(*Footnote. Figured in volume 1.)

SINGLE OR DOUBLE CANOES.

The canoes seen here are either single or double, in the latter case consisting merely of two lashed together, usually without an outrigger. The single canoes vary in length from 20 to 30 feet, and carry from five to a dozen people. Each end tapers to a sharp projecting point longer at the bow. The outrigger frame consists of five poles laid across the gunwale in grooves, and the float, which is rather less than half the length of the body of the canoe, is secured to the ends of each by three pegs, a foot in length. The opposite ends of the outrigger poles project beyond the side only a few inches, and are secured by lashing of cane to a piece crossing them; the gunwale is further strengthened by slender poles running along it from end to end. A small portion only of the outrigger frame is converted into a platform by a few loose poles or a plank or two: some of the latter were as much as two feet in width, and only an inch in thickness, and must have been cut with stone axes out of a log of wood. The largest canoe seen was judged to be thirty-five feet in length, with a width at the bow of four and a half feet, but this far exceeded in bulk any of the other single ones. Like the rest it essentially consisted of the hollowed-out trunk of a tree. All the heavy canoes are pulled with oars, working in cane grommets, the others are propelled with paddles. Both oars and paddles have lanceolate blades and thick handles, without any attempt at ornament or even neatness of design.

The sail (of pandanus matting) is a long parallelogram, twelve feet by three, its sides secured by two tough slender poles, between which it is stretched, and which serve both as masts and yards. In making sail one of the poles is shipped, two stays from the centre leading fore and aft are then set up, after which the second pole is fixed and secured by stays, so as to give the sail the requisite inclination. We frequently saw a second smaller sail set before the first, at the distance of eight or ten feet, and managed precisely in the same way, but, even with both sails set, owing to the disproportion between the spread of canvas and the bulk of the canoe, the latter moves slowly at all times, and on a wind makes much leeway.

SAIL FROM REDSCAR BAY.

December 31st.

We sailed yesterday from our anchorage in Redscar Bay, but did not clear the sunken ridge of coral in the offing—a submarine extension of the Barrier Reef, stretching between Low Island and the vicinity of South-west Cape—until this forenoon, when we got out of soundings. The Bramble is to remain behind for three or four weeks upon the coast, to fill up various blanks in the chart between this and Rossel Island, while we are to make the best of our way to the Duchateau Islands, to obtain a meridian distance, and thence proceed direct to Sydney.

January 6th, 1850.

Our passage to the Duchateau Isles, a distance of less than 400 miles, has been protracted by the prevalence of light winds, although these were generally favourable, or from the westward. Occasional calms, squalls, and rain occurred, but the weather generally was finer than during the South-East monsoon.

CLEARNESS OF THE ATMOSPHERE.

As an instance of the clearness of the atmosphere, so different from what we had usually experienced during our former visit to these shores, it may be mentioned, that on one occasion during a light breeze from the north-west we clearly saw Mount Yule (10,046 feet high) and the summit of Mount Owen Stanley, distant respectively, one hundred and twenty, and eighty miles from the ship. On this occasion also we had a full view of the whole of Mount Astrolabe, which although 3,824 feet in greatest height, and appearing to D'Urville as he ran past to be the highest land on this portion of the coast, is rendered quite insignificant by the lofty though distant range behind. Mount Astrolabe differs in character from any other of the New Guinea mountains seen by us, indicating a different geological formation. The summit extends thirteen miles, running parallel with the coastline and distant from it about eight miles. Viewed from the south-westward the outline is regular, exhibiting a series of nearly flat tops with slight interruptions, but from the southward it appears as a succession of terraces or projecting cliffs, precipitous in front near the summit, with a long steep slope below, probably of debris, while the flat top slopes backwards with a very gentle declivity. Owen Stanley Range again presented quite a different aspect as seen on the occasion alluded to, when nearly one half of its whole length (300 miles) from Mount Yule to Heath Bay was in full view: the outline was irregular but never suddenly so, and no peaks or other remarkable points were seen.

I may mention here in relation to this part of New Guinea, though not in continuance of the narrative, that the Barrier Reef, beginning (or ending) at Low Island, is continued to the southward and eastward for 150 miles, as far as Cape Colombier, generally following the trend of the coast, at a distance off it from three to fifteen miles. A long strip of apparently navigable water is thus enclosed between the reef and the shore, with numerous passages, many of which appeared to be clear to Lieutenant Yule as he passed along close to the outer margin of the reef.

HARBOURS INSIDE THE BARRIER REEF.

Some good harbours doubtless exist here; the Bramble passed through Roundhead Entrance and found good anchorage in fifteen fathoms immediately inside. The whole of this extent of coast appeared to be well peopled. On the western side of Mount Astrolabe, for instance, numerous villages and patches of cultivated land were seen from the Bramble.

THE SAGO PALM.

Both in Redscar Bay and for the first two or three days after leaving it numbers of sago palms, some quite recent, were observed on the water, occasionally with boobies and noddies perched upon them. These trees had probably grown upon the banks of the rivers of the bay, and been washed away by the undermining of the low alluvial banks on which they grow, and carried out to sea by the current. Along several of the freshwater channels on the western side of the Great Bight examined by the Fly's boats in 1844, I had seen this palm growing on the margin of the stream in great profusion, and according to Giaom, the bisi tree (as she called it) is occasionally carried by the winds and currents as far south as the Prince of Wales Islands, when the natives scoop out the soft spongy inner wood, wash it well with fresh water, beat it up into a pulp, separate the farinaceous substance which falls to the bottom of the vessel, and bake it as bread. On no part of the coast of New Guinea, however, did we ever see any of this sago bread, which is known to constitute the principal food of the inhabitants of the north-west coast of that great island.*

(*Footnote. Forrest endeavours to show that an acre of ground planted with 300 sago palms will maintain fourteen men, as each tree produces 300 pounds of sago flour, when arrived at full maturity in its seventh year. Voyage to New Guinea and the Moluccas in 1774 to 1776 by Captain Thomas Forrest second edition page 44.)

On one occasion lately the water was discoloured by a conferva resembling the sea-sawdust of Captain Cook, with which it was found to agree generically in consisting of long filaments joined together by a softer gelatinous-looking substance. The present species, however, is six times larger than the more common sort, some of which was mixed up with it, their diameters as ascertained by Mr. Huxley, being respectively 8 1/2 over 5000 and 1 1/8 over 5000 of an inch.

Today we stood in for the Duchateau Isles, and, rounding them to the westward, anchored in the afternoon in seventeen fathoms, with the central island bearing south, distant one mile.

SHOOTING PARTY ON DUCHATEAU ISLES.

January 7th.

Along with a shooting party I landed soon after daylight on the westernmost Duchateau Island. Numbers of Nicobar pigeons left the island as we approached, having apparently used it merely as a roosting-place.

HABITS OF DUPERREY'S MEGAPODIUS.

Heavy showers and thunderclouds passed over at intervals during the whole morning, rendering our shooting not quite so successful as it might have been; still we procured about fifty pigeons and a few of Duperrey's megapodius. In habits this last bird resembles the Australian species, especially in constructing enormous mounds for the reception of its eggs. Those which I saw averaged five feet in height and fifteen in diameter, and were composed of the sandy soil of the neighbourhood, mixed up with rotten sticks and leaves, but without any shells or coral. Some were placed on the outer margin of the thickets close to the beach, and others were scattered about more inland. As several of these mounds showed indications of having lately been opened by the birds, I entertained hopes of being able to procure an egg, but after digging several pits three feet in depth, with no more efficient implements than my hands, I had to give up the work from sheer exhaustion. This bird is apparently very pugnacious at times, as I frequently saw them chasing each other along the ground, running with great swiftness, and uttering their cry more loudly than usual, stopping short suddenly and again starting off in pursuit. The cry consists of one or two shrill notes, uttered at intervals and ending in a hurried tremulous cry repeated five or six times. The noise made by this megapodius while scratching among the dead leaves for food may sometimes be imitated with such success as to bring the bird running up within gunshot. When suddenly forced to rise from the ground it flies up into a tree, and remains there motionless, but exceedingly vigilant, ready to start on the approach of anyone, but on other occasions it trusts to its legs to escape. Its food is entirely procured on the ground, and consists of insects and their larvae (especially the pupae of ants) small snails, and various fallen seeds and fruits. Although a great number of the Nicobar pigeons had left, many yet remained, and the whole island resounded with their cry mixed up with the cooing of the Nutmeg pigeon. Little skill is required in shooting these birds, for they generally admit of very close approach, as if trusting to the chance of being overlooked among the dense foliage.

ARE VISITED BY NATIVES.

January 8th.

