CHAPTER XVII.
THE EAST COAST.
Friday, August 5th.—At 1.30 a.m. we anchored off Johnstone Point, and at 8 o'clock we hove anchor and proceeded to the mouth of the Fitzroy River. The pilot left us at 10.30, and we proceeded out to sea under sail. There was a strong wind from the south-east, and I was glad to stay in bed all day. We passed through the Cumberland Isles, and Tom had a rather anxious night, as the navigation was very intricate.
Saturday, August 6th.—The morning broke clear and fine, the fresh breeze still continuing. The scenery during the day was lovely, and I was carried into the deck-house in order that I might enjoy it. The views were more like the Inland Sea of Japan than the tropical scenery, made up of cocoa-nut palms, tree-ferns, and coral islands, which I had been looking for. The mountain shapes were very beautiful, as were also the bays and inlets, and the varied colours of the land, sea, and sky gave brilliancy and effect to the landscape. The east coast of Australia at this season of the year is a perfect cruising-ground for yachtsmen. The Great Barrier reef, extending for a distance of 1,000 miles from Swain Reefs to Cape Yorke, protects the coast from the heavy swell of the Pacific. The steady breezes from the south-east are favourable for sailing, especially in the direction in which we are steering.
At 4 p.m. we were off Pine Island, a small islet of the Percy group, on which a light has been established. From Pine Island onwards to the Whitsunday Passage the navigation recalls the experiences of many pleasant summers on the west coast of Scotland. The inner route, which we followed, passes between numberless rocks and islands. The Percy Isles form a distinct group, extending twenty miles from north to south, and eight miles from east to west. To the westward of the Percy Isles a still larger group has received the collective name of Northumberland, the several islands being distinguished by familiar Northumbrian names. Advancing northwards, at a distance of some sixty miles from the Percy group, the Cumberland, Sir James Smith, and Whitsunday groups form a continuous archipelago on the eastern side of the passage. The highest peaks attain an elevation little short of 1,000 feet. The islands are for the most part richly wooded. Some peaks are clothed with timbers to the summit, others are smooth and grassy, a few are bare of vegetation. The rocks are magnificent. Paternoster rises sheer from the water to a height of more than 900 feet.
'Turning from the sea to the mainland, the coast-range at a short distance inland forms a continuous barrier, varying in height from 3,000 to upwards of 4,000 feet. At Whitsunday Passage, through which we passed on the afternoon of August 6th, the line of coast is broken by Cape Conway, which, at its south-eastern extremity, rises to a height of 1,637 feet. A chain of peaks extends northwards from Cape Conway to Mount Drysander, and forms a fine amphitheatre of hills on the western side of the Whitsunday Passage. On the eastern side is a group of islands, of which Whitsunday, the largest, is eleven miles long, while Whitsunday Passage is twenty miles in length. At its narrowest part it is contracted to a breadth of two miles. On the mainland side the passage opens out into the fine natural harbour of Porte Molle. On the eastern side the line of shore is broken by the bays of Whitsunday Island, and the channels which divide it from the smaller islands, by which it is completely surrounded.'
Cape Gloucester was reached in about three hours after we had issued from the Whitsunday Passage. Rounding the cape, we anchored for the night close under the land.
Sunday, August 7th.—The morning dawned clear and bright, and we sent off two men in the dinghy to land on Gloucester Island. They took the dogs for a run ashore, and I asked them to collect what they could in the way of shells or greenery. They did not bring back much of either, but reported that the island was very pretty and had a nice sandy shore, with forests running down almost to the water's edge, and quantities of parrots and parrakeets. We had church at half-past ten, and directly after service went across to Bowen, anchoring a short distance from H.M.S. 'Paluma.' Bowen is a small town, but the harbour is spacious. The sea was rather rough, and we found some difficulty in communicating with the shore; but after lunch all the party landed in the large cutter. I was sorry to hear that Bowen is rapidly dwindling and losing its trade; the inhabitants hope, however, to recover some of their former vitality when once the network of railways is extended to their little town. Later on the officers of the 'Paluma' came on board, and seemed pleased to meet people lately from Europe; for they have been on this station several years, surveying the Barrier Reef. Our own shore party returned late, having much enjoyed their expedition and the long walk. They had picked up a good many curiosities, including one of the largest and finest hawksbill-turtle shells I had ever beheld. It had been most carefully polished by a lighthouse-keeper on one of the reefs, who had caught the creature himself. A great many telegrams were received this evening, all referring to the various kind arrangements proposed for us at Townsville and elsewhere.
Monday, August 8th.—Weighed anchor at daybreak, and were pushed merrily forward by strong S.E. breezes. We sailed swiftly up the coast as far as Townsville—a pretty-looking town of foreign appearance, with its wharves and business-houses close down on the beach, whilst the villas and private residences stand on the little nooks and corners of a hill at the back. The officers of H.M.S. 'Myrmidon,' which was lying in harbour, soon came on board to see us. They had broken their rudder-head outside the Barrier Reef, where they too were hard at work surveying, and had come into Townsville for repairs. The anchorage proved rolly, there being no protection whatever, and I had rather an uncomfortable night.