The Strait of Allas is one of several navigable channels by which ships can pass from the confined waters of the Eastern Archipelago into the Indian Ocean. It divides the island of Sumbawa, famous for possessing the most active volcano in the world, from the island of Lombok. At the eastern end of Lombok, a magnificent peak rises to a height of 12,000 feet, and overshadows the narrow channel beneath with its imposing mass. The effects of scenery were enhanced by a sharp squall, which drove us into the strait at a thrilling speed, under half-lowered canvas. When the squall cleared away the peak of Lombok stood forth clear of cloud, in all its majesty and grandeur, backed by the glorious colours of the evening sky. During the hour of twilight a massive cloud rested motionless in the sky immediately above the peak. Beneath this lofty and imposing canopy, and seen more dimly in the fading light, this solitary mountain presented by turns every feature that is sublime and beautiful in landscape.
Saturday, April 23rd.—To-day proved lovely after the rain, but there was very little wind. At noon we had come 66 miles under steam, and 62 miles under sail. I have felt wretchedly ill for the last few days, and seem to have lost both sleep and appetite. The motion, I have no doubt, has something to do with my indisposition, for we are going close-hauled to a wind from one quarter, and there is a heavy swell on the other, so that we roll and tumble about a great deal without making much progress. Every scrap of the Macassar ice has melted in these three days, instead of lasting three weeks, as did the ice from Singapore. This is a terrible blow, though we are consoled by the thought that the weather will be getting cooler every day now, and that we shall therefore want it less. Unless exceptionally fortunate in making a quick passage, I fear, however, that we shall run short of provisions before reaching our first Australian port, Macassar having proved a miserable place at which to take in stores.
Our Wind-bob
At 4.30 p.m. we found ourselves suddenly, without any warning, in a curiously disturbed stretch of sea. It was like a tidal wave, or a race off a headland, except that there was no tide and no cape, and we were many miles from land. I immediately thought of Wallace and the volcanic waves which he alludes to, especially when I observed that the water was covered with greenish yellow objects, which at a first hasty glance I took for spawn of some kind. We soon had buckets and nets over the side, and fished up some of the floating particles, which proved to be bits of pumice-stone, rounded by the action of the waves, and covered with barnacles from the size of a pin's head upwards. So thickly were they encrusted that it was almost impossible to recognise the original substance at all. The barnacles, with their long cirri projecting and retracting quickly in search of food, gave the whole mass an appearance of life and motion very curious when closely observed in a basin. There were sea-anemones among them, and one little bit of stick, of which a long black snake or worm had scooped out the interior and thus made itself a home. Saribowa, said to be one of the most active volcanoes, is not far distant from the spot where we picked up the pumice-stone.
It is a lovely, clear, starlight night, with no black clouds to threaten coming squalls of wind or rain. The breeze, though not so fair as we could wish, is at any rate cool and refreshing, and the reduced temperature is felt as a great relief to all on board. Even the poor carpenter, who has been ill for some time past, is beginning to look better, though his eyes are still very painful. I am sorry for him, poor man, and for ourselves too, for his services are wanted at every turn just now. We are making all ready for the bad weather, which we may fairly expect to meet with when once in mid-ocean. All the big boats have been got in-board to-day, chairs have been stowed below, the top of the deck-house cleared of lumber and live-stock, cracked panes of glass replaced, battening-down boards looked out, new ropes rove, and all preparations made for real hard sea work. How I wish we were going down the east coast of Australia, inside the barrier-reef, instead of down the stormy west coast! I dread this voyage somehow, and begin even to dislike sailing. Perhaps my depression is partly caused by that stupid boy Buzzo having allowed my favourite lark, which I had brought from Hyderabad, to escape to-day. He sang much more sweetly and softly than most larks, and was a dear little bird, almost as tame as my pet bullfinch. Now he must meet with a watery grave, for he was too far from land when he flew off to reach it.
Sunday, April 24th.—Weather still calm, fine, and hot, but no wind. Our little stock of coal is running very low, for we have been obliged to get up steam again. At 11.30 we had the Litany, at which I was able to be present, on deck. At noon we had steamed 127 miles, and were in lat. 11° 25´ S., long. 116° 39´ E. Tom is getting much better again, but is rather anxious at not having picked up the Trades so soon as he had expected. He now much regrets not having taken more coal and provisions on board, as he fears that the voyage may be unduly prolonged. We had quite a serious consultation to-day with the head-steward on the subject of ways and means, for the strictest economy must be practised as to food and water, and the most must be made of our coal. Oh for another twenty-five tons in reserve!