THE LIFE OF CAPTAIN MATTHEW FLINDERS, R.N.
BY ERNEST SCOTT
PROFESSOR OF HISTORY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF MELBOURNE
AUTHOR OF “TERRE NAPOLEON” AND “LIFE OF LAPEROUSE”
WITH PORTRAITS, MAPS, AND FACSIMILES.
SYDNEY
ANGUS & ROBERTSON LTD.
89 CASTLEREAGH STREET
1914.
PREFACE.
The subject of this book died one hundred years ago. Within
his forty years of life, he discovered a very large area of what
is now an important region of the earth; he participated in
stirring events which are memorable in modern history; he applied
a vigorous and original mind to the advancement of knowledge,
with useful results; and he was the victim of circumstances
which, however stated, were peculiarly unfortunate, and must
evoke the sympathy of everyone who takes the trouble to
understand them. His career was crowded with adventures: war,
perilous voyages, explorations of unknown coasts, encounters with
savages, shipwreck and imprisonment are the elements which go to
make up his story. He was, withal, a downright Englishman of
exceptionally high character, proud of his service and unsparing
of himself in the pursuit of his duty.
Yet up to this time his biography has not been written. There
are, it is true, outlines of his career in various works of
reference, notably that contributed by Sir J.K. Laughton to the
Dictionary of National Biography. But there is no book to which a
reader can turn for a fairly full account of his achievements,
and an estimate of his personality. Of all discoverers of leading
rank Matthew Flinders is the only one about whom there is no
ample and convenient record.
This book endeavours to fill the gap.
The material upon which it is founded is set forth in the
footnotes and the bibliography. Here the author takes pleasure in
acknowledging the assistance he has received from several
quarters. A previous book brought him the acquaintance of the
grand-nephew of that Comte de Fleurieu who largely inspired three
famous French voyages to Australia—those of Laperouse,
Dentrecasteaux and Baudin—all of which have an important bearing
upon the subject. The Comte A. de Fleurieu had long been engaged
in collecting material relative to the work and influence of his
distinguished grand-uncle, and in the most generous manner he
handed over to the author his very large collection of
manuscripts and note-books to be read, noted, and used at
discretion. Even when a historian does not actually quote or
directly use matter bearing upon his subject, it is of immense
advantage to have access to documents which throw light upon it,
and which enable an in-and-out knowledge of a period and persons
to be obtained. This book owes much of whatever value it may
possess to monsieur de Fleurieu’s assistance in this respect, and
the author thanks him most warmly.
The Flinders papers, of which free use has been made, were
presented to the Melbourne Public Library by Professor W.M.
Flinders Petrie. They are described in the bibliography. The
transcripts of family and personal documents were especially
valuable. Although they were not supplied for this book,
Professor Flinders Petrie gave them in order that they might be
of use to some biographer of his grandfather, and the author begs
to thank him, and also Mr. E La Touche Armstrong, the chief
librarian, in whose custody they are, and who has given frequent
access to them.
The rich stores of manuscripts in the Mitchell Library,
Sydney, have been thoroughly examined, with the assistance of Mr.
W.H. Ifould, principal librarian, Mr. Hugh Wright, and the staff
of that institution. Help from this quarter was accorded with
such grace that one came to think giving trouble was almost like
conferring a favour.
All copies of documents from Paris and Caen cited in this book
have been made by Madame Robert Helouis. The author was able to
indicate the whereabouts of the principal papers, but Madame
Helouis, developing an interest in the subject as she pursued her
task, was enabled, owing to her extensive knowledge of the
resources of the French archives, to find and transcribe many new
and valuable papers. The author also wishes to thank Captain
Francis Bayldon, of Sydney, who has kindly given help on several
technical points; Miss Alma Hansen, University of Melbourne, who
was generous enough to make a study of the Dutch Generale
Beschrijvinge van Indien—no light task—to verify a point of
some importance for the purpose of the chapter on “The Naming of
Australia”; and Mr. E.A. Petherick, whose manuscript
bibliography, containing an immense quantity of material, the
fruit of a long life’s labour, has always been cheerfully made
available.
Professor Flinders Petrie has been kind enough to read and
make some useful suggestions upon the personal and family
passages of the book, which has consequently benefited
greatly.
The whole work has been read through by Mr. A.W. Jose, author
of The History of Australasia, whose criticism on a multitude of
points, some minute, but all important, has been of the utmost
value. The help given by Mr. Jose has been more than friendly; it
has been informed by a keen enthusiasm for the subject, and great
knowledge of the original authorities. The author’s obligations
to him are gratefully acknowledged.
It is hoped that these pages will enable the reader to know
Matthew Flinders the man, as well as the navigator; for the study
of the manuscript and printed material about him has convinced
the author that he was not only remarkable for what he did and
endured, but for his own sake as an Englishman of the very best
type.
Melbourne, June 1914.
CONTENTS.
Place of Flinders among Australian navigators.
Birth.
Flemish origins.
Pedigree.
Connection with the Tennysons.
Possible relationship with Bass.
Flinders’ father.
Donington.
CHAPTER 2. AT SCHOOL AND AT SEA.
Education.
Robinson Crusoe.
Aspirations for a naval career.
His father’s wish.
John Flinders’ advice.
Study of navigation.
Introduction to Pasley.
Lieutenant’s servant.
Midshipman on the Bellerophon.
Bligh and the Bounty mutiny.
CHAPTER 3. A VOYAGE UNDER BLIGH.
The second breadfruit expedition.
Flinders in the Providence.
Notes from Santa Cruz.
At the Cape.
Tahiti.
In Torres Strait.
Encounter with Papuans.
Return to England.
CHAPTER 4. THE BATTLE OFF BREST.
The naval war with France.
The battle of June 1st, 1794.
Flinders as gunner.
Pasley wounded.
Flinders’ journal of the engagement.
Effect of Pasley’s wound on the career of Flinders.
CHAPTER 5. AUSTRALIAN GEOGRAPHY BEFORE FLINDERS.
The predecessors of Flinders.
How Australia grew on the map.
Mediaeval controversies on antipodes.
Period of vague speculation.
Sixteenth century maps.
The Dutch voyagers.
The Batavia on the Abrolhos Reef.
The Duyfhen in the Gulf.
Torres.
The three periods of Australian maritime discovery.
Geographers and their views of Australia.
The theory of the dividing strait.
Cook and Furneaux.
The untraced southern coast.
CHAPTER 6. THE RELIANCE AND THE TOM THUMB.
Governor Hunter.
Captain Waterhouse.
Flinders’ passion for exploring new countries.
Joins the Reliance.
Hunter on the strategic importance of the Cape.
Sailing of Reliance and Supply for New South Wales.
Flinders’ observations.
Arrival at Port Jackson.
George Bass.
The Tom Thumb.
Exploration of George’s River.
A perilous cruise.
Meeting with aboriginals.
The midshipman as valet.
Port Hacking.
Patching up the Reliance.
Voyage to South Africa.
CHAPTER 7. THE DISCOVERY OF BASS STRAIT.
Bass in the Blue Mountains.
Supposed strait isolating Van Diemen’s Land.
Bass’s whaleboat voyage.
Wilson’s Promontory.
Escaped convicts.
Discovery of Westernport.
Return to Port Jackson.
CHAPTER 8. THE VOYAGE OF THE FRANCIS.
The wreck of the Sydney Cove.
Discovery of Kent’s Islands.
Biological notes.
Seals.
Sooty petrels.
The wombat.
Point Hicks.
CHAPTER 9. CIRCUMNAVIGATION OF TASMANIA.
Flinders in command of the Norfolk.
Bass’s association with him.
Twofold Bay.
Discovery of Port Dalrymple.
Bass Strait demonstrated.
Black swans.
Albatross Island.
Tasmanian aboriginals.
CHAPTER 10. THE FATE OF GEORGE BASS.
Bass’s marriage.
Part owner of the Venus.
Voyages after pork.
A fishing concession.
South American enterprise.
Unsaleable goods.
A “diplomatic-looking certificate.”
Bass’s last voyage.
Probable fate in Peru.
His missing letters.
CHAPTER 11. ON THE QUEENSLAND COAST.
Flinders and the Isaac Nicholls case.
Exploration on the Queensland coast.
Moreton Bay.
Return to England in the Reliance.
Sir Joseph Banks.
Marriage of Flinders.
Ann Chappell and Chappell Island.
The Franklins.
Publication of Observations on the Coasts of Van Diemen’s Land,
on Bass
Strait and its Islands.
Anxiety about French expedition.
The Investigator commissioned.
Equipment of ship.
The staff and crew.
East India Company’s interest.
Instructions for the voyage.
The case of Mrs. Flinders.
Sailing orders delayed.
The incident at the Roar.
Life on board.
Crossing the Line.
Australia reached.
CHAPTER 13. THE FRENCH EXPEDITION.
Origin of Baudin’s expedition.
His instructions.
Baudin’s dilatoriness.
In Tasmanian waters.
Waterhouse Island.
CHAPTER 14. SOUTH COAST DISCOVERY.
The south coast of Australia.
Method of research.
Aboriginals at King George’s Sound.
Discovery of Spencer’s Gulf.
Loss of Thistle and a boat’s crew.
Memory Cove.
Port Lincoln.
Kangaroo Island.
St. Vincent’s Gulf.
Pelicans.
Speculations on the fate of Laperouse.
CHAPTER 15. FLINDERS AND BAUDIN IN ENCOUNTER BAY
The sighting of Le Geographe.
Flinders visits Baudin.
Their conversations.
Flinders invites Baudin to visit Port Jackson.
CHAPTER 16. FLINDERS IN PORT PHILLIP
Grant’s discoveries.
Murray discovers Port Phillip.
King Island.
Flinders enters Port Phillip.
Ascends Arthur’s Seat.
The Investigator aground.
Cruise in a boat.
Ascends Station Peak.
Flinders’ impression of the port.
Arrival in Port Jackson.
Healthiness of his crew.
CHAPTER 17. THE FRENCH AT PORT JACKSON: PERON THE SPY.
Arrival of Le Geographe at Port Jackson.
State of the crew.
Hospitality of Governor King.
Rumours as to French designs.
Baudin’s gratitude.
Peron’s report on Port Jackson.
His espionage.
Freycinet’s plan of invasion.
Scientific work of the expedition.
CHAPTER 18. AUSTRALIA CIRCUMNAVIGATED.
Overhaul of the ship.
The Lady Nelson.
Flinders sails north.
Discovery of Port Curtis and Port Bowen.
Through the Barrier Reef.
Torres Strait.
Remarks on Coral Reefs.
The Gulf of Carpentaria.
Rotten condition of the ship.
Melville Bay discovered.
Sails for Timor.
Australia circumnavigated.
The Investigator condemned.
Illness of Flinders.
News of father’s death.
Letter to step-mother.
Letters to Mrs. Flinders.
Letter to Bass.
The end of the Investigator.
CHAPTER 19. WRECKED ON THE BARRIER REEF.
New plans.
Flinders sails in the Porpoise.
Remarks on Sydney.
Wrecked.
Conduct of the Bridgewater.
Plans for relief.
Stores available.
Voyage in the Hope to Sydney.
Franklin’s description of the wreck.
CHAPTER 20. TO ILE-DE-FRANCE IN THE CUMBERLAND.
King receives news of the wreck.
The Cumberland.
Wreck Reef reached.
Voyage to Timor.
Determination to sail to Ile-de-France.
Flinders’ reasons.
Arrival at Baye du Cap.
Arrival at Port Louis.
Decaen’s early career.
His baptism of fire.
War in the Vendee.
The Army of the Rhine.
Moreau.
Battle of Hohenlinden.
Moreau and Napoleon.
The peace of Amiens.
Decaen’s arrival at Pondicherry.
His reception.
Leaves for Ile-de-France.
His character and abilities.
Flinders’ reception by Decaen.
His anger.
Imprisoned at the Cafe Marengo.
His papers and books.
His examination.
Refusal of invitation to dinner.
Decaen’s anger.
His determination to detain Flinders.
King’s despatches.
Decaen’s statement of motives.
Flinders asks to be sent to France.
CHAPTER 23. THE CAPTIVITY PROLONGED.
Decaen’s despatch.
A delayed reply.
Flinders’ occupations.
His health.
The sword incident.
Anniversary of the imprisonment.
Aken’s liberation.
The faithful Elder.
CHAPTER 24. THE CAPTIVITY MODIFIED.
Thomas Pitot.
Removal to Wilhelm’s Plains.
The parole.
Madame D’Arifat’s house.
Hospitalities.
Flinders studies French and Malay.
Further exploration schemes.
The residence of Laperouse.
Work upon the charts.
King’s protest and Decaen’s anger.
Elder’s departure.
CHAPTER 25. THE ORDER OF RELEASE.
Influences to secure release.
The order of release.
Receipt of the despatch.
Decaen’s reply.
Flinders a dangerous man.
Reason for Decaen’s refusal.
State of Ile-de-France.
Project for escape.
Flinders’ reasons for declining.
Blockade of Ile-de-France.
Decaen at the end of his tether.
Release of Flinders.
Return to England.
The plagiarism charge.
Flinders’ papers.
Work of Peron and Freycinet.
CHAPTER 27. LAST YEARS AND DEATH OF FLINDERS.
Flinders in London.
Prolonged and severe work.
His illness.
Death of Flinders.
His last words.
Treatment of his widow by the Admiralty.
Personality.
Portraits.
Flinders’ commanding look.
Geniality.
Conversational powers.
Gentleness.
Kindness to wounded French officer.
Advice to young officers.
An eager student.
The husband.
Technical writings.
The marine barometer.
Variations in the compass.
Praise of other navigators.
Love for his work.
CHAPTER 30. THE NAMING OF AUSTRALIA.
The name Australia given to the continent by Flinders.
The “Austrialia del Espiritu Santo” of Quiros.
De Brosses and “Australasia.”
Dalrymple and “Australia.”
Flinders’ use of the word in 1804.
His use of it in a French essay in 1810.
Persistent employment of the word in letters.
Proposes the word “Australia” to Banks.
His fight for his word.
“Terra Australis.”
The footnote of 1814.
APPENDIX A. BAUDIN’S NARRATIVE OF THE MEETING IN ENCOUNTER BAY.
APPENDIX B. PERON’S REPORT ON PORT JACKSON.
APPENDIX C. NAMES GIVEN BY FLINDERS TO AUSTRALIAN COASTAL FEATURES.
MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
1. PORTRAIT OF MATTHEW FLINDERS, AGED
27.
From the engraving in the “Naval Chronicle,” 1814, after a
miniature in the possession of Mrs. Flinders.
2. FLINDERS’ BIRTHPLACE, DONINGTON,
LINCOLNSHIRE.
(From photograph lent by Mr. George Gordon McCrae.)
3. FACSIMILE OF LETTER TO SIR JOSEPH BANKS,
1794.
(Mitchell Library.)
H.M.S Bellerophon
Spithead March 20th 1794.
Sir Joseph,
Yesterdays Post brought me a Letter from Mr. Miles, in Answer
to the one I wrote him for his Power of Attorney, after I had the
Honour of waiting upon you in the Country, at which Time you were
pleased to express a Desire to be informed when it should arrive;
in Compliance with which, I now take the Liberty of addressing
you. It seems he has not sent the Power, but says he enclosd
something like one to you by which it appears he is not exactly
acquainted with the Business in Question, he tells me he has
explained his Sense of the Matter in your Letter and begd that
the remaining Sum might be paid to Mr. Dixon or Mr. Lee, from
whom he wishes me to receive it. When I wrote for the Power, I
explaind to him (as far as my Knowledge of the Subject extended)
the Necessity of his sending it, that he was to consider himself
as employd by Government, that it was from the Treasury his
Salary was to be got and that they would require some Authority
for paying it to me—at present Sir, I am at a Loss how to
proceed; whether what he has sent will be sufficient, or whether
it will still be necessary to get a regular Power is what I must
trespass upon your Generosity for a Knowledge of the doing which
will add to the Obligation your Goodness before conferd upon me;
with a gratefull Sense of which I beg leave to subscribe myself,
Sir Joseph
your much obligd and most humble Servant
Mattw. Flinders.
To Sir Jos Banks Bart.
4. TABLET ON MEMORIAL ERECTED BY SIR JOHN
FRANKLIN AT PORT LINCOLN, SOUTH AUSTRALIA.
THIS PLACE
from which the Gulf and its
Shores were first surveyed
on 26. Feb, 1802 by
MATTHEW FLINDERS, R.N.
Commander of H.M.S. Investigator
the Discoverer of the Country
now called South Australia
was set apart
on 12. Jan. 1841
with the sanction of
LT. COL. GAWLER. K.H.
then Governor of the Colony
and in the first year of the
government of CAPT. G. GREY
adorned with this Monument
to the perpetual Memory
of the illustrious Navigator
his honored Commander
by
JOHN FRANKLIN. CAPT. R.N.
K.C.H. K.R.
LT. GOVERNOR OF
VAN DIEMEN’S LAND.
5. MEMORIAL ON MOUNT LOFTY, SOUTH
AUSTRALIA.
FLINDERS COLUMN
IN HONOUR OF MATTHEW FLINDERS
COMMANDER OF THE INVESTIGATOR
WHO FROM KANGAROO HEAD, KANGAROO ISLAND
DISCOVERED AND NAMED MOUNT LOFTY
ON TUESDAY 23RD. MARCH 1802
THIS TABLET WAS UNVEILED AND THE COLUMN NAMED
BY HIS EXCELLENCY LORD TENNYSON. 22ND. MARCH 1902.
6. MAP OF FLINDERS’ VOYAGES IN BASS
STRAIT.
FLINDERS’ VOYAGES IN BASS STRAIT IN THE FRANCIS, NORFOLK, AND
INVESTIGATOR.
7. BASS’S EYE-SKETCH OF WESTERNPORT.
Western Port
on the South Coast of
NW. SOUTH WALES
from Mr. Bass’s Eye-sketch.
1798.
9. PAGE FROM FLINDERS’ MANUSCRIPT NARRATIVE
OF THE VOYAGE OF THE FRANCIS, 1798.
(Melbourne Public Library.)
(12)
1798
FEBRUARY SATURDAY 10 close round the rock. At 8, when off a
rocky point on which are two eminences of white stone in the form
of oblique cones inclining inwards, we stood to the southward,
and off and on during the night, keeping the peak and high land
of Cape Barren in sight, the wind, from the westward.
SUNDAY 11 At the following noon, the observed latitude was 40
degrees 41½, Cape Barren bearing north-by-west. The wind
being strong at west-south-west we continued standing off and on,
and lying to occasionally, till day light next morning, when we
made sail.
MONDAY 12 west-north-west for the south end of Clarkes Island,
having the wind now at north by east. A little to the westward of
the rocky point, which has the inclining cones upon it, lies an
island, between which and the point, is a deep channel of between
half and three-quarters of a mile wide; and about the same
distance to the westward of this island, is another of nearly the
same size: they are rather low and covered with brush and grass.
Between these islands and Clarkes Island, we observed two low
islets, and two rocks above water, the latter not more than three
or four miles from us. To the southward also, we saw the land
extending a great distance; but the whole are better seen in the
sketch.
About ten o’clock, the ebb tide was running with such
violence, that although the schooner was going one knot and a
half through the water, yet by the land we were evidently going
retrograde almost as much, and towards the land withal: but the
light air that remained enabled us to draw the ???
10. MEMORIAL ON THE SUMMIT OF STATION PEAK,
PORT PHILLIP.
MATTHEW FLINDERS, R.N.,
STOOD ON THIS ROCK TO SURVEY THE BAY.
MAY 1, 1802.
NATIONAL PARKS ASSOCIATION,
1912.
11. PORT DALRYMPLE, DISCOVERED IN THE
NORFOLK, 1798.
PORT DALRYMPLE.
DISCOVERED 1798 IN THE NORFOLK SLOOP BY
M. FLINDERS.
12. PAGE FROM BASS’S MANUSCRIPT ACCOUNT OF
THE VOYAGE OF THE NORFOLK.
(Mitchell Library.)
New South Wales; Western Port, excepted. Notwithstanding this
evident superiority, the vegetable Mould, is frequently, of nor
great depth, and is sometimes, (perhaps advantageously) mixed
with small quantities of sand.
The best of the soil, lies upon the sides of sloping hills,
and in the broad vallies between them. Some parts that are low
and level, have a wet, peaty, surface, bounded by small tracts of
flowering heath and oderiferous plants, that perfume the air with
the fragrance of their oils.
The Plants, retain in general, the air of those of New South
Wales, while, they are in reality, different. The rich & vivid
colouring of the more northern flowers, and that soft & exquisite
graduation of their tints, for which they are so singularly
distinguished, hold with them here, but in a less eminent degree.
The two countries present a perfect similarity in this, that the
more barren spots are the most adorned.
Except in these useless places, the grass does not grow in
tufts, but covers the land equally, with a short, nutritious
herbage, better adapted possibly, to the bite of small, than of
large cattle. The food for the latter, is grown in the bottoms of
the vallies & upon the damp flats. A large proportion of the
soil, promises a fair return, for the labours of the cultivator,
and a smaller, insures an ample reward: but the greater part,
would perhaps turn to more advantage, if left for pasturage, than
if thrown into cultivation; it would be rich as the one, but poor
as the other. Water is found in runs, more than in Ponds, and the
not
13. CAIRN ERECTED ON FLINDERS’ LANDING-PLACE,
KANGAROO ISLAND, SOUTH AUSTRALIA.
GEORGE JOHN, SECOND EARL SPENCER, K.G.
Who, as First Lord of the Admiralty, despatched Flinders on
his discovery voyage in the Investigator.
(Photographed, by permission of Lord Spencer, from the
painting by Copley, at Althorp, Northamptonshire.)
15. TABLET AT MEMORY COVE, SOUTH
AUSTRALIA.
16. VIEW ON KANGAROO ISLAND, BY
WESTALL.
(Reproduced from the engraving in Flinders’ Journal, after
Westall’s drawing.)
17. FLINDERS’S CHART OF SPENCER’S GULF, ST.
VINCENT’S GULF, AND ENCOUNTER BAY.
18. TABLET AT ENCOUNTER BAY, SOUTH AUSTRALIA,
COMMEMORATING THE MEETING OF FLINDERS AND BAUDIN.
IN COMMEMORATION OF THE MEETING NEAR THIS BLUFF
BETWEEN H.M.S. ‘INVESTIGATOR’—MATTHEW FLINDERS
WHO EXPLORED THE COAST OF SOUTH AUSTRALIA
AND M.F. ‘LE GEOGRAPHE’—NICOLAS BAUDIN, APRIL 8, 1802.
ON BOARD THE ‘INVESTIGATOR’ WAS JOHN FRANKLIN
THE ARCTIC DISCOVERER: THESE ENGLISH AND FRENCH EXPLORERS
HELD FRIENDLY CONFERENCE. AND FLINDERS NAMED
THE PLACE OF MEETING ‘ENCOUNTER BAY.’
UNVEILED BY HIS EXCELLENCY LORD TENNYSON.
APRIL 8, 1902.
19. VIEW OF THE WESTERN ARM OF PORT PHILLIP,
BY WESTALL.
From the copy (in the Mitchell Library) of Westall’s original
drawing in the Royal Colonial Institute, London.
22 Port Phillip.
Distant view of the West arm of the Western Port.
Looking to south-west.
April 30th 1802.
The view appears to be one of Indented Head. On April 30,
1802, the date of the sketch, Flinders was “nearly at the
northern extremity of Indented Head” and took some bearings “from
the brow of a hill a little way back.”
20. FLINDERS’ MAP OF PORT PHILLIP AND
WESTERNPORT.
21. VIEW OF SYDNEY HARBOUR, FROM VAUCLUSE, BY
WESTALL.
(Reproduced from the engraving in Flinders’ Journal, after
Westall’s drawing.)
22. FLINDERS’ CHART OF TORRES STRAIT, ALSO
SHOWING COOK’S AND BLIGH’S TRACKS.
23. FLINDERS’ MAP OF THE GULF OF
CARPENTARIA.
24. FLINDERS’ MAP OF AUSTRALIA, SHOWING HIS
PRINCIPAL VOYAGES.
25. VIEW ON THE HAWKESBURY RIVER, BY
WESTALL.
From the copy (in the Mitchell Library) of Westall’s original
drawing in the Royal Colonial Institute, London.
26. WRECK REEF ISLAND, BY WESTALL.
(Reproduced from the engraving in Flinders’ Journal, after
Westall’s drawing.)
27. FLINDERS’ MAP OF WRECK REEF.
FLINDERS’ TRACKS IN THE VICINITY OF WRECK REEF.
28. PORTRAIT OF GENERAL DECAEN.
29. VIEW OF PORT LOUIS.
ILE-DE-FRANCE.
(From the Atlas of Milbert, 1812.)
(Melbourne Public Library.)
To his Excellency the
Minister of the marine and colonies
of France.
The memorial of Matthew Flinders Esq.
Prisoner in the Isle of France.
May it please Your Excellency
Your memorialist was commander of His Britannic Majesty’s ship
the Investigator, despatched by the Admiralty of England to
complete the discovery of New Holland and New South Wales, which
had been begun by the early Dutch navigators, and continued at
different periods by Cook, D’Entrecasteaux, Vancouver, and your
memorialist. He was furnished with a passport by order of His
Imperial and Royal Majesty, then first Consul of France; and
signed by the marine minister Forfait the 4th Prarial, year 9;
which passport permitted the Investigator to touch at French
ports in any part of the world, in cases of distress, and
promised assistance and protection to the commander and company,
provided they should not have unnecessarily deviated from their
route, or have done, or announced the intention of doing any
thing injurious to the French nation or its allies: Your
memorialist sailed from England in July 1801, and in April 1802,
whilst pursuing the discovery of the unknown part of the south
coast of New South Wales, he met with the commandant Baudin, who
being furnished with a passport by the Admiralty of Great
Britain, had been sent by the French government with the ships
Geographe and Naturaliste upon a nearly similar expedition some
months before. From Port Jackson, where the commandant was again
met with, your memorialist, accompanied by the brig Lady Nelson,
continued his examinations and discoveries northward, through
many difficulties and dangers, but with success, until December
1802, when, in the Gulf of Carpentaria
32. PORTRAIT OF FLINDERS IN 1808.
(From portrait drawn by Chazal at Ile-de-France.)
33. SILHOUETTE OF FLINDERS, MADE AFTER HIS
RETURN FROM ILE-DE-FRANCE.
(By permission of Professor Flinders Petrie.)
34. REDUCED FACSIMILE OF ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT
DEDICATION OF FLINDERS’ JOURNAL.
(Mitchell Library.)
To
the right hon. George John, Earl Spencer,
the right hon. John, Earl of St. Vincent,
the right hon. Charles Phillip Yorke,
and
the right hon. Robert Saunders, Viscount Melville,
who,
as first Lords Commissioners of the
Admiralty,
successively honoured the Investigator’s voyage
with their patronage,
this account of it is respectfully dedicated,
by Their Lordships
most obliged, and
most obedient
humble servant
Matthew Flinders
35. PAGE FROM MANUSCRIPT OF FLINDERS’
ABRIDGED NARRATIVE (UNPUBLISHED).
(Melbourne Public Library.)
from the general’s conduct, that he has sought to impose upon
him, and this for the purpose, perhaps for the pleasure, of
prolonging to the utmost my unjust detention.
But if apprehensions for the safety of this land are not the
cause of the order of the French government remaining unexecuted,
what reason can there be, sufficiently strong to have induced the
captain-general to incur the risk of misobedience, first to the
passport, and afterwards to the order for my liberation. This I
shall endeavour to explain in the following and last chapter of
this discussion; promising, however, that what I shall have to
offer upon this part of the subject, can only be what a
consideration of the captain-general’s conduct has furnished me,
as being the most probable. I am not conscious of having omitted
any material circumstance, either here or in the narration, or of
having misrepresented any; as if after an attentive perusal, the
reader thinks my explanation not borne out by the facts, I submit
it to his judgment to deduce a better; and should esteem myself
obliged by his making it public, so that it may reach so far as
even to me.
Chapter XII. Probable causes of my imprisonment, and of the
marine minister’s order for my liberation being suspended by the
captain-general
Before explaining what I conceive to have been the true causes
which led the captain-general to act so contrary to my passport,
as to imprison me and seize my vessel, charts, and papers; it
will be proper to give the reader a knowledge of some points in
His Excellency’s character, in addition to those he will have
extracted from the abridged narrative. At the time of my arrival,
he entertained, and does I believe still entertain, an
indiscriminate animosity against Englishmen, whether this arose
from his having been deprived of the advantage of fixing the seat
of his government at Pondicherry, by the renewal of war in 1803,
or from any antecedent circumstance, I cannot pretend to say; but
that he did harbour such animosity, and that in an uncommon
degree, is averred by his keeping in irons, contrary to the
usages of war, the first English seamen that were brought to the
island (Narrative page 58 and 70); by the surprise he testified
at the proceeding of a French gentleman, who interceded with him
for the liberty on parole of a sick English officer; on which
occasion he said amongst other things, that had he his own will,
he would send all the English prisoners to the Marquis Wellesley
without their ears: this animosity is, besides, as well known at
the Isle of France, as the existence of the island.
It is probably owing to an original want of education, and to
having passed the greater part of his life in the tumult of camps
during the French revolution, that arises his indifference for
the arts and sciences, other than those which have an immediate
relation to war. His Excellency’s ideas seem even to be so
strictly military, that the profession of a seaman has very
little share in his estimation; and his ignorance of nautical
affairs has been shewn by various circumstances to be greater
than would be supposed in a moderately well informed man, who had
made a voyage from Europe to India.
36. EXTRACT FROM FLINDERS’ LETTER-BOOK,
REFERRING TO OXLEY’S APPOINTMENT AS SURVEYOR-GENERAL.
(Melbourne Public Library.)
To Captain Thos. Hurd, Hydrographer, Admiralty Office.
London April 2, 1812.
My dear Sir
Understanding that Lieut. John Oxley of the Navy is going out
surveyor-general of Lands in New South Wales, I wish to point out
to you, that if he should be enabled, in intervals of his land
duty, to accomplish the following nautical objects, in the
vicinity of Port Jackson, and of the settlements in Van Diemen’s
Land, our knowledge of those coasts would be thereby improved,
and some material advantages to the colonies probably
obtained.
1st. Jervis Bay, a large piece of water whose entrance is in
35.5 south, and not from than 75 miles from Port Jackson, has
never yet, to my knowledge been surveyed. There have been two or
three eye sketches made of it; but it would be desirable to have
it surveyed, with the streams which are said to fall into its
North and western sides; and also the corresponding line of the
sea coast, in which there are thought to be strata of coal.
The great semicircular range of mountains which has hitherto
resisted all attempts to penetrate into the interior country
behind Port Jackson, appears to terminate at Point Bass in
latitude about 34.43; and the land behind Jervis Bay is
represented to be low and flat. It is, therefore, probable, that
a well conducted effort to obtain some knowledge of the interior
of that vast country, would be attended with success if made by
steering a West or N.N.W. course from the head of Jervis Bay.
37. FLINDERS’ MEMORIAL IN PARISH CHURCH, AT
HIS BIRTHPLACE, DONINGTON, LINCOLNSHIRE.
IN MEMORY OF
CAPTAIN MATTHEW FLINDERS, R.N.
WHO DIED JULY 19TH 1814,
AGED 40 YEARS.
AFTER HAVING TWICE CIRCUMNAVIGATED THE GLOBE, HE WAS
SENT BY THE ADMIRALTY IN THE YEAR 1801, TO MAKE
DISCOVERIES ON THE COAST OF TERRA AUSTRALIS.
RETURNING FROM THIS VOYAGE HE SUFFERED SHIPWRECK,
AND BY THE INJUSTICE OF THE FRENCH GOVERNMENT
WAS IMPRISONED SIX YEARS IN THE
ISLAND OF MAURITIUS.
IN 1810, HE WAS RESTORED TO HIS NATIVE LAND, AND NOT
LONG AFTER WAS ATTACKED BY AN EXCRUCIATING DISEASE,
THE ANGUISH OF WHICH HE BORE UNTIL DEATH
WITH UNDEVIATING FORTITUDE.
