# The narrative of a voyage to the Swan River/Chapter 1

NARRATIVE
OF A VOYAGE TO
THE SWAN RIVER,
&c. &c. &c.
CHAPTER I.
It is not requisite to give any account of our adventurer previous to his departure from England, or to publish the letters in which he bid his relations farewel—suffice it to say he was brought up as a practical farmer, and that he felt that deep sorrow at a long, and perhaps eternal separation from his country and friends, which became one who was sincerely attached to both from principle and affection. Having taken his passage in a vessel bound for the Swan River and New South Wales, he hurried his goods on board under the assurance that the ship would leave the port of London on an appointed day, but he had the mortification of seeing her remain in dock for several weeks, while his little capital was daily decreasing from the cxpence of his remaining in town. At length, however, the vessel did sail, and shortly afterwards he wrote a hasty letter from Portsmouth, to inform his father of his prosperous voyage hitherto, and that the ship had merely touched there in its way.
Nothing further was heard from him for ten months, and then his anxious friends had the pleasure of receiving the packet of letters from which this Narrative is compiled. They were dated at Freemantle in November, 1829, and as there is a great deal for an emigrant to prepare himself for, besides what he may encounter at the place of his destination, it may neither be useless nor uninteresting to commence the Narrative from the time the ship, in which our adventurer embarked, broke ground from Portsmouth.
As the brig Dragon is sailing from hence to Ceylon, and certain there to take in a cargo direct for England, I grasp at the opportunity to inform you of my safe landing in this Colony, in the best health and spirits. In this letter I intend giving you a slight description of a sea voyage of 15,000 miles, performed in four months and four days from Portsmouth, for a sailor reckons his voyage only from the last port in the country from whence he breaks ground. In the letter I wrote from thence, I believe I stated that the ship dropped anchor the preceding evening, and that several of the passengers had accompanied me on shore for the purpose of purchasing some articles which we found we stood in need of, and for the melancholy pleasure of treading upon our native land for the last time. I had not been on shore four hours when one of the sailors came into the shop where I was and told me that the last boat would be off for the ship in a quarter of an hour, and that she would weigh anchor immediately.—We stood out to sea at one o'clock, P.M. and proceeded with a fair wind which carried us rapidly from the shores of happy England. At the end of three days, however, it blew a slight gale rather contrary to us for about a week, but still we made a little way. Afterwards the wind became favourable, and we soon got into the Bay of Biscay. This we were four days in crossing, during which I was very unwell. Hitherto we did not experience any thing of a sea, and the wind was moderate—but now the scene was changed. Sometimes we appeared to be mounted upon the top of a wave, and the next moment we were sinking gradually until we were surrounded by great waves breaking upon us. Then the vessel would seem to pause, owing to her being buried so low in the sea that you would fancy the wind could not reach her lower sails, but in an instant the waves would rise under her and then she would mount majestically, with the wind howling through the rigging—and then I felt I was at sea. It is a most grand, awful, and beautiful sight. We did not see a vessel till we arrived in the Bay. She was a large heavy ship, and seemed to labour very much, and no doubt our's did the same. When the sea became so rough, most of the passengers retired below decks, but I was determined to stay it out as long as possible, in order to prevent sea-sickness, and did for a long time, by assisting the sailors at the lower-ropes, holding the head of one of the hawsers upon deck, &c. and I found that the best method to prevent it, and by persevering and keeping up one's spirits, I am persuaded that, if it cannot be overcome, it may be greatly mitigated. There was a terrible commotion below decks—some poor little children were dreadfully sick, and half dead with fright, while their mothers were too ill to attend to them. Some of the grown-up passengers were absolutely crying with fear and agitation ; others, from the rolling of the vessel, were thrown into all positions about the decks: the captain was the only person who appeared to enjoy it—but to some of us it was no joke. At last the sight of some of my fellow passengers, who came upon deck, made me for a moment as sick as the rest. As soon as possible I went below, drank a stiff glass of brandy and water, with a little nutmeg and ginger, and felt quite revived; and thus, by perseverance and resolution, I suffered much less from sea-sickness than any other passenger throughout the voyage, though the little I felt convinces me that, to those who suffer from it in any great degree, it must be terrible indeed. Various are the methods recommended to avert or assuage it. Many have found great benefit by keeping themselves as near the centre of the vessel as possible, very frequently sipping a little neat brandy, and if possible taking a small quantity of bread or buiscuit from time to time, as the retching is felt more severely when the stomach is quite empty.