During the night a party of natives in five canoes came over from the Calvados Group, and first attracted our attention by making several fires on the middle and easternmost islands. Soon after daybreak they came alongside in their usual boisterous manner. A few words of their language which were procured proved to be of great interest by agreeing generally with those formerly obtained at Brierly Island, while the numerals were quite different and corresponded somewhat with those of my Brumer Island vocabulary. Two of the canoes—one of which carried sixteen people—were large and heavy and came off under sail, tacking outside of us and fetching under the ship's stern. In these large canoes the paddles are of proportionate size and very clumsy—they are worked as oars with the aid of cane grommets—the sail is of the large oblong shape formerly described. One of the canoes was furnished with a small stage above the platform for the reception of a large bundle of coarse mats, six feet long and two and a half broad, made by interlacing the leaflets of the cocoa-palm; these mats are probably used in the construction of temporary huts when upon a cruise.

Although rather a better sample of the Papuan race than that which we had lately seen at Redscar Bay, there was no marked physical distinction between these inhabitants of the Louisiade and the New Guinea men. The canoes, however, are as different as the language; here, as throughout the Archipelago, the canoes have the semblance of a narrow coffin-like box, resting upon a hollowed-out log, the bow having the two characteristic ornaments of the tabura, or head-board, and the crest-like carved woodwork running out along the beak. Some of the natives were recognised as former visitors to the ship. Nearly all were painted, chiefly on the face, the favourite pattern being series of white bars and spots on a black ground. Except their ornaments and weapons, they had little to give us for the iron hoop so much in request with them; only a few coconuts, and scarcely any yams were obtained, and to the latter they attached a much higher value than formerly.

SAIL FOR SYDNEY.

At length the natives left us, three canoes making to the northward, and two returning to the Duchateau Isles. Morning observations for rating the chronometers having been obtained, we got underweigh soon afterwards, and, bidding farewell to the Louisiade Archipelago, commenced our voyage to Sydney.

Our daily average progress during the passage to Sydney (which occupied a period of twenty-eight days) was less than fifty miles. The winds for the first few days, or until beyond the influence of the land, were light and variable, shifting between South-West and North-East by the northward, and accompanied by occasional squalls and rain. It became a matter of difficulty to determine when we got into the south-east trade; it was not until we had reached latitude 20 degrees South that the wind—light on the preceding day, but on this strong, with squalls and rain—appeared steady between East-South-East and South-South-East and this carried us down to Sandy Cape.

REEFS OF THE CORAL SEA.

In traversing the Coral Sea, the numerous detached reefs were so carefully avoided that we saw none of them—thus in one sense it is to be regretted that the passage through them of a surveying vessel, with seventeen chronometers on board, was productive of no beneficial result by determining the exact position of any one of these dangerous reefs, most of which are only approximately laid down upon the charts.*

(*Footnote. About this time a new reef was discovered during the passage from Cape Deliverance to Sydney of H.M.S. Meander, Captain the Honourable H. Keppel. While this sheet was passing through the press, I saw an announcement of the total wreck upon Kenn Reef—one of those the position of which is uncertain—of a large merchant ship, the passengers and crew of which, 33 in number, fortunately however, succeeded in reaching Moreton Bay in their boat—a distance of 400 miles.)

PRACTICAL RESULTS OF THE SURVEY.

The most important practical result of Captain Stanley's survey of the Louisiade Archipelago and the south coast of New Guinea, was the ascertaining the existence of a clear channel of at least 30 miles in width along the southern shores of these islands, stretching east and west between Cape Deliverance and the north-east entrance to Torres Strait—a distance of about 600 miles. This space was so traversed by the two vessels of the expedition without any detached reefs being discovered, that it does not seem probable that any such exist there, with the exception of the Eastern Fields of Flinders, the position and extent of which may be regarded as determined with sufficient accuracy for the purposes of navigation, and the reefs alluded to in Volume 1, which, if they exist at all, and are not merely the Eastern Fields laid down far to the eastward of their true position, must be sought for further to the southward. The shores in question may now be approached with safety, and vessels may run along them either by day or night under the guidance of the chart—without incurring the risk of coming upon unknown reefs, such as doubtless exist in other parts of the Coral Sea further to the southward—judging from the occasional discovery of a new one by some vessel which had got out of the beaten track. Whalers will no doubt find it worth their while—with the characteristic enterprise of their class—to push into those parts of the Coral Sea now first thrown open to them, and, although we have not as yet sufficient grounds to warrant the probability of success in the fishery, yet I may mention that whales were seen on several occasions from both of our vessels.

USEFUL PRODUCTIONS OF NEW GUINEA.

This naturally originates the question—to what extent do the Louisiade Archipelago and the south-east coast of New Guinea afford a field for commercial enterprise? What description of trade can be established there by bartering European goods for the productions of these countries? Unfortunately at present most of the evidence on this point is of a negative kind. Besides articles of food, such as pigs, yams, and coconuts, and weapons and ornaments of no marketable value—tortoise-shell, flax, arrowroot, massoy bark, and feathers of the birds of paradise were seen by us, it is true, but in such small quantities as to hold out at present no inducement for traders to resort to these coasts for the purpose of procuring them. That gold exists in the western and northern portions of New Guinea has long been known, that it exists also on the south-eastern shores of that great island is equally true, as a specimen of pottery procured at Redscar Bay contained a few small laminar grains of this precious metal. The clay in which the gold is embedded was probably part of the great alluvial deposit on the banks of the rivers, the mouths of which we saw in that neighbourhood, doubtless originating in the high mountains behind, part of the Owen Stanley Range.

It is evident, however, that our acquaintance with the productions of a great extent of coastline upon which we never once landed must be very slight, but with that little we must be content until some more complete exploration of the shores, which were only cursorily examined, and especially of the rivers of the Great Bight—which seem to offer a ready means of penetrating far into the interior of New Guinea—shall have been effected. That an expedition with this end in view will soon be undertaken is, however, highly improbable, the survey of the Rattlesnake having completed all that was requisite for the immediate purposes of navigation in those parts.

GEOLOGICAL REMARKS.

The fact of the existence of several active volcanoes on islands immediately adjacent to the north coast of New Guinea (first made known by Dampier) and the circumstance of volcanic bands traversing the length of many of the great islands of the Malayan Archipelago, and others as far to the southward as New Caledonia and New Zealand, rendered it extremely probable that we should have found indisputable signs of comparatively recent volcanic action in the south-east part of New Guinea. We saw no volcanoes, however, and the great central mountain chain appeared to me to be probably granitic. The large Brumer Island is composed of igneous rocks as formerly mentioned; and at Dufaure Island I obtained from some canoes which came off to us a few smooth water-worn pieces of hornblendic porphyry. Some specimens of obsidian, or volcanic glass, were also procured from the natives at the latter place, where sharp-edged fragments are used for shaving with; one variety is black, another of a light reddish-brown, with dark streaks. Mount Astrolabe is apparently of trap formation, as I have already stated. Some conical hills scattered along the coast may possibly be of volcanic origin, especially one of that form rising to the height of 645 feet from the lowland behind Redscar Head. It is in this neighbourhood also that we find the upraised calcareous rocks of modern date exhibited by the Pariwara Islands and the neighbouring headland, with which they were probably once continuous; near this, too, the barrier reef of the coast ceases at Low Island, which it encloses, although its line is continued under water, as a ridge of coral, as far as the South-west Cape, where the coral ends, unless the shoals apparently blocking up the channel south of Yule Island are of the same formation.

LOUISIADE ARCHIPELAGO.

Reference to the outline chart will enable the reader to follow me in some general remarks which did not properly enter into the narrative. The Louisiade Archipelago, reduced to what I conceive to be its natural limits, includes that extensive group of islands comprised between the parallels of 10 degrees 40 minutes and 11 degrees 40 minutes South latitude, and the meridians of 151 degrees and 154 degrees 30 minutes East longitude. About eighty are already known, and probably many others remain yet to be discovered in the north-west, a large space there being as yet a blank upon the chart. All the islands of the group, with the exception of the low ones of coral formation to the westward, appear to be inhabited, but probably nowhere very densely, judging from the comparatively small number of natives which we saw, and the circumstance of the patches of cultivation being small and scattered, while the greater part of the large islands is either covered with dense forest, or exhibits extensive grassy tracts with lines and clumps of trees. Such of the islands as were examined consisted of mica slate, the line of direction of the beds of which is nearly the same as that of the Archipelago itself, and the physical appearance of the other islands leads me to believe that the same rock prevails there also.

CORAL REEFS OF THE LOUISIADE ARCHIPELAGO DESCRIBED.

One of the most remarkable features connected with the Louisiade Archipelago is the manner in which its shores are protected by the coral reefs which have frequently been alluded to above. The principal of these are good examples of that kind distinguished by the name of barrier reefs. Rossel Reef has already been described, and the only other large one of this description which we saw more than a portion of, is that partially encircling South-east Island at a variable distance from the land, then passing to the westward as far as longitude 152 degrees 40 minutes, where it ceases to show itself above water; thence, however, the edge of a bank of soundings (represented on the chart by a dotted line) which is suddenly met with in coming from the deep blue unfathomed water to the southward, can be traced in a continued line to the westward as far as the Jomard Isles, whence it turns round to the northward for ten miles further, where our examination ended. This last may be considered as a submarine extension of the barrier, which probably reappears again above water, and passing to the northward of the Calvados Group, reaches as far as the northern entrance to Coral Haven, enclosing nearly all the high islands of the Archipelago. The expanse of water inside when not occupied by land usually exhibits a depth of from 15 to 30 fathoms, with numerous sunken patches of coral, and several reefs which partially dry at low-water. The shores of the islands also are generally protected by fringing coral reefs, the largest of which is that extending off the west and south side of Piron Island to a distance of seven or eight miles, with a well defined border towards Coral Haven.

