Under the Southern Cross / Or Travels in Australia, Tasmania, New Zealand, Samoa, and Other Pacific Islands

by Maturin M. Ballou

This was our last night in Hobart. The next day we sailed for New Zealand. A state-room was secured on board the steamship "Mararoa," which had just arrived from Sydney, and which was bound for the east coast of the country just named. The ship sailed at mid-day, and as we steamed down the Derwent seaward we were followed by a myriad of Cape-pigeons, a small graceful bird of the gull family, with which we have not before chanced to meet.

The twelve miles of river between Hobart and the open sea virtually forms the harbor of this city, just as Sydney harbor begins when the "Heads" are passed seven miles below the capital. The undulating shore of the river on either side was beautified by rural residences and cultivated fields near the water's edge. But a little way inshore we could see a continuous range of elevations, backed by those still higher; and finally in the distance we descried a series of cloud-embraced mountains. As soon as the mouth of the river was reached the ship's course was laid a little south of east, the dull green of the water on soundings changing to the navy-blue of the broad ocean. We were then fairly launched on our twelve-hundred-mile voyage. The prevailing winds of the season blow from the west, which with the Australian current and the Antarctic drift were all in our favor, and so the good ship sped bravely on her way. The "Mararoa" is a fine vessel of twenty-five hundred tons' measurement, possessing most admirable passenger accommodations; so fine, indeed, were her appointments as to make her seem to us rather out of place upon a track of ocean so little frequented by travellers. It appeared on inquiry, however, that she was originally built for the route between San Francisco and Australia, but proved insufficient in freight capacity.

The tedium of the voyage was beguiled by watching critically the graceful movements of the wandering albatross, the fateful bird of nautical romance, which is seen in large numbers below the thirtieth parallel of south latitude. The peculiarities of this sea-bird's flight are a constant marvel, for it scarcely ever plies its wings, but literally sails upon the wind in any desired direction. What secret power, we wondered, could so propel him for hundreds of rods, with an upward trend at the close? If for a single moment he partially lights upon the water to seize some object of prey, there is a trifling exertion evinced in rising again until he is a few feet above the waves, when once more he sails, with or against the wind, upon outspread, immovable wings. With no apparent inclination or occasion for pugnacity, the albatross is yet armed with a tremendous beak, certainly the most terrible of its kind attached to any of the feathered tribe. It is from six to eight inches long, and ends in a sharp-pointed hook of extreme strength and hardness.

A preserved specimen of the albatross was mounted in the saloon of the "Mararoa," as an ornament appropriate for a vessel sailing in the latitudes where this bird-monarch roams. This was easily measured, and though not of the largest size reached by them, its dimensions seemed to us extraordinary. The body measured three feet in length, from the beak to the end of the short tail; the spread of wing from tip to tip was ten feet eight inches. The web-feet were seven inches across, and armed with three sharp claws an inch and a quarter long; these were very strong, and capable of sustaining twenty or thirty pounds. The prevailing color of the albatross is a slate-white over the upper part of the body and wings; but the breast and under surface generally are of pure white. Of course the birds vary in color, but this is the most common description. Ermine itself is not whiter than the breast of the albatross; living in the air and bathing constantly in the sea, there is no encounter liable to soil its purity. The feathers are pearl-like in their lustre. It has been said that if he pleased, the albatross might breakfast at the Cape of Good Hope and dine in New York, so swift is it in flight and so powerful on the wing.

While we were watching from the ship's deck the tireless movements of these birds, an officer of the "Mararoa" told us that on the previous voyage some English passengers who had rifles with them shot at the graceful creatures, but found it almost impossible to hit them. The deck of a vessel in motion was under any circumstances an uncertain base from which to take aim; moreover, the birds were always on the wing; and again, the missiles were bullets, not shot. It is particularly difficult to calculate distances under such circumstances, and so these marksmen found it. An albatross was sometimes barely touched by the leaden messenger, so that the tip of its wing perhaps shed a few feathers, or a similar effect was produced upon some part of its body; but this did not serve to frighten them, as the detonation of fire-arms was so unusual a circumstance at sea. They had not learned the trick of the rifle, and would require to see the fall of more than one of their number following its report, before they would connect cause and effect in such a way as to be a warning to them. These birds are hardy, and must be touched in some vital point in order to disable them; a slight wound would not affect them any more than the partial hooking of a fish affects it,—failing, as is often the case, to prevent it from again biting at the fatal barb. At last one of the birds at which the Englishmen of the "Mararoa" were firing was struck in the body, and fell headlong into the sea. Then it was demonstrated that albatross nature is as cannibalistic as that of the Russian wolf. The wounded, bleeding, and helpless bird was almost instantly fallen upon by its late companions and torn quickly to pieces to fill their greedy crops. "That," said a lady passenger who had overheard the officer's story, "was not only cruel, but terribly unnatural." The officer's respectful answer was very significant. "Nay, madam," said he, "it was only too natural!"