When we crossed the Bay the wind subsided into a favourable gale, at which we were very thankful, for now the water was smooth in comparison with the tremendous sea we had lately experienced. And now the passengers became more intimate with each other, and we mutually communicated our plans and intentions, and the means we possessed of carrying them into effect. And it was with no small surprise that I discovered not one passenger in ten knew any thing about farming, although they all professed their object to be the acquisition and occupation of land. Several of them resided in London and large towns all their lives, and scarcely knew wheat from barley. How these persons who have been brought up in trade are to succeed in the management of land I cannot conceive. You would be amused by the various instruments and articles they purchased at a very great expense, several of which, I am persuaded, will be totally useless to them. In one of the vessels which was to leave London after us, there was a poor fellow with a wife and several children, who left his shop, and expended part of his money very foolishly in the purchase of pointers, greyhounds, pheasants, and rabbits. His wife took out a favourite lap-dog—her husband had to pay five guineas for its passage. They will want the money they thus throw away before this day twelve months, or I am much mistaken. One adventurer has taken out a man, who has been twenty years in the marines, as his bailiff and factotum. Knowing me to be a farmer, several of the passengers are applying for my opinion and advice upon certain agricultural operations; and while I can scarcely keep my countenance at some of the questions they ask, I endeavour to give them all the information in my power, wishing to act by all as I should wish to be done by. It is to be feared that several of them will not succeed in the Colony, so you must prepare to receive dismal accounts from those who find they must work for their bread, and who, doubtless, will be imposed upon by "the knowing ones," who are already arrived.
A fatal accident occurred, which damped the spirits of us all. One of the steerage passengers went up the rigging half-drunk, and in turning round, lost his hold, and fell over-board—we had no possibility of saving him—it was a caution to the remainder of us I do assure you, and hope it had its proper effect upon those who were too careless about their souls. This unhappy event is a good lesson to those passengers who are unaccustomed to the management of a ship not to go aloft or get into the rigging, for, as in the present instance, the consequences may be fatal. Passengers have their berths assigned them, and they have the privilege of walking the deck, and with these they ought to be satisfied, and not meddle with what they have no concern. The captain has a great charge. And sailors are bound to obey the word of command immediately, and indeed the safety of the vessel may at times depend upon the instantaneous performance of a manoeuvre. Why, then, in any case should a passenger place himself where he has no right ? and still less upon the rigging, where his being in the way may be very dangerous to the ship: and if he should be so silly as to get into the shrouds, the rapidity with which a sailor goes aloft, may shake him out of them, and his life may be the forfeit of his folly. I mention all this as a caution to my brother, (who I hope will follow me); for it is a common error with many to suppose, that because they have paid their passage-money they possess a right to run all over the ship as they please, but this is by no means the case. No passenger should ever go aloft, or interfere in the least in the working of the ship, unless his assistance be requested. Some captains have much good nature, and do not take notice of these things, but the best captain is he who will, by keeping every one in his proper place, restrain him from going where he ought not, and may, perhaps, do more harm than good.
The wind now continued favourable for some time, when we came in sight of the Island of Madeira, and were very much disappointed in not having a clear view of it, owing to our not " nearing" it until the evening. Strong winds now prevailed, but fair. The ship went steadily nine miles an hour, which was considered very good sailing, for she was loaded dreadfully heavy, and therefore of course was deep in the water. We continued steadily on our course until we reached the Tropic of Cancer, where we were becalmed six days: the wind at last sprung up, and carried us favourably to Mayo, one of the Cape de Verde Islands, where we put in, to replenish our watercasks. The fresh water in the Island was tolerably good, but we thought proper to use it all before the Thames water we had left on board, which continued good to the last. A small American brig was laying here, waiting for a cargo of salt, with which this island abounds, and is shipped from hence to all parts of the world : there is no other article of commerce or produce, for the inhabitants procure all the supplies they want from St. Jago, the chief of the Cape de Verdes. It is inhabited principally by the Portuguese, and the natives are numerous, but very indolent and greatly addicted to pilfering; the former are clean in their habits, subtle, jealous, and passionate. The natives are tall and stout made, with swarthy complexions, round heads, blunt noses ; the males go almost entirely naked, but the women wear only one garment made of a very thin muslin, and some wear a turban round their heads made of the same light material. They apparently perform all the most laborious work, not only about their dwellings, but even at the salt-ponds, while their lazy husbands look on and nurse the children. We remained only three days at this place, and then proceeded with a fair wind until we reached the Line, where we were becalmed for six days. On crossing the Line the sailors made each cuddy passenger pay ten shillings, and each steerager a bottle of rum. We found it dreadfully hot between the Tropics, and here, for the first time, saw a great quantity of flying fish, to me quite a novelty. Some of the strong ones will fly nearly 100 yards at a flight, and that (it is said) when they are pursued by large fish of prey. We proceeded for a fortnight, and only saw one shark and some whales, together with some other large fish; no one on board knew what they were. Then there was a dead calm for ten days, and an uproar between some of the steerage passengers and sailors. Two of the former were put in irons for insolence to the captain and ill-behaviour to the sailors: they were thus confined for forty-eight hours. If my brother follows me, he cannot be too strongly reminded that it is very improper for any passenger to interfere with the sailors; let him be civil to them at all times when obliged to speak to them, but to avoid associating or entering into friendly conversation with them, especially when they are upon duty. In every ship there are some persons of evil principles, some who are ill-natured and eager to take offence, and therefore I recommend him not to be irritable or ready to quarrel about trifles; but, at the same time, while he is courteous to all, to avoid an intimacy or too much familiarity with any one, much less with the sailors.