At the western portion of the Louisiade Archipelago the reefs seen by us exhibit great irregularity of outline, continuity, and width. Some are linear reefs, others atolls* more or less distinct in character, and the remainder are usually round or oval. Viewed as a whole they form an interrupted chain, with numerous deepwater channels, which terminates in the West Barrier Reef of the chart but is connected with the coast of New Guinea by a bank of soundings, with, probably, a well-defined margin. Many low, wooded islands are scattered along this line. I know of no distinguishing feature presented by the coral reefs of the Louisiade compared with those which I have seen elsewhere. One remarkable occurrence, however, connected with them, may be mentioned. While passing in the ship the most northern point of Rossel Island, I observed upon the reef, about a hundred yards inside its outer border, a series of enormous insulated masses of dead coral rising like rocks from the shallow water. The largest of these, examined through a good telescope from the distance of half a mile, was about twenty feet in length and twelve in height, with a well-defined high-water mark. It formed quite a miniature island, with tufts of herbage growing in the clefts of its rugged sides, and a little colony of black-naped terns perched upon the top as if incubating.

(*Footnote. "An atoll differs from an encircling barrier reef only in the absence of land within its central expanse; and a barrier reef differs from a fringing reef in being placed at a much greater distance from the land with reference to the probable inclination of its submarine foundation, and in the presence of a deep water lagoon-like space or moat within the reef." The Structure and Distribution of Coral Reefs by Charles Darwin page 146.)

THEORY OF THEIR FORMATION.

I had only once before seen a similar exhibition of such great and permanently elevated masses of dead coral upon a living reef—a phenomenon of much interest in connection with Mr. Darwin's theory of the mode of formation of coral reefs. This was on a portion of the Great Barrier Reef of Australia, visited in company with Mr. Jukes, who has published a detailed account of it.* In both cases the only obvious explanation is that these huge blocks—too massive to have been hove up from deep water into their present position by any storm—reached their present level by the elevation of the sea bottom on which they were formed.

(*Footnote. Voyage of H.M.S. Fly by J.B. Jukes volume 1 page 340.)

Before quitting the subject of the coral reefs of the Louisiade I may be permitted to express my conviction of the perfect manner in which many, perhaps all of the appearances which they present may be satisfactorily accounted for by the application of Mr. Darwin's theory. We have only to presume the whole of the Archipelago to have once formed part of New Guinea—a supposition highly probable in itself (suggested even by a careful examination of the large charts) and strengthened by the total absence of signs of volcanic agency in what the theory in question would require to be an area of subsidence as opposed to those of elevation, such as are known to exist in parts of New Guinea.

ETHNOLOGY OF NEW GUINEA.

The ethnology of New Guinea is involved in so much confusion and obscurity for the want of sufficient data, that even with the aid of some additional recently acquired information bearing upon the subject, I wish the following brief remarks to be regarded more as probable assumptions than as views the correctness of which admits of demonstration. Besides, to give all the proofs, such as they are, would cause much repetition of what has been already stated above.

I must premise that most of our previous definite information regarding the inhabitants of New Guinea applies only to a small portion of the north-west coast of that great island in the neighbourhood of Port Dorey, which is known to be peopled by several distinct varieties of mankind, of which one (with which, as occupying the coast, we are best acquainted) is designated the Papuan, or Papua, as generally understood by that appellation when used in its restricted signification. These Papuans, according to Dumont D'Urville,* compose the principal part of the population of Port Dorey, and, judging from his description, I have no hesitation in referring to them also the inhabitants of the Louisiade Archipelago and the South-East coast of New Guinea, and agree with Prichard (in opposition to the views of others) that they "constitute a genuine and peculiar tribe."**

(*Footnote. Voyage de l'Astrolabe tome 4 page 603.)

(**Footnote. Researches into the Physical History of Mankind volume 5 page 227.)

NATIVES OF NORTH-WEST COAST.

Another variety among the inhabitants of Port Dorey, spoken of by M. d'Urville as the Harfours, is supposed by him to include, along with another race of which little is known—named Arfaki—the indigenous inhabitants of the north-west part of New Guinea. The Harfours, Haraforas, or Alforas, for they have been thus variously named, have often been described as inhabiting the interior of many of the large islands of the Malayan Archipelago, but, as Prichard remarks, "nothing can be more puzzling than the contradictory accounts which are given of their physical characters and manners. The only point of agreement between different writers respecting them is the circumstance that all represent them as very low in civilisation and of fierce and sanguinary habits."* Their distinctness as a race has been denied with much apparent reason by Mr. Earl, and they are considered by Prichard to be merely various tribes of the Malayo-Polynesian race retaining their uncivilised and primitive state. Be this as it may, of these Harfours D'Urville states, that they reminded him of the ordinary type of the Australians, New Caledonians, and the black race of Oceania, from their sooty colour, coarse but not woolly hair, thick beards, and habit of scarifying the body. I mention these Harfours for the purpose of stating that no people answering to the description of them given above were seen by us in New Guinea or the Louisiade Archipelago.

(*Footnote. Ibid page 255.)

VARIETIES OF THE PAPUAN RACE AND THEIR DISTRIBUTION.

It appears to me that there are two distinct varieties of the Papuan race inhabiting the south-east portion of New Guinea. The first occupies the western shores of the Great Bight, and probably extends over the whole of the adjacent country, along the banks of Aird River, and the other great freshwater channels. Judging from the little that was seen of them during the voyage of the Fly, these people appear to agree with the Torres Strait Islanders—an offshoot, there is reason to believe, of the same stock—in being a dark and savage race, the males of which go entirely naked.

The second variety occupies the remainder of the south-east coast of New Guinea and the Louisiade Archipelago. Their characteristics have already been given in this work, as seen at intermediate points between Cape Possession and Coral Haven; they agree in being a lighter-coloured people than the preceding, and more advanced in civilisation: mop-headed, practising betel-chewing, and wearing the breech-cloth. Without entering into the question of their supposed origin, I may state that, in some of their physical, intellectual, and moral characters, and also partially in their language, they seem to me to show indications of a Malayo-Polynesian influence, probably acquired before their arrival in New Guinea, along the shores of which they seem to have extended, colonising the Louisiade during their progress, which at Cape Possession was finally arrested by their meeting with the other section of the race alluded to in the preceding paragraph.

It would be curious to see the effects produced at the point of junction of these two sections of the same race, probably somewhere between Aird River and Cape Possession. It is not unlikely that the Papuans of Redscar Bay and its vicinity derived the use of the bow and arrow from their neighbours to the westward—and that the kind of canoe in use in Torres Strait was an introduction from the eastward, is rendered probable—setting aside other considerations—by a circumstance suggested by the vocabularies, i.e. that the name for the most characteristic part of the canoe in question—the outrigger float—is essentially the same from the Louisiade to Cape York.*

(*Footnote. Louisiade: Sama. Darnley Island: Charima. Dufaure Island: Sarima. Prince of Wales Islands: Sarima. Redscar Bay: Darima. Cape York: Charima.)

I have alluded in a preceding part of this work (Volume 1) to the circumstance that the small vocabulary obtained at the Louisiade may, along with others, throw some light upon the question: whence has Australia been peopled?

ORIGIN OF THE AUSTRALIAN RACE.

It may safely be assumed that the aborigines of the whole of Australia (exclusive of Van Diemen's Land) have had one common origin; in physical character the natives of Cape York seem to me to differ in no material respect from those of New South Wales, South or Western Australia, or Port Essington,* and, I believe I am borne out by facts in stating that an examination of vocabularies and grammars (more or less complete) from widely remote localities, still further tends to prove the unity of the Australian tribes as a race.

(*Footnote. M. Hombron (attached to D'Urville's last expedition as surgeon and naturalist) considers—as the result of personal observation—that the aborigines of New South Wales exhibit certain points of physical difference from those of the North Coast of Australia, meaning, I suppose, by the latter, those natives seen by him at Raffles Bay and Port Essington. I may also mention that M. Hombron considers the Northern Australians to be a distinct subdivision of the Australian race, in which he also classes the inhabitants of the smaller islands of Torres Strait (as Warrior Island for instance) attributing the physical amelioration of the latter people to the fact of their possessing abundant means of subsistence afforded by the reefs among which they live, and the necessity of possessing well constructed canoes as their only means of procuring fish and dugong, stated by him to constitute the chief food of the Torres Strait islanders. Voyage au Pole Sud, etc. Zoologie tome 1 par M. Hombron pages 313, 314 et 317.)