While dreamily watching the throbbing surface of this mystery of waters through which our good ship steadily ploughed her way, the thought occurred to us of how many uses the various seas and oceans were to man besides forming the great pathway of commerce reaching to the uttermost parts of the globe. The animals it produces are among the mightiest and the smallest, from monstrous whales and walruses down to the tiny animalcules. What an inexhaustible supply of food it yields for the support of man! Its contributions to various industries are almost limitless, while the treasuries of art are enriched by the abundance of tortoise-shell, mother-of-pearl, and the lovely pearl gem itself, with delicate shells, coral, amber, and other choice articles of decoration. A very interesting chapter might be written upon the prolific yield of the sea in the various departments of food, industry, and art. While we were musing thus, a school of dolphins, as they are often called, appeared on the surface near the ship's side. The proper name of this fish is the porpoise. The dolphin belongs to the whale family, breathing atmospheric air; while the porpoise has no blow-holes, but receives the water into its mouth to be thrown out at the gills. Porpoises seem to be the most sportive fish that swim in the sea, and while they remained in their playful mood near our ship, it was amusing to watch their gambols.

At night the phosphorescence of these lonely waters lying just north of the Antarctic Circle, between southern Tasmania and New Zealand, was indeed marvellous. Liquid fire is the only term which will properly express its flame-like appearance. A bucketful was drawn and deposited upon deck; while it remained still it appeared dark and like any other water, but when agitated it emitted scintillations of light like the stars. A drop of this water placed under the microscope was found to be teeming with living and active organisms. A muslin bag was suspended for a few moments over the ship's side and then drawn up, and after being permitted to drip for a few seconds the contents left in the bag were placed in a glass tumbler, when the quantity of living forms was found to be so great and abundant as to be visible to the naked eye. No two of these minute creatures seemed to be of similar form; the variety was infinite, and their activity incessant. Most of these animalcules are so small that if it were not for the microscope we should never even know of their existence.

One day at table a lady passenger complained of the dust of the sea, which she said got into her eyes and caused them to smart severely, and also soiled her clothing. Others laughed at her, and declared that there could be no dust at sea; but they were mistaken. There is a salt dust which rises from the spray and impregnates everything, even filling one's mouth with a saline taste. While the sun shines, this deposit, like the dew on land, is less active and perceptible; but to walk the deck at night is to become covered with a thin coating of salt dust, so fine indeed as to be hardly noticeable, but which in time becomes sufficiently crystallized to be obvious to the eye. The dust of the sea is no fable. The officer who stands his night-watch on the bridge will testify to this fact; and his cabin steward will tell you that he has often to resort to something more potent than a whisk-broom to cleanse clothing which has been exposed to sea-dust.

Winter upon the sea and winter upon the land in this extreme southern region are two very different things. On shore (save on the mountain-tops) there is scarcely any snow, the climate being mild and equable; but upon the ocean the fickle element does not forget boldly to assert itself. Three uneventful days carried us nearly a thousand miles upon our way toward New Zealand; but as night came on at the close of the third day, the barometer—which had been falling ominously for some time, after reaching a most significant figure—suddenly jumped several points, foretelling the heavy weather into which we were now rapidly driven. Everything had been made as snug on board the "Mararoa" as was possible, which was only the part of prudence, for the ship began to waltz in the wildest fashion to the hoarse music of the on-coming storm. It was a dismal and trying night, the raging sea breaking over and about the ship, drenching everything fore and aft, and causing the stout iron hull to tremble all over like a delicate fern in the wind. It was so cold that it seemed strange that the water did not freeze where it struck the deck and the rigging. There were no means provided for heating the cabins or the saloon, and the result was that a shivering discomfort was realized everywhere. On, on we drove into the dense darkness, with extra lookouts stationed forward, although it was impossible to see half a ship's length ahead. Timid passengers blanched with fear, and most of those who had thus far escaped sea-sickness now succumbed to that dismal disorder. "He that will learn to pray, let him go to sea," says George Herbert. To undress before taking to one's berth was quite impossible, since both hands were required to keep the body from being thrown thither and hither like a ball; but once fairly in the berth, the friendly brace of the lee-board and the firm gripe of the metallic bars united, served to keep one in position. Sleep was out of the question, and so one was forced to exercise as much patience and philosophy as possible under the circumstances.

Sailing-vessels making this voyage, as we were told, carry casks of cheap oil, which in some cases they use to still the boisterous sea about them when "God maketh the deep to boil like a pot." Is it generally known that our own Benjamin Franklin first suggested, about a century ago, the carrying of oil to sea by vessels for this purpose? Our shrewd American philosopher was also the first to propose, about the same period, that ship-builders should construct the hulls of vessels in water-tight compartments, thus affording them sufficient sustaining power to float when by accident portions of the hull became leaky or broken in. After the lapse of a century both precautions have been generally adopted. If oil can be used to good effect anywhere upon troubled waters, we should judge that it might be on the track of vessels between Tasmania and South New Zealand.