HIS COUNTRY WILL LONG REGRET THE LOSS OF ONE WHOSE
EXERTIONS IN HER CAUSE WERE ONLY EQUALLED BY
HIS PERSEVERANCE:
BUT HIS FAMILY WILL MOST DEEPLY FEEL THE
IRREPARABLE DEPRIVATION.
THEY DO NOT MERELY LAMENT A MAN OF SUPERIOR INTELLECT.
THEY MOURN AN AFFECTIONATE HUSBAND,
A TENDER FATHER, A KIND BROTHER,
AND A FAITHFUL FRIEND.
38. MEMORIAL TO BASS AND FLINDERS AT THE
COMMONWEALTH NAVAL BASE, WESTERNPORT, VICTORIA.)
The maps have been copied from Flinders’ Atlas, with the
omission of a few details, which, on the small scale necessarily
adopted, would have caused confusion; it has been thought better
to make what is given quite legible to the unassisted eye. All
names on the maps are as Flinders spelt them, but in the body of
the book modern spellings have been adopted. In the case of the
Duyfhen the usual spelling, which is also that of Flinders, is
retained; but the late J. Backhouse Walker has shown reason to
believe that the real name of the vessel was Duyfken.
CHRONOLOGY.
1774 (March 16) : Born at Donington.
1789 (October 23) : Enters the Royal Navy.
1790 (July 31) : Midshipman on the Bellerophon.
1791 to 1793 : Voyage in the Providence.
1793 (September) : Rejoins the Bellerophon.
1794 (June) : Participates in the battle off Brest.
1795 (February) : Sails for Australia in the Reliance. Meets
George Bass.
1796 (March) : Cruise of the Tom Thumb.
1797 (December) : Bass’s whaleboat voyage.
1798 (January) : Discovery of Westernport.
1798 (January) : Flinders’ voyage in the Francis.
1798 (January 31) : Flinders obtains lieutenant’s commission.
1798 (October) : Voyage of the Norfolk.
1798 (November) : Discovery of Port Dalrymple.
1798 (December) : Bass Strait demonstrated.
1799 : Return to Port Jackson.
1799 (July) : Exploration on Queensland coast.
1800 (March) : Return to England in the Reliance.
1800 (October) : Arrival in England.
Plan of Australian Exploration.
1800 (December) : The Investigator commissioned.
1801 (January 17) : Publication of Observations.
1801 (February 16) : Obtains commander’s rank.
1801 (April) : Marriage of Flinders.
1801 (July 18) : Sailing of the Investigator.
1801 (December) : Australia reached.
1802 (February) : Discovery of Spencer’s Gulf.
1802 (March) : Discovery of Kangaroo Island and St. Vincent’s
Gulf.
1802 (April) : Meeting of Flinders and Baudin in Encounter
Bay.
1802 (May) : Flinders in Port Phillip.
1802 (July) : Voyage to Northern Australia.
1802 (August) : Discovery of Port Curtis and Port Bowen.
1802 (November) : In the Gulf of Carpentaria.
1803 (April) : Return voyage; Australia circumnavigated.
1803 (June) : Sydney reached; the Investigator condemned.
1803 (July 10) : Sails in the Porpoise.
1803 (August 17) : Wrecked on the Barrier Reef.
Voyage in the Hope to Sydney.
1803 (September 8) : Arrival in Port Jackson.
1803 (September 21) : Sails in the Cumberland.
1803 (November) : Timor reached.
1803 (December 17) : Arrival at Ile-de-France; made a
prisoner.
1804 (April) : Removal to the Garden Prison (Maison
Despeaux).
1805 : Removal to Wilhelm’s Plains.
1806 (March 21) : French Government orders release of
Flinders.
1810 (June 13) : Release of Flinders.
1810 (October 24) : Return to England.
1814 (July 19) : Death of Flinders.
THE LIFE OF MATTHEW FLINDERS.
CHAPTER 1. BIRTH AND ORIGINS.
Matthew Flinders was the third of the triad of great English
sailors by whom the principal part of Australia was revealed. A
poet of our own time, in a line of singular felicity, has
described it as the “last sea-thing dredged by sailor Time from
Space; “* (* Bernard O’Dowd, Dawnward, 1903.) and the piecemeal,
partly mysterious, largely accidental dragging from the depths of
the unknown of a land so immense and bountiful makes a romantic
chapter in geographical history. All the great seafaring peoples
contributed something towards the result. The Dutch especially
evinced their enterprise in the pursuit of precise information
about the southern Terra Incognita, and the nineteenth century
was well within its second quarter before the name New Holland,
which for over a hundred years had borne testimony to their
adventurous pioneering, gave place in general and geographical
literature to the more convenient and euphonious designation
suggested by Flinders himself, Australia.* (* Not universally,
however, even in official documents. In the Report of the
Committee of the Privy Council, dated May 1, 1849, “New Holland”
is used to designate the continent, but “Australia” is employed
as including both the continent and Tasmania. See Grey’s Colonial
Policy 1 424 and 439.)
But, important as was the work of the Dutch, and though the
contributions made by French navigators (possibly also by
Spanish) are of much consequence, it remains true that the broad
outlines of the continent were laid down by Dampier, Cook and
Flinders. These are the principal names in the story. A map of
Australia which left out the parts discovered by other sailors
would be seriously defective in particular features; but a map
which left out the parts discovered by these three Englishmen
would gape out of all resemblance to the reality.
Dampier died about the year 1712; nobody knows precisely when.
Matthew Flinders came into the world in time to hear, as he may
well have done as a boy, of the murder of his illustrious
predecessor in 1779. The news of Cook’s fate did not reach
England till 1781. The lad was then seven years of age, having
been born on March 16th, 1774.
His father, also named Matthew, was a surgeon practising his
profession at Donington, Lincolnshire, where the boy was born.
The Flinders family had been settled in the same town for several
generations. Three in succession had been surgeons. The
patronymic indicates a Flemish origin, and the work on English
surnames* that bids the reader looking for information under
“Flinders” to “see Flanders,” sends him on a reasonable quest, if
to no great resulting advantage. (* Barker, Family Surnames 1903
page 143.)
The English middle-eastern counties received frequent large
migrations of Flemings during several centuries. Sometimes
calamities due to the harshness of nature, sometimes persecutions
and wars, sometimes adverse economic conditions, impelled
companies of people from the Low Countries to cross the North Sea
and try to make homes for themselves in a land which, despite
intervals of distraction, offered greater security and a better
reward than did the place whence they came. England derived much
advantage from the infusion of this industrious, solid and
dependable Flemish stock; though the temporary difficulty of
absorption gave rise to local protests on more than one
occasion.
As early as 1108, a great part of Flanders “being drowned by
an exudation or breaking in of the sea, a great number of
Flemings came into the country, beseeching the King to have some
void place assigned them, wherein they might inhabit.”* (*
Holinshed’s Chronicle edition of 1807 2 58.) Again in the reign
of Edward I we find Flemish merchants carrying on a very large
and important trade in Boston, and representatives of houses from
Ypres and Ostend acquired property in the town.* (* Pishey
Thompson Collections for a Topographical and Historical Account
of Boston and the Hundred of Skirbeck 1820 page 31.) In the
middle of the sixteenth century, when Flanders was boiling on the
fire of the Reformation, Lincolnshire and Norfolk provided an
asylum for crowds of harassed refugees. In 1569 two persons were
deputed to ride from Boston to Norwich to ascertain what means
that city adopted to find employment for them; and in the same
year Mr. William Derby was directed to move Mr. Secretary Cecil,
Queen Elizabeth’s great minister, to “know his pleasure whether
certain strangers may be allowed to dwell within the borough
without damage of the Queen’s laws.”* (*Boston Corporation
manuscripts quoted in Thompson, History and Antiquities of Boston
1856.)
During one of these peaceful and useful Flemish invasions the
ancestors of Matthew Flinders entered Lincolnshire. In the later
years of his life he devoted some attention to the history of his
family, and found record of a Flinders as early as the tenth
century. He believed, also, that his people had some connection
with two men named Flinders or Flanders, who fled from Holland
during the religious persecutions, and settled, in Queen
Elizabeth’s reign, in Nottinghamshire as silk stocking weavers.
It would be very interesting if it were clear that there was a
link between the family and the origins of the great Nottingham
hosiery trade. A Flinders may in that case have woven silk
stockings for the Royal termagant, and Lord Coke’s pair, which
were darned so often that none of the original fabric remained,
may have come from their loom.
Matthew Flinders himself wrote the note: “Ruddington near
Nottingham (it is four miles south of the town) is the place
whence the Flinders came;” and he ascertained that an ancestor
was Robert Flinders, a Nottingham stocking-weaver.
A family tradition relates that the Lincolnshire Flinders were
amongst the people taken over to England by Sir Cornelius
Vermuyden, a Dutch engineer of celebrity in his day, who
undertook in 1621 to drain 360,000 acres of fen in Norfolk,
Lincolnshire and Cambridgeshire. He was financed by English and
Dutch capitalists, and took his reward in large grants of land
which he made fit for habitation and cultivation. Vermuyden and
his Flemings were not allowed to accomplish their work of
reclamation without incurring the enmity of the natives. In a
petition to the King in 1637 he stated that he had spent 150,000
pounds, but that 60,000 pounds of damage had been done “by reason
of the opposition of the commoners,” who cut the banks of his
channels in the night and during floods. The peasantry, indeed,
resisted the improvements that have proved so beneficent to that
part of England, because the draining and cultivation of so many
miles of swamp would deprive them of fishing and fowling
privileges enjoyed from time immemorial. Hardly any reform or
improvement can be effected without some disruption of existing
interests; and a people deeply sunk in poverty and toil could
hardly be expected to contemplate with philosophical calm
projects which, however advantageous to fortunate individuals and
to posterity, were calculated to diminish their own means of
living and their pleasant diversions. The dislike of the
“commoners” to the work of the “participants” led to frequent
riots, and many of Vermuyden’s Flemings were maltreated. He
endeavoured to allay discontent by employing local labour at high
wages; and was courageous enough to pursue his task despite loss
of money, wanton destruction, and many other discouragements.* (*
See Calendar of State Papers, Domestic Series, for 1619, 1623,
1625, 1638, 1639 et seq; and White’s Lincolnshire page 542.)
Ebullitions of discontent on the part of fractious Fenlanders did
not cease till the beginning of the eighteenth century.
A very simple calculation shows that the great-grandfather of
the first Matthew Flinders would probably have been contemporary
with Sir Cornelius Vermuyden’s reclamation works. He may have
been one of the “participants” who benefited from them. The fact
is significant as bearing upon this conjecture, that no person
named Flinders made a will in Lincolnshire before 1600.* (* See
C.W. Foster, Calendar of Lincoln Wills 1320 to 1600, 1902.)
It is, too, an interesting circumstance that there was a
Flinders among the early settlers in New England, Richard
Flinders of Salem, born 1637.* (* Savage, Genealogical Dictionary
of the First Settlers of New England, Boston U.S.A. 1860.) He may
have been of the same family as the navigator, for the
Lincolnshire element among the fathers of New England was
pronounced.
The name Flinders survived at Donington certainly for thirty
years after the death of the sailor who gave lustre to it; for in
a directory published in 1842 occur the names of “Flinders, Mrs.
Eliz., Market Place,” and “Flinders, Mrs. Mary, Church Street.”*
(* William White, History, Gazetteer and Directory of the City
and Diocese of Lincoln, 1842 page 193.)
The Flinders papers, mentioned in the preface, contain
material which enables the family and connections of the
navigator to be traced with certainty for seven generations. The
genealogy is shown by the following table:—
John Flinders, born 1682, died 1741, settled at Donington as a
farmer, married Mary Obray or Aubrey in 1702 and had at least 1
child:
John Flinders, surgeon at Spalding, born 1737, still living in
1810, had at least two children:
1. John Flinders, Lieutenant in the Royal Navy, born 1766,
died 1793.
2. Matthew Flinders, surgeon at Donington, born 1750, died
1802, married Susannah Ward, 1752 to 1783, in 1773 and had at
least two children:
2. Samuel Ward Flinders, born 1782, died 1842, Lieutenant in
the Royal Navy, married and left several children.
1. Matthew Flinders the Navigator, born March 16, 1774, died
July 19, 1814, married Ann Chappell, born 1770, died 1852, in
1801 and had one daughter:
Ann Flinders, born 1812, died 1892, married William Petrie,
born 1821, died 1908, in 1851 and had one son:
Professor W.M. Flinders Petrie, eminent scholar and Egyptian
archaeologist, born 1853, married Hilda Urlin in 1897 and had at
least two children:
1. John Flinders Petrie.
2. Ann Flinders Petrie.
There is also an interesting connection between Flinders and
the Tennysons, through the Franklin family. The present Lord
Tennyson, when Governor of South Australia, in the course of his
official duties, in March, 1902, unveiled a memorial to his
kinsman on Mount Lofty, and in April of the same year a second
one in Encounter Bay. The following table illustrates the
relationship between him who wrote of “the long wash of
Australasian seas” and him who knew them as discoverer:
Matthew Flinders (father of Matthew Flinders the navigator)
married as his second wife Elizabeth Weekes, whose sister, Hannah
Weekes, married Willingham Franklin of Spilsby and had at least
two children:
1. Sir John Franklin, born 1786, midshipman of the
Investigator, Arctic explorer, Lieutenant-Governor of Van
Diemen’s Land (Tasmania) 1837 to 1844, died 1847.
2. Sarah Franklin, married Henry Sellwood, solicitor, of
Horncastle, in 1812 and had at least two children:
2. Louisa Sellwood married Charles Tennyson-Turner, poet,
brother of Alfred Tennyson.
1. Emily Sarah Sellwood, born 1813, died 1896, married Alfred
Tennyson, Poet Laureate, born 1809, died 1892, in 1850 and had at
least one son:
Hallam, Lord Tennyson, born 1852; Governor of South Australia
1899 to 1902; Governor-General of Australia, 1902 to 1904.
The Flinders papers also contain a note suggesting a distant
connection between Matthew Flinders and the man who above all
others was his choice friend, George Bass, the companion of his
earliest explorations. Positive proof is lacking, but Flinders’
daughter, Mrs. Petrie, wrote “we have reason to think that Bass
was a connection of the family,” and the point is too interesting
to be left unstated. The following table shows the possible
kinship:
John Flinders of Donington, born 1682, died 1741
(great-grandfather of the navigator) had:
Mary Flinders, third and youngest daughter, born 1734, married
as her third husband, Bass, and had:
George Bass, who had three daughters, and is believed to have
been an uncle or cousin of George Bass, Matthew Flinders’
companion in exploration.
It is clear from the particulars stated above that the tree of
which Matthew Flinders was the fruit had its roots deep down in
the soil of the little Lincolnshire market town where he was
born; and Matthew himself would have continued the family
tradition, inheriting the practice built up by his father and
grandfather (as it was hoped he would do), had there not been
within him an irresistible longing for the sea, and a bent of
scientific curiosity directed to maritime exploration, which led
him on a path of discovery to achievements that won him
honourable rank in the noble roll of British naval pioneers.
His father earned an excellent reputation, both professional
and personal. The career of a country practitioner rarely affords
an opportunity for distinction. It was even less so then than
today, when at all events careful records of interesting cases
are printed in a score or more of professional publications. But
once we find the elder Matthew Flinders in print. The Memoirs of
the Medical Society of London* (* 1779 Volume 4 page 330.)
contain a paper read before that body on October 30th, 1797:
“Case of a child born with variolar pustules, by Matthew
Flinders, surgeon, Donington, Lincolnshire.” The essay occupies
three pages, and is a clear, succinct record of symptoms,
treatment and results, for medical readers. The child died;
whereupon the surgeon expresses his regret, not on account of
infant or parents, but, with true scientific zest, because it
deprived him of the opportunity of watching the development of an
uncommon case.
Donington is a small town in the heart of the fen country,
lying ten miles south-west of Boston, and about the same
distance, as the crow flies, from the black, muddy, western
fringe of the Wash. It is a very old town. Formerly it was an
important Lincolnshire centre, enjoying its weekly Saturday
market, and its four annual fairs for the sale of horses, cattle,
flax and hemp. During Flinders’ youth and early manhood the
district grew large quantities of hemp, principally for the Royal
Navy. In the days of its prosperity Donington drew to itself the
business of an agricultural neighbourhood which was so far
cultivable as it rose above the level of desolate and foggy
swamps. But the drainage of the fens and the making of good roads
over what had once been an area of amphibious uncertainty,
neither wholly land nor wholly water, had the effect of largely
diverting business to Boston. Trade that came to Donington when
it stood over its own tract of fen, like the elderly and
respectable capital of some small island, now went to the
thriving and historic port on the Witham. Donington stopped
growing, stagnated, declined. On the map of Lincolnshire included
in Camden’s Britannia (1637) it is marked “Dunington,” in letters
as large as those given to Boston, Spalding and Lincoln. On
modern maps the name is printed in small letters; on some in the
smallest, or not at all. That fact is fairly indicative of its
change of fortunes. Figures tell the tale with precision. In 1801
it contained 1321 inhabitants; in 1821, 1638; in 1841 it reached
its maximum, 2026; by 1891 it had gone down to 1547; in 1901 to
1484; at the census of 1911 it had struggled up to 1564.* (*
Allen, History of Lincolnshire, 1833 Volume 1 342; Victoria
History of Lincolnshire Volume 2 359; Census Returns for
1911.)
The fame conferred by a distinguished son is hardly a
recompense for faded prosperity, but certain it is that Donington
commands a wider interest as the birthplace of Flinders than it
ever did in any other respect during its long, uneventful
history. The parish church, a fine Gothic building with a lofty,
graceful spire, contains a monument to the memory of the
navigator, with an inscription in praise of his character and
life, and recording that he “twice circumnavigated the globe.”
Many men have encircled the earth, but few have been so
distinguished as discoverers of important portions of it. Apart
from this monument, the church contains marble ovals to the
memory of Matthew Flinders’ father, grandfather, and
great-grandfather. They were provided from a sum of 100 pounds
left by the navigator, in his will, for the purpose.
It is interesting to notice that three of the early Australian
explorers came from Lincolnshire, and were all born at places
visible in clear weather from the tower of St. Botolph’s Church
at Boston. While Flinders sprang from Donington, George Bass, who
co-operated with him in his first discoveries, was born at
Aswarby, near Sleaford, and Sir John Franklin, who sailed with
him in the Investigator, and was subsequently to become an
Australian Governor and to achieve a pathetic immortality in
another field of exploration, entered the world at Spilsby. Sir
Joseph Banks, the botanist of Cook’s first voyage, Flinders’
steadfast friend, and the earliest potent advocate of Australian
colonisation, though not actually born in Lincolnshire, was the
son of a squire who at the time of his birth owned Revesby Abbey,
which is within a short ride of each of the places just
named.
CHAPTER 2. AT SCHOOL AND AT SEA.
Young Flinders received his preparatory education at the
Donington free school. This was an institution founded and
endowed in 1718 by Thomas Cowley, who bequeathed property
producing nowadays about 1200 pounds a year for the maintenance
of a school and almshouses. It was to be open to the children of
all the residents of Donington parish free of expense, and in
addition there was a fund for paying premiums on the
apprenticeship of boys.
At the age of twelve the lad was sent to the Horbling Grammar
School, not many miles from his own home. It was under the
direction of the Reverend John Shinglar. Here he remained three
years. He was introduced to the Latin and Greek classics, and
received the grounding of that mathematical knowledge which
subsequently enabled him to master the science of navigation
without a tutor. If to Mr. Shinglar’s instruction was likewise
due his ability to write good, sound, clear English, we who read
his letters and published writings have cause to speak his
schoolmaster’s name with respect.
During his school days another book besides those prescribed
in the curriculum came into his hands. He read Robinson Crusoe.
It was to Defoe’s undying tale of the stranded mariner that he
attributed the awaking in his own mind of a passionate desire to
sail in uncharted seas. This anecdote happens to be better
authenticated than are many of those quoted to illustrate the
youth of men of mark. Towards the end of Flinders’ life the
editor of the Naval Chronicle sent to him a series of questions,
intending to found upon the answers a biographical sketch. One
question was: “Juvenile or miscellaneous anecdotes illustrative
of individual character?” The reply was: “Induced to go to sea
against the wishes of friends from reading Robinson Crusoe.”
The case, interesting as it is, has an exact parallel in the
life of a famous French traveller, Rene Caille, who in 1828,
after years of extraordinary effort and endurance, crossed
Senegal, penetrated Central Africa, and was the first European to
visit Timbuctoo. He also had read Defoe’s masterpiece as a lad,
and attributed to it the awaking in his breast of a yearning for
adventure and discovery. “The reading of Robinson Crusoe,” says a
French historian, “made upon him a profound impression.” “I
burned to have adventures of my own,” he wrote later; “I felt as
I read that there was born within my heart the ambition to
distinguish myself by some important discovery.”* (* Gaffarel, La
Politique coloniale en France, 1908 page 34.)
Here were astonishing results to follow from the vivid fiction
of a gouty pamphleteer who wrote to catch the market and was
hoisted into immortal fame by the effort: that his book should,
like a spark falling on straw, fire the brains of a French
shoemaker’s apprentice and a Lincolnshire schoolboy, impelling
each to a career crowded with adventure, and crowned with
memorable achievements. There could hardly be better examples of
the vitalising efficacy of fine literature.
A love of Robinson Crusoe remained with Flinders to the end.
Only a fortnight before his death he wrote a note subscribing for
a copy of a new edition of the book, with notes, then announced
for publication. It must have been one of the last letters from
his hand. Though out of its chronological order, it may be
appropriately quoted here to connect it with the other references
to the book which so profoundly influenced his life:
“Captain Flinders presents his compliments to the Hydrographer
of the Naval Chronicle, and will thank him to insert his home in
the list of subscribers in his new edition of Robinson Crusoe; he
wishes also that the volume on delivery should have a neat,
common binding, and be lettered.—London Street, July 5,
1814.”
It seems clear that Flinders had promised himself the pleasure
of re-reading in maturity the tale that had so delighted his
youth. Had he lived to do so, he might well have underlined, as
applicable to himself, a pair of those sententious observations
with which Defoe essayed to give a sober purpose to his
narrative. The first is his counsel of “invincible patience under
the worst of misery, indefatigable application, and undaunted
resolution under the greatest and most discouraging
circumstances.” The second is his wise remark that “the height of
human wisdom is to bring our tempers down to our circumstances,
and to make a great calm within under the weight of the greatest
storm without.” They were words which Flinders during strenuous
years had good cause to translate into conduct.
The edition of the book to which he thus subscribed was
undertaken largely on account of his acknowledgment of its effect
upon his life. The author of the Naval Chronicle sketch of his
career* (* 1814 Volume 32.) wrote in a footnote: “The biographer,
also happening to understand that to the same cause the Navy is
indebted for another of its ornaments, Admiral Sir Sydney Smythe,
was in a great measure thereby led to give another studious
reading to that charming story, and hence to adopt a plan for its
republication, now almost at maturity;” and he commended the new
issue especially “to all those engaged in the tuition of
youth.”
One other anecdote of Flinders’ boyhood has been preserved as
a family tradition. It is that, while still a child, he was one
day lost for some hours. He was ultimately found in the middle of
one of the sea marshes, his pockets stuffed with pebbles, tracing
the runlets of water, so that by following them up he might find
out whence they came. Many boys might have done the same; but
this particular boy, in that act of enquiry concerning
geographical phenomena on a small scale, showed himself father to
the man.
“Against the wish of friends,” Flinders wrote, was his
selection of a naval career. His father steadily but kindly
opposed his desire, hoping that his son would adopt the medical
profession. But young Matthew was not easily thwarted. The call
of the sea was strong within him, and persistency was always a
fibrous element in his character.
The surgeon’s house at Donington stood in the market square.
It remained in existence till 1908, when it was demolished to
give place to what is described as “a hideous new villa.” It was
a plain, square, one-story building with a small, low surgery
built on to one side of it. Behind the door of the surgery hung a
slate, upon which the elder Flinders was accustomed to write
memoranda concerning appointments and cases. The lad, wishing to
let his father know how keen was his desire to enter the Navy,
and dreading a conversation on the subject—with probable
reproaches, admonitions, warnings, and a general outburst of
parental displeasure—made use of the surgeon’s slate. He wrote
upon it what he wanted his father to know, hung it on the nail,
and left it there to tell its quiet story.
He got his way in the end, but not without discouragement from
other quarters also. He had an uncle in the Navy, John Flinders,
to whom he wrote asking for counsel. John’s experience had not
made him enamoured of his profession, and his reply was chilling.
He pointed out that there was little chance of success without
powerful interest. Promotion was slow and favouritism was
rampant. He himself had served eleven years, and had not yet
attained the rank of lieutenant, nor were his hopes of rising
better than slender.
From the strictly professional point of view it was not
unreasonable advice for the uncle to give. A student of the naval
history of the period finds much to justify a discouraging
attitude. Even the dazzling career of Nelson might have been
frustrated by a long protracted minority had he not had a
powerful hand to help him up the lower rungs of the ladder—the
“interest” of Captain Suckling, his uncle, who in 1775 became
Comptroller of the Navy, “a civil position, but one that carried
with it power and consequently influence.” Nelson became
lieutenant after seven years’ service, in 1777; but he owed his
promotion to Suckling, who “was able to exert his influence in
behalf of his relative by promptly securing for him not only his
promotion to lieutenant, which many waited for long, but with it
his commission, dated April 10, to the Lowestofte, a frigate of
thirty-two guns.”* (* Mahan, Life of Nelson edition of 1899 pages
13 and 14.)
That even conduct of singular merit, performed in the crisis
of action, was not sufficient to secure advancement, is
illustrated by a striking fact in the life of Sir John Hindmarsh,
the first Governor of South Australia (1836). At the battle of
the Nile, Hindmarsh, a midshipman of fourteen, was left in charge
of the Bellerophon, all the other officers being killed or
wounded. (It was upon this same vessel, as we shall see later,
that Flinders had a taste of sea fighting). When the French
line-of-battle ship L’Orient took fire she endangered the
Bellerophon. The boy, with wonderful presence of mind, called up
some hands, cut the cables, and was running the ship out of
danger under a sprit sail, when Captain Darby came on deck from
having his wounds dressed. Nelson, hearing of the incident,
thanked young Hindmarsh before the ship’s company, and afterwards
gave him his commission in front of all hands, relating the story
to them. “The sequel,” writes Admiral Sir T.S. Pasley, who
relates the facts in his Journal, “does not sound so well. Lord
Nelson died in 1805, and Hindmarsh is a commander still, in 1830,
not having been made one till June, 1814.” A man with such a
record certainly had to wait long before the sun of official
favour shone upon him; and his later success was won, not in the
navy, but as a colonial governor.
There was, then, much to make John Flinders believe that
influence was a surer way to advancement than assiduous
application or natural capacity. His own naval career did not
turn out happily. A very few years afterwards he received his
long-delayed promotion, served as lieutenant in the Cygnet, on
the West Indies station, under Admiral Affleck, and died of
yellow fever on board his ship in 1793.
John Flinders’ letter, however, concluded with a piece of
practical advice, in case his nephew should be undeterred by his
opinion. He recommended the study of three works as a preparation
for entering the Navy: Euclid, John Robertson’s Elements of
Navigation (first edition published in 1754) and Hamilton Moore’s
book on Navigation. Matthew disregarded the warning and took the
practical advice. The books were procured and the young student
plunged into their problems eagerly. The year devoted to their
study in that quiet little fen town made him master of rather
more than the elements of a science which enabled him to become
one of the foremost discoverers and cartograhers of a continent.
He probably also practised map-making with assiduity, for his
charts are not only excellent as charts, but also singularly
beautiful examples of scientific drawing.
After a year of book-work Flinders felt capable of acquitting
himself creditably at sea, if he could secure an opportunity. In
those days entrance to the Royal Navy was generally secured by
the nomination of a senior officer. There was no indispensable
examination; no naval college course was necessary. The captain
of a ship could take a youth on board to oblige his relatives,
“or in return for the cancelling of a tradesman’s bill.”* (*
Masefield’s Sea Life in Nelson’s Time 1905 gives a good account
of the practice.) It so happened that a cousin of Flinders
occupied the position of governess in the family of Captain
Pasley (afterwards Admiral Sir Thomas Pasley) who at that time
commanded H.M.S. Scipio. One of her pupils, Maria Pasley,
developed into a young lady of decidedly vigorous character, as
the following incident sufficiently shows. While her father was
commander-in-chief at Plymouth, she was one day out in the
Channel, beyond the Eddystone, in the Admiral’s cutter. As the
country was at war, she was courting danger; and in fact, the
cutter was sighted by a French cruiser, which gave chase. But
Miss Pasley declined to run away. She “popped at the Frenchman
with the cutter’s two brass guns.” It was like blowing peas at an
elephant; and she would undoubtedly have been captured, had not
an English frigate seen the danger and put out to the rescue.
Flinders’ cousin had interested herself in his studies and
ambitions, and gave him some encouragement. She also spoke about
him to Captain Pasley, who seems to have listened
sympathetically. It interested him to hear of this boy studying
navigation without a tutor up among the fens. “Send for him,”
said Pasley, “I should like to see what stuff he is made of, and
whether he is worth making into a sailor.”
Young Matthew, then in his fifteenth year, was accordingly
invited to visit the Pasleys. In the later part of his life he
used to relate with merriment, how he went, was asked to dine,
and then pressed to stay till next day under the captain’s roof.
He had brought no night attire with him, not having expected to
sleep at the house. When he was shown into his bedroom, his needs
had apparently been anticipated; for there, folded up neatly upon
the pillow, was a sleeping garment ready for use. He appreciated
the consideration; but having attired himself for bed, he found
himself enveloped in a frothy abundance of frills and fal-lals,
lace at the wrists, lace round the neck, with flutters of ribbon
here and there. When, at the breakfast table in the morning, he
related how he had been rigged, there was a shriek of laughter
from the young ladies; the simple explanation being that one of
them had vacated her room to accommodate the visitor, and had
forgotten to remove her nightdress.
The visit had more important consequences. Captain Pasley very
soon saw that he had an exceptional lad before him, and at once
put him on the Alert. He was entered as “lieutenant’s servant” on
October 23rd, 1789. He remained there for rather more than seven
months, learning the practical part of a sailor’s business. On
May 17th, 1790, he was able to present himself to Captain Pasley
on the Scipio at Chatham, as an aspirant of more than ordinary
efficiency; and remained under his command until the next year,
following him as a midshipman when he left the Scipio for the
Bellerophon in July, 1790.
This famous ship, which carried 74 guns, and was launched in
1786, is chiefly known to history as the vessel upon which
Napoleon surrendered to Captain Maitland on July 15th, 1815,
after the Waterloo debacle. She took a prominent part in Nelson’s
great battles at the Nile and Trafalgar. But her end was
pitifully ignoble. After a glorious and proud career, she was
converted into a convict hulk and re-named the Captivity. A great
prose master has reminded us, in words that glow upon his
impassioned page, of the slight thought given by the practical
English to the fate of another line-of-battle ship that had flown
their colours in the stress of war. “Those sails that strained so
full bent into the battle, that broad bow that struck the surf
aside, enlarging silently in steadfast haste full front to the
shot, those triple ports whose choirs of flame rang forth in
their courses, into the fierce avenging monotone, which, when it
died away, left no answering voice to rise any more upon the sea
against the strength of England, those sides that were wet with
the long runlets of English life-blood, like press-planks at
vintage, gleaming goodly crimson down to the cast and clash of
the washing foam, those pale masts that stayed themselves up
against the war-ruin, shaking out their ensigns through the
thunder, till sail and ensign drooped, steeped in the
death-stilled pause of Andalusian air, burning with its witness
clouds of human souls at rest—surely for these some sacred care
might have been left in our thoughts, some quiet resting place
amidst the lapse of English waters? Nay, not so, we have stern
keepers to trust her glory to, the fire and the worm. Never more
shall sunset lay golden robe on her, nor starlight tremble on the
waves that part at her gliding. Perhaps, where the gate opens to
some cottage garden, the tired traveller may ask, idly, why the
moss grows so green on its rugged wood; and even the sailor’s
child may not answer nor know, that the night-dew lies deep in
the war-rents of the wood of the old Temeraire.”
But even the decline of might and dignity into decrepitude and
oblivion described in that luminous passage is less pathetic than
the conversion of the glorious Bellerophon, with her untarnished
traditions of historic victories, into a hulk for the punishment
of rascals, and the changing of her unsullied name to an alias
significant only of shame.
