Peter Biddulph: The Story of an Australian Settler

by William Henry Giles Kingston

We had for some time very fine weather, which confirmed Bob Hunt in his opinion that the cat, Duchess, was as wise as he had at first believed.

“She knowed it,” he observed, looking sagaciously at Dick Nailor, who was sitting on the capstan with his arms folded across his broad chest, looking out ahead, “she knowed it, and she’ll stick by this craft till we get safe into Port Jackson, you’ll see that.”

“As to that, I see that the cat is there, and that our little craft is afloat, and every prospect of remaining so!” answered Dick. It was seldom he uttered so long an expression. “You don’t even say that the cat has had any hand in keeping her afloat; and to my mind, it’s just this: she found the craft tight and wholesome, she was fond of us, and she saw that we didn’t leave her, and so she didn’t. No, no, Bob, the old Duchess had nothing to do with the matter. There’s one aloft who took care of us, and if the cat had fallen overboard, or gone ashore and been left behind, it would have made no manner of difference.”

“Then, I suppose you mean to say that there is no such person as the Flying Dutchman?” observed Bob; “everybody who has rounded the Cape has heard of him.”

“There might have been some villain of a Dutchman who swore that he’d beat about the seas till the Day of Judgment; but depend on it, if he ever did utter such an oath, he’s gone to answer for it long ago—far away from this world,” said Dick Nailor, solemnly. “I’ve heard many, many men talk of the Flying Dutchman, but I never yet met with one who had seen him.”

Neither had Bob Hunt, and so he had nothing to answer to this—indeed, talkative as he was, he always had to knock under to Dick’s sturdy, matter-of-fact arguments, or to his pertinacious silence, if no argument was forthcoming.

The quaint fellow would fold his arms, sit down, and look a picture of stolidity.

I have not said much about how my children passed their time during the voyage. The boys were generally employed in sailing the vessel, or about the rigging; for my object was not only to keep the vessel in good order during the voyage, but to take her into Port Jackson looking as fresh as I could. However, the boys had time to practice writing and to study their books, and both Peter and Charles White were able to help them. The girls had plenty of work to do, as my wife had laid in a store of all sorts of things to make up. They also were not idle with regard to their books; and they had several pleasant ones to read. I found also that Charley White was very happy to help them forward in their studies, and Susan took it into her head that she should very much like to learn navigation. She, however, gave up that idea, and took to singing, as Charley, who knew something about music, thought he could help her, and it was likely to prove a more amusing study, and quite as useful to her. I may safely say that no one was idle on board; and what is more, that not a real quarrel, and scarcely a dispute of any sort occurred among the inhabitants of our little world. If one differed in opinion from another, it was always good naturedly, and all discussions were finished amicably. People in families on shore would always be able to do the same if they kept a watch over their tempers, and did not allow envy, jealousy, and pride to spring up and hold dominion in their hearts.

Our tempers were occasionally tried. When within a week’s sail of the western shores of Australia the wind fell to a dead calm. The sea was smooth as glass, and the hot sun came down with fearful force on our heads, while the reflection of his rays from the glittering sea almost blinded our eyes. Long as I had ploughed the salt ocean, I had never felt the heat greater. For two or three days it was endurable, but after that every one began to complain; even Duchess looked out for a shady place, under the sail or bulwarks, to lie down in, and poor Steadfast went panting about the deck with his tongue out, the fowls hung down their heads, and the merry robins and sparrows ceased to chirp. If a chip or a feather was thrown overboard, it lay motionless alongside, though the schooner herself kept moving round, with her head towards all the points of the compass.

The heat created a violent thirst: everybody was thirsty—the men, my children, my wife and I, and the poor animals; they required water more than we did, for they got no moisture out of the packed hay. We gave them as much as we dared, and, as soon as the sun was down, had them on deck to give them fresh air.