From the date of leaving King George’s Sound, until the 11th of January, 1857, little transpired worthy of record, except the capture of half-a-dozen blackfish, and the usual amount of gammoning with other whaleships—some of which had done better, others worse, than ourselves. During the whole of this time we could not catch a glimpse of a sperm whale; and whilst ships in our immediate neighborhood could see and capture them, we were doing nothing. We double-manned our mastheads, made more sail, and passed over a greater space every day than heretofore, but all to no purpose; the whales were still beyond our vision. Meantime our crew began to get discouraged, almost a year having elapsed since we had taken any oil, and, consequently, since a single penny had been earned by any of us. Some took it very easily, but they were those to whom whaling was distasteful; others chafed with impatience; but, finally, all of us settled down into the belief that we had about all the oil we should get this voyage. The captain kept his spirits up, and was continually foretelling better luck. Our time, during this interval, was got rid of in various ways. In warm weather, the watches on deck, as well as those below, were for the most part slept away; in cold weather, walking fore and aft the deck, with hands thrust deep into breeches pockets, seemed the only occupation any of us had. There was no work to be done, in fact, but to break out our provender from the ship’s hold and consume it.
On the 11th, at 4 o’clock in the afternoon, we squared our yards and steered for the land. At 9¹⁄₂ the following morning we let go our anchor in Bunbury Bay, opposite to, and about a mile distant from, the town of Bunbury. This little town is the neatest that I have seen on the coast; and, although the class of population, to a great extent, is similar to that in Vasse and the Sound, still there are many reside in it who are worthy, respected, hospitable, and intelligent. Ours was the first ship that had been in the harbor for years, and our captain received the title of “the opener of the port.” At one time it was a place of great resort for American whale-ships, but several having, by some means, been driven ashore and lost, it became unpopular, and was superseded by Vasse. The high price of provisions and generally disobliging character of the inhabitants in the latter place, induced our captain to visit Bunbury as an experiment, which proved successful in the highest degree. We were eagerly welcomed on going ashore, and cordially invited into the settlers’ houses. The schools were allowed a holiday, that the children might visit the ship. These youngsters, on seeing us, from the shore, engaged aloft (all the ship’s crew being at work in the rigging), tarring down, &c., deemed us monkeys, and could not be convinced to the contrary until they came aboard and had a survey of us. This was rather disparaging to some thirty young men, belonging to the smartest nation in the world, to be compared to brutes; but our occupation originated the impression, and one of the little fellows observed, on coming aboard, “If they aint monkeys, they climb about just like them;” and being convinced that he had gained a point, strutted off in triumph.
The country, hereabouts, presents a fertile appearance, contrasting favorably with the sandy soil in other portions of the colony that we have visited. Provisions were very plentiful here, too, and we were enabled to procure a sufficiency of excellent onions, potatoes, cabbages, and turnips. Part of the onions and cabbages were pickled and stowed away until our fresh supply should be exhausted. Excellent fruit was to be had ashore, comprising apples, peaches, melons, and pears; some of the peaches were delicious, and could be purchased at a moderate price.
Many of the natives here presented a better appearance than any I had before seen, being clothed with European garments, and clean, they lost half of their hideousness, and appeared immeasurably superior to their brethren of the bush, with whom, however, they seemed to be on terms of the utmost equality. I was informed by a resident, that several of the females had been transformed into excellent house-servants; but that they could not depend on retaining them, from their unconquerable predilection for a bush life.
On the outskirts of the town is the barrack, where a company of infantry is stationed, to whom, in a measure, the general good order prevailing is due—their presence intimidating peace-breakers. These red-coat gentry, stationed in a town in time of peace, and enforcing the strictest discipline, appear rather strange to an American; but the state of society renders them a necessary evil, and companies of them are distributed throughout these colonies.
