The following night, about 10 p.m., the moon shining bright, we calculated that we ought to be somewhere near the Osprey Reef, when suddenly the mate, who was forward, sung out, "Breakers ahead!" It is anything but a welcome cry. The captain, fearing that we might be out of our course and dangerously near the dreaded Osprey, flew to the tiller, quickly put the helm hard down, and put the ship about. It turned out to be an hallucination. The moon shining on the sea gave it the appearance of broken water. The scare was soon over, and we went on our way rejoicing. We did not sight the Osprey Reef, but must have passed about 10 miles to windward of it. We had several days' calms, the sun burning like fire. It was almost impossible to find a shady spot. Down below it was very close, and upon deck very hot. We had a succession of head winds, which greatly retarded our progress. So the days went by until, on the morning of the ninth day out, we sighted the shores of New Guinea. We were 40 miles from Orangerie Bay, with its mountains of Alpine height towering away in the distance. What a relief to sight land after tossing for days on the ocean! By evening we were within a stone's throw of the mainland. The coast here is most interesting, very bold and broken, range after range of mountains covered with scrub, and here and there picturesque grassy islands, making a pleasant contrast to the dark foliage of the mainland bush. We had a long beat before us, as we were a good deal to leeward of our destination. We kept well within sight of land the whole way from this point, of which I was very glad, as it gave me an opportunity of observing the coastal formation. Every now and then we hove the schooner to, in order to enable our convoy, the lugger, to come up with us, when we filled up their water-casks and replenished their stock of provisions. The cutter had disappeared, and we did not see her again until we came to our anchorage in China Straits. We were not very anxious about her, as the South Sea Islander in charge was an experienced hand in a boat, and was sure to turn up some time or other.
The next day we passed close to the Brumer Islands (native name "Banaroa"). We did not stop, although Capt. Matheson wanted to get a number of the natives to go with him on a fishing cruise to the East End. The cutter, however, touched there and was successful in obtaining about 15 natives. The Banaroa people are good workers and of a friendly disposition.
This group of islands lies about 10 miles from the mainland, and they are very beautiful. There are most fertile plantations of yams, bananas, and coco-nuts, with here and there a bright patch of green. I should think that these islands would be very healthy, as they are free from swamps and not too much covered with scrub.
I was very much pleased with their appearance, and should not object to a prolonged residence on them.
As darkness set in the Brumers had been left many miles astern. When within a few miles of Heath Island (Loger), which is a boundary of China Straits, to our disgust the wind entirely died away, and we were left to loll and roll about all night. We seemed destined never to reach port. This was the eleventh day of a voyage (in a straight course) of 430 miles.
The day previous we passed close to the schooner Harrier, in full sail with a fair wind, bound for Queensland. We saluted and exchanged compliments. Having passed a restless night, we once more steered for China Straits. When off the north-western point of Heath Island (Loger) we were boarded by two or three canoes, filled with natives, their faces painted in various colours, and all having large mops of hair on their heads. They wore no clothing save a banana leaf round the loins. This was my first introduction to the Papuan race, and I must confess that they had a most diabolical appearance. Several of them came on board, where they kept up an incessant chatter.
The passage between Heath Island and the mainland, known as the Western Passage, is rather narrow. Coral reefs extend a good distance out, so that it is necessary to hug the shore of Heath Island. The tide too is very swift here, rushing at the rate of five to six miles an hour, making it impossible to stem it without the aid of a strong breeze. Everything has an end, so at last we rounded the point of Heath Island and entered the charming and romantic harbour of China Straits.
We dropped our mud-hook just about sundown in ten fathoms of water on the lee side of the Island of Samarai, having been 12 long days on the voyage.
CHAPTER II.