Letters from Australia to family and friends at home
Chapter 6. Gold fever reaches Brighton - More Plans to
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Chapter 6. Gold fever reaches Brighton - More Plans to Emigrate. It took time for the news about the discoveries in Australia to reach England, but when it did, another gold rush began. In contrast to the earnest and prayerful discussions at Ebenezer and the decision to set up a community in Australia for a handful of families seeking true religious freedom, the second party of prospective emigrants from Brighton set about things in a business-like way with an open invitation to the whole town to try their luck at the diggings. The 1852 Town Hall meeting was an extraordinary event. First there had been a public advertisement, announcing that the meeting was “for the purpose of taking into consideration the subject of emigration to Australia.” The Gazette of April 22 gave a full account of the meeting at which “the large room…was crowded to suffocation.” Mr Thatcher was called to take the chair and he gave a long and rousing speech in favour of this “land of Goshen, a land flowing with milk and honey (interjections were heard: Oh, oh!)…a land full of gold, a land full of cattle (here Mr Thatcher was so carried away that he spoke of the “fleeces on their backs, and no one to shear it”)…a land calculated to make life comfortable and where the blessings of Providence flowed to relieve individual necessities.” Coming to more practical things Thatcher spoke of a plan for reaching the colony cheaply by chartering a whole ship and buying all the provisions in bulk before sailing. The ship would cost £2,200, so 200 persons could be accommodated at £11 per head, while an individual share of the provisions would amount to £6, bringing the total, including fittings, at £1 a head to £18. Even better, they could also carry merchandise to bring in £500 and reduce the £18 to £15.10s. Of course it did not work out quite this way. A Committee had been set up and letters addressed to shipping companies, deposits were requested from prospective emigrants and all might have been well, but a few weeks later Messrs. Marshall and Co., owners of the Statesman, informed the Brighton hopefuls that only 50 places would be available and bookings would have to be made on other ships. The Hebrides and the Delgany were suggested. Mr Tankard, who was in business as a painter, gave those present information and advice received from his two brothers, who were already in Australia. Mr Franklyn made his speech about the state of employment there, and Mr Loveridge produced a book (price 2s.6d) by Captain John Austin about his visit to the gold districts. Mr Cox (“a working man”) strongly urged on the meeting the necessity of emigration on account of the state of the labour market at home; he said that out of 12,000 journeymen bakers in London only 8000 were in full-time employment. So the project gradually began to take shape. By the end of May there were plans for a meeting to take place at the Regent Tavern (the landlord, William Wight, had more information from the owners of the Statesman and more advice from his brothers “and others in Australia.”) In response to numerous enquiries from those present he made some suggestions about clothing for the voyage and for the colony, warning parties “not to encumber themselves with more than was absolutely necessary.” He also “strongly recommended all that could do so to provide themselves with India rubber beds; they were not only more wholesome on board ship, but when uninflated, would take up little room. The bed and pillows could be obtained for 50s.” He finished with one cheering piece of news: “his brother, although of weakly constitution and a cripple, had succeeded in obtaining by his own labour £226 worth of gold in less than three weeks.” The Statesman was due to leave London on Wednesday June 23, 1852, to arrive at Portsmouth, where the Brighton party was to join her two days later. A big farewell party had been held at the Regent Tavern just over two weeks before. The evening was “devoted entirely to conviviality” with glees sung by the Brighton glee singers, as well as songs “appropriate to the occasion.” In the interval between farewell visits and packing those departing must surely have found time to visit the Town Hall where a Diorama of the Diggings was being exhibited, and to attend a lecture given on Tuesday the 15th by Mr Samuel Mossman, illustrated by “Scenes of the Recently Discovered Gold Mines in Australia.” It was accompanied by a Map of the Country, 13ft. by 9ft, and models of gold specimens. One rather desperate man (he was in fact James Bickford, who was to come to an untimely end in the colony) was still trying to get rid of his stock of jewellery. He took out an