During this preliminary period Flinders learnt the way about a
ship and acquired instruction in the mechanism of seamanship, but
there was as yet no opportunity to obtain deep-water experience.
He was transferred to the Dictator for a brief period, but as he
neither mentions the captain nor alludes to any other
circumstance connected therewith, it was probably a mere
temporary turnover or guardship rating not to lose any time of
service.* (* Naval Chronicle 1814.)
His first chance of learning something about the width of the
world and the wonder of its remote places came in 1791, when he
went to sea under the command of a very remarkable man. William
Bligh had sailed with James Cook on his third and fatal voyage of
discovery, 1776 to 1780. He was twenty-three years of age when he
was selected by that sagacious leader as one of those young
officers who “under my direction could be usefully employed in
constructing charts, in taking views of the coasts and headlands
near which we should pass, and in drawing plans of the bays and
harbours in which we should anchor;” for Cook recognised that
constant attention to these duties was “wholly requisite if he
would render our discoveries profitable to future navigators.”*
(* Cook’s Voyages edition of 1821 5 page 92.)
Bligh’s name appears frequently in Cook’s Journal, and is also
mentioned in King’s excellent narrative of the conclusion of the
voyage after Cook’s murder. He was master of the Resolution, and
was on several occasions entrusted with tasks of some
consequence: as for instance on first reaching Hawaii, when Cook
sent him ashore to look for fresh water, and again at
Kealakeakura Bay (January 16, 1779) when he reported that he had
found good anchorage and fresh water “in a situation admirable to
come at.” It was a fatal discovery, for on the white sands of
that bay, a month later (February 14), the great British seaman
fell, speared by the savages.
On each of Cook’s voyages a call had been made at Tahiti in
the Society group. Bligh no doubt heard much about the charms of
the place before he first saw it himself. He was destined to have
his own name associated with it in a highly romantic and
adventurous manner. The idyllic beauty of the life of the
Tahitians, their amiable and seductive characteristics, the warm
suavity of the climate, the profusion of food and drink to be
enjoyed on the island with the smallest conceivable amount of
exertion, made the place stand out in all the narratives of
Cook’s expeditions like a green-and-golden gem set in a turquoise
sea, a lotos-land “in which it seemed always afternoon,” a
paradise where love and plenty reigned and care and toil were
not. George Forster, the German naturalist who accompanied Cook
on his second voyage, wrote of the men as “models of masculine
beauty,” whose perfect proportions would have satisfied the eye
of Phidias or Praxiteles; of the women as beings whose
“unaffected smiles and a wish to please ensure them mutual esteem
and love;” and of the life they led as being diversified between
bathing in cool streams, reposing under tufted trees, feeding on
luscious fruits, telling tales, and playing the flute. In fact,
Forster declared, they “resembled the happy, indolent people whom
Ulysses found in Phaeacia, and could apply the poet’s lines to
themselves with peculiar propriety:
‘To dress, to dance, to sing our sole delight, The feast or
bath by day, and love by night.'”
In Tahiti grew an abundance of breadfruit. It was in
connection with this nutritious food, one of nature’s richest
gifts to the Pacific, that Bligh undertook a mission which
involved him in a mutiny, launched him upon one of the most
dangerous and difficult voyages in the annals of British
seamanship, and provided a theme for a long poem by one of the
greatest of English authors. Byron it was who, writing as though
the trees sprouted quartern loaves ready baked, said of it (The
Island 2 11):
“The bread-tree, which without the ploughshare yields The
unreaped harvest of unfurrowed fields, And bakes its
unadulterated loaves Without a furnace in unpurchased groves, And
flings off famine from its fertile breast, A priceless market for
the gathering guest.”
Breadfruit had been tasted and described by Dampier in the
seventeenth century. His description of it has all the terse
directness peculiar to the writing of the inquisitive buccaneer,
with a touch of quaintness that makes the passage desirable to
quote:* (* Dampier’s Voyages edition of 1729 1 page 294.)
“The breadfruit, as we call it, grows on a large tree as big
and as tall as our largest apple trees. It hath a spreading head
full of branches and dark leaves. The fruit grows on the boughs
like apples; it is as big as a penny loaf when wheat is at five
shillings the bushel. The natives of this island (Suam) use it
for bread. They gather it when full-grown; then they bake it in
an oven, which scorcheth the rind and makes it black; but they
scrape off the outside black crust and there remains a tender
thin crust and the inside is soft, tender and white, like the
crumb of a penny loaf. There is neither seed nor stone in the
inside, but all is of a pure substance like bread; it must be
eaten new, for if it is kept above twenty-four hours it becomes
dry and eats harsh and chokey; but ’tis very pleasant before it
is too stale.”
By Dampier, who in the course of his astonishing career had
consumed many strange things—who found shark’s flesh “good
entertainment,” and roast opossum “sweet wholesome
meat”—toleration in the matter of things edible was carried to
the point of latitudinarianism. We never find Dampier squeamish
about anything which anybody else could eat with relish. To him,
naturally, the first taste of breadfruit was pleasing. But Cook
was more critical. “The natives seldom make a meal without it,”
he said, “though to us the taste was as disagreeable as that of a
pickled olive generally is the first time it is eaten.” That
opinion, perhaps, accords with the common experience of neophytes
in tropical gastronomy. But new sensations in the matter of food
are not always to be depended on. Sir Joseph Banks disliked
bananas when he first tasted them.
The immense popularity of Cook’s voyages spread afar the fame
of breadfruit as an article of food. Certain West Indian planters
were of opinion that it would be advantageous to establish the
trees on their islands and to encourage the consumption of the
fruit by their slaves. Not only was it considered that the use of
breadfruit would cheapen the cost of the slaves’ living, but—a
consideration that weighed both with the planters and the British
Government in view of existing relations with the United
States—it was also believed that it would “lessen the dependence
of the sugar islands on North America for food and necessaries.”*
(* Bryan Edwards History of the British West Indies 1819 1
40.)
The planters petitioned the Government to fit out an
expedition to transplant trees from the Pacific to the Atlantic.
Sir Joseph Banks strongly supported them, and Lord Hood, then
First Lord of the Admiralty, was sympathetic. In August, 1787,
Lieutenant Bligh was appointed to the command of the Bounty, was
directed to sail to the Society Islands, to take on board “as
many trees and plants as may be thought necessary,” and to
transplant them to British possessions in the West Indies.
The vessel sailed, with two skilled gardeners on board to
superintend the selection and treatment of the plants. Tahiti was
duly reached, and the business of the expedition was taken in
hand. One thousand and fifteen fine trees were chosen and
carefully stowed. But the comfortable indolence, the luxuriant
abundance, the genial climate, the happy hospitality of the
handsome islanders, and their easy freedom from compunction in
reference to restraints imposed by law and custom in Europe, had
a demoralising effect upon the crew of the Bounty. A stay of
twenty-three weeks at the island sufficed to subvert discipline
and to persuade some of Bligh’s sailors that life in Tahiti was
far preferable to service in the King’s Navy under the rule of a
severe and exacting commander.
When the Bounty left Tahiti on April 14, 1787, reluctance
plucked at the heart of many of the crew. The morning light lay
tenderly upon the plumes of the palms, and a light wind filled
the sails of the ship as she glided out of harbour. As the lazy
lapping wash of the waters against the low outer fringe of coral
was lost to the ear, the Bounty breasted the deep ocean; and as
the distinguishable features of green tree, white sand, brown
earth, and grey rock faded out of vision, wrapped in a haze of
blue, till at last the only pronounced characteristic of the
island standing up against the sky and sea was the cap of Point
Venus at the northern extremity—the departure must have seemed
to some like that of Tannhauser from the enchanted mountain,
except that the legendary hero was glad to make his return to the
normal world, whereas all of Bligh’s company were not. For them,
westward, whither they were bound,
“There gaped the gate Whereby lost souls back to the cold
earth went.”
The discipline of ship’s life, and the stormings and
objurgations of the commanding officer, chafed like an iron
collar. At length a storm burst.
On April 28 the Bounty was sailing towards Tofoa, another of
the Society Islands. Just before sunrise on the following morning
Bligh was aroused from sleep, seized and bound in his cabin by a
band of mutineers, led out by the master’s mate, Fletcher
Christian, and, with eighteen companions, dropped into a launch
and bidden to depart. The followers of Christian were three
midshipmen and twenty-five petty officers and sailors. They
turned the head of the Bounty back towards their island paradise;
and as they sailed away, the mariners in the tossing little boat
heard them calling “Hurrah for Tahiti!”
The frail craft in which the nineteen loyalists were compelled
to attempt to traverse thousands of miles of ocean, where the
navigation is perhaps the most intricate in the world, was but 23
feet long by 6 feet 9 inches broad and 2 feet 9 inches deep.
Their provisions consisted of 150 pounds of bread, 16 pieces of
pork, each about two pounds in weight, six quarts of rum, six
bottles of wine, and 28 gallons of water. With this scanty stock
of nourishment, in so small a boat, Bligh and his companions
covered 3618 miles, crossing the western Pacific, sailing through
Torres Strait, and ultimately reaching Timor.
That Bligh was somewhat deficient in tact and sympathy in
handling men, cross-grained, harsh, and obstinate, is probably
true. His language was often lurid, he lavished foul epithets
upon his crew, and he was not reluctant to follow terms of abuse
by vigorous chastisement. He called Christian a “damned hound,”
some of the men “scoundrels, thieves and rascals,” and he met a
respectful remonstrance with the retort: “You damned infernal
scoundrels, I’ll make you eat grass or anything you can catch
before I have done with you.” Naval officers of the period were
not addicted to addressing their men in the manner of a lady with
a pet canary. Had Bligh’s language been the head and front of his
offending, he would hardly have shocked an eighteenth century
fo’c’sle. But his disposition does not seem to have bound men to
him. He generated dislike. Nevertheless it is credible that the
explanation which he gave goes far to explain the mutiny. He held
that the real cause was a species of sensuous intoxication which
had corrupted his crew.
“The women of Tahiti,” Bligh wrote, “are handsome, mild and
cheerful in their manners and conversation, possessed of great
sensibility, and have sufficient delicacy to make them admired
and loved. The chiefs were so much attached to our people that
they rather encouraged their stay among them than otherwise, and
even made them promises of large possessions. Under these and
other attendant circumstances equally desirable, it is perhaps
not so much to be wondered at, though scarcely possible to have
been foreseen, that a set of sailors, many of them void of
connections, should be led away; especially when in addition to
such powerful inducements they imagined it in their power to fix
themselves in the midst of plenty on one of the finest islands in
the world, where they need not labour, and where the allurements
of dissipation are beyond anything that can be conceived…Had
their mutiny been occasioned by any grievance, either real or
imaginary, I must have discovered symptoms of their discontent,
which would have put me on my guard; but the case was far
otherwise. Christian in particular I was on the most friendly
terms with; that very day he was engaged to have dined with me;
and the preceding night he excused himself from supping with me
on pretence of being unwell, for which I felt concerned, having
no suspicions of his integrity and honour.”
Support is given to Bligh’s explanation by a statement alleged
to have been made by Fletcher Christian a few years later, the
genuineness of which, however, is open to serious question. If it
could be accepted, Christian acquitted his commander of having
contributed to the mutiny by harsh conduct. He ascribed the
occurrence “to the strong predilection we had contracted for
living in Tahiti, where, exclusive of the happy disposition of
the inhabitants, the mildness of the climate, and the fertility
of the soil, we had formed certain tender connections which
banished the remembrance of old England from our breasts.” The
weight of evidence justifies the belief that Bligh, though a
sailor of unequivocal skill and dauntless courage, was an
unlikeable man, and that aversion to service under him was a
factor contributing to the mutiny which cannot be explained
away.
Bligh is the connecting link between Cook and Flinders. Bligh
learned under Cook to experience the thrilling pleasure of
discovery and to pursue opportunities in that direction in a
scientific spirit. Flinders learnt the same lesson under Bligh,
and bettered the instruction. Cook is the first great scientific
navigator whose name is associated with the construction of the
map of Australia; so much can be said without disparagement of
the adventurous Dutchmen who pieced together the outline of the
western and northern coasts. Flinders was the second; and Bligh,
pupil of the one and teacher of the other, deserves a better fate
than to be remembered chiefly as a sinister figure in two
historic mutinies, that of the Bounty, and that which ended his
governorship of New South Wales in 1808. Much worse men have done
much worse things than he, have less that is brave, honourable,
enterprising and original to their credit, and yet are remembered
without ignominy. It is said by Hooker: “as oftentimes the vices
of wicked men do cause other their commendable virtues to be
abhorred, so the honour of great men’s virtues is easily a cloak
to their errors.” Bligh fell short of being a great man, but
neither was he a bad man; and the merit of his achievements, both
as a navigator and amid the shock of battle (especially at
Copenhagen in 1801, under Nelson), must not be overlooked, even
though stern history will not permit his errors to be
cloaked.
Notwithstanding the failure of the Bounty expedition, Sir
Joseph Banks pressed upon the Government the desirableness of
transplanting breadfruit trees to the West Indies. He also proved
a staunch friend to Bligh. The result was that the Admiralty
resolved to equip a second enterprise for the same purpose, and
to entrust the command of it to the same officer.
We may now follow the fortunes of Matthew Flinders under the
tutelage of this energetic captain.
CHAPTER 3. A VOYAGE UNDER BLIGH.
Bligh’s second expedition was authorised by the admiralty in
March, 1791, and the commander was consulted as to “what sort of
vessel may be best adapted to the object in view.” The
Providence, a 28-gun ship, was chosen, with the brig Assistant as
a tender. The latter was placed in charge of Lieutenant Nathaniel
Portlock. Flinders, eager for sea experience, joined the
Providence as a midshipman on May 8th, and thus had the advantage
of being under the immediate direction of her captain.
He took this step with Pasley’s concurrence, if not actually
upon his advice. The captain wrote him an encouraging letter
asking him to send from time to time observations on places
visited during the voyage; and his protege complied with the
injunction. It is to this fact that we owe some entertaining
passages from young Flinders’ pen concerning the voyage. The
letters despatched to Pasley are lost; but Flinders, with the
love of neatness which was ever characteristic of him, sent only
fair copies, and some of his original drafts remain in
manuscript. Pasley’s letter was as follows:* (*Flinders’
Papers.)
Bellerophon, Spithead, June 3rd, 1791.
Dear Flinders,
I am favoured with your letter on your return from visiting
your friends at the country, and I am pleased to hear that you
are so well satisfied with your situation on board the
Providence. I have little doubt of your gaining the good opinion
of Capt. Bligh, if you are equally attentive to your duty there
as you were in the Bellerophon. All that I have to request in
return for the good offices I have done you is that you never
fail writing me by all possible opportunities during your voyage;
and that in your letters you will be very particular and
circumstantial in regard to every thing and place you may chance
to see or visit, with your own observations thereon. Do this, my
young friend, and you may rest assured that my good offices will
not be wanting some future day for your advancement. All on board
are well. Present my kind remembrances to Captain and Mrs. Bligh,
and believe me, yours very sincerely,
THOMAS PASLEY.
The Providence and Assistant left England on August 2nd. From
Santa Cruz in Teneriffe Flinders sent his first letter to Captain
Pasley. It is worth while to quote a few passages:* (* Flinders’
Papers.)
“Not a large town; streets wide, ill-paved and irregular. The
houses of the principal inhabitants large; have little furniture,
but are airy and pleasant, suitable to the climate. Most of them
have balconies, where the owners sit and enjoy the air. Those of
the lower classes ill-built, dirty, and almost without furniture.
In the square where the market is held, near the pier, is a
tolerably elegant marble obelisk in honour of our Lady of
Candelaria, the tutelar goddess of the place. The Spaniards
erected this statue, calling it Our Lady, keeping up some
semblance of the ancient worship that they might better keep the
Tenerifeans in subjection. At the top of the obelisk is placed
the statue, and at its base are four well executed figures,
representing the ancient kings or princes of Teneriffe, each of
which has the shin-bone of a man’s leg in his hand. This image is
held in great honour by the lower classes of people, who tell
many absurd stories of its first appearance in the island, the
many miracles she has wrought, etc.
“We visited a nunnery of the order of St. Dominic. In the
chapel was a fine statue of the Virgin Mary, with four wax
candles burning before her. Peeping through the bars, we
perceived several fine young women at prayers. A middle-aged
woman opened the door halfway, but would by no means suffer us to
enter this sanctified spot. None of the nuns would be prevailed
upon to come near us. However, they did not seem at all
displeased at our visit, but presented us with a sweet candy they
call Dulce, and some artificial flowers, in return for which Mr.
Smith* (* The botanist.) gave them a dollar. In general these
people appear to be a merry, good-natured people, and are
courteous to and appear happy to see strangers. We found this
always the case, although they said we were no Christians: but
they generally took care to make us pay well for what we had.
They live principally upon fruits and roots, are fond of singing
and dancing, and upon the whole they live as lazily, as
contentedly, and in as much poverty as any French peasant would
wish to do.”
The Cape of Good Hope was reached in October, and Flinders
told Captain Pasley what he thought of the Dutch colonists:
“The Dutch, from having great quantities of animal food, are
rather corpulent. Nevertheless they keep up their national
characteristic for carefulness. Neither are they very polite. A
stranger will be treated with a great deal of ceremony, but when
you come to the solid part of a compliment their generosity is at
a stand. Of all the people I ever saw these are the most
ceremonious. Every man is a soldier and wears his square-rigged
hat, sword, epaulets, and military uniform. They never pass each
other without a formal bow, which even descends to the lowest
ranks, and it is even seen in the slaves.”
On April 10th, 1792, Bligh’s ships anchored at Tahiti, where
they remained till July 19th. There was no disturbance this time,
and the relations between Bligh and his crew were not embarrassed
by the indulgent kindness of the islanders. Their hospitality was
not deficient, but a wary vigilance was exercised.
At Tahiti Bligh found the major part of the crew of a whaler,
the Matilda, which had been wrecked about six days’ sail from the
island. Some of the men accepted passages on the Providence and
the Assistant; some preferred to remain with the natives; one or
two had already departed in one of the lost ship’s boats to make
their way to Sydney.* (* This incident is reported in the Star, a
London newspaper, March 2nd, 1793.) Two male Tahitians were
persuaded to accompany the expedition, with a view to their
exhibition before the Royal Society, in England, when at length,
laden with 600 breadfruit trees, it sailed for the West
Indies.
The route followed from the Friendly Islands to the Caribbean
Sea was not via Cape Horn (since that cold and stormy passage
would have destroyed every plant), but back across the Pacific,
through Torres Strait to Timor, thence across the Indian Ocean
and round the Cape of Good Hope. St. Helena was reached on
December 17, and Bligh brought his ships safely to Kingston, St.
Vincent’s, on January 13th 1793. Three hundred breadfruit trees
were landed at that island, and a like number taken to Jamaica.
The plants were in excellent condition, some of them eleven feet
high, with leaves 36 inches long. The gardener in charge reported
to Sir Joseph Banks that the success of the transplantations
“exceeded the most sanguine expectation.” The sugar planters were
delighted, and voted Bligh 500 pounds for his services.* (*
Southey, History of the West Indies, 1827 3 61.) To accentuate
the contrast between the successful second expedition and the
lamentable voyage of the Bounty, it is notable that only one case
of sickness occurred on the way, and that from Kingston it was
reported that “the healthy appearance of every person belonging
to the expedition is remarkable.”* (* Annual Register 1793 page
6.)
But though nothing in the nature of a mutiny marred the
voyage, Flinders’ journal shows that Bligh’s harshness occasioned
discontent. There was a shortness of water on the run from the
Pacific to the West Indies, and as the breadfruit plants had to
be watered, and their safe carriage was the main object of the
voyage, the men had to suffer. Flinders and others used to lick
the drops that fell from the cans to appease their thirst, and it
was considered a great favour to get a sip. The crew thought they
were unfairly treated, and somebody mischievously watered some
plants with sea-water. When Bligh discovered the offence, he flew
into a rage and “longed to flog the whole company.” But the
offender could not be discovered, and the irate captain had to
let his passion fret itself out.
Bligh published no narrative of this expedition; but Flinders
was already accustoming himself to keep careful notes of his
observations. Twenty years later, when preparing the historical
introduction to his Voyage to Terra Australis, he wrote out from
his journal (and with Bligh’s sanction published) an account of
the passage of the Providence and Assistant through Torres
Strait, as a contribution to the history of navigation and
discovery in that portion of Australasia. From the Pacific to the
Indian Ocean the passage was accomplished in nineteen days.
“Perhaps,” commented Flinders, “no space of 3 1/2 degrees in
length presents more dangers than Torres Strait, but with caution
and perseverance the captains, Bligh and Portlock, proved them to
be surmountable, and within a reasonable time.” Bligh’s Entrance
and Portlock Reef, marked on modern charts, are reminders of a
feat of navigation which even nowadays, with the dangers
accurately described, and the well-equipped Torres Strait pilot
service to aid them, mariners recognise as pregnant with serious
risks. On this occasion it was also attended with incidents which
make it worth while to utilise Flinders’ notes, since they are of
some biographical importance.
The high lands of the south-eastern extremity of Papua (New
Guinea), were passed on August 30th, and at dusk on the following
day breakers “thundering on the reef” were sighted ahead. On
September 1st the vessels edged round the north end of Portlock
Reef. Thence the monotonous record of soundings, shoals, reefs
seen and charted, passages tried and abandoned, in the prolonged
attempt to negotiate a clear course through the baffling coral
barrier, is relieved by the story of one or two sharp brushes
with armed Papuans in their long, deftly-handled canoes. On
September 5th, while boats were out investigating a supposed
passage near Darnley Island, several large canoes shot into view.
One of these, in which were fifteen “Indians,” black and quite
naked, approached the English cutter, and made signs which were
interpreted to be amicable. The officer in charge, however,
suspecting treacherous intentions, did not think it prudent to go
near enough to accept a green cocoanut held up to him, and kept
his men rowing for the ship. Thereupon a native sitting on the
shed erected in the centre of the canoe, called a direction to
the Papuans below him, who commenced to string their bows. The
officer ordered his men to fire in self-defence, and six muskets
were discharged.
“The Indians fell flat into the bottom of the canoe, all
except the man on the shed. The seventh musket was fired at him,
and he fell also. During this time the canoe dropped astern; and,
the three others having joined her, they all gave chase to the
cutter, trying to cut her off from the ship; in which they would
probably have succeeded, had not the pinnace arrived at that
juncture to her assistance. The Indians then hoisted their sails
and steered for Darnley Island.” Flinders had watched the
encounter from the deck of the Providence, and his seaman’s word
of admiration for the skill of the savages in the management of
their canoes, is notable. “No boats could have been manoeuvred
better in working to windward, than were these canoes of the
naked savages. Had the four been able to reach the cutter, it is
difficult to say whether the superiority of our arms would have
been equal to the great difference of numbers, considering the
ferocity of these people and the skill with which they seemed to
manage their weapons.”
Five days later, between Dungeness and Warrior Islands, there
was a livelier encounter. A squadron of canoes attacked both
ships in a daring and vigorous fashion. The Assistant was pressed
with especial severity, so that Portlock had to signal for help.
A volley of musketry had little effect upon the Papuans; and when
one wing of the attacking squadron, numbering eight canoes,
headed for the Providence, and a musket was fired at the
foremost, the natives responded with a great shout and paddled
forward in a body.” Bligh had one of the great guns of the ship
loaded with round and grape shot, and fired fair into the first
of the long Papuan war canoes, which were full of savage
assailants. The round shot raked the whole length of the craft,
and struck the high stern. Men from other canoes, with splendid
bravery, leaped into the water, and swam to the assistance of
their comrades, “plunging constantly to avoid the musket balls
which showered thickly about them.” So hard was the attack
pressed, that three of the Assistant’s crew were wounded, one
afterwards dying; and “the depth to which the arrows penetrated
into the decks and sides of the brig was reported to be truly
astonishing.” But bows and arrows, on this as on many another
occasion, were no match for gunnery; so that, after a hot
peppering, the Papuans gave up the fight, paddling back to a safe
distance as fast as they could, without exposing themselves to
fire. They rallied beyond reach of musket balls, as though for a
second onslaught, but a shot fired over their heads from the
Providence served to convince them of the hopelessness of their
endeavour, and they abandoned it.
An incident not without heroic pathos is recorded by Flinders.
One native was left sitting alone in the canoe which the gun-shot
of the Providence had raked and splintered. The men in the canoes
which had made good their flight observed their solitary
companion, and some of them returned to him; whereafter “with
glasses, signals were perceived to be made by the Indians to
their friends on Dungeness Island, expressive, as was thought, of
grief and consternation.” Whether the lone warrior was too
severely wounded to be moved, or whether he was some Papuan
Casabianca clinging to his shattered craft “whence all but he had
fled” or been killed, or hurled into the sea, we are not told.
But that canoe had been foremost in attack, perhaps the flagship
of the squadron; and the memory of that solitary warrior still
sitting upon the floating wreck while his defeated companions
returned to him, and then left him, to explain his case with
gestures of grief to those on the island, clings to the memory of
the reader, as it did to that of the young observer and historian
of the encounter.
No more natives were seen during the passage through Torres
Strait, nor were there other incidents to enliven the narrative,
unless we include the formal “taking possession of all the
islands seen in the Strait for His Britannic Majesty George III,
with the ceremonies used on such occasions” (September 16). The
name bestowed upon the whole group of islands was Clarence’s
Archipelago.
Flinders described the natives whom he saw carefully and
accurately; and his account of their boats, weapons, and mode of
warfare is concise and good. Some friendly Darnley Islanders were
described as stoutly made, with bushy hair; the cartilage between
the nostrils cut away; the lobes of the ears split, and stretched
“to a good length.” “They had no kind of clothing, but wore
necklaces of cowrie shells fastened to a braid of fibres; and
some of their companions had pearl-oyster shells hung round their
necks. In speaking to each other, their words seemed to be
distinctly pronounced. Their arms were bows, arrows, and clubs,
which they bartered for every kind of iron work with eagerness,
but appeared to set little value on anything else. The bows are
made of split bamboo, and so strong that no man in the ship could
bend one of them. The string is a broad slip of cane fixed to one
end of the bow; and fitted with a noose to go over the other end
when strung. The arrow is a cane of about four feet long, into
which a pointed piece of the hard, heavy, casuarina wood is
firmly and neatly fitted; and some of them were barbed. Their
clubs are made of casuarina, and are powerful weapons. The hand
part is indented, and has a small knob, by which the firmness of
the grasp is much assisted; and the heavy end is usually carved
with some device. One had the form of a parrots head, with a ruff
round the neck, and was not ill done.
“Their canoes are about fifty feet in length, and appear to
have been hollowed out of a single tree; and the pieces which
form the gunwales are planks sewed on with fibres of the cocoanut
and secured with pegs. These vessels are low forward, but rise
abaft; and, being narrow, are fitted with an outrigger on each
side to keep them steady. A raft, of greater breadth than the
canoe, extends over about half the length, and upon this is fixed
a shed or hut, thatched with palm leaves. These people, in short,
appeared to be dexterous sailors and formidable warriors, and to
be as much at ease in the water as in their canoes.”
On September 19th the two ships, with caution and
perseverance, had threaded their dangerous way through the
intricate maze of reefs and shoals of Torres Strait, and found
open sea to the westward. In latitude 10 degrees 8 1/2 minutes
“no land was in sight, nor did anything more obstruct Captain
Bligh and his associates in their route to the island Timor.”
It is easy to imagine the delight with which these experiences
thrilled the young midshipman on the Providence. His eighteenth
birthday was spent in the Pacific, in the early Autumn of a
hemisphere where the sea was not yet cloven by innumerable keels,
and where beauty, enchantment and mystery lay upon life and
nature like a spell. A few years previously he had been a
schoolboy in the flattest, most monotonous of English shires.
Broad fields, dykes and fen had composed the landscape most
familiar to his eye. In these surroundings he had dreamed, as a
boy will, of palm-fanned islands in distant climes, of adventures
with savage peoples, of strange seas where great fishes are, and
where romance touches all that is with its purple light. Far
horizons steeped in marvels had bounded the vision of his
imagining eye. His passion was to see and do in realms at the
back of the sunrise. He wanted to sail and explore in parts
represented by blank spaces on the map.
These dreams of the boy, basking with Robinson Crusoe under
remote skies, were suddenly translated into a reality as
dazzling-bright and wonderful as anything pictured in pages often
and fondly conned. This was his first voyage, and he was serving
under a commander who had lived the romance that other men wrote
and read about, who was himself a living part of an adventure
whose story will be told and re-told to the centuries, and who
had served under as great and noble a captain as ever trod an
English deck.
The very nature of the voyage was bound to stimulate that
“passion for exploring new countries,” to use Flinders’ own
phrase, the hope for which was a strong factor in prompting him
to choose the sea as a career. It was a voyage whose primary
object involved a stay in two of the loveliest regions on the
earth, the paradise of the Pacific and the gem-like Antilles. The
pride and pleasure of participation in discovery were his
forthwith. A new passage through an intricate and dangerous
Strait was found and charted; a whole archipelago was delineated,
named, and taken possession of for the British nation. The
world’s knowledge was increased. There was something put down on
the map which was not there before. The contact with the
islanders in the Strait gave a brisk element of adventure to the
expedition; and certainly Papuan warriors are foes as wild and
weird as any adventurer can desire to meet. The rescuing of
wrecked mariners at Tahiti added a spice of adventure of another
sort. From beginning to end, indeed, this voyage must have been
as full of charm as of utility.
The effect it had upon the future life of Matthew Flinders was
very striking. The whole of the salient features of his later
career follow from it. He made the most of his opportunities.
Captain Bligh found him a clever assistant in the preparation of
charts and in making astronomical observations. Indeed, says an
expert writer, although Flinders was as yet “but a juvenile
navigator, the latter branch of scientific service and the care
of the timekeepers were principally entrusted to him.”* (* Naval
Chronicle Volume 32 180.) These facts indicate that he was
applying himself seriously to the scientific side of his
profession, and that he had won the confidence of a captain who
was certainly no over-indulgent critic of subordinates.
The Providence and the Assistant returned to England in the
latter part of 1793. Before Flinders once more sighted the
Australian coastline he was to experience the sensations of
battle, and to take a small part in the first of the series of
naval engagements connected with the Revolutionary and Napoleonic
era.
CHAPTER 4. THE BATTLE OFF BREST.
When Bligh’s expedition returned, Europe was staggering under
the shock of the French Revolution. The head of Louis XVI was
severed in January; the knife of Charlotte Corday was plunged
into the heart of Marat in July; Marie Antoinette, the grey
discrowned Queen of thirty-eight, mounted the scaffold in
October. The guillotine was very busy, and France was frantic
amid internal disruption and the menace of a ring of foes.
The English governing classes had been clamouring for war. It
seemed to many political observers that it was positively needful
to launch the country into an international struggle to divert
attention from demands for domestic reform. “Democratic ambition
was awakened; the desire of power, under the name of reform, was
rapidly gaining ground among the middling ranks; the only mode of
checking the evil was by engaging in a foreign contest, by
drawing off the ardent spirits into active service and, in lieu
of the modern desire for innovation, rousing the ancient
gallantry of the British people.”* (* Alison, History of Europe,
1839 2 128.) French military operations in the Netherlands,
running counter to traditional British policy, were provocative,
and the feeling aroused by the execution of Louis immediately led
Pitt’s ministry to order the French Ambassador, Chauvelin, to
leave London within eight days. He left at once. On February 1st,
acting on Chauvelin’s report of the disposition and preparations
of Great Britain, France formally declared war.
Flinders was with Bligh, peacefully landing breadfruit trees
in the West Indies, when this momentous opening of a twenty-two
years’ conflict occurred. When the expedition reached England,
every port and dockyard on the south coast was humming with
preparations for a great naval struggle. The Channel Fleet, under
Lord Howe’s command, was cruising in search of the enemy’s ships
of war. Flinders’ patron, Pasley, who had hoisted his broad
pennant as commodore on the Bellerophon, was actively engaged in
this service. In October, 1793, he was detached by Howe to look
for five French vessels that had some time before chased the
British frigate Circe into Falmouth. Howe himself, with a fleet
of 22 sail, put to sea later in the same month. On November 18
his squadron sighted six French ships of the line and some
frigates, and gave chase. But they were seen late in the day, and
soon darkness prevented an engagement. On the following morning
the enemy was again sighted by the chasing squadron under Pasley;
but the Latona signalled that the French were in superior
strength, and the British detachment retired.* (* James, Naval
History, 1837 1 60.) Howe’s cruise was barren of results, and the
British fleet returned to Torbay. Naval operations were suspended
for several months.