The two places from one of which the Australian population may be supposed to have been more IMMEDIATELY derived, are Timor on the one hand and New Guinea on the other: in the former case the first settlers would probably have landed somewhere on the north-west coast, in the latter, at Cape York.

Mr. Eyre believes that there are "grounds sufficient to hazard the opinion that Australia was first peopled on its north-western coast, between the parallels of 12 and 16 degrees South latitude. From whence we might surmise that three grand divisions had branched off from the parent tribe, and that from the offsets of these the whole continent has been overspread."* Proceeding still further Mr. Eyre has very ingeniously attempted to explain the gradual peopling of Australia, and even indicate the probable routes taken by the first settlers during the long periods of years which must have elapsed before the whole continent was overrun by the tribes now collectively forming the Australian race. Dr. Prichard, when alluding to the probable mode of dispersion of the black tribes of the Indian Archipelago, conjectures that one of the branches during the migratory march probably passed from Java to Timor, and from thence to Australia.** Dr. Latham also inclines to the belief that Australia was peopled from Timor and not from New Guinea, judging, in the absence of positive proof, from the probability that "occupancy had begun in Australia before migration across Torres Strait had commenced in New Guinea," inferred "from the physical differences between the Australian and the Papuan, taken with the fact that it is scarcely likely that the Papuans of Torres Strait would have failed in extending themselves in Australia had that island been unoccupied." Timor also is much nearer than New Guinea to the REMOTE source—assumed to be the continent of Asia—whence the Australians have been derived.***

(*Footnote. Journals of Expeditions of Discovery into Central Australia etc. by E.J. Eyre Volume 2 page 405.)

(**Footnote. Researches into the Physical History of Mankind Volume 5 page 214.)

(***Footnote. Natural History of the Varieties of Man by R.G. Latham, M.D. pages 257 and 253.)

The unity of the Australian race being admitted implies one common origin, and that such was not derived from New Guinea, can scarcely, I think, be doubted. Upon examining the neighbourhood of the point of contact between the New Guinea-men and the Australians, we find Cape York and the neighbouring shores of the mainland occupied by genuine and unmixed Australians, and the islands of Torres Strait with the adjacent coast of New Guinea by equally genuine Papuans; intermediate in position between the two races, and occupying the point of junction at the Prince of Wales Islands we find the Kowrarega tribe of blacks. At first I was inclined to regard the last more as degraded Papuans than as improved Australians: I am now, however, fully convinced that they afford an example of an Australian tribe so altered by contact with the Papuan tribes of the adjacent islands as at length to resemble the latter in most of their physical, intellectual and moral characteristics. Thus the Kowraregas have acquired from their island neighbours the art of cultivating the ground, and their superior dexterity in constructing and navigating large canoes, together with some customs—such as that of preserving the skulls of their enemies as trophies: while they retain the use of the spear and throwing-stick, practise certain mysterious ceremonies connected with the initiation of boys to the rights of manhood—supposed to be peculiar to the Australian race—and hold the females in the same low and degraded position which they occupy throughout Australia.

That the Kowraregas settled the Prince of Wales Islands either prior to or nearly simultaneously, with the spreading downwards from New Guinea of the Papuans of the islands, scarcely admits of absolute proof: but that the former have existed as a tribe for a long period of years is shown by the changes which I presume to have taken place in their language. While this last unquestionably belongs to the Australian class, as clearly indicated by Dr. Latham's analysis of the pronouns,* one of the characteristic parts of the language, and, therefore, least liable to change, yet the occurrence in the Kowrarega of a considerable number of words resembling and often identical with those of the known Papuan languages of Torres Strait,** and which I believe to have been derived from the latter, seems to indicate a degree of long-continued intercourse between the two races: for changes in language to so great an extent are not effected in a short space of time any more than the nearly complete fusion of two different races which has evidently taken place at the Prince of Wales Islands. Scarcely opposible to this supposition is the extreme improbability that the Papuans, who had nothing to gain from so comparatively inferior a race as the Australian, should be indebted to the latter for the words common to both found to exist in the Kowrarega and Miriam languages.

(*Footnote. See the Appendix.)

(**Footnote. As means of comparison I used the Darnley and Murray Island vocabulary given in Jukes' Voyage of the Fly, also a manuscript one of my own, which furnishes some additional particulars; some words from Massid given by Jukes; and a few from Mount Ernest procured by myself.)

Another mode of procedure suggests itself to one endeavouring to trace the proximate origin of the Australians—and that is, to search the records of voyagers and others for any traces of such customs, the use of certain implements, etc., as are supposed to be most characteristic of these people. Yet, taking, for example, the boomerang* and throwing-stick,** we find nothing approaching to either of these instruments in any part of New Guinea yet visited by Europeans: in the absence of any evidence to the contrary from Timor, they may be considered as true Australian inventions; and assuming the Australians to be the descendants of a colony from Timor, the circumstance of the natives of Melville Island—a part of Australia distant only 200 miles from their presumed place of origin—being ignorant of the use of the throwing-stick, is in favour of part of this supposition. But a thorough investigation of the question of the origin of the Australian race, and their dispersion over the continent, although NOW I believe rendered quite practicable by the great mass of additional information contributed by voyagers and travellers since Mr. Eyre wrote upon the subject, is not consistent with the objects of this work.

(*Footnote. Some of the fowling-sticks of the ancient Egyptians closely resemble the boomerang in form and appear to have been used in a similar manner, but I am not aware that anything approaching it has been seen elsewhere. A specimen which suggested this remark is exhibited in the British Museum Egyptian Room Case 36, 37 Number 5646.)

(**Footnote. The throwing-stick is completely represented in the Aleutian Islands (See in Ethnographical Room of British Museum, a specimen in case 16): in shape it differs from the Australian ones (which themselves vary in different localities) but the principle of construction and mode of use are precisely the same. In the islands of Tanna and New Caledonia a contrivance is in use to produce the same effect as the throwing-stick in propelling the spear; but, apart from other considerations, the nature of the instrument (a piece of stiff plaited cord six inches long, with an eye in one end and a knot at the other) is such as quite to preclude the probability of the Australians having derived their throwing-stick from this source.)

CHAPTER 2.3.

Death of Captain Stanley. Sail for England. Arrive at the Bay of Islands. Kororareka. Falls of the Keri-Keri. Passage across the South Pacific. Oceanic birds. Stay at the Falkland Islands. Settlement of Stanley. Call at Berkeley Sound. Lassoing cattle. Resume our homeward voyage. Call at Horta in the Azores. The caldeira of Fayal. Arrive in England.

Soon after our arrival in Sydney we had to lament the loss of our much respected commander, who died suddenly on March 13th, while apparently convalescent from a severe illness contracted during our last cruise—induced, I understand, by long continued mental anxiety, and the cares necessarily devolving upon the leader of an expedition such as ours, of which probably no one who has not been similarly situated can ever fully comprehend the responsibility. Thus died at the early age of thirty-nine, but after the successful accomplishment of the chief objects of his mission, Captain Owen Stanley, who had long before won for himself an honourable name in that branch of the naval service to which he had devoted himself, and whose reputation as a surveyor and a man of science stood deservedly high. Although it would ill become me as a civilian attached to the expedition to enter upon the services* and professional character of my late captain, yet in common with many others, I cannot refrain from adding my humble testimony to his worth, by recording my deep sense of many personal favours, and the assistance which was always liberally rendered me during my natural history investigations throughout the voyage, whenever the more important objects of the survey permitted.

(*Footnote. See O'Byrne's Naval Biographical Dictionary page 1109.)

By this unfortunate event all previous arrangements regarding our future proceedings were anulled. It had been intended by Captain Stanley to return to England by way of Singapore and the Cape of Good Hope, adding to the charts of the Inner Passage as we went along the east coast of Australia, and making a careful survey of the Strait of Alass, between the islands of Lombock and Sumbawa. Captain the Honourable Henry Keppel of H.M.S. Meander, as senior naval officer present, having appointed Lieutenant Yule to the vacancy in the command of the Rattlesnake, with orders to proceed direct to England, we left Sydney for that purpose on May 2nd. The Bramble was left behind in the colony, and in addition to her former crew, the limited accommodations of our ship were still further crowded with the greater number of the Port Essington marines, some invalids, and other passengers, making up the number on board to upwards of 230 persons.

A course was steered to pass to the northward of New Zealand without calling there, but shortly after leaving Sydney some defects in the ship were found out, which rendered it necessary to put into the nearest port, as the principal one, causing a leak in the after gunroom, could not be repaired at sea. It was also considered expedient to get rid of the Asp in order to lessen the straining of the ship during the prospective passage round Cape Horn, which so much top weight was considered materially to increase. On May 14th the land about Cape Maria Van Diemen and the North Cape of New Zealand was in sight at daylight, appearing high and mountainous, with steep maritime cliffs. On our passage across from Australia we had seen few seabirds, but now albatrosses of three or four species were very numerous, together with a few petrels, chiefly Procellaria cookii. Next morning we found ourselves to leeward of Cape Brett, having experienced a southerly current during the night of two knots an hour; it took us the whole day to work up into the Bay of Islands, and after dark we anchored in 28 fathoms, about six miles from the entrance of the Kawa-Kawa.