advertisement: “Selling off! Selling off at half price. Dissolution of Partnership. In consequence of leaving for Australia, the whole of the Splendid Stock of Watches and Jewellery must be sold at a tremendous sacrifice. For a few days only. 70 King’s Road. N.B. A number of Revolving Pistols for Sale.” A fortnight later they were gone. The Hebrides in fact left before the Statesman. The party that travelled down to join the ship at Portsmouth was very unlike that which had left from Ebenezer with Juniper and Wood. Apart from the middle-aged Alwin and his wife and seven children (the eldest was 12) there were very few wives, let alone children. The Gazette reported on “about a hundred mechanics and tradesmen’s sons” making for the new colony of Victoria, and mentioned the “party of mechanics employed at the Railway who intend going out together.” (It may be more than a coincidence that earlier in 1852 ― in February and March ― there had been an engineers’ strike at Brighton Station, in support of the Amalgamated Society of Engineers, as a result of which twelve men were given notice of dismissal.) These emigrants were almost all young single men ― “respectable tradesmen and mechanics of the town”― filled with a spirit of adventure and optimism as they thought of the fortunes to be made at the Diggings. Even before the second party of emigrants had left Brighton, gold fever excited the local expectations of townspeople. The Gazette reported on April 22 a curious and laughable piece of news.:- The unearthing of some glittering yellow sand by workmen engaged in digging in a field beyond Kemp Town, on Tuesday, gave rise to a rumour that Brighton, imitating the example of Australia, had invented a California for itself. Numerous pedestrians started for the “diggings”; but the only tangible result seems to have been a larger consumption than usual of the XX of “mine host” at the Abergavenny. Rumour says that his cellar became as dry as the walk to the “diggings” had rendered his customers. Not everyone took such a light-hearted view of the proceedings. Emigration News, in the local papers, like reports of lectures and sermons on the subject, gave rather a mixed picture. There were, it was true, opportunities but there were also difficulties and dangers. There was besides much concern from clerics and others that moral dangers were even more perilous than physical ones. The voices of warning and lamentation became much stronger at the time the second party of Brightonians prepared to take ship for Australia. The previous quotation from the Gazette suggests that for many Brightonians the idea of temperance was not uppermost in their minds. Nevertheless the Temperance Society was doing its best to urge sobriety on intending emigrants:- Brighton Gazette. April 29th 1852. Temperance and the “Gold Diggings.” A lecture was delivered by Mr White, at the Town Hall, to the members of the Brighton Temperance Society, on the “Gold Diggings” in Australia and California and their moral effects on the country. The room was well attended. Mr Johnson took the chair; and after a temperance melody was sung, introduced the lecturer…. To many gold was not a blessing but a curse… He did not wish to prevent them going to the gold regions;…. but if they did go to Australia, let them go with their minds made up to soberness, frugality, and a proper use of their gains…He concluded his address by urging the necessity of total abstinence. The audience were chiefly of the working classes, among whom great excitement at present prevails with regard to emigration; and the Chairman had frequently to rise to order in consequence of the disapprobation evinced by parties evidently not members of the Temperance Society. The meeting concluded with a short address from the Chairman, and then a temperance melody. If any prospective emigrants had had time to read the Gazette published on June 3, they might have seen two letters written in Australia a few months earlier, and sent on to the editor by Charles Thomas of Rye. Any optimistic digger might well have thought again before taking off for the goldfields where Henry Roberts met his end. They would, however, have been cheered, and happy to be convinced, by the letter to Mr Ellis, published on July1st. By this time though they were a week or so out to sea. Brighton Gazette Thursday June 3rd 1852 To the Editor of the Brighton Gazette Middle Street, Rye, May 27th 1852 Sir – As the news from the gold mines is at present occupying much of the public attention, I have enclosed you two letters, lately received from Sydney, which, together, give a brief description of the life and death on the “Diggings” and show that “all is not gold that glitters;” but there is a dark side as well as a bright one there. The first letter is from a nephew of mine, a young sailor 