On the Johnstone River
We were soon outside Mourillyan and past the picturesque mouth of the Johnstone River. Judging from the photographs, the scenery of this river must be very fine, for the sun-pictures represent several high waterfalls pouring volumes of water over dark and perpendicular basaltic rocks. One of the falls is said to be 300 feet high, and there are several cascades with a fall of between 100 and 250 feet. The light breeze from the S.E. carried us on famously. We soon saw the Seymour Range; a little later we found ourselves off the mouth of the Mulgrave River, and by midnight had passed through the narrow channel which divides the Falkland Islands from the mainland at Cape Grafton. We ladies retired early to bed, and even the children acknowledged to being tired; but the gentlemen played whist on deck till a much later hour. The nights are perfect now. The breeze is rather fresh by day when not under the shelter of a protecting coast; but one must remember that if the wind be fresh it is wafting us speedily on our way, and we must not grumble, for we have turned the corner and are now homeward-bound.
About three o'clock this morning we met a steamer going down the coast, and, with the usual fatuity of steamships, she would not make up her mind which way to go until she was close to us, and then ran right across our bows. It is most extraordinary why steamships will not get out of the way of sailing-ships at night. The matter is entirely in their own hands, for the sailing-ship is comparatively helpless. It is quite impossible for the officer on watch to tell at what rate the approaching vessel is moving, and the steamer ought to alter her helm the very instant a sailing-ship is perceived. Our pace is rather rapid, particularly in light winds, and it is probable that the steamer misjudged her distance from us. The more voyages I make the more I feel that the melancholy little paragraphs one only too often sees, headed 'Lost with all hands,' or 'Missing,' are nearly always the result of accidents caused by a bad look-out and careless steering. I often tell Tom it is his duty to report those cases which come to his own knowledge. The instances have been numerous on this voyage alone; but he is too kind-hearted to like to complain, which I consider a mistaken view of humanitarianism.
Sunday, August 14th.—I did not wake till late, and then found we had just passed Cairns Harbour, which is said to be a wonderfully rising place. The soil is good and suitable for sugar, and a railway is being rapidly constructed which will open up the interior of this part of Northern Queensland. The scenery is lovely, especially up the Herberton River, where one of the most magnificent waterfalls in Australia is to be seen.
Navigators
We had service at eleven, but I was only able to listen to the hymns from my cabin. At afternoon service at half-past four I heard every word just as plainly from my bed on deck as I could have done had I been below in the saloon. This has been one of the most perfect days at sea I can remember, and I was carried up early on deck to admire the beautiful coast, with the Macalister Range in the background. At noon to-day we were in lat. 16° 37´ S., long. 145° 47´ E., stealing quietly along under balloon canvas. At one o'clock we passed the entrance to Port Douglas, another young and rising place. Early in the afternoon we were abreast of the lighthouse on the Low Islands, which returned our signals with creditable promptitude, and after sighting Cape Kimberly we found ourselves abreast of the Daintree River, where, I am told, there is some beautiful scenery. A little later Cape Tribulation was passed, where Captain Cook ran his vessel ashore to discover the amount of damage sustained after she had been aground on a coral reef. They are now trying to recover her guns, which are so overgrown by coral that it is likely to prove a difficult job. Divers have been down and have absolutely seen the guns; but if they try to dislodge them with dynamite the result may be the same as at Springsure with the large opal—that they will be blown to pieces. It is interesting to once more read Captain Cook's voyages on the scene of some of his most important discoveries, and to think that many of these peaks, bays, mountains, and inlets were named by him after some more or less memorable incident. Cape Tribulation lies exactly under the Peter Botte, a large and peculiarly shaped mountain. The whole coast here is very like that of Cuba, especially the shape of its mountains and the indentations of its coasts. The sunset was magnificent, and made the mountains look quite volcanic as they rose in the sky against the lurid light, producing red, yellow, and grey tints such as one sees at Vesuvius, Etna, or Stromboli.
This afternoon, as we were looking over the side, Tom and I observed a quantity of a brownish substance floating on the surface of the water. We thought it might be either the outpouring of a neighbouring volcano, or the spawn of some fish, sponge, coral, or algæ. We drew up several buckets of this discoloured water, and on closer inspection found the floating matter to be a small sponge which exists in larger pieces at a considerable depth below, but on reaching the surface changes to a sort of powder, which reunites again and forms a filmy track for a long distance.