May 16th.

The view from our anchorage, although under the favourable conditions of fine weather, struck me as being dull and cheerless. The surface of the country is hilly and undulating, showing patches of wood more or less extensive, and large tracts of fern of a dull greenish hue. The shores of the mainland and the numerous islands exhibit every here and there argillaceous cliffs, and banks of a brown, reddish, or yellow colour, from their steepness almost devoid of vegetation. In the morning it was a dead calm, but at length a light air sprang up and carried us into the bay of Kororareka, when we anchored in 4 1/2 fathoms, mud and sand, off the village of the same name, also known as the township of Russell.

May 17th.

On landing at Kororareka, one finds that what from a distance appear neat and comfortable cottages lose much by close inspection. The township consists of about thirty small wooden houses, mixed up with many native hovels. It extends along the shore of a small bay, with a shingly beach in front and a swamp behind. The number of houses was formerly much greater, most of those now existing having been built since May 1845, when the greater part of the town was burnt down by the natives. Even now it supports two public houses, and several general stores, where necessaries may be procured at double the Sydney prices. At one time much trade was done here, before the duties imposed on the occasion of New Zealand becoming a British colony drove away the whalers which used to resort in great numbers to the Bay of Islands to refit; at present, besides the Rattlesnake, the only vessel here is a brig from Hobart, bound to California, which put in to this place to get a new rudder. Livestock is plentiful and the prices are moderate.

There are many natives living in the settlement. They afford a striking contrast to the wretched specimens of Australian aborigines one occasionally sees in the streets of Sydney. Many of the men are athletic and well made, and in their gait and expression exhibit much manliness of character. The faces of some of the principal people present good specimens of elaborate tattooing. The women appear strange figures from their ungainly modern dress, consisting merely of a loose smock of calico, fastened at the neck and wrists. Some were tolerably handsome (according to our notions of female beauty) and among them were several halfcastes. Their fashion of dressing the hair is curious—in front it is cut short in a line across the forehead, but is allowed to grow long behind. We met Waka Nene, a Maori chief, possessing considerable influence, especially in the neighbouring district of Hokianga, who, by siding with the English during the war, rendered such important services that the Government rewarded him with a pension of 100 pounds per annum, and a house in Kororareka. Besides this he owns a small vessel or two employed in the coasting trade. I peeped into the hut of one of his people. A small entrance served the combined purposes of door, window, and chimney, the roof was so low as to preclude one from standing upright inside, a small fire was burning in the centre of the earthen floor, and a heap of mats and blankets in one corner pointed out a sleeping-place.

Behind Kororareka one of a series of hills overlooking the town is memorable as the site of the flagstaff, the cutting down of which by Heke was one of the first incidents of the Maori war. On March 11th, 1845, an attack was made upon the place before daylight, by three of the disaffected chiefs. Kawiti with one division entered the town from the southward by a pass between two hills, and after a short conflict forced a party of marines and seaman from H.M.S. Hazard to retire with the loss of seven killed and many wounded. While this work was going on, a small detachment of soldiers occupying a blockhouse on the flagstaff hill was surprised by Heke and his party, who killed four men, and drove away the remainder, and levelled the flagstaff to the ground. The English residents took refuge on board the shipping, and two days afterwards the Maoris sacked and burned the town with the exception of the two churches, and a few houses contiguous to the property of the Roman Catholic Mission.

The greater part of the country about the town is covered with fern and the manuka bush (Leptospermum scoparium) the latter a low shrub with handsome white or pinkish flowers. In some of the ravines two species of tree-ferns of the genus Cyathea grow luxuriantly in the moist clayey soil. Everywhere one sees common English weeds scattered about, especially the sow-thistle and common dock, and a British landshell (Helix cellaria) has even found its way to New Zealand and is to be met with in some of the gardens.

Much rain had lately fallen, and many of the paths were partially converted into watercourses. I walked across to a neighbouring bay, and employed myself in searching for shells in the mud at low-water. Some bivalves, common there—various Cythereae and Mesodesma chemnitzii—constitute an important article of food to the natives, who knew them by the name of pipi. A marshy place, at the mouth of a small stream, was tenanted by a curious wrinkled univalve, with a notch on the outer lip, Amphibola avellana of conchologists.

May 18th.

I joined a party made up to visit the falls of the Keri-Keri river, and we started, after an early breakfast, in one of the ship's boats. The morning was dull and rainy, and we had occasional showers during the forenoon. In an hour after leaving the ship we entered the estuary of the river, a large arm of the sea, which we followed for several miles. The scenery reminded me of that of some of the sea lochs on the west coast of Scotland, and although fern was here substituted for heath, the Scotch mist was perfectly represented at the antipodes. The country is scantily wooded, and the muddy shores are occasionally fringed with a small mangrove (Avicennia tomentosa). Here and there were a few settlers' houses, with the accompanying signs of cultivation. One of the small islands, and also a hilltop on the northern shore, had an artificial appearance, their summits being leveled and the sides scarped—they were the remains of former fortified villages or pahs. At length the estuary narrowed, and assumed the appearance of a winding river, with low hilly banks covered with fern and bushes. One and a half miles from this brought us to a rocky ledge across the stream, preventing further progress in the boat, and marking the junction of the fresh and salt water.

Here Mr. Kemp, a schoolmaster of the Church Mission Society, has been located for upwards of thirty years. A well built store, a neat cottage and garden, and residences for a few Maoris, complete the establishment. From this place a dray-road leads to the extensive Missionary establishment at Waimate, distant about ten miles. Crossing the river, we started for the falls, in charge of a sharp little urchin who acted as guide. After leaving the narrow valley which the river has cut for itself through a superstratum of yellowish clay, the country becomes nearly level—a dreary plain, covered with fern and the manuka bush. The extensive tract of country now in sight is said to have once been a great kauri forest—a few of these noble trees (Dammara australis) were pointed out to me from a distance. When about halfway we left the road, and within the distance of a mile our guide contrived to lead us into five or six bogs, where we were up to our knees in water, besides entangling us in several thickets nearly as bad to penetrate as an Australian scrub. At length we arrived in sight of the waterfall, then in full force from the quantity of rain which had lately fallen.

The Keri-Keri, after a long course through a country composed chiefly of upland moors and gently undulating hills, here suddenly precipitates itself over a rocky wall into a large circular pool eighty feet below, then continues its course for a while between steep and densely wooded banks. Behind the fall the rock is hollowed out into a wide and deeply arched cave, formed by the falling out of masses of columnar rock. A winding path leads to the foot of the fall, whence the view is very grand. Some of the party crept over the slippery rocks, and reached the cave behind the fall, where they were much gratified with the novelty of the scene. The luxuriant and varied vegetation in the ravine affords a fine field for the botanist. The variety of cryptogamic plants is very great—every rock, and the trunk of each tree, being covered with ferns, lichens, and mosses. Among the trees I noticed the pale scarlet flowers of the puriri or New Zealand Teak (Vitex littoralis) the hardest* and most durable of all the woods of the country. A short search among the damp stones and moss brought to light some small but interesting landshells, consisting of a pupiform Cyclostoma, a Carocolla, and five species of Helix. This leads me to mention, that although the number of New Zealand landshells hitherto described scarcely exceeds a dozen, this does not imply any scarcity of such objects in the country, as an industrious collector from Sydney, who spent nine months on the northern and middle islands, obtained nearly a hundred species of terrestrial and fluviatile mollusca. The scarcity of birds during our walk surprised me, for the only one which I saw on shore was a solitary kingfisher (Halcyon vagans): during our ascent of the Keri-Keri, however, many ducks (Anas superciliosa) flew past the boat, and gulls, terns, and two kinds of cormorants were numerous.

(*Footnote. This wood was much used in the construction of the pahs which, in 1845, under the Maori chiefs Heke and Kawiti, long resisted the attacks of disciplined forces, aided by artillery. In reference to the puriri wood used in the palisading of one of these, it was officially stated, that "many of our six-pound shot were picked out of the posts, not having actually entered far enough to hide themselves.")

Returning to the road by a path which avoided the swamps our guide had taken us through, in little more than half an hour we reached Mr. Kemp's house, and after partaking of that gentleman's hospitality returned to the ship. On our way we landed at sunset for an hour upon a small island, which will probably long be remembered by some of the party as having furnished us with a supper of very excellent rock-oysters.

