At the northern end of the Albany Pass lies the Sextant Rock, so called from the circumstance of the great navigator, Captain Cook, having landed there to take observations; and as we draw near to Thursday Island, just before entering the Prince of Wales Channel, we see away to the north-east some few miles distant the wreck of the ship John-de-Costa, which ran aground on the North Torres Reef, a little over two years ago, whilst on her way from Melbourne to Calcutta with 150 head of horses on board for the Indian market.
There she lies nearly high and dry with a slight list to starboard, looking in the distance like a vessel at anchor, a grim monument to the dangerous navigation of these coral seas; and shortly after she was wrecked, whilst horses, stores, &c., were still on board, the lot was submitted to auction at Thursday Island, and bought by a syndicate of the residents in the immediate vicinity at the following figures: The vessel with all standing rigging was sold for £170; the horses and about 30 tons of fodder only realised £20; cabin stores, £20; deck stores, £20; and 125 iron tanks of 400 gallons each, £20.
All attempts to get the ship off the reef have proved futile, but about 100 of the horses were saved, being transhipped into small vessels belonging to some of the pearl-shellers, in lots of four and five at a time, and then landed at Thursday Island, from whence they were finally sent on to Normanton, the majority being conveyed by Captain Leggett in his various trips with the “Gunga,” so that the speculation on behalf of the syndicate must have turned out a very profitable venture. We steam round the northern end of Hammond Island and Hammond Rock, the latter looking like some immense boulder, round which the tide is rushing at the rate of a good five knots an hour; and here we catch the first glimpse of Goode Island and the lighthouse, with Friday Island looming in the distance; and shortly afterwards pass the Mecca Reef, so called from the fact of the steamer of that name having there become a total wreck.
It is matter for congratulation amongst us that we have come through safely, it being almost impossible to over-estimate the difficulties attending navigation through these dangerous and intricate channels, which necessitates a uniform rate of speed in order to keep a correct reckoning, so that great reliance has to be placed on the chief engineers of all steamers taking this route; the beacons placed here and there on the numerous sunken reefs with which the place abounds denoting plainly even to the most unpractised eye that the life of a captain in these waters is certainly not all beer and skittles; and excuses might be found for an accident in this locality which would be entirely wanting in more open navigation, as the reefs extend right across to the New Guinea coast, so that all vessels have to come pretty close to Goode island in order to get through the narrow channel of some half-mile in width which there exists, and which in the event of an invasion of our territory by a foreign power could be fortified at comparatively trifling expense, and render an attack from that direction almost impossible.
We steer round the northern end of Goode Island, obtaining a line view of the lighthouse and keeper’s quarters, romantically perched on the highest point of land in the island, having Friday and Prince of Wales Islands on the right, Goode and Hammond Islands on the left, with Horne Island in the background, Thursday Island lying dead ahead. Going through this passage we encounter a very strong tide, the buoys marking the passage being half submerged by the fierce rush of water, which reminds one very much of the current in a mighty river; but the Rockton is equal to the occasion, and our progress is certain, if not very rapid. There are several shelling stations in sight, and I was particularly struck with the beautiful situation of the one known as “Waiawea,” which is on a small island lying between Hammond and Goode Islands, and looks, with its grove of palms surrounding the residence, a veritable paradise on earth.
Fleets of shelling boats are lying at anchor at the various stations, whilst one small schooner, evidently making for the anchorage at Thursday Island, has had to drop anchor through not being able to make headway against the tide, and forms a very picturesque object, with her colored crew forward and the boss, evidently chewing the cud of reflection, seated near the stern. We entered the port by a different channel to that which I entered on a former occasion in the City of Melbourne, in consequence of the water being too shallow to admit a vessel of the Rockton’s draught coming through the nearer passage; but we rounded the point on which is situated the Government residential quarters and laid a course for the hulk Star of Peace, alongside which our Captain laid the Rockton in a thoroughly workmanlike manner, without any of the noise and fuss generally noticeable on such occasions.
We are soon boarded by Mr. Milman, the acting Government resident, in a smart water police boat, who shortly afterwards goes ashore, taking as passengers Messrs. Cribb and the parson who had come to settle down amongst the “Thirsty Islanders,” whilst several friends and myself are invited to take passage in the remarkably smart boat belonging to Messrs. Burns, Philp, and Co., manned by a colored crew of boys, dressed in a neat blue and white uniform, white caps with tortoiseshell peaks, and commanded by Mr. Bromley, the agent here for the great northern firm who monopolise the greater portion of the business done in this quarter of the globe. The colored population is very conspicuous, shore boats manned by Cingalese being an especial feature; and some howling swells are visible amongst the various crews, one joker in particular being especially remarkable for his flowing petticoats, tortoiseshell comb, bald head, and a few long locks of hair behind his ears and on the back of his neck.
Cingalese traders also come aboard with heaps of Brummagem stuff, dear at any price, and do their best to drive a bargain, but with very little success, the majority of our passengers having been there before, and had some little experience of these guileless colored gentlemen. We cast anchor at a few minutes past noon on Thursday, and as we had to discharge about 70 tons of cargo and take aboard 100 tons for Normanton, our skipper, who was anxious if possible to get away again that night in order to catch the tide on the Norman River bar on Saturday, tried his best to expedite matters; but he had to deal with a lot of colored wretches who had evidently been born tired, and consequently required a certain amount of rest, so that, strive as he would, the fates were against him, the loading and unloading process lasting well on to midnight, when it was too late to make a start, so that we had to remain where we were until daylight on Friday morning.
We had a commercial traveller aboard with a heap of samples who got fairly on the war-path because he was unable to induce Mr. Bromley to let him stow his luggage in Messrs Burns, Philp and Co.’s gig, a craft certainly never built for or intended to carry cargo, and never used for that purpose even by the firm themselves. Then he tried to induce Captain Leggett to place one of the ship’s boats and crew at his service, evidently wishing to get his goods ashore on the cheap, and not caring what delay or inconvenience might be caused to a whole ship’s company by the proceeding as long as he got his own turn served.
The Captain told him that as he was anxious to proceed on the voyage that night if possible, he could not spare the boat’s crew, but as there were plenty of shore boats available, why not engage one of them if very anxious to get his samples landed. But this did not suit the drummer’s book altogether, so he relieved his feelings by blackguarding everybody all round, and swearing vengeance on Bromley, Captain Leggett, and all concerned, but I noticed he took the shore boat at the finish, when he found it impossible to save the expense of the transaction. There are thousands of people like him in the world who care nothing for the loss and inconvenience their actions may cause to others as long as they can get their own turn served, and save expenses which are only fairly and legitimately incurred in the prosecution of their own business transactions. Going ashore at Thursday Island is a bit of a pic-nic, especially for ladies, there being no wharf to land at, and as the water is very shallow for some distance from the shore, boats are unable to come right in, consequently, passengers have to be conveyed from the boats to the beach on the backs of the colored boys who compose the crews—so that a heavy weight on a light built boy stands a fair “six to four” chance of coming to grief, and carrying more water ashore in his clothes than he bargained for.