I have traveled a great deal since that time, but this was the longest period I have ever been on a ship in a single voyage. We were ninety-two days from New York to Melbourne. I have twice since gone entirely around the world in less time. It was very dreary at times, and I had to resort to all manner of things in order to pass the hours. These attempted diversions were often very amusing.
I have always wanted to do things a little differently from others, partly because it has been more interesting to do them in a novel manner, but chiefly because I have found that a better way than the accepted one could be found. My desire for novelty led me to do some curious things during this long and tedious voyage to Melbourne. One day I was looking at the porpoises playing about the ship's bows, and it occurred to me that I could harpoon one of them. I asked the captain if he had a harpoon, and he brought me one. I then had a rope tied fast about me, so that I could be lowered over the bow. I had a good chance and let fly the harpoon, and, as luck would have it, succeeded in getting a fine porpoise. My successful throw astonished every one—myself more than any. The porpoise was brought aboard, and we found portions of it very good eating.
On another day I hooked a shark, a "man-eater," ten feet long, and this, also, was brought aboard, but no one proposed to eat it. A little later we passed into the zone of the albatrosses, and myriads of these exquisite birds flew over or hovered above the ship. I was desirous to have one of them, and resorted to stratagems learned years ago in the days when I used to snare rabbits and net pigeons on the old farm in New England. I baited a hook with pork, and threw it out upon the water. Instantly a great albatross swooped down upon it and swallowed the bait. I drew the bird on board, and found it a magnificent specimen, measuring twelve feet from tip to tip of its wings. Of course, I released the bird very soon. In such pastimes, we beguiled the time, until we finally swept through the great South Seas and into Hobson's Bay, passed Point Nepean, and anchored off Sandridge.
I had fancied that Melbourne was not a frequented port, off the tracks of commerce, although springing into life and prominence. Imagine my surprise when, on rounding the point where one could sweep the expanse of the bay, I saw before me some six hundred vessels that had reached the port before we arrived, and all, like ourselves, attracted there by the rumors of gold, gold, gold! For a second time within a few years, the whole world had gone wild over a gold discovery, and was now sending thousands of persons to Australia. Thousands more were deterred from going only by the fear of starvation, for very few believed at that time that Australia could feed the hungry searchers after gold, much less give them a fortune in gold nuggets.
Before I left Boston I had heard much about the perils of starvation in Australia. I was told that the country produced little, and that its scant resources would soon be overtaxed by the horde of gold-seekers. "Starve!" I said; "why there are twenty million sheep in the island." I was then told that man could not live by mutton alone. But I knew that, with these millions of sheep, there was little danger of famine.
From the anchorage at Sandridge to Melbourne the distance is about ten miles, the Yarra-Yarra winding and twisting through the tortuous channel. As this river is too shallow to admit ships of a greater burden than sixty tons, all large vessels anchor at Sandridge, or Williamstown. While the distance up the Yarra-Yarra is ten miles, across the spit of sand it is only two. I went into Melbourne at once, secured buildings for our cargo, and arranged for lighters to take it up the Yarra-Yarra.
The very first thing that impressed me in Australia was the miserable and unnecessary inconvenience of having to send everything up the twisted channel of the Yarra-Yarra by lighters. I determined to look into this and see what could be done. The method was too expensive and too slow to suit me. I immediately called on the most influential men of the city, like De Graves, Octavius Brown, Dalgetty, Cruikshank & Co., and James Henty, and said to them: "This thing of coming by way of the Yarra-Yarra, ten miles, when it is only two miles by land, is out of the question. Let us build a railway to Sandridge."
Apparently, this had not occurred to them. They had brought from England their habits of thought, and accepted things as they found them. But I kept at the railway suggestion, until the line was built. This was my first experience in organizing railways. It was not my last.
I also found that it was not possible to get suitable accommodations in Melbourne for business. There was no building there that was large enough. In order to get one sufficiently commodious, I had to build it. Accordingly, we put up at the corner of Flinders and Elizabeth Streets, opposite the railway station, the biggest structure in the city. It cost a pretty penny. The building was 140 feet deep, 40 feet wide and three stories high. The date, "1854," was cut in stone at the top. The edifice cost $60,000. I imported iron shutters from England to make it fireproof.
It was also necessary to have a building at Sandridge, a warehouse in which to store our goods until they were needed in Melbourne, or until they were shipped for America or Europe. In putting up this building, I resolved to make an experiment. This was to have the building made in Boston, and shipped out to me to be erected at Sandridge, thousands of miles away. If successful, the warehouse would cost much less and would be of better material and in better style than anything I could get in Australia. It reached Sandridge all right and was put up at the end of the little line of railway, at a cost of $25,000. It was 60 feet deep by 40 feet wide, and six stories high.