Within a circuit of a few miles there are a number of excellent farms, on which neat buildings are erected for dwellings and dairy purposes. The principal products of these farms are potatoes, onions, cabbages, and the various garden vegetables, wheat, rye, and oats. Their wheat is good and sweet, but dark. Their oats, as they acknowledge themselves, scarcely deserve the name. They informed me that they raised three crops of potatoes during the year. Indian corn, too, is cultivated, but not to any extent. These farms are surrounded by the ordinary post and rail fence, made of the native mahogany—as it never requires renewing on account of decay. The raspberry-jam, a wood resembling in smell the berry of that name, and susceptible of a beautiful polish, is found abundantly in the neighborhood: this is a handsome wood, and when recently fractured or sawn, the odor is delightful. Vessels arrive and depart from here at stated intervals, carrying lumber to Adelaide; they only take the mahogany, which is used for sleepers to the railway in process of construction there. These crafts carry passengers, whom, for the passage of about fifteen hundred miles, they charge the extortionate price of ten pounds a head; but there is no competition, and, therefore, they have it all their own way. The crafts are small, mostly rigged as brigs of about one hundred and twenty-five tons measurement.
As in all other settlements on this coast, the rum-sellers drive a thriving trade, although here there are not so many of them, there being but two depots for the sale of spirits in the town. One of them holds forth in a neat brick building, which, they told me, cost two thousand pounds sterling to erect. At home the same description of building would have cost about one hundred pounds, or five hundred dollars. As everybody here drinks, they think it hospitable to greet the stranger with “What will you take?” and consequently our fellows, many of whom never rejected such offers, were alive for fun—and I will guarantee that the denizens of Bunbury will, for many a day, remember the skylarking of the Pacific’s crew. One, after getting pretty well elevated, took our two Portuguese up to the school, and insisted on the preceptor’s entering their names on his list of pupils.
During my visit ashore I went through the town from beginning to end, and by invitation entered most of the houses. In the garden of one I was shown a young kangaroo, leaping and gambolling about in the most graceful and easy manner. I also saw several collections of birds: the cockatoo and whistling twenty-eight being the most noteworthy. The cockatoo varies from the East India variety in the color of its crest, which is white; and, after some tuition, they talk very fluently, as I was assured by one who, with great facility asked what my name was. Not seeing the bird at the time, I turned round to my companion to answer his inquiry, as I thought, when a repetition of the question from a different direction soon satisfied me as to its author. On my hesitating to answer, the bird curtly informed me that he would tell his mistress. As I did not wish to incur my fair hostess’ displeasure, she having furnished me with a most excellent repast, I hastened to satisfy him.
The twenty-eight is a beautiful bird, resembling the parrot. What it derives its name from I cannot imagine, as there is, whether in a wild or domestic state, nothing in its note that to my ear resembles the sound of the words “twenty-eight.” The prevailing color of its plumage is green, elegantly variegated about the head and tail with yellow, red, and black feathers. These birds are easily taught to whistle a tune. Their natural note is pleasing, and somewhat resembling that of the cuckoo. They can be taught also to talk, and several in our possession far exceeded in this respect any parrot I ever saw. When taught they are highly valued by the settlers, and almost every family has one or more of them. They exist in great numbers in the bush of the vicinity, and are preferable to the cockatoo, because they are free from his tricks—he being as mischievous as a monkey, when allowed to traverse the house.
A river runs from the town up into the interior. On following its windings, I found it too shallow for craft of the lightest draught. Thousands of fowls skim over its surface: the shag, the swan, gulls, and the monster pelican—all gathering their living from its waters. In the rainy season it becomes a formidable stream, rushing violently over its bed, and carrying away all loose objects that lie along its course. In this river, too, I saw the natives spearing fish, an art in which they displayed considerable skill. Wading in the water, and patiently watching until the prey swam near them, they would expertly strike in their spears and transfix it. I saw one of them thus encounter a shark, piercing him through and through, until he despatched the monster. During the whole conflict he displayed extreme adroitness and activity in keeping out of the way of the infuriated creature, when with gnashing jaws it turned upon its antagonist. Whenever they capture a shark they eat it.