some for health, some for business. The two exceptions were
a Canon of the Church of England and his wife, and another gentleman
who was travelling with his nephew. The Canoness was the only lady
on board, the result of which probably was that, though the
civilising influence imparted by the presence of ladies was lost,
yet many jealousies, that might have been thereby occasioned, were
avoided.

The Hampshire left the East India Dock early on Thursday morning,
the 27th November, commanded by Captain John Mathias. She was towed
as far as Beachy Head, but laid up at Deal during the night. At St.
Alban's Head we parted with the pilot. On the Monday we left the
Lizard behind. The next ten days were the most unpleasant of the
whole voyage. We were tossed about in the Bay of Biscay, making
scarcely any progress. One day we even made 16 miles leeway. It was,
perhaps, well that this happened so early on, as all seasickness was
thus comfortably got over. Since that time the weather may be
shortly dismissed. Captain Mathias, the officers, and crew all
declare they have never had so fine a voyage to Australia. For days
and days the sea was only slightly ruffled, and hardly any motion
could be felt. Of course, one result has been that we had a long
passage. We were exactly 100 days from dock to dock, or 96 days from
the Lizard to Cape Otway. The longest run in the 24 hours was in the
Southern Ocean--254 knots. During the latter part of the voyage we
usually made over 200. During the week ending February 15th the
distance covered was 1,408 knots; that ending February 22nd only 945
knots, the wind having fallen light; the following week, however, it
was 1,503 knots. About 16th December Madeira was passed about 30
miles on our left-hand. On the 26th we passed San Antonio, the most
westerly of the Cape Verde Islands, at a distance of about 40 miles.
The line was crossed on the 7th January, about 5-30 p.m. All through
the tropics the heat was not so great as I had anticipated. It was
never more than 87 degs. in the shade and 105 degs. in the sun. The
temperature remained about the same night and day. The sea was about
6 degs. cooler than the air. The daily routine was about somewhat as
follows:--About six the hose was used for cleaning the deck, and
then such of the passengers as chose came on deck and submitted
themselves to it--others meantime pumping for them. Those who had
the hose thereby acquired a right to porridge, which was distributed
about a quarter to seven, but, when the weather was colder, even the
porridge was not sufficient attraction to keep up the number of
"hosees." Breakfast was at 8-45, lunch at 1, dinner at 6. The
captain, chief officer, and doctor occupied the chief seats at the
tables. They changed their seats from time to time to prevent
jealousy, as the captain's company was much in request. Indeed, any
inconveniences we had to put up with were so much alleviated by the
kindness and consideration of Captain Mathias, that he will ever be
gratefully remembered by the passengers on this voyage. The address
of thanks to him at the end of the voyage was no mere lip-service,
but the genuine expression of our sincerest thanks. On all occasions
he managed to combine the courtesy of a gentleman with the frankness
of a sailor. After passing the equator we had to sail very much to
the west, to catch the south-east trades, and were within 100 miles
of the coast of Brazil. On the 60th day out the meridian of
Greenwich was crossed in lat. 38 degs. south. "The meridian of the
Cape of Good Hope," says the captain's log, "was crossed on the 65th
day out, in lat. 35-1/2 degs. south, and the longitude was run down
in the parallel of 42 degs. south. Light winds stuck to the barque
persistently, and as an illustration of the tedious weather, it may
be mentioned that not a topgallant sail was taken in from Biscay to
St. Paul's, and the average running in crossing the Southern Ocean
was only 161 miles per day." The last land sighted was the Island of
Trinidad--an uninhabited rock--in lat. 20 deg. 45' south, long. 29 deg.
48' west. This was on the 16th January and for seven "solid" weeks from
then we were out of sight of land. This time was redeemed from
monotony by tournaments of chess and whist, which filled up the
evenings. There were frequent small quarrels, with reconciliations
more or less sincere, which also afforded distraction. After one the
captain let off a rocket, also one of Holmes's patent "flare-ups."
This is a contrivance for saving life during the dark. It consists
of a box filled with potassium, which is pierced at both ends and
thrown into the sea fastened to a life-buoy. In contact with the
water the metal ignites, and for about half-an-hour sheds a radiance
for a long way. It is visible for miles off. If a man falls
overboard he knows then where to look out for the life-buoy.