23 years of age, and the other is from my brother, who has resided in Australia for the last ten years, informing us of the death of the young sailor, which happened a few weeks after he wrote his letter….. Your obedient servant Charles Thomas. Turon River, September 11th, 1851 Dear George, - I am sure you have been expecting a letter from me before this; but I thought I would wait and see how things went on before I wrote. We were ten days on our journey, and a splendid specimen of travelling we had; for you know our drays started from Sydney before we did. We overtook them three days after we left, and then came the pleasure of going to the diggings. The roads being bad, and so mountainous, for fear our horses would be knocked up, we assisted them all we could. So when we came to a very steep hill, having lots of spare rope and lashings, we soon put ourselves in harness, and, being twelve in number, I assure you we did what we call a ‘ripping stroke’ towards getting up the hill. And then came the down - hill work. We had to hang back all we could, for fear she would go too fast; but the worst pinch we had was going down a hill about two miles in length. The mountain is called Razorback, it is about two miles from the Turon diggings. We first went down with the draymen to see what it was like. The first thing we met were two dead horses, which had been killed by the capsizing of a dray; a little farther on was a dray turned topsy – turvy; and a little below that were two drays with their axle-trees broken. Well, you may be sure this made us begin to scratch our heads, and ask one another “How are we going to get down here safely?” After a long consultation we agreed to bring the things down on our backs, a little at the time; and then assist the horses with the empty drays. I assure you this was the worst road I ever saw for a vehicle of any kind to go on. It is not only steep, but it is all sideways as well; and what made it more pleasant, it was snowing and blowing all the time we were carrying our cargo down on our backs. But, after all, we got everything down safe, horses and all; we reloaded again, and off we went to the diggings. And to make a long story short, it was ‘going ober de mountain’ in reality, for what with pulling, and holding back, and pushing up behind, I was quite glad when the journey was over. We soon picked a place on the river and began to work. We opened a hole large enough to bury a house in; but sorry to say, found nothing near enough to clear our expenses at present. We still live in hopes of finding some of the precious metal yet; and if not we will come to Sydney and go to sea again. It will be all the same one hundred years hence; certainly I should like to clear my expenses, which are about ten pounds; and then I would not care so much. There are plenty of people close to us who are making that in one day; but it’s like a lottery, some have good luck and others have bad, and I’ve no doubt that I shall be one among the latter. You would laugh if you were up here to see such a rocking of cradles; it’s a fine thing to bring a single man’s hand in, for he cannot tell what might happen some time or other. We might have to rock something else instead of rocking dirt to clean gold. Many is the man who wishes he had never seen the diggings; he gets bad luck, and perhaps has not been used to such hard work, and what gripes a good many is the mode of living in the bush. Most of them have been used to a good soft bed and feather pillow; but instead of that they get branches of trees for beds and a log of wood with an old jacket or shirt over it for a pillow, and our tents are after the form of the gypsies at home. This kind of a house they cannot live in; so they get disgusted with the diggings and go home to Sydney again to their different occupations. Johnny Trots and counter jumpers are completely dished when they come here; the pick-axe raises blisters on their hands; they get wet through now and again; and, not being used to hard work, they get real objects of pity. If some of them were in California they would starve; but it is different here, for six days’ good hard walking will bring them to Sydney. I intend to stay here until my provisions are done; and then, if I have not earned enough to buy more, I shall sell off and come to Sydney, for I am sure seamen’s wages will be good in the summer. I am very comfortable as regards my situation in one respect. I am my own master, work when I like, sleep when I like, and can return to Sydney when I like; so when I get tired of gold-digging I am not bound to stop longer than I like. I am enjoying very good health; all I want to complete my comforts and wishes, is to find a few nuggets of gold, five or six pieces the size of a flat-iron would satisfy me. I would then ship myself for home