Flinders naturally took advantage of the earliest opportunity
to report himself to the friend who had first helped him into the
King’s Navy. Pasley, who was promoted on April 12th, 1794, to the
rank of Rear-Admiral of the White, again welcomed him on board
the Bellerophon and, hearing from Captain Bligh excellent
accounts of his diligence and usefulness, appointed him one of
his aides-de-camp. It was in this capacity that he took part in
the great battle off Brest on June 1st, 1794, signalised in
British naval history as “the glorious First of June.”
Lord Howe, with the Channel Fleet (thirty-four ships of the
line and fifteen frigates) put to sea on May 2nd with two
purposes: first, to convoy to a safe distance from the probable
field of hostilities a squadron of 148 British merchantmen bound
for various ports; second, to intercept and destroy a French
fleet which was known to be convoying a large company of
provision-ships from America. War, bad harvests, the
disorganization of industry, and revolutionary upheavals, had
produced an acute scarcity of food in France, and the arrival of
these vessels was awaited with intense anxiety. To prevent their
arrival, or to destroy the French squadron, would be to strike a
serious blow at the enemy. Howe had under him a fleet eager for
fight; against him, a foe keenly aware how vitally necessary to
their country was the arrival of the food-ships.
The French fleet (twenty-six ships of the line) under the
command of Villaret-Joyeuse, put to sea from Brest on May 16.
Some foggy days intervened. On the 28th Howe sighted them. The
French admiral formed his ships in a close line. Howe’s plan was
first to get his fleet to windward of the enemy, then to sail
down, pierce his line, and engage his vessels to leeward.
The Bellerophon was in action shortly after coming within
striking distance, on the 28th May. Pasley, at six o’clock in the
evening, attacked the French rear, his immediate antagonist being
the Revolutionnaire, 110 guns. A hot duel, maintained with
splendid intrepidity by the British rear-admiral, continued for
over an hour and a quarter, for the other ships of the British
fleet were unable to get up to support the fast-sailing
Bellerophon. She was severely handled by her large antagonist,
and was hampered in her ability to manoeuvre by a shot which
injured her mainmast. Pasley therefore, on a signal from the
Admiral, bore up. The Revolutionnaire was now attacked from a
distance by the Russell, the Marlborough and the Thunderer, and
endeavoured to make off, but was blocked by the Leviathan. The
Audacious (74) took up the work which the Bellerophon had
commenced, and, laying herself on the lee quarter of the
Revolutionnaire, poured a rain of shot into her. The fight was
continued in a rough sea far into the twilight of that early
summer evening; until, about 10 o’clock, the Revolutionnaire was
a mere floating hulk. Her flag had either been lowered or shot
down, but she was not captured, and was towed into Rochefort on
the following day. The Audacious was so badly knocked about that
she was of no use for later engagements, and was sent home.
This was Matthew Flinders’ first taste of war.
Howe’s plan for the big battle that was imminent involved much
manoeuvring, and, as Nelson wrote in his celebrated “plan of
attack” before Trafalgar, “a day is soon lost in that business.”
The British manoeuvred to get the weather gauge; Villaret-Joyeuse
to keep it. On May 29th Howe in the Queen Charlotte pierced the
French line with two other ships, the Bellerophon and the
Leviathan, and there was some fighting. The Bellerophon got to
windward of the enemy by passing in front of the French Terrible
(110), and put in some excellent gunnery practice. She sailed so
close to the French ship to starboard as almost to touch her, and
brought down the enemy’s topmast and lower yards with a
broadside, whilst at the same time she raked the Terrible with
her larboard guns.* (* There is an interesting engraving of the
Bellerophon passing through the French line and firing both her
broadsides in the Naval Chronicle Volume 1, and a plan of the
manoeuvre, showing the course of the Bellerophon, in James’s
Naval History.)
May 30 and 31 were foggy days, and neither fleet could see the
other. On June 1st there was a blue sky, a brilliant sun, a
lively sea, and a wind that favoured the plans of the British
Admiral. The signal for close action was flown from the masthead
of the Queen Charlotte. Howe ordered his ships to sail on an
oblique course down upon the French line, the two fleets having
during the night lain in parallel lines stretching east and west.
The intention was to break the French line near the centre, each
British captain sailing round the stern of his antagonist, and
fighting her to leeward, thus concentrating the attack on the
enemy’s rear, cutting it off from the van, and preventing
flight.
The Bellerophon was the second ship in the British line, next
after the Caesar. Flinders was upon the quarterdeck as she
steered through her selected gap, which was on the weather
quarter of the Eole; and an anecdote of his behaviour on that
memorable occasion fortunately survives. The guns on the
quarterdeck were loaded and primed ready for use, but Pasley did
not intend to fire them until he had laid himself on the lee of
his chosen adversary, and could pour a broadside into her with
crushing effect. There was a moment when the gunners were aloft
trimming sails. As the Bellerophon was passing close under the
stern of the French three-decker—within musket-shot, James
says—* (* Naval History 1 154.) Flinders seized a lighted match
and rapidly fired as many of the quarterdeck guns as would plump
shot fairly into her.* (* Naval Chronicle 32 180.) Pasley saw him
and, shaking him by the collar, said, sternly: “How dare you do
that, youngster, without my orders?” Flinders replied that he
“thought it a fine chance to have a shot at ’em.” So it was,
though not in conformity with orders; and probably Pasley, as
good a fighter as there was in the fleet, liked his young
aide-de-camp rather the more for his impetuous action.
The guns of the Bellerophon were opened upon the Eole at 8.45,
and battered her severely. The British vessel was subjected in
turn, however, not only to the fire of her chosen victim, but
also to that of the Trajan. At ten minutes to eleven o’clock a
shot from the Eole took off Pasley’s leg, and he was carried down
to the cockpit, whereupon the command devolved upon Captain
William Hope. It must have been a distressing moment for
Flinders, despite the intense excitement of action, when his
friend and commander fell; it was indeed, as will be seen, a
crucial moment in his career. A doggerel bard of the time
enshrined the event in a verse as badly in need of surgical aid
as were the heroes whom it celebrates:
“Bravo, Bowyer, Pasley, Captain Hutt, Each lost a leg, being
sorely hurt; Their lives they valued but as dirt, When that their
country called them!”*
(* Naval Songs and Ballads, Publications of the Navy Record
Society, Volume 33 270.)
The fight was continued with unflagging vigour, in the absence
of the gallant rear-admiral, who, as another lyrist of the event
informs us, smiled and said:
“Fight on my lads and try To make these rebel Frenchmen know
That British courage still will flow To make them strike or
die.”
At a quarter before noon the Eole had received such a
hammering that she endeavoured to wear round under shelter of her
leader; but in doing so she lost mainmast and foretopmast. The
Bellerophon, too, had by this time been sufficiently hard hit to
cause Hope to signal to the Latona for assistance. Her
foretopmast and maintopmast had gone, and her mainmast was so
badly damaged as to be dangerous. Her rigging was cut to pieces,
all her boats were smashed, and she was practically as crippled
as was her brave commander, upon whom the surgeons had been
operating down below, amid the blood of the cockpit and the
thunder and smoke of the cannon.
The battle ended about 1 p.m. The French fleet was badly
beaten, and Villaret-Joyeuse at the end of the day drew back to
Brest only a battered, splintered and ragged remnant of the fine
squadron which he had commanded. Still, the French provision
ships slipped by and arrived safely in port. The squadron had
been sent out to enable them to get in, and in they were, though
it had cost a fleet to get them in. Nelson used the phrase “a
Lord Howe victory” disparagingly. Nothing short of a complete
smashing of the enemy and the utter frustration of his purposes
would ever satisfy that ardent soul.
For the sake of clearness, the general scheme of the battle
has been described, together with the part played in it by the
Bellerophon; but we fortunately have a detailed account of it by
Flinders himself. Young as he was, only a few weeks over 20 years
of age, he was evidently cool, and his journal is crowded with
carefully observed facts, noted amidst the heat and confusion of
conflict; and it is doubtful whether there is in existence a
better story of this important fleet action. The manuscript of
his journal occupies forty foolscap pages. It is much damaged by
sea-water, the paper in some parts having been rendered quite
pulpy. But the sheets relating to the 1st of June are entirely
legible. As the reader will see, there is here no rhetoric, no
excited use of vivid adjectives to give colour to the story. It
is a calmly observed piece of history. Read attentively, it
enables one to live through the stirring events with which it
deals in a singularly thrilling style. We feel the crash and
thunder and hustle of battle far more keenly from the detailed
accumulation of occurrences here presented than any
scene-painting prose could make us do. The journal begins on
September 7th, 1793, when Flinders joined the Bellerophon, and
continues till August 10th, 1794, when he quitted her. In the
early part it deals principally with cruising up and down the
Channel looking for the enemy’s ships. Occasionally there was a
skirmish. We may select a few instances from this period, before
coming to what immediately preceded the great day:
FACSIMILE OF LETTER TO SIR JOSEPH BANKS, 1794
“Wednesday, 11th (September, 1793) a.m. Hoisted a broad
pennant by order of Lord Howe, Capt. Pasley being appointed a
commodore of the fleet. Weighed and anchored in our station in
Torbay.
“Monday, November 18th.* (* See note below.) Saw nine or ten
sail, seemingly large ships, standing towards us. The admiral
made the Russell and Defence signals to chase, also the
Audacious; and soon after ours. By this time the strange ships
had brought to, hull down, to windward, seemingly in some
confusion. The Ganges’ signal was also made to chase. At 9 the
Admiral made the sign for the strange fleet being an enemy, and
for our sternmost ships to make more sail. At 10 the signal to
engage as the other ships came up was made. The enemy had now
hauled their wind, and standing from us with as much sail as they
could carry. Split one jib; got another bent as fast as possible.
We were now the headmost line of battle ship and gaining fast
upon the enemy; but the main part of our fleet seemed rather to
drop from them. St. Agnes north 34 degrees east 89 miles. Ship
all clear for action since 9 o’clock.
“Tuesday, November 19th, 1793. Judge six of the enemy’s ships
to be of the line, two frigates and two brigs…On the wind
shifting at 4 in a squall, tacked, as did the Latona, which
brought her near the rear of the enemy’s ships, at which she
fired several shot; she tacked again at 5, and fired, which the
sternmost of their ships returned. At dark the enemy passed to
windward of us, about 5 or 6 miles…12, set top-gallant-sails,
but obliged to take them in again for fear of carrying away the
masts. Sundry attempts were made during the night to set, but as
often obliged to take them in. At 12 lost sight of all our ships
except one frigate. The weather very hazy, with squalls at times,
and at 2 a heavy shower of rain, which lasted a considerable
time. When it cleared a little, saw two or three of the enemy’s
ships ahead of the others on the lee bow. Very thick and hazy,
with much rain. Made the signal that the enemy had bore away. Saw
the Latona and Phoenix, who seemed suspicious of each other, but
on discovering they were friends both bore away after one of the
enemy’s ships…About 9 the Phoenix and Latona being the only
friends in sight, the latter made the signal for the enemy being
superior to the ships chasing. Soon after we made the signal to
call the frigates in…In the firing the preceding evening the
Latona received a shot between wind and water in the breadroom,
and another in the galley; but happily no one was hurt and but
little injury received.”
An amusing example of an attempt to “dodge,” under false
colours, is related on the following day. The trick did not
succeed.
“Wednesday, November 27th, 1793, a.m. Hazy weather. Squadron
in company. Saw a strange ship to the southward, who hoisted an
Union Jack at the main topmast head and a red flag at the fore.
The Phoenix being ahead made the private signal, but the stranger
not answering she made the signal for an enemy. We immediately
made the general signal to chase. At 10 the Phoenix and Latona
fired a few shots at her, upon which she hoisted French colours,
discharged her guns, and struck. She proved to be La Blonde of 28
guns and 190 men. The squadron brought to. The French captain
came on board and surrendered his sword to the commodore.
Separated the prisoners amongst the squadron. An officer of the
Phoenix sent to take charge of the prize and a party of men from
each ship.
“Tuesday, December 1st, 1793. Brought to. The Phoenix sent
into Falmouth, Mr. Waterhouse, Lieutenant, sent in her to take
charge of the Blonde prize.”
The French fleet, as related above, put out of Brest on May
16, 1794. Flinders tells us how they were sighted, and what
happened during the days preceding the great battle:
“Friday, May 23rd. The Southampton brought a strange brig into
the fleet and destroyed her…a.m. A fine little ship, called the
Albion, of Bermuda, set on fire by the Glory. The Aquilon brought
a strange ship into the fleet. A galliot, with Dutch colours
inverted, passed through the fleet, having been set on fire by
the Niger…A French man-of-war, captured and brought into the
fleet by the frigates, was set on fire.
“Saturday, May 24. The ship brought into the fleet by the
Aquilon left us and stood to the eastward. She was bound to Hull,
and was part of a Dutch convoy, most of which had been taken and
destroyed by the French fleet on Wednesday last.
“Sunday, May 25th. At daybreak saw four sail to windward; our
squadron sent in chase. Fired a shot and brought to a French
brig, man-of-war. Made signal that the prize was not secure, and
chased a large ship further to windward, apparently of the line,
and with another ship in tow. Tacked as soon as she was on our
beam. She had cast off her prize as soon as we fired at the brig.
In passing, fired at and brought to a French corvette; but left
her for the fleet to pick up. Passed to leeward of the ship the
chase had in tow. She appeared to be a large merchantman and had
up American colours. The frigates in chase picked her up soon
after. At 10 the chase was nearly hull down, and gained upon us.
Stood back to the fleet, being recalled by signal. Saw one of the
prizes in flames, and found the three had been destroyed at noon;
162 leagues west by south of Ushant.”
In the ensuing pages we are brought into the thick of the
battle.
“Wednesday, May 28th. Saw two strange sail, one of which the
Phoenix spoke, and soon after made signal for a strange fleet
south-south-west. About 8, we counted 33 sail, 24 or 25 of which
appeared to be of the line, and all standing down towards us. At
8.30 our signal was made to reconnoitre the enemy—as we were now
certain they were. A frigate of their’s was likewise looking at
us. At noon the enemy’s fleet south-west to west-south-west, on
the larboard tack under an easy sail in line ahead, and distant 3
or 4 leagues. Our fleet 3 or 4 leagues to leeward in the order of
sailing or under a press of sail. Ushant north 82 degrees east
143 leagues.
“Thursday, May 29th, 1794. Fresh gales with rain at times, and
a swell from the westward. Repeated the general signals for
chase, battle, etc. Kd.* ship occasionally, working to windward
under a press of sail, our squadron and the frigates in company,
and our fleet a few miles to leeward.
(* “Kd. ship” is an expression which puzzled Professor
Flinders Petrie, who appended a note to the Flinders papers,
suggesting that it could hardly mean kedged. Captain Bayldon
supplies an exceedingly interesting explanation:
“Without the least doubt ‘Kd. ship’ means ‘tacked ship.’ ‘Kd.’
is either a private abbreviation of Flinders’ for ‘tacked’ or
else he intended to have written ‘Tkd.’ There is no nautical term
beginning with K which would make the least sense under the
circumstances. ‘Kedged’ is utterly inadmissable; both fleets were
under way in pretty heavy weather. ‘Working to windward’
practically means ‘tacking ship.’ So why did Flinders mention an
obvious fact, ‘tacked ship’? Because the weather was bad, strong
breezes, heavy swell, and therefore it was very hazardous to tack
ship (on account of throwing the sails aback) and also many ships
could not be forced into tacking with a heavy head swell.
Consequently it is usual to wear ship under these conditions
(turn her round before the wind). So he then mentions ‘under a
press of sail,’ to force her up into the wind (also making it a
risky manoeuvre, for they could easily lose their masts—foremast
especially). Hence he was proud of the manoeuvre, so mentions,
‘tacked ship occasionally, under a press of sail.’ On the 29th
May at 8 a.m., the French van wore in succession. (Fresh wind,
heavy head sea). Soon after noon (Flinders’ old nautical time
gives May 30th) Lord Howe signalled the British fleet to tack in
succession. The leading ship, the Caesar, instead of obeying,
made the signal of inability and wore round. The next ship, the
Queen, also wore. So (at 1.30 p.m.) Lord Howe set the example in
the Queen Charlotte and tacked. Pasley’s Bellerophon followed
him, and tacked also; the Leviathan tacked and followed her.
These three ships were the only ones to tack. All the remainder
wore, and so did the French. Either their captains would not take
the risk, or else could not force their ships through the heavy
head sea. So I expect Flinders and the ‘Bully ruffians’ felt
elated at their performance and he intended to record ‘Tkd.
ship.'”)
“About 3 the Russell, being a mile or two to windward of us,
began to fire on the enemy’s rear, as they were hauling on the
larboard tack, and continued to stand on with the Thunderer and
frigates, to get into their wake. We tacked a little before the
rear ship was on our beam, which enabled us to bring them to
action a considerable time before the other ships could come up
to our assistance. Our first fire was directed on a large frigate
which brought up the enemy’s rear, but she soon made sail and
went to windward of the next ship (a three-decker)* (* The
Revolutionnaire.) on whom we immediately pointed our guns. In a
few minutes she returned it with great spirit, our distance from
her being something more than a mile. My Lord Howe, seeing us
engaged with a three-decked ship, and the next ahead of him
frequently giving us a few guns, made the Russell and
Marlborouqh’s signals to come to our assistance, they being on
the weather quarter. About dusk more of the fleet had got up with
us, the signal having been made to chase without regard to order.
The Leviathan and Audacious, particularly, passed to windward of
us, and came to close engagement; the first keeping as close to
him to leeward as she could fetch, and the latter fetching to
windward of him, laid herself athwart his stern and gave a severe
raking. The headmost of the French fleet were apparently hove to,
but made no effort to relieve their comrade. At this time our
maincap was seen to be so badly sprung as to oblige us to take in
the main topsail; the larboard topsail sheet block was likewise
shot away. Got down the top-gallant yard and mast, and, the ship
being scarcely under command, we made the signal for inability.
Soon after the Admiral called us by signal into his wake. The
enemy’s rear ship about 9 had his mizzenmast gone and he bore
down towards us, the Russell and Thunderer striking close to his
weather quarter and lee bow, keeping up a severe fire, but he
scarcely returned a shot. Having got clear of them he continued
coming down on us, apparently with the intention of striking to
our flag, but firing a shot now and then. He was intercepted by
one of our ships, who running to leeward of him soon silenced his
guns, and, we concluded, had obliged him to strike. The enemy’s
fleet were now collected about 3 miles to windward, carrying
lights, as did ours. We were in no regular order, it having been
broken up by the chase. A.M., employed securing the maincap, etc.
All hands kept at quarters. Fresh breezes and hazy weather. At
daybreak the enemy’s line was formed about 2 miles distant, and
our commander in chief made the signal to form the line of
battle, and take stations as most convenient. We bore down and
took ours astern of the Queen Charlotte, the Marlborough and
Royal Sovereign following. About 8 our fleet tacked in
succession, with a view to cut off the enemy’s rear, the Caesar
leading and my Lord Howe the 10th ship. As soon as our van were
sufficiently near to bring them to action, the enemy’s whole
fleet wore in succession, and ran to leeward of their line in
order to support their rear, and edged down van to van. At 10 the
firing commenced between the headmost ships of both lines, but at
too great a distance to do much execution, and the Admiral made
the signal to tack in succession in order to bring the enemy to
close action, but not being taken notice of, about noon it was
repeated with a gun. The Leviathan, being next ahead of the
Admiral, fired some guns, but the Queen Charlotte and those
astern did not attempt it. Hazy weather at noon with a
considerable swell from the westward. Latitude observed to be 47
degrees 35 minutes north. NOTE—We found this morning at daybreak
that the Audacious was missing, and we concluded was the ship who
had secured the prize, neither being in sight.* (* Of course this
surmise was incorrect. The Audacious had not secured the
Revolutionnaire which was towed into Rochefort by the Audacieux
(curious similarity in names). The Audacious badly crippled made
her way to Plymouth alone.—[Captain Bayldon’s note].)
“Friday, May 30th. Fresh breezes and hazy weather. The signal
for the van to tack was again repeated, when the Caesar made the
signal of inability; but at last they got round, and the Admiral
made signal to cut through the enemy’s line; but finding our
leading ships were passing to leeward, we tacked a considerable
time before the ships came in succession, and luffed up as close
to them as possible. The enemy were now well within point-blank
shot, which began to fall very thick about us, and several had
passed through our sails before we tacked. Immediately we came
into the Queen Charlotte’s wake we tacked, lay up well for the
enemy’s rear, and began a severe fire, giving it to each ship as
we passed. My Lord Howe in the Charlotte kept his luff, and cut
through their line between the 4th and 5th ship in the rear. We
followed, and passed between the 2nd and 3rd. The rest of the
fleet passed to leeward. Their third ship gave us a severe
broadside on the bow as we approached to pass under her stern,
and which we took care to return by two on her quarter and stern.
Before we had cleared her, her fore and maintop masts fell over
the side, and she was silenced for a while, but it was only till
we had passed her. Their rear ship received several broadsides
even from our three-deckers, but kept her colours up. The Orion
ran down to her, but getting upon her beam and too far to leeward
was obliged to leave her, and she got to her own fleet, whom we
were now to windward of. Lord Howe made the signal to tack, and
for a general chase, but few of the van ships were able to follow
him. For ourselves, we lay to, to reeve new braces and repair the
rigging, which was entirely cut to pieces forward. The foresail
was rendered useless, and was cut away, and being only able to
set a close-reefed main topsail for fear of the cap giving way,
we were not able to follow his lordship. The French perceiving
how few followed them, rallied, tacked, and supported their
disabled ships, and even made a feint to cut off the Queen, who
was rendered a wreck. The Admiral, seeing their intention, bore
down with several of the heavy ships who had not been engaged,
and forced them to leeward of our disabled ships. At 5.30 having
got a new foresail bent, and the rigging in a little order, we
bore down and joined the Admiral, who soon after formed the line
in two divisions, and stood to the westward under an easy sail
abreast of the enemy, who were to leeward in a line ahead; the
disabled ships in both fleets repairing their damages, several of
theirs being without topmasts and topsail yards. At sunset saw
two ships pass to windward, conjectured to be the Audacious and
prize. Employed splicing and knotting the rigging, and repairing
sails, not one of which but had several shot through them. The
truck of the foretopgallant mast was likewise shot away. A.M.,
thick foggy weather. Saw the enemy at times north-north-west 4 or
5 miles. At noon very foggy. Latitude 47 degrees 39 minutes north
by dull observation.
“Saturday, May 31st, 1794. Lost sight of the enemy and only
four of our own ships in sight. People employed repairing sail,
rigging, etc., with all expedition. At noon thick and foggy. No
enemy in sight; 30 sail of our own ships.
“Sunday, June 1st, 1794.* (* Nautical reckoning in Flinders’
day was 12 hours ahead; i.e., his June 1 began at noon on May 31.
Occurrences following “a.m.,” happened on June 1 by the Almanac.)
Moderate breezes and foggy weather. Before two it began to clear
up. Saw the enemy to leeward, 8 or 9 miles distant, and made the
signal for that purpose. Soon after the whole fleet bore down
towards them by signal. The enemy were edging away from the wind,
and several of their ships were changing stations in the line;
some of them without topmasts and topsail yards. About 7, the van
of our fleet being within three miles of the enemy’s centre, the
heavy ships in the rear a considerable way astern, the Admiral
made the signal to haul to the wind together on the larboard
tack, judging we should not be able to bring on a general action
to-night. At sunset the enemy were in a line ahead from
north-west by west to north-east by east about four miles
distant, and apparently steering about two points from the wind.
At 11 the Phaeton passed along the line, and informed the
different ships that Lord Howe intended carrying single reefed
T.S.F. sail, jib and M.T.M.S. sail.* (* Letters probably denote
single reefed Top Sails, Fore sail, jib and Main Topmast and Main
Stay sails.) After speaking us he kept on our lee bow; each ship
carrying a light by signal. A.M., fresh breezes and cloudy. At
daybreak the enemy not in sight, our rear ships a long way
astern, their signal made to make more sail; when the line became
tolerably connected, the whole fleet bore away and steered
north-west by signal. A little before six saw the enemy in the
north by east about 3 leagues. Made the signal to the Admiral for
that purpose, who by signal ordered the fleet to alter the course
to starboard together, bearing down towards them. About 8, being
nearly within shot of the enemy’s van, hove to for the rear of
the fleet to come up. Lord Howe made the signal 34, which we
understood was to pass through the enemy’s line, but it did not
seem to be understood by the rest of the fleet. At 8.10 the
signal was made to bear up and each engage his opponent. We
accordingly ran down within musket shot of our opponent, and hove
to, having received several broadsides from their van ships in so
doing. We now began a severe fire upon our opponent, the second
ship in the enemy’s van, which she returned with great briskness.
The van ship likewise fired many shot at us, his opponent the
Caesar keeping to windward, not more than two points before our
beam in general, and of course nearly out of point-blank shot.
About 8.30 Admiral Graves made his and the Russell’s signal to
engage their opponent; we likewise made Captain Molloy’s (the
Caesar) signal twice to bear down and come to close action. About
9 the action became general throughout the two fleets, but the
Tremendous kept out of the line, but on being ordered in by
signal from the Admiral, she bore down after some time. A little
before 11 our brave Admiral (Pasley) lost his leg by an 18-pound
shot, which came through the barricading of the quarter-deck. It
was now the heat of the action. The Caesar was not yet come close
to his opponent, who in consequence of that fired all his after
guns at us. Our own ship kept up a severe fire, and by keeping
well astern to let the Caesar take her station, their third van
ship shot up on our quarter, and for some time fired all his fore
guns upon us. Our shot was directed on three different ships as
the guns could be got to bear. In ten or fifteen minutes we saw
the foremast of the third ship go by the board, and the second
ship’s main-top-sail-yard down upon the cap. Otherwise the two
headmost had not received much apparent injury, at least in the
rigging. At 11 1/4, however, they both bore away and quitted the
line, their Admiral being obliged to do the same some time before
by the Queen Charlotte. On seeing the two van ships hauling upon
the other tack, we conjectured they meant to give us their
starboard guns. The Caesar’s signal was immediately made by us to
chase the flying ships. On his bearing down they were put into
confusion, and their ship falling down upon them they received
several broadsides from the Leviathan and us, before they could
get clear; which when they effected they kept away a little, then
hauled their wind in the starboard tack, and stood away from the
opposing fleets. And now, being in no condition to follow, we
ceased firing; the main and foretopmast being gone, every main
shroud but one on the larboard side cut through, and many on the
other, besides having the main and foremasts with all the rigging
and sails in general much injured. We made the Latona’s signal to
come to our assistance, and got entirely out of action. When the
smoke cleared away, saw eleven ships without a mast standing, two
of whom proved to be the Marlborough and Defence. The rest were
enemy’s, who, notwithstanding their situation kept their colours
up, and fired at any of our ships that came near them. The
Leviathan’s opponent particularly (the same ship whose foremast
we shot away) lying perfectly dismasted, the Leviathan ran down
to him to take possession; but on her firing a gun to make him
haul down his colours, he returned a broadside, and a severe
action again commenced between them for nearly half an hour, and
we could see shot falling on the water on the opposite side of
the Frenchman, which appeared to have gone through both his
sides, the ships being at half a cable’s length from each other.
The Leviathan falling to leeward could not take the advantage of
him her sails gave her, and, seeing his obstinacy, left him, but
not before his fire was nearly silenced. About 11.30 the firing
was pretty well ceased on all sides, the Queen having only a
foremast standing was fallen to leeward between the two fleets.
She stood on the larboard tack to fetch our fleet, keeping to the
wind in an astonishing manner, which we afterwards learnt was
effected by getting up boat’s sails abaft. In this situation
every ship she passed gave her a broadside or more, which she
returned with great spirit, keeping up an almost incessant blaze.
After she had stood on past the fleets, she wore round and stood
back, pursuing the same conduct as before, but the French, having
collected their best-conditioned ships in a body, and being
joined by two or three other disabled ships, were making off,
having apparently given up all ideas of saving the rest. On this
our fleet stood down a little, and the Queen joined. We were now
employed knotting, splicing, repairing, etc. the rigging, cutting
away the wrecks of the fore and main topmasts, and securing the
lower masts. Fortunately no accident happened with the powder, or
with guns bursting. We had but three men killed outright (a
fourth died of his wounds very soon after) and about 30 men
wounded, amongst whom five lost their limbs, and the other leg of
one man was so much shattered as to be taken off some time after.
Our brave Admiral was unfortunately in this list, as before
observed. Captain Smith of the Marines and Mr. Chapman,
boatswain, were amongst the wounded on the second day. Most of
our spars were destroyed, and the boats severely injured. About
noon we had still fine weather and the enemy standing away from
us, except one ship, which did not seem injured, and paraded to
windward, as if with the intention of giving some of us disabled
ships a brush. However, we were well prepared for him, having got
tolerably clear of the wreck, and he stood back again and out of
sight, having spoken one of their wrecks. Lord Howe made the
signal to form the line as most convenient, but it was a long
time before that movement could be effected.”
Flinders wrote in his journal an estimate of the French
sailors who were put on board his ship as prisoners. It is of
some historical value:
“Their seamen, if we may judge from our own prisoners, are in
a very bad state both with respect to discipline and knowledge of
their profession; both which were evidently shown by the
condition we saw them in on the 31st, many of them being without
topmasts and topsail yards, and nearly in as bad a state as on
the 29th after the action. ‘Tis true they were rather better when
we saw them in the morning of June 1st. Out of our 198 prisoners
there certainly cannot be above 15 or 20 seamen, and all together
were the dirtiest, laziest set of beings conceivable. How an idea
of liberty, and more so that of fighting for it, should enter
into their heads, I know not; but by their own confession it is
not their wish and pleasure, but that of those who sent them; and
so little is it their own that in the Brunswick (who was engaged
yardarm and yardarm with the Vengeur) they could see the French
officers cutting down the men for deserting their quarters.
Indeed, in the instances of the Russell and Thunderer when close
to the Revolutionnaire, and ours when cutting the line, the
French do not like to come too close. A mile off they will fight
desperately.”
Pasley’s loss of a leg had a decisive effect upon the career
of Matthew Flinders. So fine a sailor and so tough a fighting man
would unquestionably, if not partially incapacitated, have had
conferred upon him during the following years of war commands
that would have led to his playing a very prominent part in fleet
operations. As it was, he did not go to sea again, though he was
promoted through various ranks to that of Admiral of the Blue
(1801). He became commander in chief at the Nore in 1798, and at
Plymouth in 1799. Had he received other sea commands, his
vigorous, alert young aide-de-camp might have continued to serve
with him, and would thus have just missed the opportunities that
came to him in his next sphere of employment. What young officer
would not have eagerly followed a gallant and warm-hearted
Admiral who had first placed him upon a British quarterdeck and
had made him an aide-de-camp? As it was, the chance that came to
Flinders about two months after the battle off Brest was one that
ministered to his decided preference for service in seas where
there was exploratory work to do.
Pasley’s influence upon the life of Flinders was so important,
that a characterisation of him by one who has perused his letters
and journals must be quoted.* (* Memoir of Admiral Sir T.S.
Pasley, by Louisa M. Sabine Pasley. Sir T.S. Pasley was the
grandson of Flinders’ Admiral. It unfortunately happens that the
Journals of “old Sir Thomas” which are extant do not cover the
period when Flinders acted as his aide-de-camp. Miss Sabine
Pasley was kind enough to have a search made among his papers for
any trace of Flinders’ relations with him, but without success.)