Having effected the necessary repairs, and disposed of the decked boat, we left New Zealand on May 22nd on our homeward passage. On July 5th having passed to the eastward of Cape Horn we bore up for the Falkland Islands, having taken forty-three days to traverse a direct distance of a little more than 5000 miles. During this period the wind was usually strong from the south-west, but on various occasions we experienced calms and easterly winds, the latter varying between North-East and South-South-East and at times blowing very hard with snow squalls. The lowest temperature experienced by us off Cape Horn was on the day when we doubled the Cape in latitude 57 degrees South when the minimum temperature of the day was 21 and the maximum 26 degrees. This reminded some of us that we had now passed through not less than 75 degrees of temperature in the ship, the thermometer in the shade having indicated 96 degrees during a hot wind in Sydney harbour.

A passage such as ours, during which at one time we were further from land than if placed in any other portion on the globe, must almost of necessity be a monotonous one. We saw no land, not even an iceberg, and very few vessels. For five or six successive evenings when in the parallels of 40 and 41 degrees South between the meridians of 133 and 113 degrees West we enjoyed the fine sight of thousands of large Pyrosomae in the water, each producing a greater body of light than I ever saw given out by any other of the pelagic-luciferous mollusca or medusae. The towing net was put over on several occasions but produced little or nothing to repay Mr. Huxley for his trouble: so that even a naturalist would here find his occupation gone were it not for the numbers of oceanic birds daily met with, the observation of whose habits and succession of occurrence served to fill up many a leisure hour. It being the winter of the southern hemisphere, the members of the petrel family, at other times so abundant in the South Pacific, were by no means so numerous as I had expected to find them, and in the higher southern latitudes which we attained before rounding Cape Horn, albatrosses had altogether disappeared, although they had been abundant as far to the southward as 41 degrees South. The most widely dispersed were Daption capensis—the pintado or Cape-pigeon of voyagers—Procellaria hasitata, P. coerulea, P. lessonii, and P. gigantea, of which the first and second were the most numerous and readily took a bait towing astern. It is probable that all these species make the circuit of the globe, as they are equally distributed over the South Indian Ocean. Some interesting additions were made to the collection of Procellariadae (commenced near the equator with Thalassidroma leachii) and before leaving the Falklands I had captured and prepared specimens of twenty-two species of this highly interesting family, many members of which until the publication of Mr. Gould's memoir* were either unknown or involved in obscurity and confusion. Among these is one which merits special notice here, a small blue petrel, closely resembling P. coerulea, from which it may readily be distinguished by wanting the white tips to the central tailfeathers. It turns out to be the P. desolata, known only by a drawing in the British Museum made more than half a century ago, from which this species was characterised. When in latitude 50 degrees 46 minutes South and longitude 97 degrees 47 minutes West I saw P. antarctica for the first time; one or two individuals were in daily attendance while rounding Cape Horn and followed the ship until we sighted the Falkland Islands. I had long been looking out for P. glacialoides, which in due time made its appearance—a beautiful light grey petrel, larger than a pigeon; it continued with us between the latitudes of 40 and 58 degrees South and occasionally pecked at a baited hook towing astern.

(*Footnote. Magazine and Annals of Natural History for 1844 page 360.)

One may naturally wonder what these petrels can procure for food in the ocean to the southward of 35 degrees south latitude, where they are perhaps more numerous than elsewhere, and where the voyager never sees any surface-swimming fishes which they might pick up? It is, of course, well known that they eagerly pounce upon any scraps of animal matter in the wake of a vessel, hence it is reasonable to suppose that they follow ships for the purpose of picking up the offal, but they may also be seen similarly following in the wake of whales and droves of the larger porpoises. Almost invariably I have found in the stomach of the many kinds of albatrosses, petrels, and shearwaters, which I have examined, the undigested horny mandibles of cuttlefish, which would thus appear to constitute their principal food; and, as all the petrel family are to a certain extent nocturnal, it seems probable that the small cuttlefish on which they feed approach the surface only at night.

July 8th.

Yesterday at noon we passed close to Beauchene Island, a dreary, bushless place, half covered with snow. Vast numbers of pintados were about, also some albatrosses, the first that had made their appearance for several weeks back. In hopes of reaching an anchorage before dark we stood in for Bull Road, East Falkland Island, but after running fourteen miles, and sighting Sealion Islands, this was found impracticable. The ship was kept away to the eastward, and, after wearing several times during the night to avoid closing the land, a course was shaped to take us to the settlement. Passing inside of the Seal Rocks we rounded Cape Pembroke, on which is a tall beacon, and anchored at dark inside the entrance to Port William.

July 9th.

The thermometer fell to 18 degrees during the night, and the water froze on the decks during the holystoning. A cold dreary aspect was presented when the sun rose upon the snow-clad country around, but the sight of a herd of cattle on shore conjured up visions of fresh beef and made ample amends. We beat up Port William, and, passing by a narrow channel from the outer to the inner harbour, or Port Stanley, anchored off the settlement. We found a solitary vessel lying here—an English brig bound to California.

The settlement of Stanley was formed in July, 1844, by the removal thither of the former establishment at Port Louis—Port William being considered preferable as a harbour, besides being easier of access and more conveniently situated for vessels calling there for supplies. The inner harbour, which communicates with the outer one by a passage not more than 300 yards wide, is four and a half miles in length by half a mile in width, with anchorage everywhere. The township extends along the centre of the south shore, as a small straggling village of wooden houses, the uncompleted residence of the Lieutenant-Governor being the only one built of stone. The population, I was told, is about 300: of these thirty are pensioned soldiers, many of whom with their families are temporarily lodged in a large barrack, which curiosity one day led me to visit. Its inmates are all Irish, and appeared to be in anything but comfortable circumstances, although such as work as labourers receive three shillings per diem, and mechanics are paid in proportion. One of them, who had served in Van Diemen's Land, said he often envies the lot of a convict there, for "sure we are fretting to death to think that we have come to this in our old age after serving our king and country so long." They all bitterly complained of having been deluded at home by highly-coloured reports of the productiveness of a country where grain will not ripen, and which has not yet been found capable of producing a tolerable potato. Of the remainder of the place little can be said. There are two good stores where we procured nearly everything we wanted at very moderate prices: beef of very fair quality is sold at 2 pence per pound, wild geese at 1 shilling 3 pence each, and rabbits at four shillings a dozen. The only vegetables, however, were some small Swedish turnips, which we got by favour. Lastly, a ship may obtain water here with great facility from a small reservoir from which a pipe leads it down to the boat.

We had to remain at Port Stanley for thirteen days before the necessary observations for determining the rates of the chronometers could be obtained. During this period a thaw occurred, followed by hard frost and another fall of snow, making the country as bleak and desolate as before. By all accounts the winter has been unusually severe. The ground had been covered with snow for four weeks previous to our arrival, and many cattle the horses had perished; I also observed at the head of the harbour some beds of mussels, most of which were dead, having doubtless been frozen when uncovered at low water. The average mean temperature on board ship during our stay was 33 degrees, the maximum and minimum being respectively 37 and 25 degrees.

I was obliged to content myself with short excursions, for the inclemency of the weather would not permit of camping out at night. The appearance of the surrounding country may briefly be described: ridges and peaks of grey quartz rock of moderate elevation form boundaries to shallow valleys, or become the summits of slopes extending with gentle declivity towards the shore. The ground almost everywhere, even on the hills, is boggy, with numerous swamps, rivulets and pools. The peat in some places is as much as six feet in thickness; it forms the only fuel on the island, for not a single tree occurs to diversify the landscape, and few of the bushes exceed a foot in height. The general tint of the grass and other herbage at this season is a dull brownish-green. Bays and long winding arms of the sea intersect the country in a singular manner, and the shores are everywhere margined by a wide belt of long wavy seaweed or kelp (Macrocystis pyrifera) which on the exposed coasts often forms immense beds of various species, some of which attain to gigantic dimensions.

On my first walk I was surprised at the extraordinary tameness of the smaller landbirds: a thrush (Turdus magellanicus) almost allowed me to knock it down with my cap, and some other birds were quite as familiar as our robin in winter—a pair of loggerhead ducks (Brachypterus micropterus) were quietly pluming themselves on the jetty at government house, and others were swimming along shore within pistol shot of a public road; at first I thought they were domesticated, and refrained from firing. The loggerhead is a large and heavy bird for a duck: one which I shot weighed eighteen pounds, and it has been recorded as sometimes weighing as much as twenty-nine pounds. From the disproportionate smallness of its wings it is incapable of flight, but employs these members as paddles in hurrying along the surface of the water when alarmed, using its feet at the same time with much splashing and apparent awkwardness, leaving a broad wake behind it on the water—hence the not inappropriate name of steamer which is sometimes applied to it. Not being fit to eat, and moreover from its strength and the closeness of its plumage difficult to kill, it is not much molested by sportsmen. Another bird very likely to attract attention is the kelp goose (Bernicla antarctica) generally seen in pairs along the rocky coasts: the plumage of the male is of a beautiful white, that of the female is dark and glossy, variously speckled and barred.

July 24th.