The Canon was an adept at shorthand, and a class was formed on
board of 12 of the saloon passengers, who prosecuted it most
vigorously, and really made much progress. An examination was
held at the end of the course of lessons, and prizes awarded.
Several entertainments--musical and dramatic--were given, nearly
all of which proved successful, the very causes of failure on
land being often at sea the cause of success. The prompter was, I
remember, on one occasion much more audible than the actor.
Another time the stage (the main deck) was flooded with sea
water, which increased rather than diminished with every roll. A
chorus of youths and maidens endeavouring to sing and keep their
balance is amusing if not aesthetic. Everything, in fact, suffers
a "sea change," if not into something "rich and strange," often
into something expensive. The first time a passenger ventures on
the forecastle or up the rigging--the peculiar realms of the
sailor--Jack chalks him, which means that he must pay his
footing, by sending a bottle of whisky for'ard. It is seldom that
a stranger long escapes "spotting" under these circumstances. As
a curiosity I may mention that one passenger paid 8s. for a few
things being washed; this was at the moderate price of 6d. each
article, no matter whether it was a collar or a shirt. I should
strongly advise anyone going a long voyage to take a spirit lamp,
as it is often difficult to get hot water unless the thirst of
the cook is constantly allayed. Deck shoes are very convenient,
more especially in the tropics, where one leads a lotus-eating
existence. This is the most delightful part of the voyage in my
opinion, though some prefer the more bracing air of the Southern
Ocean. Without being malicious, however, it is difficult not to
fancy that the pleasure of finding midsummer weather in January
is heightened by the contrast with London fogs and frost, which
we know those at home are suffering from. The greatest resource
of all is reading, and some of us get through a good deal of it,
but it is too tempting, and often interferes with taking regular
exercise, which, though irksome, is almost essential to good
health at sea.

Christmas Day seemed strange enough. The orthodox fare--turkey and
plum-pudding--were on the table, but ice would have been an
agreeable addition. The toasts drunk were "The Queen," "The
Captain," and "Absent Friends." The next day, as we had then been a
month at sea, the sailors "buried the dead horse." As they receive a
month's wages in advance, they do not begin to earn anything until
they have been a month at sea. During this period they are said to
be "working off the dead horse." A barrel covered with matting
formed the body, and appendages for the requisite number of legs and
the tail were put on. The animal was then dragged round the deck to
the accompaniment of a melancholy song--the refrain of which is
"poor old horse." The horse is next put up for sale, and on the
present occasion was knocked down to one of the saloon passengers
for 16s. The money was not really paid, but a collection was made
which came to more than the sum bid. Next, amid the lamentations of
the sailors and the glare of blue lights, the animal was hoisted up
to the main-yard with a sailor on its back, who, dexterously
disengaging himself, let the beast fall with a dull thud into the
water. The sea was so calm that some apprehension was expressed lest
the carcass should be seen the next morning not far to leeward, but
this anti-climax was averted. We have all read of the coming on
board of Neptune at the time of crossing the line, but on our voyage
no notice was taken of it, the reason being, as was supposed, that
the sailors were dissatisfied with the result of the sale of the
dead horse. Well, though it might have been amusing, it was
doubtless more their loss than ours, because when the thing is
analysed, all sailors' doings fundamentally resolve themselves into
an appeal for subscriptions from good-natured passengers. About 15th
January we crossed the sun, which for a short time was vertical at
noon. Peter Schlemihl could then have walked about without
detection, for no one had a shadow.

On our journey we met several ships and steamers, and as the captain
never missed an opportunity of signalling, the course of our voyage
was known from various quarters. First, the number of the Hampshire,
JNBV, is displayed by the flags, each flag representing a letter. A
complete code of arbitrary signals is in use, by which almost any
intelligence can be interchanged. We then told the port we sailed
from, London, and our destination, Melbourne. From one barque, the
County of Anglesea, on her way from Cardiff to Rangoon, which we
fell in with early on the voyage, the captain came on board the
Hampshire to lunch, and afterwards several of our passengers
returned the visit. One of them brought back a small cur, which made
the fourth dog on board--rather too many, as they were always in the
way. Their number was soon reduced 50 per cent. One day what was
known as the "sailor's dog" mysteriously disappeared. Some thought
it had been thrown overboard, but it probably fell over
accidentally, as the dog was universally held to be the least
objectionable. Another, the strange dog, had to be poisoned. On the
10th January we met a German ship bound for Barbadoes from Buenos
Ayres. Here an opportunity for sending letters was gratefully
embraced. The captain promised to hand them over to the British
Consul at Barbadoes. One day, during a calm, the boats were lowered,
and several of us rowed about to look at the Hampshire from a
little distance, while some bathed in a tropical sea. There was no
danger of sharks, which keep away when several bathe together, or
even one, if he splashes about enough. The boatswain caught a
turtle, from which we had some capital soup. Turtles are very
tenacious of life. A knife was thrust into its throat, and its
jugular vein severed, but if it had not been cut up soon after it
would have lived many hours. Indeed, the heart alone kept beating
long after it was severed from the body.

I must say we were badly treated by the "monsters of the deep." They
never came out when wanted. We all expected to catch a shark some
day, but only once was one even seen, and then it was some distance
off, with its knife-like fin just showing above the water. It was
Sunday, too, when no fishing was allowed--a fact of which he was
evidently aware. These fellows are proverbially stupid, and will go
at a bait again and again, even though they must know it to be a
lure. Only once, too, did we catch an albatross, _the_ bird of the
Southern Ocean. That was by a line baited with a small piece of
pork. This was fastened to a round ring of iron, in which the hooked
beak of the bird caught, and so it was dragged on board. The captain
knocked it on the head, and it was then cut up. It measured 13 feet
across the wings, but many are larger than this. The beak was about
6 inches long, curved, and of great power. Sailors have no "ancient
mariner" sentiment as to killing the albatross--in fact, it would be
misplaced. The captain told us of a case he knew of where a man had
fallen