Returning from the fishery, we took a short cut through the bush, which is lower here than any I have seen elsewhere in Australia—no tree or shrub appearing that was over eight feet in height. Amidst the general desolation, beautiful flowers of various descriptions and colors sprung up; forming a strange contrast, and appearing as if Nature, to make amends for the general loneliness and negligence displayed, had caused these gay flowers to flourish here, and truly, as the poet says,
“To waste their sweetness on the desert air.”
On our way down, we continually passed little mounds, shaped like beehives, and constructed of dried grass and sand, arranged to a nicety. At first I was at a loss to tell the true character of these nests; but, on knocking the top off of one of them with my stick, I saw myriads of ants—it being a granary for these insects. On being disturbed, they rushed hither and thither in search of the violator of their domicile, and on discovering him, they ran up his clothing, and bestowed no very gentle bites upon his legs and body. They are much larger than our ants; and, unlike ours, instead of excavating a place of retreat, they build it upon the surface of the earth.
We also saw and destroyed (without knowing what we were killing) several iguanas—little creatures of the lizard species, that abound here in great numbers. They are said to be a fierce enemy of the serpent tribe, and to engage in long and severe contests with his snakeship, and always gain the victory—running, when bitten by him, to a certain herb that acts as a specific. When we were at Hobartown, I was told of a man, named Underwood, who possessed a sure and speedy antidote for the bite of any snake. The government had offered him a large price for his secret, but he refused to divulge it on any terms. He was a convict of the lowest grade, and represented that he first discovered the antidote by observing the iguana running to, and eating it, after having been bitten by his foe. This remedy, which is vegetable, he states to be very common. Its infallibility is implicitly believed in by the residents; and, from their account, even a stranger cannot refuse credence to its worth, after listening to a recital of the many satisfactory tests it has been subjected to by the faculty.
Whilst we were engaged ashore, those who chose to remain on board the ship passed the time in angling. Amongst other specimens of what had been caught, was one known as the snapper, each weighing from twenty to thirty-five pounds. They had scales, and were of a reddish color. Another, known as the groper, from its swimming close to the bottom, weighs from fifty to one hundred and fifty pounds. It has scales on its body, and is black in color. Both these fish have ivory teeth, from a quarter to three-quarters of an inch in length, and of the same shape as those of the sperm whale. Both are good eating, salted or fresh. They require a strong line and stout arm to secure them. Beside these members of the finny tribe, there are also to be found here others of less note: the mackerel, herring, benita, salmon, and whitings—existing in great numbers. We caught and salted a barrel of them; but, from an excess of salt, they were unpalatable, and we were forced to heave them overboard when we got outside.
On returning to the beach to go aboard, we discovered that one of our party was missing. It proved to be a New Bedford boy, who, although his name was John, had been ’yclept Barney, from the first day of our sailing. He was a good-natured fellow, who did not care what name he answered to, and became more accustomed to his alias than to his true cognomen. A call for John would pass unnoticed, when one for Barney would secure his attention in double-quick time. Having no taste for whaling, and being desirous of getting home speedily, he had donned several suits of clothes, and determined to run for it. He separated himself from the rest of the party soon after going ashore, and started directly for the town of Albany, where he arrived at midnight; but finding those who had left the ships before mentioned in a sad predicament—destitute and wretched—he changed his mind, and gave himself up to the captain, who was about instituting a search, and offering a reward for his apprehension. Two days afterward he was aboard the ship again.
On the 21st we had all our work done, but were unable to get to sea, being wind-bound by a heavy easterly gale. The mouth of the bay being narrow, precluded the possibility of our beating out. The gale gradually increased; but our ground-tackle was good, and, with both anchors down, we rode it out. On the afternoon of this day the steamship Simla made her appearance. She is a noble vessel, of twenty-five hundred tons burden—three hundred and sixty-five feet in length. Just before approaching the sound she took the pilot aboard, and under his guidance proceeded in. Here she came to anchor alongside the Larkin, in order to receive her coal—this being, after leaving Melbourne, the first station for fuel for the line of steamships to which she belongs. They remain here for twenty-four hours, and bring hither and convey hence the mail to and from the Swan River colony. On the morning after the Simla’s arrival her mails were opened, and hardly an idea can be formed of our surprise on seeing the following announcement in a copy of the Melbourne Weekly Herald:—
“Supposed Loss of the Whaling Barque Pacific, of New Bedford, U. S.
“The following letter appeared in the Nelson Examiner of the 16th ult.:
“‘To the Editor of the Nelson Examiner.