We sailed from Port Stanley yesterday at daylight, and after entering Berkeley Sound beat up as far as Hog Island, off which we anchored at sunset, at a distance from the old settlement of Port Louis of about two miles and a half. As the sole object in coming here was to obtain magnetic observations at the spot used for that purpose in 1842 by the Antarctic Expedition under Sir James Ross, for which one day would suffice, we had little time to make excursions in the neighbourhood. Two parties were made up to shoot rabbits in some large warrens which have long been established on the shores of Johnson Harbour and at the head of Port Darlington, but they met with very little success. I preferred accompanying Captain B.J. Sulivan for the purpose of seeing his gauchos use the lasso and bolas in catching some cattle required for the ship. This officer, who formerly commanded H.M.S. Philomel, employed for several years upon the survey of the Falklands, has been one of the first to avail himself of the proposals made by Government to develop the resources of these islands by throwing them open to private enterprise; in association with several gentleman in England he has set on foot an establishment for the purpose of curing beef, hides, and tallow, which, it is expected, will be in full operation in the course of next year. The terms upon which settlers of the better class are invited to East Falkland are, I believe, the following: the purchaser of a block of land of a quarter of a square mile at the minimum price of eight shillings an acre (64 pounds) is entitled to a lease of 10,000 acres of contiguous land for the period of twenty years, at the rent of 10 pounds per annum, with right of pre-emption. Also, according to part of an agreement between Government and Mr. Lafone (an Englishman residing at Montevideo) by which the latter has acquired a right to all the wild cattle on the island (estimated at 30,000 head) until the year 1860, he is bound to reclaim annually a certain number, and supply them to purchasers at the fixed rate of thirty shillings a head.

We landed on Hog Island where Captain Sulivan's herd of eleven hundred cattle (besides a number of horses) had been kept during the winter, supported chiefly by the tussock grass fringing the shore, which they had cropped so closely that, being a perennial plant of slow growth, two years' rest would be required to enable it to regain its former vigour. Large patches of this magnificent grass*—Dactylis caespitosa of botanists—along the shores of the mainland have been destroyed by the cattle in their fondness for the nutritious base of the stem, a small portion of which, as thick as the little finger, has a pleasant taste and may be eaten by man, to whom it has occasionally furnished the principal means of subsistence when wandering in the wilds of these inhospitable islands. Great numbers of upland geese (Chloephaga magellanica) chiefly in small flocks, were feeding on various berries and the tender grass. Although seldom molested on this island, they became rather wary after a few shots had been fired—still a sufficient number to answer our purpose were procured without much difficulty. Unlike the kelp goose, which has a very rank taste, derived from its feeding chiefly upon the filmy seaweeds covering the tidal rocks, the upland goose is excellent eating, and formed a welcome addition to our fare on board. Loggerheads and other ducks, cormorants, and grebes, were swimming about among the beds of kelp, and oyster-catchers of two kinds, gulls, kelp-geese, and many other birds frequented the shores.

(*Footnote. For a full account of this useful plant, the growth of which in Britain in certain favourable maritime situations has been attempted on a large scale, I would refer to Botany of the Antarctic Voyage by Dr. J.D. Hooker page 384 and plates 136 and 137.)

Meanwhile one of the gauchos rode over from Captain Sulivan's establishment on the main by a ford passable at low-water, and was sent back for a companion to assist him in catching the cattle. He was an old weather-beaten half-bred Pampas Indian of the name of Escalante, whose capability of enduring fatigue and privations of every kind were described as being remarkable even in a gaucho. At length the cattle were collected and driven up, and although eight hundred out of those composing the herd had been reclaimed only three months, yet the whole were easily managed by the two men on horseback, who rounded them in without difficulty upon the summit of a low hill close to the slaughtering-place. A fine dun heifer four years old was the first selected; it was detached from the herd after some trouble, and pursued by both gauchos who, throwing off their ponchos, untwisted the bolas from round the waist, and, after swinging them round the head several times, threw them in succession at the beast's hind legs but without taking effect, as each time the animal stumbled for an instant and the bolas slipped off the legs without becoming entangled. Stooping as he passed to pick up the bolas from the ground, Escalante uncoiled his lasso, and getting upon the cow's left flank, drove her at full speed towards the foot of the hill; when distant about twelve yards from the chase, he threw the lasso which he had kept swinging horizontally and slowly round his head for a few minutes back—the noose fell over the animal's head and neck, catching one of the forelegs, which was instantly doubled up under the throat by the drawing of the noose, when the beast staggered and fell, but rose again immediately on three legs, and attempted to charge the horse and rider. Catching one of the forelegs and neck in this manner is considered the master-stroke in lassoing, being the most difficult of execution: Captain Sulivan told me that a one-armed man at Montevideo, famous for his skill in lassoing, on one occasion for a wager caught nine out of ten bullocks in succession after this fashion. It was admirable to observe the manner in which the horse eased off the shock of bringing up an animal much heavier than itself, and by keeping a strain upon the lasso urged the furious beast onwards to a triangle which had been put up. The other gaucho, Andrez Pelaluya by name, meanwhile was riding up behind, and at length threw his lasso over the heifer's flanks, the slack of the noose falling down upon the ground—in throwing up her heels the hind legs were dexterously caught, when in a moment the beast was dragged over on one side and firmly moored. Leaving the horses to keep up the strain—for the lasso is made fast to an iron ring in the saddle—the riders dismounted, and Escalante drawing out a long knife from his belt and renewing the edge upon a steel which he carried in one boot, quickly despatched the beast. A second heifer was afterwards picked out from the herd and caught by the horns; as the animal, maddened with terror, was galloped past with the lasso at full strain, I must confess that being a novice I did not feel quite comfortable, and instinctively clutched my gun, not being altogether sure that the lasso might not break—but, although no thicker than the little finger, it is of immense strength, being made of plaited hide. This beast was secured and butchered pretty much as in the former instance; the bolas had been thrown at the hind legs, but caught only one, round which the three thongs and balls were so tightly interlaced as to require some patience in extricating them.

While slaughtering the cattle it was amusing to notice the familiarity of the carrion hawks, hundreds of which were collected about, perched upon the little hillocks all round, watching every movement of ours, or hovering overhead within the distance of a few yards. They are the Milvago australis, a bird of which the sexes differ so much in appearance, that they were pointed out to me as distinct species. The settlers and others call them rooks, and another very common carrion bird of the vulture family (Cathartes aura) is known here as the john-crow. On board the ship the sight of some quarters of beef secured to the mizen cross-trees had attracted numbers of these hawks, and upwards of a dozen might have been seen at one time perched upon the rigging, including one on each truck; on shore they made several attacks upon a pile of geese lying near the boat, and although repeatedly driven off with stones, they returned as often to make a fresh attempt.

July 25th.

Yesterday afternoon some of our people employed in cutting grass upon a small island close to the ship, stumbled upon a huge sealion asleep in one of the pit-like recesses among the tussocks. At first it was supposed to be a dead bullock, but the beast on being disturbed rose upon his fore flippers, and, displaying a formidable array of teeth, roared loudly* at the disturbers of his rest, who, being unarmed, rushed helter-skelter to the boat and went off to the ship. They returned immediately with an assortment of pikes, muskets, and pistols sufficient to ensure the destruction of a host of sealions; but after cautiously investing the place, it was discovered that the beast had very prudently got out of the way, nor this morning could he be found by a person who went to make a second search.

(*Footnote. "Sometimes when we came suddenly upon them, or waked them out of their sleep (for they are a sluggish sleepy animal) they would raise up their heads, snort and snarl, and look as fierce as if they meant to devour us; but as we advanced upon them, they always ran away; so that they are downright bullies." Cook's Voyages Volume 4 page 187.)

On this—Peat Islet of the chart—the tussock grass grows in great luxuriance, and to a stranger presents a most singular appearance. Its clusters of stems—frequently upwards of a hundred or more in a bunch—are raised from the ground upon a densely matted mass of old and decayed roots, two or three feet high, from the summit of which the leaves, frequently six feet in length, arch gracefully outwards. The tussock grass has been likened to a palm on a small scale, but altogether it reminded me more of the Xanthorrhoea, or grass-tree of Australia. We saw many seals swimming about among the kelp, and on the shore found the carcases of several which had lately been killed with clubs, each of the skulls having been fractured by a blow at the root of the nose. They were of the kind known here as the hair-seal, the skin of which is of little value. It is still very abundant; but the fur-seal, from the indiscriminate slaughter of old and young for many years back has become scarce, and is now confined to a few favourite localities—rookeries as they are called, a name also applied at the Falklands to any great breeding place of penguins or other seafowl. A few days ago a party of five sealers returned to the settlement after a short absence, with the skins of no less than 120 fur-seals, worth, I was told, twenty-five shillings each.

Here I found two pairs of the sheathbill (Chionis alba) a bird whose place in the system has puzzled ornithologists. It has been variously considered as being one of the galinaceous birds, the pigeons, the waders, and even as belonging to the web-footed order. Its habits are those of the oyster-catchers,* however different the form of the beak, which in the sheathbill is short, stout, and pointed, and enveloped at the base by a waxy-looking sheath. Its feet are like those of a gallinaceous bird, yet one which I wounded took voluntarily to the water and swam off to a neighbouring point to rejoin its mate. Cuvier, besides erroneously mentioning that it is a native of New Holland, states that it feeds on carrion; the stomachs of two which I examined contained seaweed, limpets, and small quartz pebbles. The people here call it the rock-dove, and from its snow-white plumage it forms a conspicuous object along the shores.