in a crack; so you see I am easily satisfied………….. Henry Roberts. To George Becker, mate, Mr Thomas’s Post-Office Sydney, N.S.W. Botney Street, Red Fern, Nov. 24, 1851 My dear Brother and Sister, ― It is my painful duty to inform you of the death of your dear son, poor Henry Roberts, which happened on the 30th of October, 1851, at the Turon River, after a week’s illness of the dysentery, which turned to typhoid fever. After doing the last sad duties to one that I was very much attached to, in the best way possible under such circumstances, and what with the worry of mind over exertions, I fell ill myself, (our partner, Mr Harris, had been poorly, but was got better,) and we started for home with little hopes that I should ever reach it alive, but thanks be to God for his mercy, I did by travelling night and day; but I was nearly dead and I remained in greatest danger for some days. Dr Jenkins gave but little hopes, from the great exertions I had undergone, that I should ever recover; and now I am in such a weak state, that I have been unable to write before, or I should have done it. Poor Henry left his things at two or three places in Sydney; and a few pounds in the Bank, which I will endeavour to get as soon as I am able to go into Sydney, which I hope to do in a few days; and after I have settled with the doctor, and for the funeral, etc, I will send what money I can give to you, at the first opportunity. (I am so faint that I cannot write any more now.) November 25.― I will try to write a little more. Henry came up to the Turon some time after me; I was much surprised to see him; he told me that all hands had left the ship he sailed in. He came up with two men as partners; they were strangers to me; they were digging about five miles from where I was; but in eight or nine days they came up alongside of my party. They did not do much there; and in about five or six weeks afterwards they left to go back to Sydney, not being satisfied. As my party was going to break up in a week, not having done any thing, some were going back to Sydney, others to fresh places, so I and one of our party joined with Henry to try our luck a little longer. We worked very hard for three or four weeks, and then we were worked out. We then went to look for another place; but not finding one to suit us, we agreed to purchase part of a claim near to our tent. We gave £12 for it. There was a great deal of labour to do before we could get at the gold. We went to work with good hope that we should now be paid for our labour, as we were sure the gold was there. After we had worked clearing off the top stuff, for two or three days, poor Henry was taken ill. As I had been doing some work for a doctor in Oakey Creek, I went to him to try and get him to come and see poor Henry, but he did not like to come, as he said he did not come there to practise, but as I had obliged him by altering his cradle, he would come to oblige me. He came every day and sometimes twice a day until his death. I went up to the doctor three times every day for medicine, or to tell him how he was. I had to cross the river every time ― sometimes I got very wet. Mr Harris always stopped with Henry while I was away. We did all it was in our power to do for him. For the last few days we had to give up work altogether. We only took about three shillings worth of gold from our new claim. Poor Henry was quite resigned; he said if I would lay down and die with him he would not care; but I told him I had left one in Sydney depending on me, what would she do? Ah, he says, your dear wife, she has always been like a sister to me. I shall never see her, or my dear mother, sister or any of them I have left at home, any more. I asked him if I could do any thing in particular for him. He said. No, only after I had paid all the expenses he had caused, to send what money I could to his dear mother and sister. I told him we hoped he would get better yet, and I then washed him up, and we made up his bed, as he thought he should go to sleep a little. In about two hours after he became troubled to breathe. He took my hand and bid me good bye, and that he would leave all to me, and I must do the best I could, as he had done with this world. I saw there was a change for the worse, so I started off for the doctor, as fast as I could run, but it was all of no use. I ran back and did all the doctor told me, but he went off like one in a gentle slumber. I prayed with him till the last minute: he was quite sensible and seemed happy: it was just about sundown when he breathed his last. We were very much cut up, so that we did not know what to do; we seemed almost lost with what had happened; and after we had shed tears, Mr Harris went down to the Commissioner to let him know, and to see if there was any consecrated ground that we could bury him