“It is impossible,” writes Miss L.M. Sabine Pasley, “not to be
impressed from these journals with a strong feeling of respect
for the writer, so simple-minded, so kind-hearted, such a brave
old sailor of his time—rough, no doubt, in manners and language,
but with an earnest and genuine piety that shows itself from time
to time in little ejaculations and prayers, contrasting, it must
be owned, rather strongly with the terms in which the ‘rascally
Yankies’ are alluded to in the same pages.” What Howe thought of
him is recorded in a letter which he sent to the Rear-Admiral a
fortnight after the battle, regretting that “the services of a
friend he so highly esteemed and so gallant an officer, capable
of such spirited exertions, should be restrained by any disaster
from the continued exertion of them.” There is also on record a
letter to Pasley from the Prime Minister, a model of grace and
delicate feeling, in which Pitt signified that the King had
conferred on him a baronetcy “as a mark of the sense which His
Majesty entertains of the distinguished share which you bore in
the late successful and glorious operations of His Majesty’s
fleet,” and assured him “of the sincere satisfaction which I
personally feel in executing this commission.”
On the south-western coast of Australia, eight years later,
Flinders remembered his first commander when naming the natural
features of the country. Cape Pasley, at the western tip of the
arc of the great Australian Bight, celebrates “the late Admiral
Sir Thomas Pasley, under whom I had the honour of entering the
naval service.”* (* Flinders, Voyage to Terra Australis 1 87.) On
some current maps of Australia the cape is spelt “Paisley,” an
error which obscures the interesting biographical fact with which
the name is connected.
It is noteworthy that though the career of Flinders as a naval
officer covers the stormiest period in British naval history, the
whole of his personal experience of battle was confined to these
five days, May 28 to June 1, 1794. The whole significance of his
life lies in the work of discovery that he accomplished, and in
the contributions he made to geography and navigation. Yet he was
destined to feel the effect of the enmity of the French in a
peculiarly distressing form. His useful life was cut short
largely by misfortunes that came upon him as a consequence of
war, and work which he would have done to the enhancement of his
reputation and the advancement of civilisation was thwarted by
it.
CHAPTER 5. AUSTRALIAN GEOGRAPHY BEFORE FLINDERS.
In order that the importance of the work done by Flinders may
be adequately appreciated, it is necessary to understand the
state of information concerning Australian geography before the
time of his discoveries. Not only did he complete the main
outlines of the map of the continent, but he filled in many
details in parts that had been traversed by his predecessors.
This is a convenient point whereat to interrupt the narrative of
his life with a brief sketch of what those predecessors had done,
and of the curiously haphazard mode in which a partial knowledge
of this fifth division of the globe had been pieced together.
zx
There never was, until Flinders applied himself to the task,
any deliberately-planned, systematic, persistent exploration of
any portion of the Australian coast. The continent grew on the
map of the world gradually, slowly, almost accidentally. It
emerged out of the unknown, like some vast mythical monster
heaving its large shoulders dank and dripping from the unfathomed
sea, and metamorphosed by a kiss from the lips of knowledge into
a being fair to look upon and rich in kindly favours. It took two
centuries and a half for civilised mankind to know Australia,
even in form, from the time when it was clearly understood that
there was such a country, until at length it was mapped, measured
and circumnavigated. Before this process began, there was a
dialectical stage, when it was hotly contested whether there
could possibly be upon the globe lands antipodean to Europe; and
both earlier and later there were conjectural stages when makers
of maps, having no certain data, but feeling sure that the blank
southern hemisphere ought to be filled up somehow, exercised a
vagrant fancy and satisfied a long-felt want by decorating their
drawings with representations of a Terra Incognita having not
even a casual resemblance to the reality.
The process presents few points of resemblance to that by
which the discovery of America was accomplished. Almost as soon
as Europe came into touch with the western hemisphere, discovery
was pursued with unflagging energy, until its whole extent and
contour were substantially known. Within fifty years after
Columbus led the way across the Atlantic (1492), North and South
America were laid down with something approaching precision; and
Gerard Mercator’s map of 1541 presented the greater part of the
continent with the name fairly inscribed upon it. There were, it
is true, some errors and some gaps, especially on the west coast,
which left work for navigators to do. But the essential point is
that in less than half a century Europe had practically
comprehended America as an addition to the known world. There was
but a brief twilight interval between nescience and knowledge.
How different was the case with Australia! Three hundred years
after the date of Columbus’ first voyage, the mere outline of
this continent had not been wholly mapped.
During the middle ages, when ingenious men exercised infinite
subtlety in speculation, and wrote large Latin folios to prove
each other wrong in matters about which neither party knew
anything at all, there was much dissertation about the
possibility of antipodes. Bishops and saints waxed eloquent upon
the theme. The difficulty of conceiving of lands where people
walked about with their heads hanging downwards, and their feet
exactly opposite to those of Europeans, was too much for some of
the scribes who debated “about it and about.” The Greek, Cosmas
Indicopleustes, denounced the “old wives’ fable of Antipodes,”
and asked how rain could be said to “fall,” as in the Scriptures,
in regions where it would have to “come up”* (* The Christian
Topography of Cosmas, translated by J.W. McCrindle, page 17
(Hakluyt Society).) Some would have it that a belief in Antipodes
was heretical. But Isidore of Seville, in his Liber de Natura
Rerum, Basil of Caesarea, Ambrose of Milan, and Vergil Bishop of
Salzburg, an Irish saint, declined to regard the question as a
closed one. “Nam partes eius (i.e. of the earth) quatuor sunt,”
argued Isidore. Curiously enough, the copy of the works of the
Saint of Seville used by the author (published at Rome in 1803),
was salvaged from a wreck which occurred on the Australian coast
many years ago. It is stained with seawater, and emits the musty
smell which tells of immersion. An inscription inside the cover
relates the circumstance of the wreck. Who possessed the book one
does not know; some travelling scholar may have perused it during
the long voyage from Europe; and one fancies him, as the ship
bumped upon the rocks, exclaiming “Yes, Isidore was right, there
ARE antipodes!”
From about the fourth quarter of the sixteenth century until
the date of Abel Tasman’s voyages, 1642 to 1644, there was a
period of vague speculation about a supposed great southern
continent. The maps of the time indicate the total lack of
accurate information at the disposal of their compilers. There
was no general agreement as to what this region was like in its
outlines, proportions, or situation. Some cartographers, as Peter
Plancius (1594) and Hondius (1595), trailed a wavy line across
the foot of their representations of the globe, inscribed Terra
Australis upon it, and by a fine stroke of invention gave an
admirable aspect of finish and symmetry to the form of the world.
The London map of 1578, issued with George Best’s Discourse of
the Late Voyages of Discoverie, barricaded the south pole with a
Terra Australis not unlike the design of a switch-back railway.
Molyneux’ remarkable map, circa 1590, dropped the vast imaginary
continent, and displayed a small tongue of land in about the
region where the real Australia is; suggesting that some voyager
had been blown out of his course, had come upon a part of the
western division of the continent, and had jotted down a
memorandum of its appearance upon his chart. It looks like a
sincere attempt to tell a bit of the truth. But speaking
generally, the Terra Australis of the old cartographers was a
gigantic antipodean imposture, a mere piece of map-makers’
furniture, put in to fill up the gaping space at the south end of
the globe.
A few minutes devoted to the study of a map of the Indian
Ocean, including the Cape of Good Hope and the west coast of
Australia—especially one indicating the course of currents—will
show how natural it was that Portuguese and Dutch ships engaged
in the spice trade should occasionally have found themselves in
proximity to the real Terra Australis. It will also explain more
clearly than a page of type could do, why the western and
north-western coasts were known so early, whilst the eastern and
southern shores remained undelineated until James Cook and
Matthew Flinders sailed along them.
A change of the route pursued by the Dutch on their voyages to
the East Indies had already conduced to an acquaintance with the
Australian coast. Originally, after rounding the Cape, their
ships had sailed north-east to Madagascar, and had thence struck
across the Indian Ocean to Java, or to Ceylon. As long as this
course was followed, there was little prospect of sighting the
great continent which lay about three thousand miles east of
their habitual track. But this route, though from the map it
appeared to be the most direct, was the longest in duration that
they could take. It brought them into the region of light winds
and tedious tropical calms; so that very often a vessel would lie
for weeks “as idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean,” and
would occupy over a year upon the outward voyage. In 1611,
however, one of their commanders discovered that if, after
leaving the Cape, a ship ran not north-east, but due east for
about three thousand miles, she would be assisted by the winds,
not baffled by calms. Henrick Brouwer, who made the experiment,
arrived in Java seven months after leaving Holland, whereas some
ships had been known to be as long as eighteen months at sea. The
directors of the Dutch East India Company, recognising the
importance of the discovery, ordered their commanders to follow
the easterly route from the Cape in future, and offered prizes to
those who completed the voyage in less than nine months. The
result was that the Dutch skippers became exceedingly anxious to
make the very utmost of the favourable winds, which carried them
eastward in the direction of the western coasts of Australia.
Thus it happened that in 1616 the Eendragt stumbled on
Australia opposite Shark’s Bay. Her captain, Dirk Hartog, landed
on the long island which lies as a natural breakwater between the
bay and the ocean, and erected a metal plate to record his visit;
and Dirk Hartog Island is the name it bears to this day. The
plate remained till 1697, when another Dutchman, Vlaming,
substituted a new one for it; and Vlaming’s plate, in turn,
remained till 1817, when the French navigator, Freycinet, took it
and sent it to Paris.
After Hartog reported his discovery, the Dutch directors
ordered their ships’ captains to run east from the Cape till they
sighted the land. This would enable them to verify their
whereabouts; for in those days the means of reckoning positions
at sea were so imperfect that navigators groped about the oceans
of the globe almost as if they were sailing in darkness. But here
was a means of verifying a ship’s position after her long run
across from the Cape, and if she found Dirk Hartog Island, she
could safely thence make her way north to Java.
But ships did not always sight the Australian coast at the
same point. Hence it came about that in 1619 J. de Edel
“accidentally fell in with” the coast at the back of the
Abrolhos. Pieter Nuyts, in 1627, “accidentally discovered” a long
reach of the south coast. Similarly, in 1628, the Vianen was
“accidentally,” as the narrative says, driven on to the
north-west coast, and her commander, De Wit, gave his name to
about 200 miles of it. In 1629 the Dutch ship Batavia was
separated in a storm from a merchant fleet of eleven sail, and
ran upon the Abrolhos Reef. The captain, Francis Pelsart, who was
lying sick in his cabin at the time of the misadventure, “called
up the master and charged him with the loss of the ship, who
excused himself by saying he had taken all the care he could; and
that having discerned the froth at a distance he asked the
steersman what he thought of it, who told him that the sea
appeared white by its reflecting the rays of the moon. The
captain then asked him what was to be done, and in what part of
the world he thought they were. The master replied that God only
knew that; and that the ship was on a bank hitherto
undiscovered.” The story of Pelsart’s adventure was recorded, and
the part of the coast which he saw was embodied on a globe
published in 1700.
To the accidental discoveries must be added those made by the
Dutch prompted by curiosity as to the possibility of drawing
profit from the lands to the south of their great East India
possessions. Thus the Dutch yacht Duyfhen, sent in 1605 to
examine the Papuan islands, sailed along the southern side of
Torres Strait, found Cape York, and believed it to be part of New
Guinea. The great discovery voyages of Tasman, 1643 and 1644,
were planned in pursuit of the same policy. He was directed to
find out what the southern portion of the world was like,
“whether it be land or sea, or icebergs, whatever God has
ordained to be there.”
In 1606 the Spaniard, Torres, also probably saw Cape York, and
sailed through the strait which bears his name. He had
accompanied Quiros across the Pacific, but had separated from his
commander at the New Hebrides, and continued his voyage westward,
whilst Quiros sailed to South America.
It is needless for present purposes to catalogue the various
voyages made by the Dutch, or to examine claims which have been
preferred on account of other discoveries. It may, however, be
observed that there are three well defined periods of Australian
maritime discovery, and that they relate to three separate zones
of operation.
First, there was the period with which the Dutch were chiefly
concerned. The west and north-west coasts received the greater
part of their attention, though the voyage of Tasman to the
island now bearing his name was a variation from their habitual
sphere. The visits of the Englishman, Dampier, to Western
Australia are comprehended within this period.
The second period belongs to the eighteenth century, and its
hero was James Cook. He sailed up the whole of the east coast in
1770, from Point Hicks, near the Victorian border, to Cape York
at the northern tip of the continent, and accomplished a larger
harvest of discovery than has ever fallen to the fortune of any
other navigator in a single voyage. To this period also belongs
Captain George Vancouver, who in 1791, on his way to
north-western America from the Cape of Good Hope, came upon the
south-western corner of Australia and discovered King George’s
Sound. In the following year the French Admiral, Dentrecasteaux,
despatched in search of the missing expedition of Laperouse, also
made the south-west corner of the continent, and followed the
coast of the Great Australian Bight for some hundreds of miles.
His researches in southern Tasmania were likewise of much
importance.
The third period is principally that of Flinders, commencing
shortly before the dawn of the nineteenth century, and
practically completing the maritime exploration of the
continent.
A map contained in John Pinkerton’s Modern Geography shows at
a glance the state of knowledge about Australia at the date of
publication, 1802. Flinders had by that time completed his
explorations, but his work was not yet published. The map
delineates the contour of the continent on the east, west, and
north sides, with as much accuracy as was possible, and, though
it is defective in details, presents generally a fair idea of the
country’s shape. But the line along the south coast represents a
total lack of information as to the outline of the land.
Pinkerton, indeed, though he was a leading English authority on
geography when his book was published, had not embodied in his
map some results that were then available.
The testimony of the map may be augmented by a reference to
what geographical writers understood about Australia before the
time of Flinders.
Though Cook had discovered the east coast, and named it New
South Wales, it was not definitely known whether this extensive
stretch of country was separate from the western “New Holland”
which the Dutch had named, or whether the two were the
extremities of one vast tract of land. Geographical opinion
rather inclined to the view that ultimately a strait would be
found dividing the region into islands. This idea is mentioned by
Pinkerton. Under the heading “New Holland” he wrote:* “Some
suppose that this extensive region, when more thoroughly
investigated, will be found to consist of two or three vast
islands intersected by narrow seas, an idea which probably arises
from the discovery that New Zealand consists of two islands, and
that other straits have been found to divide lands in this
quarter formerly supposed to be continuous.” The discovery that
Bass Strait divided Australia from Tasmania was probably in
Pinkerton’s mind; he mentions it in his text (quoting Flinders),
though his map does not indicate the Strait’s existence. He also
mentions “a vast bay with an isle,” possibly Kangaroo Island. (*
Modern Geography 2 588.)
Perhaps it was not unnatural that competent opinion should
have favoured the idea that there were several large islands,
rather than one immense continent stretching into thirty degrees
of latitude and forty-five of longitude. The human mind is not
generally disposed to grasp very big things all at once. Indeed,
in the light of fuller knowledge, one is disposed to admire the
caution of these geographers, whose beliefs were carefully
reasoned but erroneous, in face of, for instance, such a wild
ebullition of venturesome theory as that attributed to an
aforetime Gottingen professor,* (*Professor Blumenbach according
to Lang, Historical Account of New South Wales, 1837 2 142.) who
considered that not only was Australia one country, but that it
made its appearance upon this planet in a peculiarly sudden
fashion. His opinion was that “the vast continent of Australia
was originally a comet, which happening to fall within the limits
of the earth’s attraction, alighted at length upon its surface.”
“Alighted at length” is a mild term, suggestive of a nervous lady
emerging from a tram-car in a crowded street. “Splashed,” would
probably convey a more vigorous impression.
The belief that a strait would be found completely dividing
New Holland was a general one, as is shown by several
contemporary writings. Thus James Grant in his Narrative of a
Voyage of Discovery (1803), expressing his regret that his orders
did not permit him to take his ship, the Lady Nelson, northward
from Port Jackson in 1801, speculated that “we might also betimes
have ascertained if the Gulf of Carpentaria had any inlet to Bass
Straits, and if it be discovered secure more quickly to Great
Britain the right of lands which some of our enterprising
neighbours might probably dispute with us. And this I trust will
not be thought chimerical when it was not known whether other
Straits did not exist as well as that dividing New Holland from
Van Diemen’s Land.” Again, the Institute of France in preparing
instructions for the voyage of exploration commanded by Nicolas
Baudin (1800) directed a search to be made for a strait which it
was supposed divided Australia “into two great and nearly equal
islands.”
Another interesting geographical problem to be determined, was
whether a great river system drained any part of the Australian
continent. In the existing state of knowledge the country
presented an aspect in regard to fluvial features wholly
different from any other portion of the world. No river of
considerable importance had been found. Students of geography
could hardly conceive that there should be so large an area of
land lacking outlets to the sea; and as none had been found in
the parts investigated so far, it was believed that the
exploration of the south coast would reveal large streams flowing
from the interior. Some had speculated that within the country
there was a great inland sea, and if so there would probably be
rivers flowing from it to the ocean.
A third main subject for elucidation when Flinders entered
upon this work, was whether the country known as Van Diemen’s
Land was part of the continent, or was divided from it by a
strait not yet discovered. Captain Cook entertained the opinion
that a strait existed. On his voyage in the Endeavour in 1770, he
was “doubtful whether they are one land or no.” But when near the
north-eastern corner of Van Diemen’s Land, he had been twenty
months at sea, and his supplies had become depleted. He did not
deem it advisable to sail west and settle the question forthwith,
but, running up the eastern coast of New Holland, achieved
discoveries certainly great enough for one voyage. He retained
the point in his mind, however, and would have determined it on
his second voyage in 1772 to 1774 had he not paid heed to
information given by Tobias Furneaux. The Adventure, commanded by
Furneaux, had been separated from the Resolution on the voyage to
New Zealand, and had cruised for some days in the neighbourhood
of the eastern entrance to Bass Strait. But Furneaux convinced
himself that no strait existed, and reported to that effect when
he rejoined Cook in Queen Charlotte’s Sound. Cook was not quite
convinced by the statement of his officer; but contrary winds
made a return to the latitude of the supposed strait difficult,
and Cook though “half inclined to go over to Van Diemen’s Land
and settle the question of its being part of New Holland” decided
to proceed westward. As will be seen hereafter, Flinders helped
to show that the passage existed.
There were also many smaller points requiring investigation.
Cook in running along the east coast had passed several portions
in the night, or at such a distance in the daytime as to render
his representation of the coastline doubtful. Some groups of
islands also required to be accurately charted. Indeed, it may be
said that there was no portion of the world where, at this
period, there was so much and such valuable work to be done by a
competent and keen marine explorer, as in Australia.
A passage in a manuscript by Flinders may be quoted to
supplement what has been written above, as it indicates the kind
of speculations that were current in the conversation of students
of geography.* (* Called an Abridged Narrative—Flinders’
Papers.)
“The interior of this new region, in extent nearly equal to
all Europe, strongly excited the curiosity of geographers and
naturalists; and the more so as, ten years after the
establishment of a British Colony at Port Jackson on the east
coast, and the repeated effort of some enterprising individuals,
no part of it beyond 30 leagues from the coast had been seen by
an European. Various conjectures were entertained upon the
probable consistence of this extensive space. Was it a vast
desert? Was it occupied by an immense lake—a second Caspian Sea,
or by a Mediterranean to which existed a navigable entrance in
some part of the coasts hitherto unexplored? or was not this new
continent rather divided into two or more islands by straits
communicating from the unknown parts of the south to the
imperfectly examined north-west coast or to the Gulf of
Carpentaria, or to both? Such were the questions that excited the
interest and divided the opinion of geographers.”
Apart from particular directions in which enquiry needed to be
pursued, it was felt in England that the only nation which had
founded a settlement on the Australian continent was under an
obligation to complete the exploration of the country. The French
had already sent out two scientific expeditions with instructions
to examine the unknown southern coasts; and if shipwreck had not
destroyed the first, and want of fresh water diverted the second,
the credit of finishing the outline of the map of Australia would
have been earned for France. “Many circumstances, indeed,” wrote
Flinders, “united to render the south coast of Terra Australis
one of the most interesting parts of the globe to which discovery
could be directed at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Its
investigation had formed a part of the instructions to the
unfortunate French navigator, Laperouse, and afterwards of those
to his countryman Dentrecasteaux; and it was not without some
reason attributed to England as a reproach that an imaginary line
of more than two hundred and fifty leagues’ extent in the
vicinity of one of her colonies should have been so long suffered
to remain traced upon the charts under the title of Unknown
Coast. This comported ill with her reputation as the first of
maritime powers.”
We shall see how predominant was the share of Flinders in the
settlement of these problems, the filling up of these gaps.
CHAPTER 6. THE RELIANCE AND THE TOM THUMB.
Apart from Admiral Pasley, two officers who participated in
Lord Howe’s victory on “the glorious First of June,” had an
important influence upon the later career of Flinders. The first
of these, Captain John Hunter, had served on the flagship Queen
Charlotte. The second, Henry Waterhouse, had been fifth
lieutenant on the Bellerophon. Flinders was under the orders of
both of them on his next voyage.
Hunter had accompanied the first Governor of New South Wales
on the Sirius, when a British colony was founded there in 1788,
and was commissioned by the Crown to assume the duties of
Lieutenant-Governor in case of Phillip’s death. When the office
fell vacant in 1793, Hunter applied for appointment. He secured
the cordial support of Howe, and Sir Roger Curtis of the Queen
Charlotte exerted his influence by recommending him as one whose
selection “would be a blessing to the colony” on account of his
incorruptible integrity, unceasing zeal, thorough knowledge of
the country, and steady judgment. He was appointed Governor in
February, 1794, and in March of the same year H.M.S. Reliance,
with the tender Supply, were commissioned to convey him to
Sydney.
Henry Waterhouse was chosen to command the Reliance, under
Hunter, at that officer’s request. He expressed to the Secretary
of State a wish that the appointment might be conferred upon an
officer to whom it might be a step in advancement, rather than
upon one who had already attained the rank of commander; and he
recommended Waterhouse as one who, though a young man and not an
old officer, was “the only remaining lieutenant of the Sirius,
formerly under my command; and having had the principal part of
his nautical education from me, I can with confidence say that he
is well qualified for the charge.”
It is probable that Flinders heard of the expedition from his
Bellerophon shipmate, Waterhouse, who by the end of July was
under orders to sail as second captain of the Reliance. Certainly
the opportunity of making another voyage to Australian waters,
wherein, as he knew, so much work lay awaiting an officer keen
for discovery, coincided with his own inclinations. He wrote that
he was led by his passion for exploring new countries to embrace
the opportunity of going out upon a station which of all others
presented the most ample field for his favourite pursuit.
The sailing was delayed for six months, and in the interval
young Flinders was able to visit his home in Lincolnshire.
Whatever opposition there may have been to his choice of the sea
as a profession before 1790, we may be certain that the Donington
surgeon was not a little proud of his eldest son when he returned
after a wonderful voyage to the isles of the Pacific and the
Caribbean Sea, and after participation in the recent great naval
fight which had thrilled the heart of England with exultation and
pride. The boy who had left his father’s house four years before
as an anxious aspirant for the King’s uniform now returned a
bronzed seaman on the verge of manhood. His intelligence and zeal
as a junior officer had won him the esteem and confidence of
distinguished commanders. He had looked upon the strangeness and
beauty of the world in its most remote and least-known quarters,
had witnessed fights with savages, threaded unmapped straits, and
had, to crown his youthful achievements, striven amidst the wrack
and thunder of grim-visaged war. We may picture his welcome: the
strong grasp of his father’s hand, the crowding enthusiasm of his
brother and sisters fondly glorying in their hero’s prowess. The
warnings of uncle John were all forgotten now. When the
midshipman’s younger brother, Samuel Ward Flinders, desired to go
to sea with him, he was not restrained, and, in fact, accompanied
him as a volunteer on the Reliance when at length she sailed.
Hunter took not merely an official but a deep and discerning
interest in the colonisation of Australia. He foresaw its immense
possibilities, encouraged its exploration, promoted the breeding
of stock and the cultivation of crops, and had a wise concern for
such strategic advantages as would tend to secure it for British
occupation. He perceived the great importance of the Cape of Good
Hope from the point of view of Australian security; and a letter
which he wrote to an official of the Admiralty while awaiting
sailing orders for the Reliance (January 25, 1795), is perhaps
the first instance of official recognition of Australia’s vital
interest in the ownership of that post. There was cause for
concern. The raw and ill-disciplined levies of the French, having
at the outbreak of the Revolutionary wars most unexpectedly
turned back the invading armies of Austria and Prussia, and
having, after campaigns full of dramatic changes, shaken off the
peril of the crushing of the fatherland by a huge European
combination, were now waging an offensive war in Holland.
Pichegru, the French commander, though not a soldier by training,
secured astonishing successes, and, in the thick of a winter of
exceptional severity, led his ragged and ill-fed army on to
victory after victory, until the greater part of Holland lay
conquered within his grip. In January he entered Amsterdam. There
was a strong element of Republican feeling among the Dutch, and
an alliance with France was demanded.
When this condition of things was reported in England, Hunter
was alarmed for the safety of the colony which he was about to
govern. The Cape of Good Hope was a Dutch possession. Holland was
now under the domination of France. Might not events bring about
the establishment of French power at the Cape? “I cannot help
feeling much concerned at the rapid progress of the French in
Holland,” he wrote, “and I own shall not be surprised if in
consequence of their success in that country they make a sudden
dash at the Cape of Good Hope, if we do not anticipate them in
such an attempt. They are so very active a people that it will be
done before we know anything of it, and I think it a post of too
much importance to be neglected by them. I hope earnestly,
therefore, that it will be prevented by our sending a squadron
and some troops as early as possible. If the Republicans once get
a footing there, we shall probably find it difficult to dislodge
them. Such a circumstance would be a sad stroke for our young
colony.”
The course which Hunter then advised was that which the
British Government followed, though more because the Cape was the
“half way house” to India, than for the protection of Australian
interests. An expedition was despatched later in the year to
protect the Cape against French occupation, and in September the
colony, by order of the Stadtholder of Holland, accepted British
protection.
The Reliance and the Supply left Plymouth on February 15th,
1795, amongst a very large company of merchantmen and ships of
the navy convoyed by the Channel Fleet under Lord Howe, which
guarded them till they were beyond the range of possible French
attacks and then sailed back to port.
From Teneriffe, which Hunter reached on March 6th, he wrote a
despatch to the Government stating his intention to sail, not to
the Cape of Good Hope, but to Rio de Janeiro in Brazil, and
thence to New South Wales. His avoidance of the more direct route
was due to the causes explained above. “In the present uncertain
state of things between the French and Dutch,” he had written
before sailing, “it will be dangerous for me to attempt touching
at the Cape on my way out;” and writing from Rio de Janeiro in
May he explained that he did not “conceive it safe from the
uncertain state of the Dutch settlements in India to take the
Cape of Good Hope in my way to Port Jackson, lest the French,
following up their late successes in Holland, should have been
active enough to make an early attack on that very important
post.” In a despatch to the Duke of Portland he commented
strongly on the same circumstance, expressing the opinion that
“if the French should be able to possess themselves of that
settlement it will be rather unfortunate for our distant
colony.”
Hunter had to complain of discourteous treatment received from
the Portuguese Viceroy, who kept him waiting six days before
according an interview, and then fixed an appointment for seven
o’clock in the evening, when it was quite dark. “As His
Excellency was acquainted with the position I held, I confess I
expected a different reception,” wrote Hunter; and he was so much
vexed that he did not again set foot ashore while his ships lay
in port. The incident, though not important in itself, serves, in
conjunction with Hunter’s avoidance of the Cape, to illustrate
the rather limp condition of British prestige abroad at about the
time when her authority was being established in Australia. With
her army defeated in the Low Countries, her ships deeming it
prudent to keep clear of the Cape that formed the key to her
eastern and southern possessions, and her King’s representative
subjected to a studied slight from a Portuguese official in
Brazil, she hardly appeared, just then, to be the nation that
would soon shatter the naval power of France, demolish the
greatest soldier of modern times, and, before her sword was
sheathed, float her victorious flag in every continent, in every
sea, and over people of every race and colour.
On this voyage, as on all occasions, Flinders kept a careful
record of his own observations. Sixteen years later, a dispute
arose, interesting to navigators, as to the precise location of
Cape Frio in Brazil. An American had pointed out an error in
European charts. It was a matter of some importance, because
ships bound for Rio de Janeiro necessarily rounded Cape Frio, and
the error was sufficiently serious to cause no small risk if
vessels trusted to the received reckoning. The Naval Chronicle
devoted some attention to the point; and to it Flinders sent a
communication stating that on consulting his nautical records he
found that on May 2nd, 1795, he made an observation, reduced from
the preceding noon, calculating the position of the Cape to be
latitude 22 degrees 53 minutes south, longitude 41 degrees 43
minutes west. His memorandum was printed over a facsimile of his
signature as that of “a distinguished navigator,” and was hailed
as “a valuable contribution towards clearing up the difficulty
concerning the geographical position of that important
headland.”* (* Naval Chronicle Volume 26.) For us the incident
serves as an indication of Flinders’ diligence and carefulness in
the study of navigation. He was but a midshipman at the time, and
it will be noticed that it was a personal observation which he
was able to quote, not one taken as part of his duty as an
officer.
The Reliance arrived at Port Jackson on September 7th, and in
the following month Flinders, with a companion of whom it is time
to speak, commenced the series of explorations which made his
fame.
This companion was George Bass, a Lincolnshire man like
Flinders himself, born at Aswarby near Sleaford. He was a
farmer’s son, but his father died when he was quite a child, and
his mother moved to Boston. She managed out of her widow’s
resources to give her son an excellent education, and designed
that he should enter the medical profession. In due course he was
apprenticed to a Boston surgeon, Mr. Francis—a common mode of
securing training in medicine at that period. He “walked” the
Boston hospital for a finishing course of instruction, and won
his surgeon’s diploma with marked credit.
Bass had from his early years shown a desire to go to sea. His
mother was able to buy for him a share in a merchant ship; but
this was wrecked, whereupon, not cured of his love of the ocean,
he entered the navy as a surgeon. It was in that capacity that he
sailed in the Reliance. He was then, in 1795, thirty-two years of
age.
All the records of Bass, both the personal observations of
those who came in contact with him, and the tale of his own
deeds, leave the impression that he was a very remarkable man. He
was six feet in height, dark-complexioned, handsome in
countenance, keen in expression, vigorous, strong, and
enterprising. His father-in-law spoke of his “very penetrating
countenance.” Flinders called him “the penetrating Bass.”
Governor Hunter, in official despatches, said he was “a young man
of a well-informed mind and an active disposition,” and one who
was “of much ability in various ways out of the line of his
profession.” He was gifted with a mind capable of intense
application to any task that he took in hand. Upon his firm
courage, resourcefulness and strength of purpose, difficulties
and dangers acted merely as the whetstone to the finely tempered
blade. He undertook hazardous enterprises from the sheer love of
doing hard things which were worth doing. “He was one,” wrote
Flinders, “whose ardour for discovery was not to be repressed by
any obstacle nor deterred by danger.” He seemed to care nothing
for rewards, and was not hungry for honours. The pleasure of
doing was to him its own recompense. That “penetrating
countenance” indexed a brain as direct as a drill, and as
inflexible. A loyal and affectionate comrade, preferring to enter
upon a task with his chosen mate, he nevertheless could not wait
inactive if official duties prevented co-operation, but would set
out alone on any piece of work on which he had set his heart. The
portrait of Bass which we possess conveys an impression of alert
and vigorous intelligence, of genial temper and hearty relish. It
is the picture of a man who was abundantly alive in every
nerve.
Flinders and Bass, being both Lincolnshire men, born within a
few miles of each other, naturally became very friendly on the
long voyage to Australia. It was said of two other friends, who
achieved great distinction in the sphere of art, that when they
first met in early manhood they “ran together like two drops of
mercury,” so completely coincident were their inclinations. So it
was in this instance. Two men more predisposed to formulate plans
for exploration could not have been thrown together. A passion
for maritime discovery was common to both of them. Flinders, from
his study of charts and books of voyages, had a sound knowledge
of the field of work that lay open, and Bass’s keen mind eagerly
grasped the plans explained to him. It would not have taken the
surgeon and the midshipman long to find that their ambitions were
completely in tune on this inviting subject. “With this friend,”
Flinders wrote, “a determination was found of completing the
examination of the east coast of New South Wales by all such
opportunities as the duty of the ship and procurable means could
admit. Projects of this nature, when originating in the minds of
young men, are usually termed romantic; and so far from any good
being anticipated, even prudence and friendship join in
discouraging, if not in opposing them. Thus it was in the present
case.” The significance of that passage is that the two friends
made for themselves the opportunities by which they won fame and
rendered service. They did not wait on Fortune; they forced her
hand. They showed by what they did on their own initiative, with
very limited resources, that they were the right men to be
entrusted with work of larger scope.
