Peter Biddulph: The Story of an Australian Settler

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Chapter Eight.

A Joyful Discovery.

More than once I saw in my dreams a big ship closing rapidly with us and the French flag run up at the main, and a voice ordering us to heave to. We were all to be made prisoners; horrible would be the fate of those dearest to me. I started up in a cold perspiration, though the weather was hot enough as may be supposed.

There was scarcely a sound except the rippling of the water against the vessel’s side, the breathing of those sleeping round me in our little cabin, and the tread of Peter’s feet overhead. Charley was at the helm I guessed. He said something, and then they both burst into a merry laugh. “All’s right,” I thought to myself, “I know why I had that uncomfortable dream. I was over anxious. I ought, having done my best, to have thrown all my care and anxiety on God; knowing that He cares for me and those dear to me.” I got out of bed, knelt down, and prayed, and when I lay down again I slept as soundly as I had ever done in my life. Awaking at daylight, I went on deck to relieve the young men. No sail was in sight. Once more we put the schooner on her proper course. I proposed touching on the western or southern coast of Australia for the sake of obtaining grass or hay for the sheep, and water and fuel. We had found the importance of having a good supply of fuel. I was no longer anxious about the stranger, but still I knew that if he was bound in the same direction that we were, owing to the uncertain winds and calms, we might very possibly again fall in with him. Still, he might after all be a friend. I would banish the subject from my mind. I did so. In the next week we had fine weather and a fair breeze, till the land, stretching away in the north, blue and indistinct, was seen on our larboard bow. We hauled up for it till we got near enough to distinguish objects on shore. I cannot say that the appearance of that part of the new country which was to be our future home was at all attractive. Backs and sand-hills, and slight elevations covered with dark green trees, were the only objects we could discern. We could obtain plenty of wood, but that we could find any water in that dry looking country seemed very doubtful, even if we could manage to land. We had all been so eagerly watching the coast, that for a long time no one had turned their eyes to the southward; Mary, happening to do so, exclaimed, “Father, there’s a sail in the horizon no bigger than my hand, but I see it clearly.”

Charley, on hearing this, sprang aloft with his glass. He quickly returned, and quietly remarked to me, “A ship standing in for the land, not unlike our friend of last week.”

I agreed with him it would be prudent to avoid her. The best way to do this was to stand close in, so that our masts should not appear above the land. The shore was here higher and more broken than that which we had before passed.

The stranger was drawing near, and judging from the cut of his sails I had little doubt that he was a Frenchman. Whether or not he saw us it was hard to say; I was afraid he did, as he was steering a course which would inevitably cut us off. I still did not like to communicate my fears to my wife and daughters. It must be done soon I felt, for the nearer the stranger drew the more convinced I was that he was French. While we were watching our supposed enemy we did not neglect to look out for a place of refuge, and we kept scanning the coast anxiously for any opening into which we might run to hide ourselves. My wife and daughters suspected, from what they observed, that I did not like the look of the stranger; and when at last I saw that it was no use concealing from them what I suspected, Mary, I think it was, proposed loading the boats with as many necessaries as they could carry, running close in, and, having deserted the vessel, hiding ourselves in the woods till our enemies had gone away.

Her sisters chimed in, and thought that it would not be at all unpleasant to picnic in the woods for a few days, or perhaps settle there altogether. They little dreamed of the inhospitable character of that part of the country; still I would say nothing to damp their courage. The breeze was fresh and from the south-west, and though it brought up the stranger, it enabled us to stand close in shore with less danger than if the wind had been dead on it. As far as we could judge, there was no opening to indicate a harbour or shelter of any sort. The big ship was approaching rapidly; I felt as if we were caught in a trap. We had no choice now but to stand on; the wind was too much to the westward to allow us to retrace our course, and so double on the stranger. I thought by this time that we must be seen. We were small, that was one thing; and another was, probably, that no one was looking for us. If not seen now, we should be in a few minutes; of that I felt sure. Again and again I examined the strange vessel, and became more and more convinced that if not a government ship she was worse; one of the large privateers which were known to infest the Indian seas, and which occasionally made excursions to other regions. They were generally commanded by ruffians, and manned with desperadoes of all nations—the scourings of the French galleys. To fall into such hands would be worse than death. I cannot tell you what fearful suggestions were offered to my mind. To run the vessel in among the breakers, to scuttle her, to set her on fire; anything seemed better than being taken.

We stood on; the atmosphere was so clear that it seemed impossible to escape the observation of the stranger. Just then a line of white foam appeared almost ahead. It was, I judged, a reef extending from the shore. Hauling round it, I observed an indentation in the coast, the first we had seen in that long, unbroken line of sandy shore. I steered towards it; an opening appeared; the lead was kept going; the wind favoured us; we shortened sail, and in a few minutes brought up within a high woody point, completely concealed from any vessel passing even close outside. As soon as the canvas was made snug, Charley and the boys hurried on shore to watch the strange ship. I followed them. She was steering it seemed for the very end of the reef. It struck me that perhaps she was looking for the very harbour in which we had brought up. If so, after all our efforts to escape, we should fall into her power. She drew closer and closer. Could the entrance of our harbour be seen from her deck?

“She is a good way to the eastward of the reef,” observed Charley. “Her lead is going; she intends to bring up; she is looking for a harbour, and probably this one.”