in: but he said there was none, and that we must bury him in the best place we could find that was not likely to be disturbed. It was a long way, and very bad travelling at night. It was very late when he got back. I did the best I could for the poor boy while he was gone. We were up all night. At peep o’day we went and chose a spot for his grave. It is on a ridge at the back of the river, at the foot of a large box tree. Mr Harris got some of the miners to help him do it (they dug down to the rock), while I and another made his coffin. I had much trouble to get the boards for it. I sent nearly three miles for them, and quite a favour to have them and pay six times the price I should in Sydney. We got all the things that we wanted better than we expected. I went up to the Stores and got them to lend me the British flag for a pall. He was carried to the grave by sailors and miners. Mr Harris read the burial service; and a good many followed him out of respect. It was a sad day for us. We put a large piece of quartz at the head and foot, and I cut his name, and age, and the date in a board and let it into the tree, and nailed it fast, so that it will remain for many years, for no one will cut the tree down when they see that. I wish I could draw, I would send you a sketch of it, for it is always before my eyes. I will write again as soon as I get all things settled. My Polly joins me in kind love to you all. From your affectionate brother, E.Thomas. Mr Nelson Thomas Ore, near Hastings, Sussex Brighton Gazette July 12t 1852 The following is an extract from a letter just received by Mr Ellis, of 7, Upper North Street, Brighton from Fort Philip, Australia. Melbourne, February 15th, 1852. In one hour I picked up 13 ounce weight of gold on the surface, that was after a heavy rain, and I hope in two or three years I shall see and remain in old England, during the remainder of my days; that is within a quarter of an hour’s ride of town, but not till I can drive my pair in hand, for I would never think of seeing my native shores till then. I purpose bringing home with me specimens of gold and precious stones, which I have now already in hand. In a few months I also anticipate the pleasure of forwarding you a box of gold; shall insure the same, as I presume the price is £3.17s.10½ per ounce; the figure here is £3.5.10d. The expense of sending it to London will be about 4s 8d per ounce; I have 123 ounces I bought for £2.8s.6d per ounce 470 miles up in the interior of New South Wales. The whole colony is in the greatest excitement; thousands are making their fortunes and returning to England, and why should it not soon be my turn? In fact, there is supposed to be gold all over the country, more or less. Provisions are extravagantly high, and every thing in proportion; a fine speculation for single men to emigrate. - should have come with me – it is not too late now. Messrs T. and Co. always know where I am, as they have done all my business for me since I have been in the Colony, but should Mr L. come, write previous to T. and Co; but don’t be guided by me; if he should not succeed, he must not throw the stigma on me. I will give him the best advice I can, always gratis, or any thing that lays in my power to perform, as you would do the same for me, and have done. I well know and feel myself proud in having such a friend and relation, 16,000 miles off, to show me such kindness. More news when I write again – have sent newspapers. Accept of my respects to Mrs E. and cousins, and not forgetting yourself and Mr L., and hope all well. Your affectionate cousin, D. Ellis. Mr O’s brother is dead – left the letter in a party’s hands to give the widow. (Excuse this indifferent scrawl – so busy, busy.) 
Ophicleide. See page 48 This description of the “Giant” Ophicleide of Monsieur Prospere was published in the Illustrated London News in 1843. William Wigney’s instrument would have been considerably smaller. Chapter 7. The Voyage of the Statesman 1852. Charles Dickens was a great propagandist in favour of emigration. In his weekly journal, Household Words for Saturday July 17 1854 he published an article by John Capper which gives a lively account of the scenes aboard a (fictitious) emigrant ship leaving London for Australia. Entitled “Off to the Diggings!” it begins by questioning how a future historian would decide whether June 1851, or June 1852, was the more exciting and interesting period: At Midsummer of the former year, Englishmen were rushing in tens of thousands to London to witness the great wonder of the day at Hyde Park. Midsummer of the present year is sending quite as many, and more, of our countrymen away from London – to say nothing of Liverpool and other places – as fast as sailing ships and steam vessels can carry them, to join in the Golden Fair in Australia…. 