Nevertheless it is unwarrantable to assume that Governor
Hunter discountenanced their earliest efforts. It was presumably
on the passage quoted above that the author of a chapter in the
most elaborate modern naval history founded the assertion that
“the plans of the young discoverers were discouraged by the
authorities. They, however, had resolution and perseverance. All
official help and countenance were withheld.”* (* Sir Clements
Markham in The Royal Navy, a History, 4 565.) But Flinders does
not say that “the authorities” discouraged the effort. “Prudence
and friendship” did. They were not yet tried men in such
hazardous enterprises; the settlement possessed scarcely any
resources for exploratory work, and the dangers were unknown.
Official countenance implies official responsibility, and there
was not yet sufficient reason for setting the Governor’s seal on
the adventurous experiments of two young and untried though
estimable men. When they had shown their quality, Hunter gave
them every assistance and encouragement in his power, and proved
himself a good friend to them. In the circumstances, “prudence
and friendship” are hardly to be blamed for a counsel of caution.
The remark of Flinders is not to be interpreted to mean that the
Governor put hindrances in their way. They were under his orders,
and his positive discountenance would have been effectual to
block their efforts. They could not even have obtained leave of
absence without his approval. But John Hunter was not the man to
prevent them from putting their powers to the test.
No sooner had the two friends reached Sydney than they began
to look about them for means to undertake the exploratory work
upon which their minds were bent. Bass had brought out with him
from England a small boat, only eight feet long, with a five foot
beam, named by him the Tom Thumb on account of her size.* (*
Flinders’ Papers “Brief Memoir” manuscripts page 5. Some have
supposed the measurements given in Flinders’ published work to
have been a misprint, the size of the boat being so absurdly
small. But Flinders’ Journal is quite clear on the point: “We
turned our eyes towards a little boat of about 8 feet keel and 5
feet beam which had been brought out by Mr. Bass and others in
the Reliance, and from its size had obtained the name of Tom
Thumb.”) In this diminutive craft the two friends made
preparations for setting out along the Coast. Taking with them
only one boy, named Martin, with provisions and ammunition for a
very short trip, they sailed the Tom Thumb out of Port Jackson
and made southward to Botany Bay, which they entered. They pushed
up George’s River, which had been only partly explored, and
pursued their investigation of its winding course for twenty
miles beyond the former limit of survey. Upon their return they
presented to Hunter a report concerning the quality of the land
seen on the borders of the river, together with a sketch map. The
Governor was induced from what they told him to examine the
country himself; and the result was that he founded the
settlement of Bankstown, which still remains, and boasts the
distinction of being one of the pioneer towns of Australia.
The adventurers were delayed from the further pursuit of their
ambition by ship’s duties. The Reliance was ordered to convey to
Norfolk Island an officer of the New South Wales Corps required
for duty there, as well as the Judge Advocate. She sailed in
January, 1796. After her return in March, Bass and Flinders,
being free again, lost no time in fitting out for a second
cruise. Their object this time was to search for a large river,
said to fall into the sea to the south of Botany Bay, which was
not marked on Cook’s chart. As before, the crew consisted only of
themselves and the boy.
It has always been believed that the boat in which this second
cruise was made, was the same Tom Thumb as that which carried the
two young explorers to George’s River; indeed, Flinders himself,
in his Voyage to Terra Australis, Volume 1, page 97, says that
“Mr. Bass and myself went again in Tom Thumb.” But in his
unpublished Journal there is a passage that suggests a doubt as
to whether, when he wrote his book, over a decade later, he had
not forgotten that a second boat was obtained for the second
adventure. He may not have considered the circumstance important
enough to mention. At all events in the Journal, he writes: “As
Tom Thumb had performed so well before, the same boat’s crew had
little hesitation in embarking in another boat of nearly the same
size, which had been since built at Port Jackson.” There was, it
is evident, a second boat, no larger than the first, or that fact
would have been mentioned, and she was also known as the Tom
Thumb. She was Tom Thumb the Second. Only by that assumption can
we reconcile the Voyage statement with the Journal, which, having
been written up at the time, is an authoritative source of
information.
They left Sydney on March 25th, intending to stand off to sea
till evening, when it was expected that the breeze would bring
them to the coast. But they drifted on a strong current six or
seven miles southward, and being unable to land, passed the night
in the boat. Next day, being in want of water, but unable to
bring the Tom Thumb to a safe landing place, Bass swam ashore.
While the filled cask was being got off a wave carried the boat
shoreward and beached her, leaving the three on the beach with
their clothes drenched, their provisions partly spoiled, and
their arms and ammunition thoroughly wet. The emptying and
launching of the boat on a surfy shore, and the replacing of the
stores and cask in her, were managed with some difficulty; and
they ran for two islands for shelter late in the afternoon.
Finding a landing to be dangerous they again spent the night,
cramped, damp, and uncomfortable, in their tossing little
eight-foot craft, with their stone anchor dropped under the lee
of a tongue of land. Bass could not sleep because, from having
for so many hours during the day had his naked body exposed to
the burning sun, he was “one continued blister.” On the third day
they took aboard two aboriginals—”two Indians,” Flinders calls
them—natives of Botany Bay, who offered to pilot them to a place
where they could obtain not only water but also fish and wild
duck.
They were conducted to a small stream descending from a
lagoon, and rowed up it for about a mile until it became too
shallow to proceed. Eight or ten aboriginals put in an
appearance, and Bass and Flinders began to entertain doubts of
securing a retreat from these people should they be inclined to
be hostile. “They had the reputation at Port Jackson of being
exceedingly ferocious, if not cannibals.”
The powder having become wet and the muskets rusty, Bass and
Flinders decided to land in order that they might spread their
ammunition in the sun to dry, and clean their weapons. The
natives, who increased in number to about twenty, gathered round
and watched with curiosity. Some of them assisted Bass in
repairing a broken oar. They did not know what the powder was,
but, when the muskets were handled, so much alarm was excited
that it was necessary to desist. Some of them had doubtless
learnt from aboriginals about Port Jackson of the thunder and
lightning made by these mysterious pieces of wood and metal, and
had had described to them how blackfellows dropped dead when such
things pointed and smoked at them. Flinders, anxious to retain
their confidence (because, had they assumed the offensive, they
must speedily have annihilated the three whites), hit upon an
amusing method of diverting them. The aboriginals were accustomed
to wear their coarse black hair and beards hanging in long,
shaggy, untrimmed locks, matted with accretions of oil and dirt.
When the two Botany Bay blacks were taken on board the Tom Thumb
as pilots, a pair of scissors was applied to their abundant and
too emphatically odorous tresses. Flinders tells the rest of the
story:
“We had clipped the hair and beards of the two Botany Bay
natives at Red Point,* (* Near Port Kembla; named by Cook.) and
they were showing themselves to the others and persuading them to
follow their example. Whilst therefore the powder was drying, I
began with a large pair of scissors to execute my new office upon
the eldest of four or five chins presented to me, and as great
nicety was not required, the shaving of a dozen of them did not
occupy me long. Some of the more timid were alarmed at a
formidable instrument coming so near to their noses, and would
scarcely be persuaded by their shaven friends to allow the
operation to be finished. But when their chins were held up a
second time, their fear of the instrument, the wild stare of
their eyes, and the smile which they forced, formed a compound
upon the rough savage countenance not unworthy the pencil of a
Hogarth. I was almost tempted to try what effect a little snip
would produce; but our situation was too critical to admit of
such experiments.”
Flinders treats the incident lightly, and as a means of
creating a diversion while preparing a retreat it was useful; but
it can hardly be supposed to have been an agreeable occupation to
barber a group of aboriginals. What the heads were like that
received Flinders’ ministrations, may be gathered from the
description by Clarke, the supercargo of the wrecked Sydney Cove,
concerning the natives whom he encountered in the following year
(March 1797): “Their hair is long and straight, but they are
wholly inattentive to it, either as to cleanliness or in any
other respect. It serves them in lieu of a towel to wipe their
hands as often as they are daubed with blubber or shark oil,
which is their principal article of food. This frequent
application of rancid grease to their heads and bodies renders
their approach exceedingly offensive.”
But the adventure, by putting the blacks into a good humour,
enabled Bass and Flinders to collect their dried powder, obtain
fresh water, and get back to their boat. The natives became
vociferous for them to go up to the lagoon, but the natives
“dragged her along down the stream shouting and singing,” until
the depth of water placed them in safety. Flinders, in his
Journal, expressed the view that “we were perhaps considerably
indebted for the fear the natives entertained of us to an old red
jacket which Mr. Bass wore, and from which they took us to be
soldiers, whom they were particularly afraid of; and though we
did not much admire our new name, Soja, we thought it best not to
undeceive them.”
On March 25 they anchored “under the innermost of the northern
islets…We called these Martin’s Isles after our young companion
in the boat.”* (* Journal.)
They were now in the Illawarra district, one of the most
prolific in New South Wales;* (* McFarlane, Illawarra and Monaro,
Sydney 1872 page 8.) and the observation of Flinders that the
land they saw was “probably fertile, and the slopes of the back
hills had certainly that appearance,” has been richly justified
by a century’s experience.
The two friends and their boy had to remain on the Tom Thumb
for a third night; but next afternoon (March 28) they were able
to land unmolested, to cook a meal, and to take some rest on the
shore. “The sandy beach was our bed, and after much fatigue and
passing three nights of cramp in Tom Thumb it was to us a bed of
down.”
At about ten o’clock at night, on March 29th, the little craft
was in extreme danger of foundering in a gale. The anchor had
been cast under the lee of a range of cliffs, but the situation
was insecure, so that Bass and Flinders considered it prudent to
haul up the stone and run before the wind. The night was dark,
the wind burst in a gale, and the adventurers had no knowledge of
any place of security to which they could run. The frowning
cliffs above them and the smashing of the surf on the rocks, were
their guide in steering a course parallel with the coast. Bass
held the sheet, Flinders steered with an oar, and the boy bailed
out the water which the hissing crests of wind-lashed waves flung
into the boat. “It required the utmost exertion to prevent
broaching to; a single wrong movement or a moment’s inattention
would have sent us to the bottom.”
They drove along for an hour in this precarious situation,
hoping for an opening to reveal itself into which they could run
for shelter. At last, Flinders, straining his eyes in the
darkness, distinguished right ahead some high breakers, behind
which there appeared to be no shade of cliffs. So extremely
perilous was their position at this time, with the water
increasing despite the efforts of the boy, that Flinders, an
unusually placid and matter-of-fact writer when dealing with
dangers of the sea, declares that they could not have lived ten
minutes longer. On the instant he determined to turn the boat’s
head for these breakers, hoping that behind them, as there were
no high cliffs, there might be sheltered water. The boat’s head
was brought to the wind, the sail and mast were taken down, and
the oars were got out. “Pulling thus towards the reef, through
the intervals of the heaviest seas, we found it to terminate in a
point, and in three minutes were in smooth water under its lee. A
white appearance further back kept us a short time in suspense,
but a nearer approach showed it to be the beach of a
well-sheltered cove, under which we anchored for the rest of the
night.” They called the place of refuge Providential Cove. The
native name was Watta-Mowlee (it is now called Wattamolla).
On the following morning, March 30th, the weather having
moderated, the Tom Thumb’s sail was again hoisted, and she
coasted northward. After a progress of three or four miles,
Flinders and Bass found the entrance of Port Hacking, for the
exploration of which they had made this cruise. It was a
much-indented inlet directly south of Botany Bay, divided from it
by a broad peninsula, and receiving at its head the waters of a
wide river, besides several small creeks; and was named after
Henry Hacking, a pilot who had indicated its whereabouts, having
come near it “in his kangaroo-hunting excursions.” The two young
explorers spent the better part of two days in examining the
neighbourhood; and anyone who has had the good fortune to
traverse that piece of country, with its grassed glades, its
timbered hillsides, its exquisite glimpses of sapphire sea and
cool silver river, its broken and diversified surface, rich with
floral colour—for they saw it in early autumn—can realise how
satisfied they must have felt with their work. After a nine days’
voyage, they sailed out of Port Hacking early on April 2nd, and,
aided by a fine wind, drew up alongside the Reliance in Port
Jackson on the evening of the same day.
The Reliance was an old and leaky ship. She had seen much
service and was badly in need of repairs. “She is so extremely
weak in her whole frame that it is in our situation a difficult
matter to do what is necessary,” wrote Hunter to the Secretary of
State. Shipwrights’ conveniences could hardly be expected to be
ample in a settlement that was not yet ten years old, and where
skilled labour was necessarily deficient. But she had to be
repaired with the best material and direction available, for she
was the best ship which His Majesty’s representative had at his
disposal. The Supply was pretty well beyond renovation. She was
American built, and her timbers of black birch were never
suitable for service in warm waters. Shortly after the discovery
of Port Hacking, Hunter set about the overhauling of the vessel
that was at once his principal means of naval defence, his
saluting battery, his official inspecting ship, his transport,
and his craft of all work. He wanted her especially just now, for
a useful piece of colonial service.
The Governor had received intelligence from Major-General
Craig, who had commanded the land forces when Admiral Elphinstone
occupied the Cape of Good Hope, that a British protectorate had
been established at that very important station. As Hunter had
himself made the suggestion to the Government that such a step
should be taken, the news was especially gratifying to him.
Amongst his instructions from the Secretary of State was a
direction to procure from South Africa live cattle for stocking
the infant colony. He had brought out with him, at Sir Joseph
Banks’ suggestion, a supply of growing vegetables for
transplantation and of seeds for sowing at appropriate seasons.
He now set about obtaining the live stock.
The Reliance and the Supply sailed by way of Cape Horn to
South Africa, where they took on board a supply of domestic
animals. The former vessel carried 109 head of cattle, 107 sheep
and three mares. Some of the officers brought live stock on their
own account. Thus Bass had on board a cow and nineteen sheep, and
Waterhouse had enough stock to start a small farm; but it does
not appear that Flinders brought any animals. “I believe no ship
ever went to sea so much lumbered,” wrote Captain Waterhouse; and
the unpleasantness of the voyage can be imagined, apart from that
officer’s assurance that it was “one of the longest and most
disagreeable passages I ever made.” The vessels left Cape Town
for Sydney on April 11th, 1797. The Supply was so wretchedly
leaky that it was considered positively unsafe for her to risk
the voyage. But her commander, Lieutenant William Kent, had a
high sense of duty, and his courage was guided by the fine
seamanship characteristic of the service. Having in view the
importance to the colony of the stock he had on board, he
determined to run her through. As a matter of fact, the Supply
arrived in Sydney forty-one days before the Reliance (May 16),
though Hunter reported that she reached port “in a most
distressed and dangerous condition,” and would never be fit for
sea again. Kent’s memory is worthily preserved on the map of
Australia by the name (given by Flinders or by Hunter himself) of
the Kent group of islands at the eastern entrance of Bass
Strait.
The Reliance, meeting with very bad weather, made a very slow
passage. Captain Waterhouse mentioned that one fierce gale was
“the most terrible I ever saw or heard of,” so that he “expected
to go to the bottom every moment.” He wondered how they escaped
destruction, but rounded off his description with a seaman’s
joke: “possibly I may be intended to be hung in room of being
drowned.” The ship was very leaky all the way, and Hunter
reported that she returned to port with her pumps going. She
reached Sydney on June 26th.
The unseaworthy condition of the Reliance had an important
bearing on the share Flinders took in Australian discovery, for
it was unquestionably in consequence of his being engaged upon
her repair that he was prevented from accompanying his friend
Bass on the expedition which led to the discovery of Bass Strait.
This statement is proved not only by the testimony of Flinders
himself, but by concurrent facts. Waterhouse wrote on the return
of the ship to Port Jackson, “we have taken everything out of her
in hopes of repairing her.” This was in the latter part of 1797.
A despatch from Hunter to the British Government in January,
1798, shows that at that time she was still being patched up.
Flinders recorded that “the great repairs required by the
Reliance would not allow of my absence,” but that “my friend Mr.
Bass, less confined by his duty, made several excursions.”
Finally, it was on December 3rd, 1797, while the refitting was in
progress, that Bass started out on the adventurous voyage which
led to the discovery of the stretch of water separating Tasmania
from the mainland of Australia. But for the work on the Reliance,
there cannot be the shadow of a doubt that Flinders would have
been with him. Duty had to be done, however; the “ugly commanded
work,” in which, as the sage reminds us, genius has to do its
part in common with more ordinary mortals, made demands that must
take precedence of adventurous cruising along unknown coasts. So
it was that the cobbling of a debilitated tub separated on an
historic occasion two brave and loyal friends whose names will be
thought of together as long as British people treasure the memory
of their choice and daring spirits.
CHAPTER 7. THE DISCOVERY OF BASS STRAIT.
The patching up of the Reliance not being surgeon’s work,
Bass, throbbing with energy, looked about him for some useful
employment. The whole of the New South Wales settlement at this
time consisted of an oblong—the town of Sydney itself—on the
south side of Port Jackson, a few sprawling paddocks on either
side of the fang-like limbs of the harbour, some small pieces of
cultivated land further west, at and beyond Parramatta, and a
cultivable area to the north-west on the banks of the Hawkesbury
River. A sketch-map prepared by Hunter, in 1796, illustrates
these very small early attempts of the settlement to spread. They
show up against the paper like a few specks of lettuce leaf upon
a white table cloth. The large empty spaces are traversed by red
lines, principally to the south-west, marking “country which has
been lately walked over.” The red lines end abruptly on the far
side of a curve in the course of the river Nepean, where swamps
and hills are shown. The map-maker “saw a bull” near a hill which
was called Mount Hunter, and marked it down.
West of the settlement, behind Richmond Hill on the
Hawkesbury, the map indicated a mountain range. Bass’s first
effort at independent exploration was an endeavour to find a pass
through these mountains. The need was seen to be imminent. As the
colony grew, the limits of occupation would press up to the foot
of this blue range, which, with its precipitous walls, its
alluring openings leading to stark faces of rock, its sharp
ridges breaking to sheer ravines, its dense scrub and timber,
defied the energies of successive explorers. Governor Phillip, in
1789, reached Richmond by way of the Hawkesbury. Later in the
same year, and in the next, further efforts were made, but the
investigators were beaten by the stern and shaggy hills. Captain
William Paterson, in 1793, organized an attacking party,
consisting largely of Scottish highlanders, hoping that their
native skill and resolution would find a path across the barrier;
but they proceeded by boat only, and did not go far. In the
following year quartermaster Hacking, with a party of hardy men,
spent ten days among the mountains, but no path or pass
practicable for traffic rewarded his endeavours. Sydney was shut
in between the sea and this craggy rampart. What the country on
the other side was like no man knew.
In June, 1796, before the Reliance sailed for South Africa,
George Bass made his try. The task was hard, and worth
attempting, two qualifications which recommended it strongly to
his mind. He collected a small party of men upon whom he could
rely for a tough struggle, took provisions for about a fortnight,
equipped himself with strong ropes with which to be lowered down
ravines, had scaling irons made for his feet, and hooks to fasten
on his hands, and set out ready to cut or climb his way over the
mountains, determined to assail their defiant fastnesses up to
the limits of possibility. It was a stiff enterprise, and Bass
and his party did not spare themselves. But the Blue Mountains
were a fortress that was not to be taken by storm. Bass’s
success, as Flinders wrote, “was not commensurate to the
perseverance and labour employed.” After fifteen days of effort,
the baffled adventurers confessed themselves beaten, and, their
provisions being exhausted, returned to Sydney.
They had pushed research further than any previous explorers
had done, and had marked down the course of the river Grose as a
practical result of their work. But Bass now believed the
mountains to be hopeless; and, indeed, George Caley, a botanical
collector employed by Sir Joseph Banks, having seven years later
made another attempt and met with repulse, did not hesitate to
tell a committee of the House of Commons, which summoned him to
appear as a witness, that the range was impassable. It seemed
that Nature had tumbled down an impenetrable bewilderment of
rock, the hillsides cracking into deep, dark crevices, and the
crests of the mountains showing behind and beyond a massed
confusion of crags and hollows, trackless and untraversable.
Governor King declared himself satisfied that the effort to cross
the range was a task “as chimerical as useless,” an opinion
strengthened by the fact that, as Allan Cunningham had related,*
the aboriginals known to the settlement were “totally ignorant of
any pass to the interior.” (* On “Progress of Interior Discovery
in New South Wales,” Journal of the Royal Geographical Society
1832 Volume 2 99.)
It was not, indeed, till 1813 that Gregory Blaxland, with
Lieutenant Lawson and William Charles Wentworth (then a youth),
as companions, succeeded in solving the problem. The story of
their steady, persistent, and desperate struggle being beyond the
scope of this biography, it is sufficient to say that after
fifteen days of severe labour, applied with rare intelligence and
bushcraft, they saw beneath them waving grass-country watered by
clear streams, and knew that they had found a path to the
interior of the new continent.
Bass’s eagerness to explore soon found other scope. In 1797,
report was brought to Sydney by shipwrecked mariners that, in
traversing the coast, they had seen coal. He at once set off to
investigate. At the place now called Coalcliff, about twenty
miles south of Botany Bay, he found a vein of coal about twenty
feet above the surface of the sea. It was six or seven feet
thick, and dipped to the southward until it became level with the
sea, “and there the lowest rock you can see when the surf retires
is all coal.” It was a discovery of first-class importance—the
first considerable find of a mineral that has yielded
incalculable wealth to Australia.* (* It is well to remember that
the use of coal was discovered in England in very much the same
way. Mr. Salzmann, English Industries of the Middle Ages, 1913
page 3, observes that “it is most probable that the first coal
used was washed up by the sea, and such as could be quarried from
the face of the cliffs where the seams were exposed by the action
of the waves.” He quotes a sixteenth century account relative to
Durham: “As the tide comes in it bringeth a small wash sea coal,
which is employed to the making of salt and the fuel of the poor
fisher towns adjoining.” Hence, originally, coal in England was
commonly called sea-coal even when obtained inland.) He made this
useful piece of investigation in August; and in the following
month undertook a journey on foot, in company with Williamson,
the acting commissary, from Sydney to the Cowpastures, crossing
and re-crossing the River Nepean, and thence descending to the
sea a few miles south of his old resting place, Watta-Mowlee. His
map and notes are full of evidence of his careful observation.
“Tolerably good level ground,” “good pastures,” “mountainous
brushy land,” and so forth, are remarks scored across his track
line. But these were pastimes in comparison with the enterprise
that was now occupying his mind, and upon which his fame chiefly
rests.
Hunter’s despatch to the Duke of Portland, dated March 1st,
1798, explains the circumstances of the expedition leading to the
discovery of Bass Strait: “The tedious repairs which His
Majesty’s ship Reliance necessarily required before she could be
put in a condition for going again to sea, having given an
opportunity to Mr. George Bass, her surgeon, a young man of a
well-informed mind and an active disposition, to offer himself to
be employed in any way in which he could contribute to the
benefit of the public service, I enquired of him in what way he
was desirous of exerting himself, and he informed me nothing
would gratify him more effectually than my allowing him the use
of a good boat and permitting him to man her with volunteers from
the King’s ships. I accordingly furnished him with an excellent
whaleboat, well fitted, victualled, and manned to his wish, for
the purpose of examining the coast to the southward of this port,
as far as he could with safety and convenience go.”
It is clear from this despatch that the impulse was Bass’s
own, and that the Governor merely supplied the boat, provisioned
it, and permitted him to select his own crew. Hunter gave Bass
full credit for what he did, and himself applied the name to the
Strait when its existence had been demonstrated. It is, however,
but just to Hunter to observe, that he had eight years before
printed the opinion that there was either a strait or a deep gulf
between Van Diemen’s Land and New Holland. In his Historical
Journal of the Transactions at Port Jackson and Norfolk Island
(London, 1793), he gave an account of the voyage of the Sirius,
in 1789, from Port Jackson to the Cape of Good Hope to purchase
provisions. In telling the story of the return voyage he wrote
(page 125):
“In passing at a distance from the coast between the islands
of Schooten and Furneaux and Point Hicks, the former being the
northernmost of Captain Furneaux’s observations here, and the
latter the southernmost part which Captain Cook saw when he
sailed along the coast, there has been no land seen, and from our
having felt an easterly set of current and when the wind was from
that quarter (north-west), we had an uncommon large sea, there is
reason to believe that there is in that space either a very deep
gulf or a strait, which may separate Van Diemen’s Land from New
Holland. There have no discoveries been made on the western side
of this land in the parallel I allude to, between 39 and 42
degrees south, the land there having never been seen.”
Hunter was, therefore, quite justified, in his despatch, in
pointing out that he had “long conjectured” the existence of the
Strait. He seems, not unwarrantably, to have been anxious that
his own share in the discoveries, as foreseeing them and
encouraging the efforts that led to them, should not be
overlooked. The Naval Chronicle of the time mentioned the
subject, and returned to it more than once.* (* See Naval
Chronicle Volume 4 159 (1800); Volume 6 349 (1801); Volume 15 62
(1806), etc.) But if we may suppose Hunter to have inspired some
of these allusions, it must be added that they are scrupulously
fair, and claimed no more for him than he was entitled to have
remembered. Bass’s work is in every instance properly
appreciated; and in one article (Naval Chronicle 15 62) he is
characterised, probably through Hunter’s instrumentality—the
language is very like that used in the official despatch—as “a
man of considerable enterprise and ingenuity, a strong and
comprehensive mind with the advantage of a vigorous body and
healthy constitution.” The boat was 28 feet 7 inches long, head
and stern alike, fitted to row eight oars, with banksia timbers
and cedar planking.
One error relating to this justly celebrated voyage needs to
be corrected, especially as currency has been given to it in a
standard historical work. It is not true that Bass undertook his
cruise “in a sailing boat with a crew of five convicts.* (* The
Royal Navy: a History Volume 4 567.) His men were all British
sailors. Hunter’s despatch indicates that Bass asked to be
allowed to man his boat “with volunteers from the King’s ships,”
and that she was “manned to his wish,” and Flinders, in his
narrative of the voyage, stated that his friend was “furnished
with a fine whaleboat, and six weeks’ provisions by the Governor,
and a crew of six seamen from the ships.”
It is, indeed, much to be regretted that, with one exception
to be mentioned in a later chapter, the names of the seamen who
participated in this remarkable cruise have not been preserved.
Bass had no occasion in his diary to mention any man by name, but
it is quite evident that they were a daring, enduring,
well-matched and thoroughly loyal band, facing the big waters in
their small craft with heroic resolution, and never failing to
respond when their chief gave a lead. When, after braving foul
weather, and with food supplies running low, the boat was at
length turned homeward, Bass writes “we did it reluctantly,”
coupling his willing little company with himself in regrets that
discovery could not be pushed farther than they had been able to
pursue it. Throughout his diary he writes in the first person
plural, and he records no instance of complaint of the hardships
endured or of quailing before the dangers encountered.
It is likely enough that the six British sailors who manned
Bass’s boat had very little perception that they were engaged
upon a task that would shine in history. An energetic ship’s
surgeon whom everybody liked had called for volunteers in an
affair requiring stout arms and hearts. He got them, they
followed him, did their job, and returned to routine duty. They
did not receive any extra pay, or promotion, or official
recognition. Neither did Bass, beyond Hunter’s commendation in a
despatch. He wrote up his modest little diary, a terse record of
observations and occurrences, and got ready for the next
adventure.
We will follow him on this one.
On the evening of Sunday, December 3, 1797, at six o’clock,
Bass’s men rowed out of Port Jackson heads and turned south. The
night was spent in Little Bay, three miles north of Botany Bay,
as Bass did not deem it prudent to proceed further in the
darkness, the weather having become cloudy and uncertain, and
things not having yet found their proper place in the boat. Nor
was very much progress made on the 4th, for a violent wind was
encountered, which caused Bass to make for Port Hacking. On the
following day, “the wind headed in flurries,” and the boat did
not get further than Providential Cove, or Watta-mowley, where
the Tom Thumb had taken refuge in the previous year. On the 7th,
Bass reached Shoalhaven, which he named. He remained there three
days, and described the soil and situation with some care. “The
country around it is generally low and swampy and the soil for
the most part is rich and good, but seemingly much subject to
extensive inundation.” One sentence of comment reads curiously
now that the district is linked up by railway with Sydney, and
exports its butter and other produce to the markets of Europe.
“However capable much of the soil of this country might upon a
more accurate investigation be found to be of agricultural
improvement, certain it is that the difficulty of shipping off
the produce must ever remain a bar to its colonisation. A nursery
of cattle might perhaps be carried on here with advantage, and
that sort of produce ships off itself.” Bass, a farmer’s son,
reared in an agricultural centre, was a capable judge of good
country, but of course there was nothing when he saw these rich
lands to foretell an era of railways and refrigerating
machinery.
On December 10th the boat entered Jervis Bay, and on the 18th
Bass discovered Barmouth Creek (probably the mouth of the Bega
River), “the prettiest little model of a harbour we had ever
seen.” Were it not for the shallowness of the bar, he considered
that the opening would be “a complete harbour for small craft;”
but as things were, “a small boat even must watch her times for
going in.” On the 19th, at seven o’clock in the morning, Twofold
Bay was discovered. Bass sailed round it, made a sketch of it,
and put to sea again, thinking it better to leave the place for
further examination on the return voyage, and to take advantage
of the fair wind for the southward course. He considered the
nautical advantages of the harbour—to become in later years a
rather important centre for whaling—superior to those of any
other anchorage entered during the voyage. A landmark was
indicated by him with a quaint touch: “It may be known by a red
point on the south side, of the peculiar bluish hue of a
drunkard’s nose.” On the following day at about eleven o’clock in
the morning he rounded Cape Howe, and commenced his westerly run.
He was now nearing a totally new stretch of coast.
From the 22nd to the 30th bad weather was experienced. A gale
blew south-west by west, full in their teeth. The situation must
have been uncomfortable in the extreme, for the boat was now
entering the Strait. The heavy seas that roll under the lash of a
south-west gale in that quarter do not make for the felicity of
those who face them on a well-found modern steamer. For the seven
Englishmen in an open boat, groping along a strange coast, the
ordeal was severe. But no doubt they wished each other a merry
Christmas, in quite the traditional English way, and with hearty
good feeling, on the 25th.
On the last day of the year, in more moderate weather, the
boat was coasting the Ninety Mile Beach, behind the sandy fringe
of which lay the fat pastures of eastern Gippsland. The country
did not look very promising to Bass from the sea, and he minuted
his impressions in a few words: “low beaches at the bottom of
heights of no great depth, lying between rocky projecting points;
in the back lay some short ridges of lumpy irregular hills at a
little distance from the sea.”
Nowhere in his diary did Bass seize upon any picturesque
features of scenery, though they are not lacking in the region
that he traversed. If he was moved by a sense of the
oppressiveness of vast, silent solitudes, or by any sensation of
strangeness at feeling his way along a coast hitherto unexplored,
the emotion finds scarcely any reflection in his record. Hard
facts, dates, times, positions, and curt memoranda, were the sole
concern of the diarist. He did not even mention a pathetic,
almost tragic, incident of the voyage, to which reference will
presently be made. It did not concern the actual exploratory part
of his work, and so he passed it by. The one note signifying an
appreciation of the singularity of the position is conveyed in
the terse words: “Sunday 31st, a.m. Daylight, got out and steered
along to the southward, in anxious expectation, being now nearly
come upon an hitherto unknown part of the coast.”
