Bêche-de-mer is of various qualities. The best is worth 120l. per ton, the next 100l., a third quality 90l., and a fourth from 80l. to as low as 30l. per ton. The bêche-de-mer is a curious kind of sea-slug, rather like a sea cucumber. Its scientific name is Holothuria. It makes excellent soup, which is very nourishing, and is like the snail soup so much given to invalids in the south of France. In Cooktown the Europeans eat it largely, while in China, as trepang, it is a much-prized and high-priced delicacy.
We had a long and pleasant conversation with Lee, and Tom and I were both much struck with him. Tom was anxious to purchase for me a pair of large hawksbill turtle shells which he had seen earlier in the morning on the lightship, but Lee absolutely refused to part with them at any price. He said a man had done him a good turn in Cooktown, and he had promised him the shells. We suggested that it was possible, as the man was a resident of Cooktown, that he might get him another pair and let us have these; but Lee was quite firm, and said, 'No, I have given my word, and it would be very wrong to break it on any account whatsoever.' His charts were most interesting, and his own discoveries of new reefs and shoals were intelligently marked. I hope that for the good of the navigating world they may some day be incorporated into an Admiralty chart, but I trust not without due recognition of Lee's work. He certainly deserves the greatest credit for the careful and painstaking observations he must have made while cruising in his little schooners about the Barrier Reef. Many a shipwreck may possibly be prevented and many a life saved by his laborious and at present unrewarded exertions. Just before we were going away it seemed to suddenly dawn upon Lee that Tom was Lord Brassey. He asked the question, and when an answer in the affirmative was given shook hands most warmly, and was delighted when he was told that I was Lady Brassey and that the children were my own dear ones. He had all our history at his fingers' ends, and was extremely pleased to see the 'historical Sunbeam' and 'her spirited owners,' as he called us. Later on in the morning he tried to come on board the yacht in his schooner, but unfortunately missed the rope and so lost the opportunity of seeing the vessel. I was interested to hear from him a confirmation of our supposition that the island off which we anchored was the one on which Eliza Watson's body was found.
We landed on the leeward side of the island, and on going to the windward shore it was curious to notice the process by which these islands gradually become covered with vegetation. The whole shore just above high-water mark was covered with little seeds, beans, and various other atoms of vegetation which had been dropped by birds or cast up by the sea, and which in process of time will cover the island with trees and shrubs. The island did not look much bigger than half a dozen times the size of the yacht. At low spring tides the most beautiful corals and shells are found.
The blacks we saw on shore were a good-looking set of men, the finest in stature we have yet seen. Lee says he has to be most careful and always 'sleep with one eye open,' as they are treacherous. They would turn round on him at any moment if they saw a chance and did not know he was well armed.
All the inmates of the lightship came on board the yacht, with which they were much delighted. They said they could not have imagined anything like it on the sea, and thought they must have got on dry land without knowing it. We parted with mutual good wishes, and I have no doubt that the visit of the 'Sunbeam' will be a pleasant little incident, affording much material for conversation for weeks to come. We did not forget to give them some Ambulance papers.
We weighed at 11.30, and anchored under the Piper Islands an hour after sunset. Distance, eighty-five miles.
Saturday, August 20th.—All hands were called at four, and we got under weigh soon after, making Home Islands about seven. Thence we passed through Shelbourne Bay, by Hannibal Islands, and so off Orford Ness. The navigation here was very intricate, and necessitated much trouble and attention on Tom's part, and the taking of endless cross bearings and observations. At 11.50 we passed the s.s. 'Tannadice,' and exchanged friendly greetings. All navigators owe the commander of this ship gratitude for reporting the reef named after his vessel. It lies in a most dangerous position, and would doubtless have brought many a good ship to grief had it not been reported and charted. Soon after we started this morning we very nearly got on another reef. The wind blew fresh and fair, and the current ran strong. Tom chanced to be engaged taking some observations, and so paid, for a few moments, less attention than usual to the pace at which we were going; and in this hazardous interval the yacht very nearly ran on a coral reef that was only just a-wash.[6]
From Fern Island, an almost straight course through a narrow channel hemmed in by rocks, reefs, shoals, and islets, brought us to the entrance to the Albany Pass. The navigation is intricate, but the scenery quite lovely; the land on either side of the Pass, whether on the mainland or on the islands, being densely wooded. At Fly Point on the mainland our attention was attracted by some curious-looking projections on a hillside, which resembled an enlarged edition of Stonehenge, in red sandstone. On looking through the glasses we discovered that these projections were ant-hills of an extraordinary peaked shape, some of them being many feet in height.
The entrance to Port Albany and Somerset is narrow; and the strong tide and wind combined to knock up an unpleasant popple. At Somerset on the mainland, and immediately opposite to our anchorage at Port Albany, a pretty little station has been built, with a flagstaff in front of the bungalow. On our arrival the flag which was hoisted was dipped a great many times and a large bonfire was lighted, in order to give us, I suppose, a really warm welcome.
Sunday, August 21st.—The boat went ashore early this lovely morning to the large house we had seen last night. The station belongs to Mr. Jardine, a relative of the founders of the firm of Jardine, Matheson, & Co., so well known in China as well as along this coast. The station is for cattle, and they are gradually increasing its boundaries so as to be able to supply Thursday Island and the neighbourhood with fresh meat, of which they are lamentably in need at present. About twenty-five years ago Mr. Jardine drove a mob of 700 cattle from Rockhampton to this place. It took him and his party nearly two years to accomplish the journey, and they had to fight the blacks on their way.