Generally I can count myself a fair sailor, but during this voyage of four days I was pitilessly ill, and C. ate absolutely nothing the whole time.
We were under water for the first forty-eight hours, the waves washing over the hurricane and main decks, and a port-hole having been "stove in" at our end, the water swished down through the passage and into some of the cabins.
Tuesday, October 28th.—Since daylight the coast of Tasmania had been in sight, and going up on deck after breakfast we were just passing by the headland of a curious formation, exactly resembling the Giant's Causeway, or Iona and Staffa. Here we entered the bay formed by the River Derwent opening out to the sea; on which river twelve miles higher up lies the town of Hobart, the capital of Tasmania.
We were alongside the wharf by 10.30, and in haste to set foot on terra-firma.
I explored the chief street of the town—Manchester Street—whilst C. went to call on the Governor, Sir George Strahan. We found that his Excellency and his Private Secretary, the Hon. John Wallop, were coming by the steamer to Melbourne. Hobart has a very dull, sleepy look, and the people we met in the streets seemed to be chiefly the passengers off the Manapouri. The town, like the whole of Tasmania, is utterly devoid of enterprise. The colony contains 127,000 inhabitants, of whom 2000 are in Hobart. So little has been done to improve the land, that the beef and mutton for home consumption have to be imported from New Zealand—witness our cargo of cattle—and the only flourishing industry is the jam trade, of which 150,000 lbs. are annually sent to Victoria.
Tasmania is an island rich in beautiful scenery—extremely beautiful all Australians tell you,—its mountain-ranges culminate in the lofty peaks of the Cradle Mountain, Ben Lomond, and Mount Humboldt. It is clothed with forests, in which the gum-trees attain to an extraordinary height. The climate is perfect, with a clear atmosphere and cool breeze, so that Tasmania has come to be the great sanatorium of Australia. When the heat of the summer declares itself in Melbourne and Sydney, there is a general exodus to Tasmania, and Hobart is gay during its season of three months. It seemed to me as if the Australians must be rather pushed to it for a watering-place if they make Hobart their principal one.
The Manapouri had gone round to the cattle-wharf to swim the cattle ashore, and, thus stranded, we wandered about exploring the dull sleepiness of the little town. Then we went for a drive through the Domain in order that I might see Government House. It is a beautiful castellated mansion, built in the old days of transportation to Van Diemen's Land, and when convict labour was cheap. The gardens run down to the Derwent, whose waters are so still and broad that you quite think it is a lake in the park. We drove next through Macquarie Street, an interminable street, called after a former governor, who gave his name to many places, perpetuating it seemingly as far and as long as possible. On either side were the fashionable residences of Hobart, small houses standing back from the road, like suburban villas. Already we saw no tree but the "eternal gum-tree," which alone flourishes in Australia. Its dull blue foliage formed the covering to the extreme summit of the rounded dome of Mount Wellington. Our drive to the Cascade ended in the Cascade Brewery, the waterfall being a walk of a mile farther.
C. paid a long visit to Mr. Solly, the Under-Secretary, who gave him a great deal of information about Tasmania. The Premier, the Hon. Adye Douglas, was unfortunately out of town for the day, but he came on board later in the evening. We went at four to the House of Assembly. They accommodated us with chairs on the floor of the House, and it was most uncomfortably shy work, passing before the Speaker's chair to reach them in the face of the assembled members.
We took on board an immense theatrical troupe of sixty, and their paraphernalia and scenery, which had to be lowered scene by scene into the hold, delaying us for two hours, so that it was eight o'clock before we left Hobart.
We had half thought of going overland from Hobart to Launceston, so as to see the interior of Tasmania, but we were deterred by the twelve hours' crossing of Bass's Straits in a wretched steamer. We bought some of the pretty Tasmanian shells, but I was disappointed in not being able to get any of the native cat-skins, whose soft dark fur with white spots makes such pretty trimmings. They are scarce now, as Government has protected them from the too great depredations that were being practised. The same protection has also had to be extended to the opossums to save them from total annihilation.