Cooktown
Tuesday, August 16th.—Awoke about seven, feeling much refreshed, and went early on deck. Many visitors came on board, only a few of whom I was able to see. All the rest of the party again landed, and at twelve o'clock Tom and I went on board the 'Harrier.' I was carried on deck, and then managed to get below to look at the new alterations. Captain Pike had some pretty watercolour drawings and a good collection of curios, picked up at various islands. These were capitally arranged in the cabin, and looked very nice. He kindly gave Mabelle and me some beautiful shells, as well as some gorgonias growing on a pearl-shell. In the afternoon we went out for a drive. On leaving the town we followed the same road as yesterday, after which we came to a fairly good bush-road or track, running through a pretty country, with some fine trees and a great variety of foliage. We passed one or two nice stations, with comfortable, deep-verandahed houses, and tidy gardens and orchards. Ultimately we plunged into the regular bush, where the sandflies and mosquitoes began to trouble the rest of the party; but my invaluable eucalyptus oil saved me. Nothing could exceed the care our driver took of me; his chief anxiety was that I should not suffer a single jolt beyond what the roughness of the road necessitated. He came out here when he was twenty-one years old, and rushed at once to the gold-fields; found 1,100l. in three days, on an alluvial field 300 miles inland from Sydney; lost it two days after, by putting it into a speculative mining concern which failed the day after he parted with his money. He then became a gentleman's coachman at Sydney, and had several other mining and reefing adventures on some fields near the Johnstone River. All went well with him until he had an attack of fever, which laid him up for eighteen months, and not only absorbed all his own little savings but that of his comrades, to whose kindness he was indebted for the positive necessaries of life. Now he is coachman at the largest hotel here, and as soon as he has scraped a little money together, intends going off to the Croydon diggings, where I hope he will be fortunate, and trust he will invest his hard-earned money more satisfactorily. Owing to our late departure we had no time to stop, as we had intended, to see the tomb erected over the remains of poor Mrs. Watson, her child, and Ah Sam the Chinaman, who are buried here. The story of their death is a sad one, and we listened with interest to the circumstances as related by Mr. Fitzgerald; which are briefly these.
Elizabeth Wilson, who came originally from Rockhampton, was the wife of Mr. Watson, the owner of some small schooners engaged in the bêche-de-mer trade, whose head establishment was at the Lizard Island. Some time in 1881 she persuaded her husband to take one of his vessels on a tour of inspection, leaving her with a child of two years old and a couple of faithful Chinamen in charge of the Lizard Island. Mr. Watson set forth very reluctantly, only yielding to his wife's assurances that with firearms in the house, which she well knew how to manage, she would be in no danger. Soon after her husband's departure, however, the natives came across from the mainland in great force, killed one of the Chinamen, and wounded the other. When it became dark the brave woman hastened to provision one of the square iron tanks used for boiling down the bêche-de-mer, and embarked in it with her babe and wounded retainer. Nothing could be more clumsy than such a craft, 4 feet long by 3 feet wide, and perhaps 1½ feet high. She put water-bottles on board, and with only a shawl for sail and an oar to steer with set forth on the calm sea, towing, however, a little dinghy behind, in case of her iron vessel proving too unmanageable. The trade-wind carried the tank thirty miles out to sea to one of the Hawick group; but she was prevented from landing there by the threatening aspect of the blacks in possession. She drifted a little further to a neighbouring island, where the spring tide carried the tank up so far inland that she could not launch it again. This was the more terrible, as a very few miles further would have brought her to the lightship. There were no blacks on the island, to which the tank had been carried. Mrs. Watson had sufficient provisions, but apparently no water. They all must have died of thirst just before an abundant rainfall. Three weeks later, when their bodies were discovered, there were pools of fresh water around them. In the meantime Mr. Watson called at the lightship and recognised his own dinghy, which had drifted thither a few days before. He immediately set out, accompanied by Mr. Fitzgerald, and soon reached the little island, where he found his wife's body, one arm still clasping her child, and the other hand holding a loaded revolver. Her diary lay close by, and told the sad story almost up to the last moment. The dead Chinaman lay near the tank. The bodies were put into rude shells and taken to Cooktown, where they were buried. The poor woman's diary and the tank are preserved in the Museum at Brisbane.
Thursday, August 18th.—We gave Cape Sidmouth a wide berth and passed Night Island, going close to Cape Direction and Restoration Island, which latter is exactly opposite the narrow opening in the Barrier Reef through which Bligh found his way in 1780, in an open boat, after the Mutiny of the 'Bounty.' Bligh gave the name to Restoration Island to commemorate his escape from the mutineers. A little further to the north took us abreast of Providential Channel, through which Captain Cook entered with the greatest difficulty in 1770. He arrived outside the Barrier Reef, rolling heavily to the swell with no wind, and finding it impossible to descry a single opening. Hope seemed at an end, when, providentially, Captain Cook espied from his masthead what looked like deep water between two rocks, through which he safely steered his vessel. From Restoration Island to Cape Weymouth we were considerably exposed to the sea, and rolled about a good deal until we got into the shelter of Weymouth Bay. Passing Fair Cape, we reached Piper Island at about eight o'clock, and anchored for the night, close to the lightship, alongside which there was another small steamer. The last fourteen miles had to be done in the dark. This was a time of great anxiety for Tom, for the passage was narrow, being only about half a mile wide in places, and the current was strong. It blew hard all night, and we longed for the sheltered anchorage of last evening.
Friday, August 19th.—Early this morning Tom and some of the gentlemen went on board the 'Claremont' lightship. After breakfast we landed on the reef. It is a bare heap of sand and coral, save on its highest part, where a few tufts of coarse grass are growing. Here we found a native of St. John, New Brunswick, brought up, as he told us, by foreign parents, engaged in the business of collecting bêche-de-mer, or dried sea-slugs, for which there is a large demand in China.
Coral on Pearl-oyster
This white man had in his employ thirty natives. He had five fine boats, which are constantly at work inside the Great Barrier Reef. The money embarked in this enterprise had been advanced by a bank at Cooktown. Bêche-de-mer commands a high price. We were shown the accumulated casks full of this unattractive edible, representing a value of many hundreds of pounds. Lee, the head of this establishment, was living in a shelter formed of tattered canvas and battered sheets of corrugated iron, but he evidently possessed the power of command and organisation, and was not without education. He produced the Admiralty charts of the coast and Barrier Reef, with large additions to the delineation of the reefs from his own explorations.