A ROLLING stone gathers no moss.” I am afraid I have proved the truth of the old adage. A fortnight in Sydney proved quite as much as I could stand. I always had a great desire to see Torres Straits and the islands on the northern side of it. There happened to be in Port Jackson a small French barque—Le Juste, from Havre—the captain being the owner of the vessel. I made an offer to him of a charter by the month for six months, giving him a share of the venture, my route being Torres Straits, New Guinea, Borneo, the Malay Archipelago, Mauritius, Bourbon, Madagascar, and back to Sydney. Being nearly as mad as I was, Captain Leneveu accepted my offer. We at once set to work, put on board a few brass swivel guns, some muskets and small arms, articles of South Sea Island trade; and, as was then the custom for a trip through the Straits, waited a few days until other ships bent on the same dangerous errand were ready to start.
On the 28th of June, everything being ready, we started northwards—the Scotia, one of Dunbar’s old East India ships—leading the van, followed by our barque, and two smaller craft bound for the Strait Settlements. Fine weather and smooth water brought us in eleven days to the Great Barrier Reef, which we passed safely, anchoring at night off Bird’s Island.
Captain Strickland, as commodore, entertained us gloriously on board the Scotia to commemorate our safe passage through the Barrier and bid us farewell—our course being north for the coast of New Guinea at daybreak next morning.
Navigating on the west side of the Barrier Reef is quite a pleasure trip as far as sea or weather are concerned; the only trouble, at least in the “fifties,” was the very imperfect hydrography of the locality, and the great caution sailors had to resort to in order to avoid the innumerable coral reefs and submarine dangers, which can only be avoided by a very careful watch from the foretop, where a man had constantly to be on the look-out.
Our first land was at Darnley Island, where we met the first Papus, some having a smattering of pigeon English. We engaged one of them to pilot us to the mouth of the Fly river, which we made out easily without ever having recourse to our sable friend, who seemed quite happy on board so long as he could keep within range of the galley and have the lion’s share of every meal going, whether cuddy or fore-castle. The fellow seemed to have the most capacious appetite, was an inveterate smoker, and certainly anything but a total abstainer. It is a marvellous thing how all natives take naturally and kindly to smoking tobacco and drinking ardent spirits.
Anchoring close to Kiwai Island, we were at once boarded by scores of natives, and did a fair amount of trading for curios, shells, and arms, but nothing of any commercial value. Some of the clubs had specs of yellow metal inlaid in the handles; treatment with aqua fortisproved this metal to be gold. From inquiries made through the very imperfect interpretation of our pilot and my New Caledonian, Sokymy, we gathered that this gold was found a long way up the Fly river. All my entreaties with Captain Leneveu to sail up the river in one of the boats could not prevail upon him to concede the favour. As he very justly said, it would be unsafe both for him or I to take away one half of the crew to man the boat, leaving the other on board with only a few hands—there being always, and in spite of us, some scores of natives on our decks, besides hundreds hovering round in canoes. We had a few runs on shore, but did not dare to lose sight of the boats.
After a couple of days wasted at this anchorage, we dropped our Papu friend and steered west, coasting New Guinea as closely as the skipper deemed it prudent to do, and dropping anchor every afternoon when the sun prevented our look-out man from seeing the colour of the water ahead of the ship. We called at the Arrow Islands with about the same success, all trading being confined to curios and some tortoise-shell. So far our trip, though a most enjoyable one, was rather unprofitable. I therefore made up my mind that we should make a direct course for Timor.
Continuing our pleasurable sail—more like yachting on a lake than a sea voyage—we reached the pretty Dutch settlement at Koepang. I had some letters of credit for Messrs. Hansen, Bonliang & Co., a firm half Dutch, half Chinese; and also a letter to the Resident or Governor of the place. In 1854, Koepang was not often visited by traders. The Juste was a very smart little ship; we had a very nice cabin, a good cook, fair wines, and the captain a bon vivant, so that ere we had been in Timor many days we had managed to gain a very fair footing with the inhabitants of Koepang.
Our boats, provided with awnings, were kept constantly plying to and from the shore, laden with visitors of all ranks and both sexes. Shooting and fishing parties were organised, pic-nics and dinner parties without end were given in our honour. But the most enjoyable were riding-parties by moonlight, on those wonderfully active ponies for which this island is justly famous.
We purchased here some tons of bees-wax, some very fair coffee, maize, and a large quantity of lime, which proved a very good investment for Mauritius. My intention, however, being to take a cargo of ponies, we took an interpreter (or broker) on board and sailed for Roti, Sandalwood, and the other small islands of the group, to trade for ponies—Koepang having already been pretty well skinned of anything good in that line. Even in the other islands I found it very hard to pick up more than eighty of average size, quality, or colour—the piebald or skewbald being in any quantity, but black, bays, chestnuts, and more particularly greys, were very scarce. The latter are the most valued, either to buy or sell. It took us three weeks to make up our number, but the days were enjoyably spent in hunting with the natives after the herd, and buying as we went along.