But men are emotional beings after all, and an entry for
“January 1st, 1798” (really the evening of December 31), bare of
the human touch as it is, brings the situation of Bass and his
crew vividly before the eye of the reader. The dramatic force of
it must have been keenly realised by them. At night there was
“bright moonlight, the sky without a cloud.” A new year was
dawning. The seven Englishmen tossing on the waves in this
solitary part of the globe would not fail to remember that. They
were near enough to the land to see it distinctly; it was “still
low and level.” A flood of soft light lay upon it, and rippled
silvery over the sea. They would hear the wash of the rollers
that climb that bevelled shore, and pile upon the water-line
creaming leagues of phosphorescent foam. And at the back lay a
land of mystery, almost as tenantless as the moon herself, but to
be the future home of prosperous thousands of the same race as
the men in the whaleboat. To them it was a country of weird
forms, strange animals, and untutored savages. If ever boat
breasted the “foam of perilous seas in faery lands forlorn,” it
was this, and if ever its occupants realised the complete
strangeness of their situation and their utter aloofness from the
tracks of their fellowmen, it must have been on this cloudless
moonlit summer night. There was hardly a stretch of the world’s
waters, at all events in any habitable zone, where they could
have been farther away from all that they remembered with
affection and hoped to see again. About half an hour before
midnight a haze dimmed the distinctness of the shore, and at
midnight it had thickened so that they could scarcely see land at
all. But they crept along in their course, “vast flights of
petrels and other birds flying about us,” the watch peering into
the mist, the rest wrapped in their blankets sleeping, while the
stars shone down on them from a brilliant steel-blue sky, and the
Cross wheeled high above the southern horizon.
Cook, on his Endeavour voyage in 1770, first sighted the
Australian coast at Point Hicks, called Cape Everard on many
current maps. His second officer, Lieutenant Zachary Hicks, at
six in the morning of April 20, “saw ye land making high,” and
Cook “named it Point Hicks because Lieutenant Hicks was the first
who discovered this land.” Point Hicks is a projection which
falls away landward from a peak, backed by a sandy conical hill,
but Bass passed it without observing it. The thick haze which he
mentions may have obscured the outline. At all events, by dusk on
January 1st he found that he had filled up the hitherto
unexplored space between Point Hicks “a point we could not at all
distinguish from the rest of the beach,” and the high hummocky
land further west, which he believed to be that sighted by
Captain Tobias Furneaux in 1773. It is, however, to be observed
that Flinders pointed out that all Bass’s reckonings after
December 31st were ten miles out. “It is no matter of surprise,”
wrote his friend indicating an error, “if observations taken from
an open boat in a high sea should differ ten miles from the
truth; but I judge that Mr. Bass’s quadrant must have received
some injury during the night of the 31st, for a similar error
appears to pervade all the future observations, even those taken
under favourable circumstances.” The missing of Point Hicks,
therefore, apart from the thick haze, is not difficult to
understand.
On Tuesday, January 2nd, Bass reached the most southerly point
in the continent of Australia, the extremity of Wilson’s
Promontory. The bold outlines were sighted at seven o’clock in
the morning. “We were surprised by the sight of high hummocky
land right ahead, and at a considerable distance.” Bass called it
Furneaux Land in his diary, in the belief that a portion of the
great granite peninsula had been seen by the captain of the
Adventure in 1773. Furneaux’ name is still attached to the group
of islands divided by Banks’ Strait from the north-east corner of
Tasmania. But the name which Bass gave to the Promontory was not
retained. It is not likely that Furneaux ever saw land so far
west. “It cannot be the same, as Mr. Bass was afterwards
convinced,” wrote Flinders. Governor Hunter, “at our
recommendation,” named it Wilson’s Promontory, “in compliment to
my friend Thomas Wilson, Esq., of London.” It has been stated
that the name was given to commemorate William Wilson, one of the
whaleboat crew, who “jumped ashore first.”* (* Ida Lee, The
Coming of the British to Australia, London 1906 page 51.) Nobody
“jumped ashore first” on the westward voyage, when the discovery
was made, because, as Bass twice mentions in his diary, “we could
not land.” Doubly inaccurate is the statement of another writer
that “the promontory was seen and named by Grant in 1800 after
Admiral Wilson.”* (* Blair, Cyclopaedia of Australia, 748.) Grant
himself, on his chart of Bass Strait, marked down the promontory
as “accurately surveyed by Matthew Flinders, which he calls
Wilson’s Promontory,” and on page 78 of his Narrative wrote that
it was named by Bass. The truth is, as related above, that it was
named by Hunter on the recommendation of Bass and Flinders; and
the two superfluous Wilsons have no proper place in the story.
The Thomas Wilson whose name was thus given to one of the
principal features of the Australian coast—a form of memorial
far more enduring than “storied urn or animated bust”—is
believed to have been a London merchant, engaged partly in the
Australian trade. Nothing more definite is known about him. He
was as one who “grew immortal in his own despight.” Of the
Promontory itself Bass wrote—and the words are exceedingly
apt—that it was “well worthy of being the boundary point of a
large strait, and a corner stone of this great island New
Holland.”
Bass found the neighbourhood of the Promontory to be the home
of vast numbers of petrels, gulls and other birds, as is still
the case, and he remarked upon the seals observed upon
neighbouring rocks, with “a remarkably long tapering neck and
sharp pointed head.” They were the ordinary Bass Strait seal,
once exceedingly plentiful, and still to be found on some of the
islands, but unfortunately much fewer in numbers now. The pupping
time was passed when Bass sailed through, and many of the females
had gone to sea, as is their habit. This cause of depletion
accounts for his remark on his return voyage that the number was
“by no means equal to what we had been led to expect.” But, he
added, “from the quantity I saw I have every reason to believe
that a speculation on a small scale might be carried on with
advantage.”
Foul winds and heavy breaking seas were experienced while the
boat was nearing the Promontory. To make matters worse, leaks
were causing anxiety. Water was gushing in pretty freely near the
water-line aft. The crew had frequently remarked in the course of
the morning of January 3rd how much looser the boat had become
during the last few days. Her planks had received no ordinary
battering. It had been Bass’s intention to strike for the
northern coast of Van Diemen’s Land, which he supposed to be at
no very great distance. He may at this time have been under the
impression that he was in a deep gulf. As a matter of fact, the
nearest point southward that he could have reached was 130 miles
distant. Anxiety about the condition of the boat made him resolve
to continue his coasting cruise westward. Water rushed in fast
through the boat’s side, there was risk of a plank starting, and
ploughing through a hollow, irregular sea, the explorers were, as
Flinders reviewing the adventure wrote, “in the greatest danger.”
Bass’s record of his night of peril is characteristically terse:
“we had a bad night of it, but the excellent qualities of the
boat brought us through.” He says nothing of his own careful
steering and sleepless vigilance.
It was on the evening of the third day, January 3rd, that an
incident occurred to which, curiously enough, Bass made no
allusion in his diary, presumably because it did not concern the
actual work of navigation and discovery, but which throws a dash
of tragic colour into the story of his adventure. The boat having
returned to the coast of what was supposed to be Furneaux Land,
was running along “in whichever way the land might trend, for the
state of the boat did not seem to allow of our quitting the shore
with propriety.” The coast line was being scanned for a place of
shelter, when smoke was observed curling up from an island not
far from the Promontory. At first it was thought that the smoke
arose from a fire lighted by aboriginals, but it was discovered,
to the amazement of Bass and his crew, that the island was
occupied by a party of white men. They were escaped convicts. The
tale they had to tell was one of a wild dash for liberty,
treachery by confederates, and abandonment to the imminent danger
of starvation.
In October of the previous year, a gang of fourteen convicts
had been employed in carrying stones from Sydney to the
Hawkesbury River settlement, a few miles to the north. Most of
them were “of the last Irish convicts,” as Hunter explained in a
despatch, part of the bitter fruit of the Irish Mutiny Act of
1796, passed to strike at the movement associated with the names
of Lord Edward Fitzgerald and Wolfe Tone, which encouraged the
attempted French invasion of Ireland under Hoche. These men
seized the boat appointed for the service, appropriated the
stores, threatened the lives of all who dared to oppose them, and
made their exit through Port Jackson heads. As soon as the
Governor heard of the escape he despatched parties in pursuit in
rowing boats. The coast was searched sixty miles to the north and
forty to the south; but the convicts, with the breeze in their
sail and the hope of liberty in their hearts, had all the
advantage on their side, and eluded their gaolers.
In April, 1797, news had been brought to the settlement of the
wreck of the ship Sydney Cove on an island to the southward. If
the Irish prisoners could reach this island, float the ship on
the tide, and repair her rents, they considered that they had an
excellent chance of escape. The provisions which they had on
their boat, with such as they might find on the ship, would
probably be sufficient for a voyage. It was a daring enterprise,
but it may well have seemed to offer a prospect of success.
Some of the prisoners at the settlement, as appears from a
“general order” issued by Hunter, had “picked up somehow or other
the idle story of the possibility of travelling from hence to
China, or finding some other colony where they expect every
comfort without the trouble of any labour.” It may have been the
alluring hope of discovering such an earthly paradise that
flattered these men. As a matter of fact, some convicts did
escape from New South Wales and reached India, after
extraordinary perils and hardships. They endeavoured to sail up
the River Godavery, but were interrupted by a party of sepoys,
re-arrested, and sent to Madras, whence they were ordered to be
sent back to Sydney.* (* See Annual Register 1801 page 15.)
But the party whom Bass found never discovered the place of
the wreck upon which they reckoned. Instead, they drifted round
Cape Howe, and found themselves off a desolate, inhospitable
coast, without knowledge of their whereabouts, and with a scanty,
rapidly diminishing stock of food. In fear of starvation seven of
them resolved to desert their companions on this lonely island
near Wilson’s Promontory, and treacherously sailed away with the
boat while the others were asleep. It was the sad, sick, and
betrayed remnant of this forlorn hope, that Bass found on that
wave-beaten rock on the 3rd January. For five weeks the wretched
men had subsisted on petrels and occasional seals. Small prospect
they had of being saved; the postponement of their doom seemed
only a prolongation of their anguish. They were nearly naked, and
almost starved to death. Bass heard their story, pitied their
plight, and relieved their necessities as well as he could from
his own inadequate stores. He also promised that on his return he
would call again at the island, and do what he could for the
party, who only escaped from being prisoners of man to become
prisoners of nature, locked in one of her straitest confines, and
fed from a reluctant and parsimonious hand.
Bass kept his word; and it may be as well to interrupt the
narrative of his westward navigation in order to relate the end
of this story of distress. On February 2nd, he again touched at
the island. But what could he do to help the fugitives? His boat
was too small to enable him to take them on board, and his
provisions were nearly exhausted, his men having had to eke out
the store by living on seals and sea birds. He consented to take
on board two of the seven, one of whom was grievously sick and
the other old and feeble. He provided the five others with a
musket and ammunition, fishing lines and hooks, and a pocket
compass. He then conveyed them to the mainland, gave them a
supply of food to meet their immediate wants, and pointed out
that their only hope of salvation was to pursue the coastline
round to Port Jackson. The crew of the whaleboat gave them such
articles of clothing as they could spare. Some tears were shed on
both sides when they separated, Bass to continue his homeward
voyage, the hapless victims of a desperate attempt to escape to
face the long tramp over five hundred miles of wild and trackless
country, with the prospect of a prolongation of their term of
servitude should they ever reach Sydney. “The difficulties of the
country and the possibility of meeting hostile natives are
considerations which will occasion doubts of their ever being
able to reach us,” wrote Hunter in a despatch reporting the
matter to the Secretary of State. It does not appear that one of
the five was even seen again.* (* What some convicts dared and
endured in the effort to escape, is shown in the following very
interesting paragraph, printed in a London newspaper of May 30th,
1797: “The female convict who made her escape from Botany Bay,
and suffered the greatest hardships during a voyage of three
thousand leagues [presumably she was a stowaway] and who was
afterwards retaken and condemned to death, has been pardoned and
released from Newgate. In the story of this woman there is
something extremely singular. A gentleman of high rank in the
Army visited her in Newgate, heard the details of her life, and
for that time departed. The next day he returned, and told the
gentleman who keeps the prison that he had procured her pardon,
at the same time requesting that she should not be apprized of
the circumstances. The next day he returned with his carriage,
and took off the poor woman, who almost expired with
gratitude.”)
To return to the discovery cruise: on January 5th, at seven in
the evening, Bass’s whaleboat turned into Westernport, between
the bold granite headland of Cape Wollamai, on Phillip Island,
and Point Griffith on the mainland. The discovery of this port,
now the seat of a naval base for the Commonwealth, was a splendid
crown to a remarkable voyage. “I have named the place,” Bass
wrote, “from its relative situation to every other known harbour
on the coast, Western Port. It is a large sheet of water,
branching out into two arms, which end in wide flats of several
miles in extent, and it was not until we had been here some days
that we found it to be formed by an island, and to have two
outlets to the sea, an eastern and western passage.”
Twelve days were spent in the harbour. The weather was bad;
and to this cause in the main we may attribute the paucity of the
observations made, and the defective account given of the port
itself. It contains two islands: Phillip Island, facing the
strait, and French Island, the larger of the two, lying between
Phillip Island and the mainland. Bass was not aware that this
second island was not part of the mainland. Its existence was
first determined by the Naturaliste, one of the ships of Baudin’s
French expedition, in 1802.
Bass’s men had great difficulty in procuring good water. He
considered that there was every appearance of an unusual drought
in the country. This may also have been the reason why he saw
only three or four blacks, who were so shy that the sailors could
not get near them. There must certainly have been fairly large
families of blacks on Phillip Island at one time, for there are
several extensive middens on the coast, with thick deposits of
fish bones and shells; and the author has found there some good
specimens of “blackfellows’ knives”—that is, sharpened pieces of
flat, hard stone, with which the aboriginals opened their oysters
and mussels—besides witnessing the finding of a few fine stone
axes. Bass records the sight of a few brush kangaroos and
“Wallabah”; of black swan he observed hundreds, as well as ducks,
“a small but excellent kind,” which flew in thousands, and “an
abundance of most kinds of wild fowl.”
By the time the stay in Westernport came to an end, Bass had
been at sea a month and two days, and had sailed well into the
strait now bearing his name, though he was not yet quite sure
that it was a strait. His provisions had necessarily run very
low. The condition of the boat, whose repair occupied some time,
increased his anxiety. Prudence pointed to the desirableness of a
return to Port Jackson with the least possible delay. Yet one
cannot but regret that so intrepid an explorer, who was making
such magnificent use of means so few and frail, was not able to
follow the coast a very few more miles westward. Another day’s
sail would have brought him into Port Phillip, and he would have
been the discoverer of the bay at the head of which now stands
the great city of Melbourne. Perhaps if he had done so, his
report would have saved Hunter from writing a sentence which is a
standing warning against premature judgments upon territory seen
at a disadvantage and insufficiently examined. “He found in
general,” wrote the Governor to the Secretary of State, “a
barren, unpromising country, with very few exceptions, and were
it even better the want of harbours would render it less
valuable.” The truth is that he had seen hardly the fringe of
some of the fairest lands on earth, and was within cannon shot of
a harbour wherein all the navies of the world could ride.
Shortly after dawn on January 18th the prow of the whaleboat
was “very reluctantly” turned ocean-wards for the home journey.
The wind was fresh when they started, but as the morning wore on
it increased to a gale, and by noon there were high seas and
heavy squalls. As the little craft was running along the coast,
and the full force of the south-westerly gale beat hard on her
beam, her management taxed the nerve and seamanship of the crew.
Bass acknowledged that it was “very troublesome,” and his “very”
means much. This extremely trying weather lasted, with a few
brief intervals, for eight days. As soon as possible Bass steered
his boat under the lee of Cape Liptrap, not only for safety, but
also to salt down for consumption during the remainder of the
voyage a stock of birds taken on the islands off Westernport.
On the night of the 23rd the boat lay snugly under the shelter
of the rocks, where Bass intended to remain until the weather
moderated. But at about one o’clock in the morning the wind
shifted to the south, blowing “stronger than before,” and made
the place untenable. At daybreak, therefore, another resting
place was sought, and later in the morning the boat was beached
on the west side of a sheltered cove, “having passed through a
sea that for the very few hours it has been blowing was
incredibly high.” When the wind abated the sea went down, so that
Bass was able to round the Promontory to the east, enter Sealers’
Cove, which he named, and lay in a stock of seal-meat and salted
birds.
“The Promontory,” wrote Bass, “is joined to the mainland by a
low neck of sand, which is nearly divided by a lagoon that runs
in on the west side of it, and by a large shoal inlet on the
east. Whenever it shall be decided that the opening between this
and Van Diemen’s Land is a large strait, this rapidity of tide
and the long south-west swell that seems continually running in
upon the coast to the westward, will then be accounted for.” It
is evident, therefore, that at this time Bass regarded the
certainty of there being a strait as a matter yet to “be
decided.” He was himself thereafter to assist in the
decision.
Though Bass does not give any particulars of aboriginals
encountered at Wilson’s Promontory, it is apparent from an
allusion in his diary that some were seen. The sentence in which
he mentions them is curious for its classification of them with
the other animals observed, a classification biologically
justifiable, no doubt, but hardly usual. “The animals,” he wrote,
“have nothing new in them worth mentioning, with these
exceptions; that the men, though thieves, are kind and friendly,
and that the birds upon Furneaux’s Land have a sweetness of note
unknown here,” i.e., at Port Jackson. He would not, in February,
have heard the song-lark, that unshamed rival of an English
cousin famed in poetry, and the sharp crescendo of the coach-whip
bird would scarcely be classed as “sweet.” “The tinkle of the
bell-bird in the ranges may have gratified his ear; but the
likelihood is that the birds which pleased him were the
harmonious thrush and the mellow songster so opprobiously named
the thickhead, for no better reason than that collectors
experience a difficulty in skinning it.* (* Mr. Chas. L. Barrett,
a well known Australian ornithologist, and one of the editors of
the Emu, knows the Promontory well, and he tells me that he has
no doubt that the birds which pleased Bass were the grey shrike
thrush (Collyriocincla harmonica) and the white-throated
thickhead (Pachycephala gutturalis.))
The cruise from the Promontory eastward was commenced on
February 2nd. Eight days later, the boat being in no condition
for keeping the sea with a foul wind, Bass beached her not far
from Ram Head. He had passed Point Hicks in the night. Cape Howe
was rounded on the 15th, and on the 25th the boat entered Port
Jackson.
Bass and his men had accomplished a great achievement. In an
open boat, exposed to the full rigours of the weather in seas
that are frequently rough and were on this voyage especially
storm-lashed, persecuted persistently by contrary gales, they had
travelled twelve hundred miles, principally along an unknown
coast, which they had for the first time explored. Hunter in his
official despatch commented on Bass’s “perseverance against
adverse winds and almost incessant bad weather,” and complimented
him upon his sedulous examination of inlets in search of secure
harbours. But there can be no better summary of the voyage than
that penned by Flinders, who from his own experience could
adequately appreciate the value of the performance. Writing
fifteen years later, when Bass had disappeared and was believed
to be dead, his friend said:—
“It should be remembered that Mr. Bass sailed with only six
weeks’ provisions; but with the assistance of occasional supplies
of petrels, fish, seals’-flesh, and a few geese and black swans,
and by abstinence, he had been enabled to prolong his voyage
beyond eleven weeks. His ardour and perseverance were crowned, in
despite of the foul winds which so much opposed him, with a
degree of success not to have been anticipated from such feeble
means. In three hundred miles of coast from Port Jackson to the
Ram Head, he added a number of particulars which had escaped
Captain Cook, and will always escape any navigator in a first
discovery, unless he have the time and means of joining a close
examination by boats to what may be seen from the ship.
“Our previous knowledge of the coast scarcely extended beyond
the Ram Head; and there began the harvest in which Mr. Bass was
ambitious to place the first reaping-hook. The new coast was
traced three hundred miles; and instead of trending southward to
join itself to Van Diemen’s Land, as Captain Furneaux had
supposed, he found it, beyond a certain point, to take a
direction nearly opposite, and to assume the appearance of being
exposed to the buffeting of an open sea. Mr. Bass himself
entertained no doubt of the existence of a wide strait separating
Van Diemen’s Land from New South Wales, and he yielded with the
greatest reluctance to the necessity of returning before it was
so fully ascertained as to admit of no doubt in the minds of
others. But he had the satisfaction of placing at the end of his
new coast an extensive and useful harbour, surrounded with a
country superior to any other harbour in the southern parts of
New South Wales.
“A voyage especially undertaken for discovery in an open boat,
and in which six hundred miles of coast, mostly in a boisterous
climate, was explored, has not, perhaps, its equal in the annals
of maritime history. The public will award to its high-spirited
and able conductor—alas! now no more—an honourable place in the
list of those whose ardour stands most conspicuous for the
promotion of useful knowledge.”
Bass would have desired no better recognition than this
competent appraisement of his work by one who, when he wrote
these paragraphs, had himself experienced a full measure of the
perils of the sea.
Was Bass at the time of his return aware that he had
discovered a strait? It has been asserted that “it is evident
that Bass was not fully conscious of the great discovery he had
made.”* (* F.M. Bladen, Historical Records of New South Wales 3
327 note.) Bass’s language, upon which this surmise is founded,
was as follows: “Whenever it shall be decided that the opening
between this and Van Diemen’s Land is a strait, this rapidity of
tide…will be accounted for.” He also wrote: “There is reason to
believe it (i.e., Wilson’s Promontory) is the boundary of a large
strait.” I do not think these passages are to be taken to mean
that Bass was at all doubtful about there being a strait. On the
contrary, the words “whenever it shall be decided” express his
conviction that it would be so decided; but the diarist
recognised that the existence of the strait had not yet been
proved to demonstration. His reluctance to turn back when he
reached Westernport was unquestionably due to the same cause. The
voyage in the whaleboat had not proved the strait. It was still
possible, though not at all probable, that the head of a deep
gulf lay farther westward. The subsequent circumnavigation of
Tasmania by Bass and Flinders proved the strait, as did also
Grant’s voyage through it from the west in the Lady Nelson in
1800.
Hunter had no more evidence than that afforded by Bass’s
discoveries when he wrote, in his despatch to the Secretary of
State: “He found an open ocean westward, and by the mountainous
sea which rolled from that quarter, and no land discoverable in
that direction, we have much reason to conclude that there is an
open strait through.” Hunter’s “much reason to conclude” implies
no more doubt about the strait than do the words of Bass, but the
phrase does imply a recognition of the want of conclusive proof,
creditable to the restrained judgment of both men. Flinders also
wrote: “There seemed to want no other proof of the existence of a
passage than that of sailing positively through it,” which is
precisely what he set himself to do in Bass’s company, as soon as
he could secure an opportunity. Still stronger testimony is that
of Flinders, when summing up his account of the discovery: “The
south-westerly swell which rolled in upon the shores of
Westernport and its neighbourhood sufficiently indicated to the
penetrating Bass that he was exposed to the southern Indian
Ocean. This opinion, which he constantly asserted, was the
principal cause of my services being offered to the Governor to
ascertain the principal cause of it.” Further, although Colonel
David Collins was not in Sydney at the time of the discovery,
what he wrote in his account of the English Colony in New South
Wales (2nd edition, London, 1804), was based on first-hand
information; and he was no less direct in his statement: “There
was every appearance of an extensive strait, or rather an open
sea”; and he adds that Bass “regretted that he had not been
possessed of a better vessel, which would have enabled him to
circumnavigate Van Diemen’s Land” (pages 443 and 444).
These passages, when compared with Bass’s own careful
language, leave no doubt that Bass was fully conscious of the
great discovery he had made, though a complete demonstration was
as yet lacking.* (* The reasons given above appear also to
justify me in saying that there is insufficient warrant for the
statement of Sir J.K. Laughton (Dictionary of National Biography
XLX 326) that “Bass’s observations were so imperfect that it was
not until they were plotted after his return that the importance
of what he had done was at once apparent.”)
An interesting light is thrown on the admiration felt for Bass
among the colonists at Sydney, by Francois Peron, the historian
of Baudin’s voyage of exploration. When the French were at Port
Jackson in 1802, the whaleboat was lying beached on the
foreshore, and was preserved, says Peron, with a kind of
“religious respect.” Small souvenirs were made of its timbers;
and a piece of the keel enclosed in a silver frame, was presented
by the Governor to Captain Baudin, as a memorial of the
“audacieuse navigation.” Baudin’s artist, in making a drawing of
Sydney, was careful to show Bass’s boat stayed up on the sand;
and Peron, in his Voyage de Decouvertes aux Terres Australes,
respectfully described the discovery of “the celebrated Mr. Bass”
as “precious from a marine point of view.”
CHAPTER 8. THE VOYAGE OF THE FRANCIS.
During the absence of Bass in the whaleboat, the repairing of
the Reliance was finished, and in February, 1798, Flinders was
able to carry out a bit of exploration on his own account. The
making of charts was employment for which he had equipped himself
by study and practice, and he was glad to secure an opportunity
of applying his abilities in a field where there was original
work to do. The schooner Francis (a small vessel sent out in
frame from England for the use of the colonial government, but
now badly decayed) was about to be despatched to the Furneaux
Islands—north-east of Van Diemen’s Land, and about 480 miles
from Sydney—to bring to Sydney what remained of the cargo of the
wrecked Sydney Cove, and to rescue a few of the crew who had been
left in charge. Flinders obtained permission from the Governor to
embark in the schooner, “in order to make such observations
serviceable to geography and navigation as circumstances might
afford,” and instructions were given to the officer in command to
forward this purpose as far as possible.
The circumstances of the wreck that occasioned the cruise of
the Francis were these:—
The Sydney Cove, Captain Guy Hamilton, left Bengal on November
10th, 1796, with a speculative cargo of merchandise for Sydney.
Serious leakages became apparent on the voyage, but the ship made
the coast of New Holland, rounded the southern extremity of Van
Diemen’s Land, and stood to the northward on February 1st, 1797.
She encountered furious gales which increased to a perfect
hurricane, with a sea described in a contemporary account as
“dreadful.” The condition of the hull was so bad that the pumps
could not keep the inrush of water under control, and the vessel
became waterlogged. On February 8th she had five feet of water in
the well, and by midnight the water was up to the lower deck
hatches. She was at daybreak in imminent peril of going to the
bottom, so the Captain headed for Preservation Island (one of the
Furneaux Group), sent the longboat ashore with some rice,
ammunition and firearms, and ran her in until she struck on a
sandy bottom in nineteen feet of water. The whole ship’s company
was landed safely, tents were rigged up, and as much of the cargo
as could be secured was taken ashore.
It was necessary to communicate with Sydney to procure
assistance. The long-boat was launched, and under the direction
of the first mate, Mr. Hugh Thompson, sixteen of the crew started
north on February 28th. But fresh misfortunes, as cruel as
shipwreck and for most of these men more disastrous, were heaped
upon them. They were smitten by a violent storm, terrific seas
broke over the boat, and on the morning of March 2nd she suddenly
shipped enough water to swamp her. The crew with difficulty ran
her through the surf that beat on the coast off which they had
been struggling, and she went to pieces immediately. The
seventeen were cast ashore on the coast of New South Wales,
hundreds of miles from the only settlement, which could only be
reached by the crossing of a wild, rough, and trackless country,
inhabited by tribes of savages. They were without food, their
clothing was drenched, and their sole means of defence consisted
of a rusty musket, with very little ammunition, a couple of
useless pistols, and two small swords.
The wretched band commenced their march along the coast
northwards on March 25th. They had to improvise rafts to cross
some rivers; once a party of kindly aboriginals helped them over
a stream in canoes; at another time they encountered blacks who
hurled spears at them. They lived chiefly on small shell-fish.
Hunger and exposure brought their strength very low. On April
16th, after over a month of weary tramping, nine of the party
dropped from fatigue and had to be left behind by their
companions, whose only hope was to push on while sufficient
energy lasted. Two days later, three of the remainder were
wounded by blacks. At last, in May, three only of the seventeen
who started on this heart-breaking struggle for life against
distance, starvation and exhaustion, were rescued, “scarcely
alive,” by a fishing boat, and taken to Sydney. The others
perished by the way.
Captain Hamilton, who had stayed by his wrecked ship, was
rescued in July, 1797; and, as already stated, in January of the
following year, Governor Hunter fitted out the schooner Francis
to bring away a few Lascar sailors and as much of the remaining
cargo as could be saved. “I sent in the schooner,” wrote the
Governor in a despatch, “Lieutenant Flinders of the Reliance, a
young man well-qualified, in order to give him an opportunity of
making what observations he could among those islands.” The
Francis sailed on February 1st.
The black shadow of the catastrophe that had overtaken the
Sydney Cove crossed the path of the salvage party. The Francis
was accompanied by the ten-ton sloop Eliza, Captain Armstrong.
But shortly after reaching the Furneaux Islands the two vessels
were separated in a storm, and the Eliza went down with all
hands. Neither the boat nor any soul of her company were ever
seen or heard of again.
Flinders had only twelve days available for his own work, from
February 16th till the 28th, but he made full and valuable use of
that time in exploring, observing and charting. The fruits of his
researches were embodied in a drawing sent to the British
Government by Hunter, when he announced the discovery of Bass
Strait later on in 1798. The principal geographical result was
the discovery of the Kent group of islands, which Flinders named
“in honour of my friend” the brave and accomplished sailor,
William Kent, who commanded the Supply.
The biological notes made by Flinders on this expedition are
of unusual interest. Upon the islands he found “Kanguroo” (his
invariable spelling of the word), “womat” (sic), the duck-billed
platypus, aculeated ant-eater, geese, black swan, gannets, shags,
gulls, red bills, crows, parrakeets, snakes, seals, and sooty
petrels, a profusion of wild life highly fascinating in itself,
and, in the case of the animals, affording striking evidence of
connection with the mainland at a comparatively recent period.
The old male seals were described as of enormous size and
extraordinary power.
“I levelled my gun at one, which was sitting on the top of a
rock with his nose extended up towards the sun, and struck him
with three musket balls. He rolled over and plunged into the
water, but in less than half an hour had taken his former station
and attitude. On firing again, a stream of blood spouted forth
from his breast to some yards distance, and he fell back
senseless. On examination the six balls were found lodged in his
breast; and one, which occasioned his death, had pierced the
heart. His weight was equal to that of a common ox…The
commotion excited by our presence in this assemblage of several
thousand timid animals was very interesting to me, who knew
little of their manners. The young cubs huddled together in the
holes of the rocks and moaned piteously; those more advanced
scampered and bowled down to the water with their mothers; whilst
some of the old males stood up in defence of their families until
the terror of the sailors’ bludgeons became too strong to be
resisted. Those who have seen a farmyard well stocked with pigs,
with their mothers in it, and have heard them all in tumult
together, may form a good idea of the confusion in connection
with the seals at Cone Point. The sailors killed as many of these
harmless and not unamiable creatures as they were able to skin
during the time necessary for me to take the requisite angles;
and we then left the poor affrighted multitude to recover from
the effect of our inauspicious visit.”
Flinders’ observations upon the sooty petrels, or mutton
birds, seen at the Furneaux Islands, are valuable as forming a
very early account of one of the most remarkable sea-birds in the
world:
“The sooty petrel, better known to us under the name of
sheerwater, frequents the tufted grassy parts of all the islands
in astonishing numbers. It is known that these birds make burrows
in the ground like rabbits; that they lay one or two enormous
eggs in the holes and bring up their young there. In the evening
they come in from the sea, having their stomachs filled with a
gelatinous substance gathered from the waves, and this they eject
into the throats of their offspring, or retain for their own
nourishment, according to circumstances. A little after sunset
the air at Preservation Island used to be darkened with their
numbers, and it was generally an hour before their squabbling
ceased and every one had found its own retreat. The people of the
Sydney Cove had a strong example of perseverance in these birds.
The tents were pitched close to a piece of ground full of their
burrows, many of which were necessarily filled up from walking
constantly over them; yet notwithstanding this interruption and
the thousands of birds destroyed (for they constituted a great
part of their food during more than six months), the returning
flights continued to be as numerous as before; and there was
scarcely a burrow less except in the places actually covered by
the tents. These birds are about the size of a pigeon, and when
skinned and smoked we thought them passable food. Any quantity
could be procured by sending people on shore in the evening. The
sole process was to thrust in the arm up to the shoulder and
seize them briskly; but there was some danger of grasping a snake
at the bottom of the burrow instead of a petrel.”
The remark that the egg of the sooty petrel is of enormous
size is of course only true relatively to the size of the bird.