The wind afterwards got up, blew hard, and quite a-head, and so continued for several days, which drove us within two days sail of Rio Janeiro. The cabin passengers tried their utmost to prevail upon the captain to put in at that place, but all to no purpose.
The wind now became favourable, and so continued until we came within the latitude of the Cape of Good Hope. Here we saw a brig—spoke to her—found she was bound to Ceylon from North America. We met with good weather in rounding the Cape, but afterwards it began to rain, and blew tremendously for a fortnight; and part of this time we were all battened below decks: this was a misery felt severely by me: we were indeed permitted to have lights, but were obliged to buy them. The wind shifted and became less boisterous, and we saw several whales and other large fish. The captain harpooned a dolphin, which, though by no means a large one, astonished us by the strength it had in its tail when hauled upon deck. We all partook of it, and I cannot help remarking that it was the first and last treat the steerage passengers received from the captain during the voyage. We made St. Paul's in due course: it is a little rocky barren island, about midway from the Cape of Good Hope and Swan River; it is said to be uninhabited—its shores abound with several sorts of fish. At this time several of the passengers, including myself, were much afflicted with the scurvy, which I attribute, in a great degree, to the stoppage of our allowance of vinegar, tea, currants, &c. We proceeded rapidly for a week, and were again becalmed for three days. Here we saw a great many whales. The wind at last sprung up, and now the captain expressed his persuasion that we were drawing near to Rottenest Island, and this intelligence inspired every one with joy and hope. The following day a sailor cried out the long wished-for and glad tidings of "Land a-head." All ran upon deck, anxious to behold "terra firma" once more. But it could not be seen from the deck for some time in consequence of the land being low. At last it became visible to all. We were overjoyed at the sight, made it, and found it to be "Rottenest," which is a rocky barren island, difficult of access on account of a heavy surf. It looks, however, very well at first as an island, having plenty of trees upon it; but on coming close in, we saw nothing but coarse timber of inferior quality. It abounds with kangaroos, kangaroo rats, and birds of all descriptions. We dropped anchor here (for the night), the second time only since we left Portsmouth; and weighed early the next morning with the coast of Western Australia in view, and standing for Gage's Roads, (which is the harbour at the entrance of the Swan River,) with colours flying, and firing a gun for a pilot every ten minutes. Here with a glass we perceived three sail at anchor. A pilot soon came on board, and after the first salutation and enquiries, he told us of the wreck of the Marquis of Anglesea in a storm on this coast, bound from London with settlers to this Colony, Most providentially all lives were saved, as was the principal part of the cargo. We at length perceived her as we went along laying under some high cliffs, about 300 yards from the entrance of the Swan River. We were indeed most thankful that we had escaped this storm, otherwise there is every reason to expect we could not have weathered it. Before the Marquis of Anglesea was wrecked, the gale had been so violent, that the Calista, which came out at the same time with the Parmelia, in which the governor was passenger, actually dragged three anchors after her; and if the storm had not most providentially abated, she must inevitably have been wrecked. The Parmelia, in which the governor was, grounded twice; and if it had not been for the most admirable seamanship in navigating her, she must have gone to the bottom. There were many thousand bricks in the Marquis of Anglesea, which could not be got out. This was a great loss to the early settlers, if it were only on account of having nothing at hand wherewith to build fire-places. But the Colony has suffered greatly in the estimation of the public, who, in consequence of this storm and wreck, are led to consider the harbour totally unsafe for any vessel to ride in. I fervently hope, however, that they will soon be convinced of their error, and that the industry of the inhabitants will bring the Colony into good repute. But to return—we dropped anchor, for the last time, within two miles and a half of the mouth of Swan River, in company with three other vessels; two of them had put in here for water. The other a brig from Hobart Town, with settlers. Here, I am sorry to say, the water is very indifferent, and thus continues until you reach Perth, where it is good. If wells, however, were sunk further in the interior, and at a greater depth, the water would, probably, be found of a much better quality; but at present, and for some time, there will neither be leisure nor hands for making experiments. The wood near the shore, and for several miles up the River, is worth but little, being short and crooked, and thus unfit for building; but the further you proceed up the country, so much the better is the timber in quality.
