“The complexion of the natives, says Holden in his narrative, is a light copper colour, much lighter than that of the Malays or Pelew Islanders, which last, however, they resemble in the breadth of their faces, high cheek bones, and broad flattened noses. Here we observe what has been before remarked of the Polynesian tribes, that the lightest complexion is found among those who are nearest the equator.
“According to the native traditions a personage, by name Pita-Ka’t (or Peeter Kart),[[6]] of copper colour like themselves, ‘Came, many years ago, from the Island of Ternate, one of the Moluccas, and gave them their religion and such simple arts as they possessed. It is probably to him that we are to attribute some peculiarities in their mode of worship, such as their temple, with rude images to represent their divinity. The natives wear the Polynesian girdle of barb cloth.
“The houses of the natives are built with small trees and rods, and thatched with leaves. They have two stories, a ground floor and a loft, which is entered by a hole or scuttle through the horizontal partition or upper floor.
“For ornament they sometimes wear in their ears, which are always bored, a folded leaf, and around their necks a necklace made of the shell of the cocoa-nut and a small white sea shell.”
With reference to the cruelties detailed in Holden’s narrative, Mr. Hale goes on to say:
“It should be mentioned that the release of the four Americans who survived (two of whom got free a short time after their capture), was voluntary on the part of the natives, a fact which shows that the feelings of humanity were not altogether extinct in their hearts. Indeed, although the sufferings of the captives were very great, it did not appear that they were worse, relatively to the condition in which the natives themselves lived, than they would have been on any other island of the Pacific. Men who were actually dying of starvation, like the people of Tobi, could not be expected to exercise that kindness towards others which nature refused to them.”
We have quoted this somewhat long passage respecting Lord North’s Island, as having an incidental interest in connexion with M. Barbié du Bocage’s argument; but whatever may really have been the island on which Sequeira was driven, it seems clear that it could not have been in the direction of Endeavour Strait as inferred by that geographer.
Having thus shown the surmises which have been suggested by geographers of good repute with respect to the main question of the discovery of Australia in the early part of the sixteenth century, and explained, as he hopes satisfactorily, the errors into which they have fallen in their attempts at explanation, the editor will now lay before the reader his own reasons for concluding that Australia is the country which these maps describe.
The first question that will naturally arise is—how far does the country thus represented, correspond in latitude, longitude, and outline with the recognized surveys of Australia as delineated in modern maps? And if the discrepancies exposed by the comparison do not forbid the supposition that Australia is the country represented on the early maps, the inquiry will then suggest itself—how, with any satisfactory show of reason, may these discrepancies be accounted for? To both these questions, the editor believes that he can give acceptable answers.
And first as respects latitude. In all of these maps, the latitude of the north of Java, which is the first certain starting point, is correct. The south coast of Java, or “the lytil Java,” though separated from “Java la Grande,” or the “Londe of Java,” by a narrow channel, as shown in the maps here given, has no names which indicate any pretension to a survey. There is enough proximity between the two to suggest alike the possibility of a connection or of a separation of the two countries. In the absence of so many words, the maps show as plainly as possible that it was as yet an unsettled question. With this fact, therefore, before us, implying, as it does, both conscientiousness in the statements on the maps, and the confession of an imperfect survey of the whole of the coasts supposed to be laid down, we have no difficulty in giving credence to the pretension that the great southern land there represented was, with all its errors, a reality and not a fiction. In all fairness, therefore, we pass the question of junction between the little and the great Java, as a point virtually declared to be unsettled, and supposing the latter to be Australia, test our supposition by inquiring as to the correctness of the latitude in which the coast line terminates on the western side. Here again we find exact correctness. In the one (Rotz’s map), the line ceases altogether at 35°, the real south-western point of Australia, and in the other at the same point all description ceases, and a meaningless line is drawn to the margin of the map, implying that no further exploration had been made. On the eastern side, we have in every respect greater inaccuracy; but for the present we deal only with the question of latitude. For the sake of convenience, our reduction of Rotz’s map is made to terminate at the point where the eastern coast line of “the londe of Java terminates,” namely in the sixtieth degree, a parallel far exceeding in its southing even the southernmost point of Tasmania, which is in 43° 35´; but if we look to the Dauphin map, we find that about ten degrees of the southernmost portion of the line is indefinite, and it must not be forgotten that for the Portuguese this was the remotest point for investigation, and consequently the least likely to be definite. There is, however, strong reason for supposing that the eastern side of Tasmania was included within this coast line.