(*Footnote. When the above was written I had not seen the remarks on Chionis by M. Blainville, whose anatomical investigation assigns to it precisely the same position in the system—or next the oyster-catchers—which appeared to me to have been indicated by its habits. Voyage de la Bonite Zoologie tome 1 page 107 plate (oiss.) 9.)

We resumed our homeward voyage on July 25th, and thirty-six days afterwards crossed the equator in 24 degrees west longitude. The last pintado left us 240 miles within the tropics to follow an outward-bound vessel. Another petrel much resembling it—a new species with longer wings and different markings, the head, neck, and upper surface being dark chocolate, and the lower parts white—was abundant between the latitude of 46 and 40 degrees South, and between the parallels of 36 and 35 degrees South, Procellaria conspicillata was numerous, but unfortunately I had no opportunity of procuring specimens of either.

Five days after leaving the Falkland Islands, we encountered a very heavy gale, commencing at south-east, and blowing hardest at east, when the barometer was down to 29.264—next day the wind went round to the south-west and moderated. From the latitude of the entrance of the River Plate up to latitude 15 degrees South, we experienced northerly winds between East-North-East and West-North-West, after which we got winds commencing at South-West and merging into the South-East trade, which we may be said to have fairly got in 13 1/2 degrees South latitude and 23 1/2 degrees West longitude, and lost in 6 degrees North latitude, and 22 degrees West longitude. We picked up the North-East trade in latitude 13 degrees North and longitude 24 degrees West and carried it up to latitude 29 degrees North and longitude 37 1/2 degrees West. I mention these particulars as the limits of the trade-winds as experienced by us were considered to differ considerably from what was to be expected at this season of the year. Gulf weed made its first appearance in latitude 24 degrees North and longitude 35 1/2 degrees West but in small quantity, and was last seen in latitude 38 degrees North and longitude 33 1/2 degrees West in detached pieces, mostly dead. About 31 1/2 degrees North and 37 3/4 degrees West it was very plentiful, occurring in long lines from one to fifty yards in width, extending in the direction of the wind. Some pieces which were hooked up furnished on being shaken numbers of a minute univalve shell (Litiopa) many small fish—especially pipe-fish (Syngnathus) and numerous crustacea (of which Planes minuta was the most plentiful) while several delicate zoophytes were encrusted or attached to the weed. In short each little patch of gulf weed seemed a world in itself, affording the shelter of a home to hundreds of minute and wonderful animals.*

(*Footnote. The gulf weed is still regarded as of questionable origin. Has it—unlike all other seaweeds—always existed as a floating plant, or has it been detached by storms from the bottom of the sea and carried by the currents of the ocean into the well defined region it now occupies and out of which it is never met with in any great quantity? Without entering into proofs, the principal of which are its not yet having been found attached to the shore, and the invariable absence of fructification—it seems probable that those botanists are in the right who consider the gulf weed (Sargassum bacciferum) to be merely an abnormal condition, propagating itself by shoots, of S. vulgare, which in its normal state grows upon the shores of the Atlantic and its islands. See note by Dr. J.D. Hooker in Memoirs of Geological Survey of Great Britain volume 1 page 349.)

September 29th.

With only another day's supply of fresh water on board, we were glad this morning to have the islands of Pico and Fayal in sight. The view, as we closed the land, standing in from the south-westward for the roadstead of Horta, was very fine—on our left we had the beautiful island of Fayal rising to the height of 3000 feet, its sides gradually sloping towards a range of maritime cliffs, while the lower grounds, in full cultivation, indicated—along with numbers of neat white-washed cottages and occasional villages—a well peopled and fertile country, contrasting strongly with those from which we had lately returned. To the right was Pico—with the summit of its peak (stated to be 7,613 feet in height) peeping out from a mass of snowy clouds descending almost to the shore—and the centre was occupied by the more distant island of St. Jorge with a portion of Graciosa dimly seen projecting beyond its western end.

After having been for two months cooped up on board ship, I was glad to have a quiet walk on shore. In a ravine at one end of the town it was pleasing to see numbers of old acquaintances among the birds, bringing vividly to my recollection that home which we had now approached so closely. Martins were hawking about, the whitethroat warbled his short snatches of song among the bushes, and blackbirds and starlings flew past. And although engaged in the matter-of-fact occupation of searching for landshells, by turning over the stones, I could not help being struck with the beauty of the terraced walks and overhanging gardens; the beautiful belladonna lily—here run wild in great abundance—made a fine show. At Point Greta the rock pigeons—the original stock of the domesticated race—were flying about in large flocks or sunning themselves on the sea cliffs. A heavy shower of rain, by bringing out the landshells, enabled me to pick up half-a-dozen species of Helix, Bulimus, and Pupa, at the foot of the hedgerows; I was anxious to procure some to ascertain whether any were non-European forms; one was even quite a new species. On a white-flowered convolvulus with succulent leaves, I found numbers of the caterpillars of a large hawk-moth (Sphinx convolvuli) which some ragged urchins who followed me showed great dread of, running away when I picked one up and shouting to me to throw it away, else I should die. One was afterwards brought on board by an English resident—as a very venomous reptile, which had caused three or four deaths during his stay on the island. The recurved horn on the tail has been regarded as a sting, and the poor harmless creature, having once got a bad name, is now by the Fayalese, in the absence of snakes or scorpions, made to supply their place.

The town of Horta contains, I was told, upwards of 10,000 inhabitants. It is prettily situated on the shores of a small bay, extending between two rocky headlands. The landing-place is at the remains of a mole under the walls of Fort Santa Cruz, the only one of numerous ruinous fortifications where a few guns are mounted; even these are in so wretched a condition that the commandant admitted that it would require several hours' preparation before they would be fit to return our expected salute, and seemed glad when told that as a surveying ship we were exempted from saluting the flags of other nations. A sea wall runs along the face of the town; parallel with this is the principal street, with others at rightangles extending up the hill, the narrow streets are clean and well paved—the houses, generally of one storey, are built of tough grey trachyte.

Almost every inch of available ground upon the island of Fayal has been turned to good account: Indian corn is the chief agricultural product. With our usual bad fortune in this respect we were too late for the grapes and the oranges had not yet come in. The lower grounds are divided into small enclosures by stone walls, and subdivided by rows of a tall stout reed (Arundo donax) resembling sugarcane. Although taxes and other burdens are heavy, and wages very low, yet to a mere visitor like myself there appeared none of those occasional signs of destitution which strike one in walking through a town at home, nor did I see a single beggar.

In Fayal and Pico the most careless observer from the anchorage of Horta can scarcely fail to associate the number of smooth conical hills with former volcanic activity; and in looking over Captain Vidal's beautiful charts of the Azores, nearly all the principal hills throughout the group are seen to have their craters or caldeiras. Fayal exhibits a fine specimen of one of these caldeiras in the central and highest part of the island. At an elevation of a little more than 3000 feet, we reached the ridge forming the margin of a circular crater, rather more than a mile in diameter, and 700 feet deep. The outer slope is gradual, but the inner walls are steep, deeply furrowed by small ravines and watercourses, and covered with grass, fern and heath-like bushes. The bottom contains a considerable extent of swampy meadowland, a shallow lagoon, and a small hill with a crater also partially filled with water. The view here is magnificent, enhanced, too, at times by the rolling volumes of mist overhead, at one moment admitting of a peep at the blue sky above, in the next concealing the rim of the crater and increasing in idea the height of its wall-like sides. The caldeira, I may add in conclusion, is said to have been formed during the last eruption of Fayal in 1672, but this statement appears to be very doubtful.

We resumed our homeward voyage on October 5th, and on November 9th, the Rattlesnake was paid off at Chatham, after having been in commission upwards of four years.

...

ACCOUNT OF MR. E.B. KENNEDY'S EXPEDITION FOR THE EXPLORATION OF THE CAPE YORK PENINSULA, IN TROPICAL AUSTRALIA.

In addition to the brief account which already forms part of the Narrative of the Voyage of H.M.S. Rattlesnake, I have thought it would add to the interest of this work and the gratification of its readers, were I to give under a distinct head a detailed history of the exploring expedition conducted by the late Mr. Edmund B. Kennedy, derived from a pamphlet printed in Sydney, and scarcely procurable in this country. It includes the interesting narrative of Mr. W. Carron, the botanist attached to the expedition in question; also the statements of the aboriginal black who witnessed the death of his gallant master—of Dr. Vallack who took an active part in rescuing the survivors—and of Mr. T.B. Simpson who proceeded in search of the remainder of the party, whose fate was still in a measure uncertain, and succeeded in recovering some of Mr. Kennedy's papers.