* ↑ The three islands called the Madeiras are situated in a fine climate, in 32° 27' North Lat. and from 18° 30' to 19° W. Long. The largest, from which the rest derive the general name of Madeiras on account of its being formerly covered with wood, is about 75 miles long, 60 broad, and 180 in circumference. It is composed of one continued hill, of considerable height, and interspersed with vineyards. There is but one large town in the whole island, which is named Funchal. Though this Island seems to have been known to the Ancients, it yet lay concealed for many generations, and was at length discovered by a Portuguese, in 1519; but others assert it was discovered by an Englishman, in 1314. Be that as it may, the Portuguese took possession of it, and are almost the only people which inhabit it. It produces Tent and Madeira in great abundance, of which 20,000 hogsheads are annually exported:— (Abridged from) Guthrie's Geography, 1800.
* ↑ In the Island of Mayo, or May, immense quantities of salt are made, by the heat of the sun, from the sea water, which, at spring tides, is received into a sort of pan, formed by a sandbank, which runs along the coast for two or three miles. Here the English drive a considerable trade for salt, and have commonly a man-of-war to guard the vessels which come to load with it, which in some years amount to a hundred or more. The salt costs nothing, except for raking it together, wheeling it out of the pond, and carrying it on asses to the boats, which is done at a very cheap rate. Several of our ships come hither for a freight of asses, which they carry to Barbadoes and other British Plantations. The inhabitants of this Island, even the Governor and Priests, are all negroes, and speak the Portuguese language. The negro Governor expects a small present from every Commander that loads salt, and is pleased to be invited on board their ships. The sea-water is so clear on this coast, that an English sailor who dropped his watch perceived it at the bottom, though many fathoms deep, and had it brought up by one of the natives, who, in general, are expert at diving.—Guthrie's Geography.
* ↑ The flying fish, by the continual motion of its pectoral fins, sometimes rises out of the water and flies above 100 yards, till, fatigued with its exertions, it falls again into the water. It is said thus to fly when it is pursued by the dolphins, which are numerous in the tropical latitudes.
* ↑ Rio Janeiro is a seaport town in Portuguese America, situated in about 23° South Latitude and 43° West Longitude. It gives its name to a Captainship or Province, of which the chief town is called St. Sebastian.—Guthrie.
* ↑ The passengers might have considered this refusal of the Captain to proceed from a morose and unfeeling disposition; but they were not aware that, if he had yielded to their entreaties in this instance, be would have proved himself unworthy of the command of the vessel—he would have been guilty of "barratry" by a wilful deviation from his course. The "charter party" of the vessel would have been infringed—if any accident had happened during the remainder of the voyage, nothing could have been recovered under the policy of insurance, and the owners might, perhaps, have been ruined by the Captain's good nature to the passengers.
* ↑ Although the wreck of the Marquis of Anglesea was a severe blow to the Colony at the time, it will in the end terminate in its advantage—it will tend to cause the roadstead, and, indeed the whole coast, to be carefully and accurately surveyed, and thus cause succeeding vessels to be piloted with greater safety. And as so many ships have already come to anchor in Cockburn Sound and Gage's Roads since the Marquis of Anglesea was wrecked, where there were no beacons or lighthouses to warn off from danger, we must be convinced that the navigation can neither be so intricate or dangerous as has been too generally believed. Nay, from one of the numerous letters from this Colony, which have been published by Mr. Cross, of 18, Holborn, we have this gratifying account of Cockburn Sound." It is as fine an anchorage as a ship can go into, and, as a proof of it, I took this ship in without any assistance whatever, never having less water than quarter less five, and you know I never saw Cockburn Sound before." (I may avail myself of the mention of Mr. Cross's name to remark, that he is diligent in the acquisition of all credible information relative to this Colony, which he publishes from time to time in cheap pamphlets, which the emigrant for Western Australia would do well to read.) As it is well known that the Marquis of Anglesea was lost in as heavy a gale of wind as ever blew upon a lee shore, and that Government have ordered the harbour and coast to be surveyed and buoys to be fixed where necessary, we may reasonably expect that, in a short time, Cockburn Sound and (with the exception of the Winter months) Gage's Roads, will be found as safe and accessible as any port in Great Britain.