"The next morning I left Colonel Paterson in company of Mr. Barrallier, who then proceeded on the survey of the river. On our passage down it, we saw several natives with their canoes...In many of them we saw fires, and in some of them observed that kind of eatable to which they give the name of cabra.* (* Teredo.) It appears to be abominably filthy; however, when dressed, it is not disagreeable to the taste. The cabra is a species of worm which breeds in the wood that happens to be immersed in water, and are found in such parts of the river wherein trees have fallen. They grow to a great size and soon reduce timber to the appearance of a honeycomb. They are of a glutinous substance, and after being put on the fire harden to the consistence of the spinal marrow of animals. When fire is not at hand, the natives eat them raw; some of them being found at a fire near one of the canoes, I tasted them on the recommendation of one of my men and found them not unpalatable...
"We saw several natives at a small distance; one of them looked earnestly at us and seemed to be waiting our approach. One of my men called to him in his own language to stop, but at length he got behind a tree whence he presented only his head and shoulders, brandishing a fish-gig in his hand. He waited our landing, and seeing we were unarmed threw down his muton (so they named the fish-gig) and came readily to us. For what reason I know not (for we appeared without any marks of distinction) he addressed himself first to me, and taking from his forehead a small net which their women weave from the fur of the opossum he bound it round mine. In my turn I took out my pocket handkerchief and bound it round his head which pleased him very much, and we became from the moment the best of friends. I invited him on board the boat, and he readily accepted my invitation. When on board he was called to from the woods on the opposite shore by a number of voices which surprised us a little as we did not expect they were in such numbers. My new acquaintance called out in his turn to those on shore, and their cries immediately ceased. I have reason to think...that he assured them he had nothing to fear, which quieted their alarm.
"Proceeding further we saw a flock of ducks and I ordered one of the people to fire which he did and was lucky enough to kill two. Never did I witness stronger marks of surprise than were depicted on the stranger's countenance when he heard the report of the gun and saw the two ducks fall into the water. His astonishment was increased when he got on board the vessel; everything...seemed to fill him with wonder and amazement. During the time he stayed on board he never quitted my side, and at the hour of rest he laid himself down near my bed place. I presented him with a small tomahawk which pleased him very much and he pronounced with much earnestness the word...'Mogo.' He readily ate of whatever was set before him; spirits he would not touch, but sugar he took freely. He endeavoured to repeat our words after us; and was infinitely more tractable than the native last described. He was an elderly man, short in stature but well made; his arms and legs were long in proportion to his body which was slender and straight. Having occasion to despatch my first mate in a boat to Colonel Paterson I took that opportunity of sending off my New Hollander with directions that he should be landed on the precise spot from whence he was taken...When the first mate was returning he was surprised to find his passenger of the day before on the banks, who begged to be permitted to return to the vessel with him; he had a young lad with him whom he desired might accompany him and they were both brought on board. This lad made me understand that he wished to have a mogo and I soon found that I could not make a more acceptable present to a native...
"On the 19th we were rejoined by Colonel Paterson with the whole of his party. The Colonel had explored a branch of the river on the banks of which he found a species of flax growing which he thought was valuable. He had collected specimens of many rare and uncommon plants particularly some varieties of fern, but unfortunately was deprived of the fruits of his industry. His servant had made use of the bundle of plants as a pillow and having placed it too near the fire it was soon in a blaze, and he was awaked only in time to save his face from being scorched...
"We were now growing short of provisions and no vessel arriving from Sydney we set about making preparations for our return thither. There was now a small establishment made for the colliers.* (* At Collier's Point.) I had built them a convenient hut to shelter them. I left them a boat and seine with what provisions I was able to spare. We took our departure for Sydney on the 22nd of July 1801, and arrived there on the 25th."
Six weeks after his return to port, Grant sent in his resignation on the ground that he had so "little knowledge of nautical surveying." The resignation was accepted by King, who wrote in reply: "I should have been glad if your ability as a surveyor or being able to determine the longitude of the different places you might visit was in anyway equal to your ability as an officer or a seaman."
A very slight perusal of Grant's narrative of his voyage enables us to grasp the state of his feelings when he sent in his resignation. It is evident that he thought he had not been treated fairly, and was glad to quit New South Wales. He writes of his departure: "The mortifications and disappointments I met with...induced me to seize the first opportunity of leaving the country." And it seems possible that when he told King that he had no knowledge of "nautical surveying," he said so because he knew King thought he had not, and it looks as if the admission was made as a pretext to obtain his passage to England, rather than for the purpose of belittling his own capabilities. That Grant was a fine seaman goes without saying. That he was personally courageous, his subsequent naval services proved. He seems to have handled his ship at all times with extraordinary care, and it may have been that he had studied marine surveying with less assiduity than seamanship, for the chart that he made must be admitted to be very imperfect.
Murray, his successor in the command of the brig, is best remembered as the discoverer of Victoria, and "yet," writes Rusden, "he (Murray) merely obeyed a distinct order in going thither to trace the coast between Point Schanck and Cape Albany Otway noticing the soundings and everything remarkable." Rusden might have added, that Murray probably received some benefit from Grant's experiences, for at that time he was equally incompetent as a marine surveyor. It is Flinders who has credited Grant with the discovery of the coast of Victoria "as far as Cape Schanck," and Flinders was most competent to judge as to whom the honour should belong. On the great seaman's chart published in 1814 (Terra Australis, by M. Flinders, South Coast, Sheet 5) is inscribed, "Coast as far as Cape Schanck discovered by Captain James Grant, 1800," in which track, of course, is included the entrance to Port Phillip, although Flinders knew that Grant had not penetrated to the bay itself.
Grant sailed from Sydney in the Anna Josepha, Captain Maclean, an old Spanish brig, belonging to Mr. Simeon Lord. She had been taken off the coast of Peru by the Betsy whaler, and on her arrival at Sydney was renamed Anna Josepha in honour of the Governor's wife. Loaded with coals and spars, the ship left Port Jackson for the Cape of Good Hope on November 9th, 1801. She steered southward of New Zealand, made Cape Horn, and then sailed to the Falklands. Grant quitted her when she reached Tristan D'Acunha and obtained a passage in the Ocean as far as Table Bay. There he shipped on April 12th, 1802, in H.M.S. Imperieuse for England, where he arrived safely, and, in due course, reported himself to the Admiralty.
Three years later he obtained his rank of Commander on January 12th, 1805, with a pension for gallantry in a spirited action off Holland, when in command of the Hawke cutter he was badly wounded. He subsequently commanded the Raven and Thracian and died at St. Servan in 1833, aged 61.