Peter Biddulph: The Story of an Australian Settler

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Chapter Nine.

Land, Hurrah!

I hurried back to the boat. The casks were filled. We got them in. Should we remain in the harbour and try to conceal ourselves, or should we boldly pull out with the certainty of being seen, but yet with the possibility of getting back to the schooner and putting to sea before the privateer’s men could reach us. We decided on the latter course, not a moment was to be lost. If we should succeed in getting out to sea we should be safe; for with so large a number of her people on shore it was not likely that the French ships would chase us.

“Now, my lads, pull for life and liberty!” I exclaimed, as I took the helm. “Gently at first till we are clear of the harbour. The Frenchmen won’t see us till then.”

The entrance was not very easy; as soon as we were outside the boys gave way. I every now and then turned my head round to ascertain if we were observed. The Frenchmen were most probably, as we had been, searching for water and did not see us. At length they caught sight of us, I concluded, as I saw them running along the shore as fast as their legs would carry them. My boys exerted their arms in a like manner. The Frenchmen, although they saw that we were beyond their reach, fired a shot at us. Another and another followed. It was done in mere wantonness, for they could not have known who we were. We were much too distant from them, however, for the shot to reach us. Heavily laden as was our boat, the boys urged her on fast, and in a short time we were alongside the schooner. Charley White, who had remained in charge, had heard the shots, and guessing who had fired them, had got the sheep on board with the wood and grass, and made everything ready for weighing. Happily, the breeze blew down the harbour. We speedily hoisted the boats on board and got the anchors up, and while the Frenchmen were climbing up a height which formed the eastern shore of the inlet, we ran out and were speedily clear of the land. We could see them through the glass stamping on the ground, apparently with rage at our having escaped them. The northerly breeze carried us in a short time out of their sight and indeed out of sight of the land itself. We were to the south of the equator, and that northerly wind was the hottest I ever experienced; from its very smell we could tell that it had blown over many hundred miles of burnt earth or dry sand. We kept south; for I purposed going round Van Diemen’s Land instead of through Bass’s Straits—not then very well known.

Next day we looked out with some anxiety for the Frenchman, but he was nowhere to be seen, and we entertained the hope that we had escaped him altogether.

We sighted the southern part of Van Diemen’s Land. But as we should not have been allowed to land at the new settlement then even had we wished it, unless we had put in there in distress, we continued our course for Port Jackson. It was time for us to be in port. We had eaten up all the fowls except those we wanted to land; the biscuits were becoming mouldy, the water bad, the hay was nearly consumed, and the sheep, put on short allowance, were looking thin, though otherwise healthy.

The lads were continually going to the mast-head, each one eager to be the first to discover land.

We were edging in for the coast, from which I knew that we were not far distant, when Mark, who was aloft, shouted out, “Land! land! Hurrah! the land we are bound for!” I was afraid that in the exuberance of his delight he would have let go his hold, and come down by the run on deck. John thought so too, and with alarm expressed in his countenance, ran under him to catch him in his arms. He held on, however, and in a few seconds his brother and White joined him, and shouted with almost as much glee as he had exhibited, “Land! land!” We stood in directly for it, for by my calculations we were not far off Botany Bay, or rather Port Jackson, for that in reality was the port for which we were bound.