1852 was in fact the peak year for emigration to the new colony of Victoria. Of the 290,000 who went there, 200,000 paid their own fares. Among these were the Brighton gold seekers. On Wednesday 23 June 1852 the Statesman sailed down the Thames from London, arriving at Portsmouth two days later. She was under the command of Captain G.B Godfrey. Waiting at Portsmouth to join her were about fifty of the Brightonians who planned to emigrate to Australia in response to news of the gold discoveries in Victoria. Not all those who applied to sail on the Statesman could be accommodated, so others left at around the same time on the Hebrides or the Delgany. A few found berths on the Calcutta, the Washington Irving, the Africa, or the Mary Harrison. Probably the last to leave was Jonathan Streeter, on board the Strathfieldsaye which departed in 1853. This was not the first trip of the Statesman to Australia. She was a new ship when she sailed from Plymouth in November 1849, and made a great impression on a reporter from the Plymouth Herald as she left. The account was re-published in the Brighton Herald a few days later (1 December, 1849) and is worth reproducing here:-
The passengers on the Statesman were in fact very fortunate that the ship was under the command of Captain Godfrey. He was an experienced and highly skilled master mariner and one of the first to attempt the newly recommended “Great Circle” route to Australia. The usual passage for shipping was via Cape Town, where a stop was often made to take on fresh water and provisions, and then to follow a straight line on the map across the South Indian Ocean to Australia. But the earth is in fact a sphere and the shortest distance between two points on the globe follows the curve. It was John Thomas Towson, the scientific examiner of mates and master mariners at Liverpool, who first calculated that the Great Circle route would save up to one thousand miles on the passage between England and Australia. The ship would set sail towards the mid-Atlantic where the prevailing winds would sweep it well south of Cape Town. From there it would continue as far south as possible and as near to Antarctica as the captain dared to go, as many risks lay ahead. There were dangers of storms and high seas and some ships lost their masts and foundered. The greatest fear was of sailing head-on into an iceberg during the night. Ships’ navigators were assisted by Towson’s “Tables to Facilitate the Practice of Great Circle Sailing,” published in 1847, though it was three years before his scheme was adopted. Captain Godfrey was one of the first masters with the high degree of proficiency required to follow it, and in 1850 he reached Adelaide in 77 days in the Constance. The Statesman in 1852 was bound for Port Phillip, Victoria, which was further away. After 86 days from England, Captain Godfrey brought the whole of his ship’s company― passengers and crew ― safely to land at a time when few arriving masters could report no deaths. In fact there were even two extra passengers to be disembarked ― babies born on board during the crossing. Three years before, on board the Harpley, none of the Juniper and Wood party had, as far as we know, kept a diary, and letters written later, and John Chandler’s reminiscences, are all we have to recall aspects of life on board. Happily for us, one of the Brighton party on the Statesman did keep a record for much of the voyage and her account is given in the letters which follow. Martha Mudge was travelling out with her husband, Daniel, a carpenter by trade, and her two brothers, George and William. The ship’s passenger list names George Wigney, aged 27, as an engineer, and William aged 26, as a labourer (though in fact George was probably a printer). Their father, G.A. Wigney, came from a well known brewing and banking family in Brighton. He, his family and their friends must have been enthralled by Martha’s description of flying fish, crossing the line ceremonies, stormy seas and ice in the cabin. Her letter enables us to share in life on board the Statesman in 1852. Brighton Gazette. Thursday December 30th 1852 My dear Father, - It was my intention to make a daily memorandum, but sea-sickness and the excessive closeness below obliging me to remain on deck, prevented my doing as I could have wished. We left Plymouth Sunday afternoon, June 27th, with a strong head wind, which caused the vessel to lay much on one side, and we were tossing about two or three weeks, and altogether in a deplorable condition. The weather was bright, or I know not what we should have done. Brother William was not sick long, George entirely escaped. My husband and self were very bad for a long time. We could not take our food ‘tween decks, but were obliged to sit above, and lie down immediately after taking anything. Gradually, as we approached the line, and the sea became calmer, we lost our sickness; and now, although the motion of the vessel (when great) causes an unpleasant nervous sensation, I do not expect a return. Having been at sea two months, many little incidents I meant to mention have slipped my memory. One I cannot forget though, which is this:- July 16th There was a cry of “Sail a head.” All crowded to the bulwarks of our vessel. As we gained upon the distance that lay between us I shall never forget the intense interest that seemed portrayed in every countenance. All were silent when alongside, while our captain made numerous enquiries (which he roared through a trumpet). The vessel was a Dutch one, named Caroline Hayns from Rotterdam to Batavia. There followed alternate cheering one another; but darkness coming on, a blue light, a few rockets, a tune from our little band, and we were compelled to part. I cannot convey to you how reluctantly, for although it was a meeting of strangers, yet on the ocean there is a feeling of loneliness as if banished from all that is natural and congenial to us, and the sight of a freight of fellow beings in the same position as ourselves is calculated to call forth all the best feelings of human nature. July 18th (Sunday morning) Passed the Island of Palma, leaving it to the east of us. The mountains are very high. It was calm, and being just sunrise, I opened my window, fearing we should pass before I could dress, but the proximity to land causing a swell, myself and bed were as completely drenched as if precipitated into the sea. But as salt water does not give cold, and we expect all sorts of misfortunes here, I did not trouble much about it, but shall never forget Palma. Next sighted Madeira and Cape DeVerde Islands. But the most important matter was “crossing the line,” which took place Wednesday, August 4th. First, a car, containing Neptune, wife and children, was drawn up the side of the vessel (they were sailors and boys secretly conveyed into it). They proceeded to the cabin, and, in a pompous speech informed the captain that if he wished the winds and waves to be propitious to him, he must allow them to perform a few of their ceremonies on board. He made an appropriate reply, but begged they would be lenient with the novices. They then proceeded round the deck, accompanied by the band, which consisted of William’s ophleclide [more correctly ophicleide] and three more instruments. A sail was ready filled with water at the side of deck, at the edge of which a seat was fixed, and the juniors among the crew were seated and begrimed with a mixture of pitch, etc; and although a large razor was passed over their faces, yet they were not hurt; but when finished they were, one after another turned into the sheet, out of which they scrambled as soon as they could. The passengers enjoyed the fun; and about 30 of them (Mr Lackey among the rest) got served the same. That over, water was thrown about in all directions, and every one was wet to the skin. Those females who wished to witness the sport were allowed on the poop, (a privilege in ordinary allowed only to cabin passengers), but they did not altogether escape, as a few stray buckets full found their way up there. The captain watched the sport, as temper is sometimes lost on these occasions; but it all ended in good humour. The heat at the time of year we crossed the line was not so great as at a few degrees north of it, and the heat is not nearly so intense as the representations we had heard of it. There was a dreadful closeness and offensive smell between decks when the water was being given out; but I found lying in the shade on deck very comfortable and seldom too hot. We had lively evenings, the band frequently played and while many danced we sat up in the bulwarks and watched the flying fish, and a kind of a phosphorent (sic) fish that used to sparkle against the side of the ship. There was a shark drawn up the poop one Sunday morning. It came floundering along, and leaped down upon our deck, much to the alarm of many, but the sailors soon put an end to his capers. They cut it up with long knives and some parts were cooked, but it tasted very coarse. The next Sunday a young man, sitting very near me, was playing with some gunpowder, and displaying his pistol, having a cigar in his mouth. By some means the powder flask ignited, and it was quite a providence he did not lose his arm, and we our eyes, but the wind blew in a contrary direction, and he escaped with mutilation of his fingers. The captain was very angry, as the rule is to give up all powder to his care, and it was understood all had done so; but there are a great many rules not strictly attended to, this one in particular. All private lamps are ordered out at ten at night, and all are expected to be quiet. The married people generally attend to this, but there are six cabins opposite, with six single men in each of them and they are often leaping about, quarrelling or playing cards half the night. I think in most vessels these are put in steerage, but as there is such a majority of men it could not be otherwise here. Out of more than 300 passengers there are only 40 females, children inclusive. In the intermediate, in the cuddy they are more evenly divided. September 17th I am just well enough to write a little additional matter. The last three weeks has been very trying. I have been confined to my bed, and am still very weak. Hope revives when I think how soon we may expect to land. The weather the last month has been very trying. Captain Godfrey chooses “Great Circle sailing”, as it is called, and runs down south of Kergueland, or Island of Desolation, and it being winter here, the cold has been intense, snowstorms and the wind blowing as I have never heard. The sailors are obliged to have ropes to walk by on deck, and it is quite dangerous for passengers to go above. Some have had bad falls, and one dislocated his shoulder, which was set again with very great difficulty, but none have lost their lives. Many passengers have laid in bed, but keep themselves warm we could not, as the ice was half an inch thick in our cabins. The surgeon allowed one pint of porter per day from the ship’s stores, or I do not know what would have become of me……. About ten days ago, we had a tremendous squall. It was at noon; and we were flying before the wind. Suddenly the loud voice of the captain was heard. All was hurry; the sails could not be furled before a storm of snow and wind caused a frightful heaving of the vessel; the topsails were carried away, and minor injuries sustained. The passengers (doctor with the rest) all ran to assist. It was for a short time very alarming. All next night we went under nearly bare poles, and for a few days it was very squally. I was too ill to see the water at the roughest; but I have seen the waters form an almost perpendicular wall on one side. The sight at such times is more awfully grand than I could ever have imagined, and one I should rather witness while on land. Our bed being the short way of the ship is very uncomfortable, for when the wind is aft the vessel rolls, and our feet rise, then sink so low that we can scarcely retain our position; indeed some have not been fortunate to do so. One Saturday night a large wave struck one side of the bows of the ship; and about ten men were dropped with the bottom of their beds and bedding on to their neighbours in the bunks below. There being but one dim lamp, you can imagine the confusion and fright that ensued. Fortunately, none were hurt, but the carpenter had a good Sunday’s job. At first there was a great deal of sport in this front part of the vessel; the sailors would throw down a pig in the night. The weather was fine and each one brought out a little stock, which kept up their spirits…… Sundays are particularly dull; there are prayers in the morning in fine weather, but there have been none lately. Our thoughts and conversation then turn more particularly toward the little spot called home, rendered doubly dear by the increasing distance that lies between us. 21st September. I can scarcely collect myself to write, that land, the long looked for land, is seen at last. We are near the coast of Cape Otway. The wind is not very favourable, but we hope to take in the pilot by tomorrow. It is 86 days since we left Portsmouth. 22nd September. The wind changed last night. We rounded the lighthouse at Cape Otway; the pilot is on board, and we shall soon be in Portland head, I hope. One thing I must not omit. There has not been one death; there has been one little girl born; Mr Tankard’s sister, Mrs Hardy, is the mother. Give my love to Mrs Sharp and family, also all friends. Glad to hear of anyone. Care of Mr Juniper, ironmonger, Swanston Street, Melbourne. PS Necessary for comfort for intermediate passengers:- Filterer, spirits and port wine, lamp, portable saucepan and kettle, tin plates, baking dish, bowl etc; flour, biscuits, gingerbread, semolina, arrowroot, sago – all these must be in tin cases; for a couple, 4lb raisins, 4lb currants, 6lb sugar, 2lb or 3lb coffee, 1lb tea, small jar of butter, salted over, after crossing the line it will get solid and good; Dutch cheese keeps best; some ham or bacon, nice relish for breakfast, which we were allowed to cook (little tobacco for the cook); jam, onions, baking powders for bread, effervescing drinks, seidlitz powders, few pills, lamp oil and cotton, eggs greased and put in salt, some tins of preserved meat, little suet, Normandy pippins; warm wrappers and clothes; anything is good enough to wear. 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