The egg is about as large as a duck’s egg, but longer and
tapering more sharply at one end. For the rest the description is
an excellent one. The wings of the bird are of great length and
strength, giving to it wonderful speed and power of flight. The
colour is coal-black. Flinders saw more of the sooty-petrel on
his subsequent voyage round Tasmania; and it will be convenient
to quote here the passage in which he refers to the prodigious
numbers in which the birds were seen. It may be added that,
despite a century of slaughter by mankind, and after the taking
of millions of eggs—which are good food—the numbers of the
mutton-birds are still incalculably great.* (* The author may
refer to a paper of his own, “The Mutton Birds of Bass Strait,”
in the Field, April 18, 1903, for a study of the sooty petrel
during the laying season on Phillip Island. An excellent account
of the habits of the bird is given in Campbell’s Nests and Eggs
of Australian Birds.) Writing of what he saw off the extreme
north-west of Tasmania in December, 1798, Flinders said:—
“A large flock of gannets was observed at daylight to issue
out of the great bight to the southward; and they were followed
by such a number of sooty petrels as we had never seen equalled.
There was a stream of from fifty to eighty yards in depth and of
three hundred yards, or more, in breadth; the birds were not
scattered, but flying as compactly as a free movement of their
wings seemed to allow; and during a full hour and a half this
stream of petrels continued to pass without interruption at a
rate little inferior to the swiftness of a pigeon. On the lowest
computation I think the number could not have been less than a
hundred millions.”
He explained how he arrived at this estimate, the reliableness
of which is beyond dispute, though it may seem incredible to
those who have not been in southern seas during the season when
the sooty petrels “most do congregate.” Taking the stream of
birds to have been fifty yards deep by three hundred in width,
and calculating that it moved at the rate of thirty miles* an
hour, and allowing nine cubic yards for each bird, the number
would amount to 151,500,000. The burrows required to lodge this
number would be 75,750,000, and allowing a square yard to each
burrow they would cover something more than 18 1/2 geographical
square miles. (* Flinders is calculating in nautical miles of
2026 2/3 yards each.)
The mutton-bird, it will therefore be allowed, is the most
prolific of all avian colonists. It has also played some part in
the history of human colonisation. When, in 1790, Governor
Phillip sent to Norfolk Island a company of convicts and marines,
and the Sirius, the only means of carrying supplies, was wrecked,
the population, 506 in all, was reduced to dire distress from
want of food. Starvation stared them in the face, when it was
discovered that Mount Pitt was honeycombed with mutton-bird
burrows. They were slain in thousands. “The slaughter and mighty
havoc is beyond description,” wrote an officer. “They are very
fine eating, exceeding fat and firm, and I think (though no
connoisseur) as good as any I ever eat.” Many people who are not
hunger-driven profess to relish young mutton-bird, whose flesh is
like neither fish nor fowl, but an oily blend of both.
On this cruise Flinders came in sight of Cook’s Point Hicks;
and his reference to it has some interest because Bass had missed
it; because Flinders himself did not on any of his other voyages
sail close enough inshore on this part of the coast to observe
it, and did not mark it upon his charts; and because the more
recent substitution of the name Cape Everard for the name given
by Cook, makes of some consequence the allusion of this great
navigator to a projection which he saw only once. The Francis on
February 4th “was in 38 degrees 16 minutes and (by account) 22
minutes of longitude to the west of Point Hicks. The schooner was
kept more northward in the afternoon; at four o’clock a
moderately high sloping hill was visible in the north by west,
and at seven a small rocky point on the beach bore north 50
degrees west three or four leagues. At some distance inland there
was a range of hills with wood upon them, though scarcely
sufficient to hide their sandy surface.” That describes the
country near Point Hicks accurately.
The largest island in the Furneaux group, now called Flinders
Island, was not so named by Flinders. He referred to it as “the
great island of Furneaux.” Flinders never named any of his
discoveries after himself, not even the smallest rock or cape.
Flinders Island in the Bight (Investigator Group) was named after
his brother Samuel.
It is a little curious that no allusion to the useful piece of
work done by Flinders on this cruise was made by the Governor in
his despatches. The omission was not due to lack of appreciation
on his part, as the encouragement subsequently given to Bass and
Flinders sufficiently showed. But it was, in truth, work very
well done, with restricted means and in a very limited time.
The question whether the islands examined lay in a strait or
in a deep gulf was occupying the attention of Flinders at just
about the same time when his friend Bass, in his whaleboat on the
north side of the same stretch of water, was revolving the same
problem in his mind. The reasons given by Furneaux for
disbelieving in the existence of a strait did not satisfy
Flinders. The great strength of the tides setting westward could,
in his opinion, only be occasioned by a passage through to the
Indian Ocean, unless the supposed gulf were very deep. There were
arguments tending either way; “the contradictory circumstances
were very embarrassing.” Flinders would have liked to use the
Francis forthwith to settle the question; but, as she was
commissioned for a particular service, and not under his command,
he had to subjugate his scientific curiosity to
circumstances.
Throughout his brief narrative of this voyage we see displayed
the qualities which distinguish all his original work. Promptness
in taking advantage of opportunities for investigation, careful
and cautiously-checked observations, painstaking accuracy in
making calculations, terse and dependable geographical
description, and a fresh quick eye for noting natural phenomena:
these were always characteristics of his work. He recorded what
he saw of bird and animal with the same care as he noted nautical
facts. We may take his paragraph on the wombat as an example.
Bass was much interested in the wombats he saw, and with his
surgeon’s anatomical knowledge gave a description of it which the
contemporary historian, Collins, quoted, enunciating the opinion
that “Bass’s womb-bat seemed to be very oeconomically
made”—whatever that may mean. Flinders’ description, which must
be one of the earliest accounts of the creature, is true:
“Clarke’s Island afforded the first specimen of the new
animal, called wombat. This little bear-like quadruped is known
in New South Wales, and is called by the natives womat, wombat,
or womback, according to the different dialects—or perhaps to
the different rendering of the wood-rangers who brought the
information. It does not quit its retreat till dark; but it feeds
at all times on the uninhabited islands, and was commonly seen
foraging amongst the sea refuse on the shore, though the coarse
grass seemed to be its usual nourishment. It is easily caught
when at a distance from its burrow; its flesh resembles lean
mutton in taste, and to us was acceptable food.”
The original manuscript containing Flinders’ narrative of the
expedition to the Furneaux Islands is in the Melbourne Public
Library. It is a beautiful manuscript, 22 quarto pages, neat and
regular, every letter perfect, every comma and semi-colon in
place: a portrait in calligraphy of its author.
CHAPTER 9. CIRCUMNAVIGATION OF TASMANIA.
Flinders arrived in Sydney in the Francis about a fortnight
after Bass returned in the whaleboat. It was, we may be certain,
with delight that he heard from the lips of his friend the story
of his adventurous voyage. The eye-sketch of the coastline
traversed by Bass was, by the Governor’s direction, used by him
for the preparation of a chart to be sent to England. He was able
to compare notes and discuss the probability of the existence of
a strait, and it was but natural that the two men who had so
recently been exploring, the one on the north the other on the
south side of the possible strait, should be eager to pursue
enquiry to the point of proof. Flinders acknowledged, in relating
these events, his anxiety to gratify his desire of positively
sailing through the strait and round Van Diemen’s Land, and he
chafed under the routine duties which postponed the effort. The
opportunity did not occur till September.
In the meantime, Flinders had to sail in the Reliance to
Norfolk Island to take over the surgeon, D’Arcy Wentworth, father
of that William Wentworth whose name has already figured in these
pages, and who was then a boy of seven. This trip took place in
May to July.
In August he sat as a member of the Vice-Admiralty Court of
New South Wales to try a case of mutiny on the high seas. Certain
members of the New South Wales Corps were accused of plotting to
seize the convict ship Barwell, on her voyage between the Cape
and Australia, and of drinking the toast “damnation to the King
and country.” The Court considered the evidence insufficient, and
the men were acquitted, after a trial lasting six days.
At last Flinders had an interview with the Governor about
completing the exploration of the seas to the southward, and
offered his services. Hunter, too, was anxious to have a test
made of Bass’s contention, which Flinders’ own observations
supported. On September 3rd he wrote to the Secretary of State
that he was endeavouring to fit out a vessel “in which I propose
to send the two officers I have mentioned,” Bass and Flinders.
Later in the month the Governor entrusted the latter with the
command of the Norfolk, a sloop of twenty-five tons burthen,
built at Norfolk Island from local pine. She was merely a small
decked boat, put together under the direction of Captain Townson
of Norfolk Island for establishing communication with Sydney. She
leaked; her timbers were poor material for a seaboat in quarters
where heavy weather was to be expected; and the accommodation she
offered for a fairly extended cruise was cramped and
uncomfortable. But she was the best craft the Governor had to
offer, and Flinders was too keen for the quest to quarrel with
the means. In those days fine seamanship and endurance often had
to make up for deficiencies in equipment.
There were not two happier men in the King’s service than
these fast friends, when they received the Governor’s commission
directing them to sail “beyond Furneaux’ Islands, and, should a
strait be found, to pass through it, and return by the south end
of Van Diemen’s Land.” The affection that existed between them is
manifest in every reference which Flinders made to Bass in his
book, A Voyage to Terra Australis. “I had the happiness to
associate my friend Bass in this new expedition,” he wrote of the
Norfolk’s voyage; and it was a happiness based not only on
personal regard, but on kindred feeling for research work, and a
similarity in active, keen and ardent temperament.
The sloop was provisioned for twelve weeks, and “the rest of
the equipment was completed by the friendly care of Captain
Waterhouse of the Reliance.” A crew of eight volunteers was
chosen by Flinders from the King’s ships in port. It is likely
that some of them were amongst the six who had accompanied Bass
to Westernport, and Flinders to the Furneaux and Kent Islands,
but their names have not been preserved.
The Norfolk sailed on October 7, 1798, in company with a
sealing boat, the Nautilus.* (* There are three accounts of the
voyage: (1) that of Flinders in diary form, printed in the
Historical Records of New South Wales Volume 3 appendix B; (2)
that of Flinders in his Voyage to Terra Australis Volume 1 page
138; and (3) that of Bass, embodied in Collins’ Account of New
South Wales. It is probable that Bass’s diary was lent to Collins
for the purpose of writing his narrative. The original is not
known to exist.) The plan was to make the Furneaux Group, then
steer westward through the strait till the open ocean was reached
on the further side; and, that accomplished, and the fact of
strait’s existence conclusively demonstrated, to turn down the
western coast of Van Diemen’s Land, round the southern extremity,
and sail back to Port Jackson up the east coast. This programme
was successfully carried out.
An amusing incident, related by Flinders with dry humour,
occurred in Twofold Bay, which was entered “in order to make some
profit of a foul wind,” Bass undertaking an inland excursion, and
Flinders occupying himself in making a survey of the port. An
aboriginal made his appearance.
“He was of middle age, unarmed, except with a whaddie or
wooden scimitar, and came up to us seemingly with careless
confidence. We made much of him, and gave him some biscuit; and
he in return presented us with a piece of gristly fat, probably
of whale. This I tasted; but, watching an opportunity to spit it
out when he should not be looking, I perceived him doing
precisely the same thing with our biscuit, whose taste was
probably no more agreeable to him, than his whale was to me.” The
native watched the commencement of Flinders’ trigonometrical
operations, “with indifference, if not contempt,” and after a
little while left the party, “apparently satisfied that from
people who could thus occupy themselves seriously there was
nothing to be apprehended.”
It was not until November 1st that the Norfolk sailed from the
Furneaux Islands on the flood-tide westward. The intervening time
had been occupied with detailed exploring and surveying work.
Soundings and observations were made, capes, islands and inlets
were charted and named. The part of Flinders’ narrative dealing
with these phases abounds in detail, noted with the most
painstaking particularity. Such fulness does not make attractive
literature for the reader who takes up a book of travel for
amusement. But it was highly important to record these details at
the time of the publication of Flinders’ book, when the coasts
and seas of which he wrote were very little known; and it has to
be remembered that he wrote as a scientific navigator, setting
down the results of his work with completeness and precision for
those interested in his subject, not as a caterer for popular
literary entertainment. He preferred the interest in his writing
to lie in the nature of the enterprise described and the
sincerity with which it was pursued rather than in such anecdotal
garniture and such play of fancy as can give charm to the history
of a voyage. His book was a substantial contribution to the
world’s knowledge, and it is his especial virtue to have set down
his facts with such exactitude that our tests of them, where they
are still capable of being tested, earn him credit for
punctilious veracity in respect of those observations on wild
life and natural phenomena as to which we have to rely upon his
written word. He never succumbs to the common sin of
travellers—writing to excite astonishment in the reader, rather
than to tell the exact truth as he found it. He was by nature and
training an exact man.
On the afternoon of November 3rd the sloop entered the estuary
of the river Tamar, on which, forty miles from the mouth, now
stands the fine city of Launceston. It was a discovery of
first-class importance. Apart from the pleasure which they
derived from having made it, the two friends were charmed with
the beauty of their surroundings. They derived the most
favourable impression of the quality of the land and its
suitableness for settlement. They worked up the river for several
miles, but time did not permit them to follow it as far as it was
navigable. Thus they did not reach the site of the present city,
and left the superb gorge and cataract to be discovered by
Collins when he entered the Tamar again in 1804. The harbour was
subsequently named Port Dalrymple by Hunter, after Alexander
Dalrymple, the naval hydrographer.
The extent of the survey, with delays caused by adverse
weather, kept the Norfolk in the Tamar estuary for a full month.
On December 3rd her westward course was resumed. From this time
forth Bass and Flinders were in constant expectancy of passing
through the strait into the open ocean. The northern trend of the
coast for a time aroused apprehensions that there was no strait
after all, and that the northern shore of Van Diemen’s Land might
be connected with the coast beyond Westernport. The water was
also discoloured, and this led Flinders to think that they might
be approaching the head of a bay or gulf. But on December 7th the
vigilant commander made an observation of the set of the tide,
from which he drew an “interesting deduction.” “The tide had been
running from the eastward all the afternoon,” wrote Flinders,
“and, contrary to expectation, we found it to be near low water
by the shore; the flood therefore came from the west, and not
from the eastward, as at Furneaux’ Isles. This we considered to
be a strong proof, not only of the real existence of a passage
betwixt this land and New South Wales, but also that the entrance
into the southern Indian Ocean could not be far distant.”
On the following day the deduction was confirmed. After the
Norfolk had rounded a headland, a long swell was observed to come
from the south-west, breaking heavily upon a reef a mile and a
half away. This was a new phenomenon; and both Bass and Flinders
“hailed it with joy and mutual congratulation, as announcing the
completion of our long-wished-for discovery of a passage into the
southern Indian Ocean.” They were now through the strait. What
Bass months before had believed to be the case was at length
demonstrated to a certainty. “The direction of the coast, the set
of the tides, and the great swell from the south-west, did now
completely satisfy us that a very wide strait did really exist
betwixt Van Diemen’s Land and New South Wales, and also now that
we had certainly passed it.”
No time was lost in completing the voyage. The Norfolk sped
rapidly past Cape Grim and down the western coast of Van Diemen’s
Land. Amateur-built as she was, and very small for her work in
these seas, she was proving a useful boat, and one can enjoy the
sailors’ pride in a snug craft in Flinders’ remark concerning
her, that “upon the whole she performed wonderfully; seas that
were apparently determined to swallow her up she rode over with
all the ease and majesty of an old experienced petrel.”
The wild and desolate aspect of the west coast, as seen from
the ocean, seems to have struck Flinders with a feeling of dread.
He so rarely allows any emotion to appear in his writing that the
sentences in his diary wherein he refers to the appearance of the
De Witt range are striking evidence of his revulsion. “The
mountains which presented themselves to our view in this
situation, both close to the shore and inland, were amongst the
most stupendous works of nature I ever beheld, and it seemed to
me are the most dismal and barren that can be imagined. The eye
ranges over these peaks, and curiously formed lumps of adamantine
rock, with astonishment and horror.” He acknowledged that he
clapped on all sail to get past this forbidding coast. The
passage is singular. Flinders was a fenland-bred man, and,
passing from the low levels of eastern England to a life at sea
in early youth, had had no experience of mountainous country. He
had not even seen the mountains at the back of Sydney, except in
the blue distance. Now, the De Witt range, though certainly
giving to the coast that it dominates an aspect of desolate
grandeur, especially when, as is nearly always the case, its
jagged peaks are seen under caps of frowning cloud, would not
strike a man who had been much among mountains as especially
horrid. Flinders’ burst of chilled feeling may therefore be noted
as a curious psychological fact.* (* The reader will perhaps find
it interesting to compare this reference with a passage in
Ruskin’s Modern Painters Volume 3 chapter 13: “It is sufficiently
notable that Homer, living in mountainous and rocky countries,
dwells thus delightedly on all the flat bits; and so I think
invariably the inhabitants of mountain countries do, but the
inhabitants of the plains do not, in any similar way, dwell
delightedly on mountains. The Dutch painters are perfectly
contented with their flat fields and pollards: Rubens, though he
had seen the Alps, usually composes his landscapes of a hay-field
or two, plenty of pollards and willows, a distant spire, a Dutch
house with a mast about it, a windmill and a ditch…So Shakspere
never speaks of mountains with the slightest joy, but only of
lowland flowers, flat fields, and Warwickshire streams.” Ruskin’s
citation of the Lincolnshire farmer in Alton Locke is apt, with
his dislike of “Darned ups and downs o’hills, to shake a body’s
victuals out of his inwards.”)
The naming of Mounts Heemskirk and Zeehan, the latter since
become a mineral centre of vast wealth, were the most noteworthy
events of the run down the western coast. They were named by
Flinders after the two ships of Tasman, as he took them to be the
two mountains seen by that navigator on his discovery of Van
Diemen’s Land in 1642.
The Derwent, whose estuary is the port of Hobart, was entered
on December 21. Bass’s report on the fertility of the soil led to
the choice of this locality for a settlement four years
later.
On the last day of the year the return voyage was commenced,
and on January 1st, 1799, the Norfolk was making for Port Jackson
with her prow set north-easterly. The winds were unfavourable,
and prevented Flinders from keeping close inshore, as he would
have liked to do in order to make a survey. But the prescribed
period of absence having expired, and the provisions being nearly
exhausted, it was necessary to make as much haste as possible. On
January 8th the Babel Isles were marked down, and named “because
of the confusion of noises made by the geese, shags, penguins,
gulls, and sooty petrels.” Anyone who has camped near a rookery
of sooty petrels is aware that they are quite capable of
maintaining a sufficiently “babelish confusion”—the phrase is
Camden’s—without any aid from other fowls.
A little later in the month (January 12) the Norfolk sailed
into harbour, and was anchored alongside the Reliance. “To the
strait which had been the great object of research,” wrote
Flinders, “and whose discovery was now completed, Governor Hunter
gave at my recommendation the name of Bass Strait. This was no
more than a just tribute to my worthy friend and companion for
the extreme dangers and fatigues he had undergone in first
entering it in the whaleboat, and to the correct judgment he had
formed, from various indications, of the existence of a wide
opening between Van Diemen’s Land and New South Wales.”
Throughout this voyage we find Bass expending his abundant
energies in the making of inland excursions whenever an
opportunity occurred. To take a boat up rivers, to cut through
rough country, to climb, examine soil, make notes on birds and
beasts, and exercise his enquiring mind in all directions, was
his constant delight.
The profusion of wild life upon the coasts and islands
explored during the voyage astonished the travellers. Seals were
seen in thousands, sea-birds in hundreds of millions. Flinders’
calculation regarding the sooty petrels has already been quoted.
Black swans were observed in great quantities. Bass, for example,
stated that he saw three hundred of these stately birds within a
space a quarter of a mile square. The Roman poet Juvenal could
think of no better example of a thing of rare occurrence than a
black swan:
“Rara avis in terris, nigroque simillima cygno.”
But here black swans could have been cited in a simile
illustrating profusion. Bass quaintly stated that the “dying
song” of the swan, so celebrated by poets, “exactly resembled the
creaking of a rusty ale-house sign on a windy day.” The remark is
not so pretty as, but far more true than, that of the bard who
would have us believe that the dying swan:
“In music’s strains breathes out her life and verse, And,
chaunting her own dirge, rides on her watery hearse.”
The couplet of Coleridge is vitiated by the same error, but
may merit commendation for practical wisdom:
“Swans sing before they die; ’twere no bad thing Should
certain persons die before they sing.”
Flinders also saw from three to five hundred black swans on
the lee side of one point; and so tame were they that, as the
Norfolk passed through the midst of them, one incautious bird was
caught by the neck.
Bass went ashore on Albatross Island to shoot. He was forced
to fight his way up the cliffs against the seals, which resented
the intrusion; and when he got to the top he was compelled “to
make a road with his club among the albatross. These birds were
sitting upon their nests, and almost covered the surface of the
ground, nor did they otherwise derange themselves for their new
visitors than to peck at their legs as they passed by.”
In the Derwent Bass and Flinders encountered Tasmanian
aboriginals, now an extinct race of men. A human voice was heard
coming from the hills. The two leaders of the expedition landed,
taking with them a swan as an offering of friendship, and met an
aboriginal man and two women. The women ran off, but the man
stayed and accepted the swan “with rapture.” He was armed with
three spears, but his demeanour was friendly. Bass and Flinders
tried him with such words as they knew of the dialects of New
South Wales and the South Sea Islands, but could not make him
understand them, “though the quickness with which he comprehended
our signs spoke in favour of his intelligence.” His hair was
either close-cropped or naturally short; but it had not a woolly
appearance. “He acceded to our proposition of going to his hut;
but finding from his devious route and frequent stoppings that he
sought to tire our patience, we left him delighted with the
certain possession of his swan, and returned to the boat. This
was the sole opportunity we had of communicating with any of the
natives of Van Diemen’s Land.”
The results of the cruise of the Norfolk were of great
importance. From the purely utilitarian point of view, the
discovery of Bass Strait shortened the voyage to Sydney from
Europe by quite a week. It opened a new highway for commerce.
Turnbull, in his Voyage Round the World (1814) discussing the
advantages of the new route, mentioned that “already has the
whole fleet of China ships, under the convoy of a 64, passed
through these Straits without the smallest accident;” and he
pointed out that ships which were late in the season for China,
and availed themselves of the prevailing winds by taking the
easterly route round Australia, were thus enabled to avoid the
tempestuous weather which generally faced them to the south of
Van Diemen’s Land. Governor King, too, writing to the Governor of
Bombay in 1802, sent him a chart of the strait, and pointed out
that the discovery would “greatly facilitate the passage of ships
from India to this colony.”
The discovery also revealed a fresh and fertile field for the
occupation of mankind. Geographically no discovery of such
consequence had been made since the noble days of Cook. It
brought the names of Bass and Flinders prominently before the
scientific world, and the thoroughness with which the latter had
done his work won him warm praise from men competent to form a
judgment. Intimations concerning the discovery published in the
Naval Chronicle and other journals valued the work very highly;
and it had the advantage of bringing the commander of the Norfolk
under the notice of Sir Joseph Banks, that earnest and steadfast
supporter of all sincere research work, who thus became the firm
friend of Flinders, as he had been the friend and associate of
Cook thirty years before.
The turbulent state of Europe in and about 1799, with Napoleon
Bonaparte rising fast to meridian glory on the wings of war, did
not incline British statesmen to attach much significance to such
events as the discovery of an important strait and the increased
opportunities for the development of oversea dominions. Renewed
activity in that direction came a little later. There is a letter
from Banks to Hunter, written just after the return of the
Norfolk, but before the news reached England (February, 1799),
wherein he conveys a concise idea of the perturbation in official
circles and the difficulty of getting anything done for
Australia. “The political situation is so difficult,” said Banks,
“and His Majesty’s Ministers so fully employed in business of the
deepest importance, that it is scarce possible to gain a moment’s
audience on any subject but those which stand foremost in their
minds; and colonies of all kinds, you may be assured, are now put
into the background.”
But that was no more than a passing phase. The seeds of a
vaster British Empire than had ever existed before had already
germinated, and when the years of crisis occurred, the will and
power of England were both ready and strong enough to protect the
growing plant from the trampling feet of legions. Meanwhile, the
work on the Norfolk secured for Flinders such useful
encouragement and help as enabled him very little later to crown
his achievements with a task that at once solidified his title to
fame and ultimately ended his life.
CHAPTER 10. THE FATE OF GEORGE BASS.
It has been already mentioned that Bass Strait was named by
Governor Hunter on the recommendation of Flinders. There is no
reason to suppose that George Bass himself made any claim that
his name should be applied to his discovery. One derives the
impression, from a study of his character as revealed in his
words and acts, that he would have been perfectly content had
some other name been chosen. He was one of those rare men who
find their principal joy in the free exercise of an intrepid and
masculine energy, especially in directions affording a stimulus
to intellectual curiosity. He did not even write a book or an
essay about the work he had done. The whaleboat voyage was
tersely recorded in a diary for the information of the Governor;
his other material was handed over to Collins for the purposes of
his History of New South Wales, and Bass went about his business
unrewarded, officially unhonoured.
It is curiously significant of the modesty of this really
notable man that when, in 1801, he again sailed to Australia, he
mentioned quite casually in a letter that he had passed through
Bass Strait without any reference to his own connection with the
passage. It was not, to him, “the strait which I discovered,” or
“my strait,” or “the strait named after me,” but simply Bass
Strait, giving it the proper geographical name scored on the map,
just as he might have mentioned the name of any other part of the
globe traversed during the voyage. The natural pride of the
discoverer assuredly would have been no evidence of egotism; but
Bass was singularly free from all semblance of human weakness of
that kind. The difficulties battled with, the effort joyfully
made, the discovery accomplished, he appears hardly to have
thought any more about his own part in it. Not only his essential
modesty but his affectionate nature and the frank charm of his
manner are apparent in such of his letters as have been
preserved.
The association of Bass with Flinders was fruitful in
achievement, and their friendship was perfect in its manliness;
it is pathetic to realise that when they parted, within a few
weeks after the return of the Norfolk to Sydney, these two men,
still young in years and rich in hope, ability and enterprise,
were never to meet again.
As from this time Bass disappears from the story of his
friend’s life, what is known of his later years may be here
related. His fate is a mystery that has never been satisfactorily
cleared up, and perhaps never will be. He returned to England
“shortly after” the voyage of the Norfolk. So wrote Flinders; but
“shortly after” means later than April, 1799, for in that month
Bass sat on a board of inquiry into the Isaac Nicholls case, to
be mentioned again hereafter.
In England, Bass married Elizabeth Waterhouse, sister of his
old shipmate Henry Waterhouse, the captain of the Reliance. With
a wife to maintain, he was apparently dissatisfied with his pay
and prospects as a naval surgeon. Nor was he quite the kind of
man who would, in the full flush of his restless energy, settle
down to the ordinary practice of his profession. Confined to a
daily routine in some English town, he would have been like a
caged albatross pining for regions of illimitable blue.
Within three months of his marriage Bass had become managing
owner of a smart little 140-ton brig, the Venus, in a venture in
which a syndicate of friends had invested 10,890 pounds. In the
early part of 1801 he sailed in her with a general cargo of
merchandise for Port Jackson. The brig, which carried twelve
guns—for England was at war, and there were risks to be run
—was a fast sailer, teak-built and copper-sheathed, and was
described as “one of the most complete, handsome and strong-built
ships in the River Thames, and will suit any trade.” She was
loaded “as deep as she can swim and as full as an egg,” Bass
wrote to his brother-in-law; and there is the sailor’s jovial
pleasure in a good ship, with, perhaps, a suggestion of the
surgeon’s point of view, in his declaration that she was “very
sound and tight, and bids fair to remain sound much longer than
any of her owners.”
But the speculation was not an immediate success. The market
was “glutted with goods beyond all comparison,” in addition to
which Governor King, who succeeded Hunter in 1800, was conducting
the affairs of the settlement upon a plan of the most rigid
economy. “Our wings are clipped with a vengeance, but we shall
endeavour to fall on our feet somehow or other,” wrote Bass early
in October, 1801.
A contract made with the Governor, to bring salt pork from
Tahiti at sixpence per pound, provided profitable employment for
the Venus. Hogs were plentiful in the Society Islands, and could
be procured cheaply. The arrangement commended itself to the
thrifty Governor, who had hitherto been paying a shilling per
pound for pork, and it kept Bass actively engaged. He was “tired
of civilised life.” There was, too, money to be made, and he sent
home satisfactory bills “to stop a few holes in my debts.” “That
pork voyage,” he wrote to his brother-in-law, “has been our first
successful speculation”; and he spoke again in fond admiration of
the Venus; “she is just the same vessel as when we left England,
never complains or cries, though we loaded her with pork most
unmercifully.” While he was pursuing this trade, the French
expedition under Baudin visited Sydney, and they, on their chart
of Wilson’s Promontory gave the name of Venus Bay to an inlet on
the west side of Cape Liptrap. They also bought goods to the
extent of 359 pounds 10 shillings from “Mr. George Basse.”* (*
Manuscript accounts of Baudin, Archives Nationales BB4 999.)
Bass now secured fishing concessions in New Zealand waters,
from which he hoped much. “The fishery is not to be put in motion
till after my return to old England,” he wrote in January, 1803.
Then, he said playfully, “I mean to seize upon my dear Bess,
bring her out here, and make a poissarde of her, where she cannot
fail to find plenty of ease for her tongue. We have, I assure
you, great plans in our heads, but, like the basket of eggs, all
depends upon the success of the voyage I am now upon.” It was the
voyage from which he never returned.
There is another charming allusion to his wife in a letter
written from Tahiti: “I would joke Bess upon the attractive
charms of Tahiti females but that they have been so much belied
in their beauty that she might think me attracted in good
earnest. However, there is nothing to fear here.” He speaks of
her again in writing to his brother: “I have written to my
beloved wife, and do most sincerely lament that we are so far
asunder. The next voyage I have she must make with me, for I
shall badly pass it without her.” The pathos of his reference to
her in a letter of October, 1801, can be felt in its note of
manly sympathy, and is deepened by the recollection that the
young bride never saw him again. “Our dear Bess talks of seeing
me in eighteen months. Alas! poor Bess, the when is uncertain,
very uncertain in everything except its long distances. Turn our
eyes where we will, we see nothing but glutted markets around
us.”
The pork-procuring ventures continued till 1803. In that year
Bass arranged to sail beyond Tahiti to the Chilian coast, to buy
other provisions for the use of the colony. Whether he intended
to force the hand of fortune by engaging in the contraband trade
can only be inferred. That there was certainly a large amount of
illicit traffic with South America on the part of venturesome
captains who made use of Port Jackson as a harbour of refuge, is
clear from extant documents.
The position was this. The persistent policy of Spain in the
government of her South American possessions was to conserve
trade exclusively for Spanish ships and Spanish merchants; and
for this purpose several restrictions were imposed upon
unauthorised foreign traders. Nevertheless the inhabitants of
these colonies urgently required more goods than were imported
under such excessive limitations, and wanted to get them much
cheaper than was possible while monopoly and heavy taxation
prevailed. There was, consequently, a tempting inducement to
skippers who were sufficiently bold to take risks, to ship goods
for Chili and Peru, and run them in at some place along the
immense coast-line, evading the lazy eyes of perfunctory Spanish
officials, or securing their corrupt connivance by bribes.
Contraband trade was, in fact, extensively practised, and plenty
of people in the Spanish colonies throve on it. As a modern
historian writes: “The vast extent of the border of Spain’s
possessions made it impossible for her to guard it efficiently.
Smuggling could therefore be carried on with impunity, and the
high prices which had been given to European wares in America by
the system of restriction, constituted a sufficient inducement to
lead the merchants of other nations to engage in contraband
trade.”* The profits from success were great; but the
consequences of detection were disastrous. (* Bernard Moses,
Spanish Rule in America, 289.)
Now Bass, as already related, had brought out to Sydney in the
Venus a large quantity of unsaleable merchandise. He could not
dispose of it under conditions of glut. He had hoped that the
Governor would take the cargo into the Government store and let
it be sold even at a 50 per cent reduction. But King declined to
permit that to be done. Here, then, was a singularly courageous
man, fond of daring enterprises, in command of a good ship, with
an unsaleable cargo on his hands. On the other side of the
Pacific was a country where such a cargo might, with luck, be
sold at a bounding profit. He could easily find out how the trade
was done. There was more than one among those with whom he would
associate in Sydney who knew a great deal about it.
One or two sentences in Bass’s last letters to Henry
Waterhouse contain mysterious hints, which to him, with his
experience of Port Jackson, would be significant. He explained
that he intended taking the Venus to visit the coast of Chili in
search of provisions, “and that they may not in that part of the
world mistake me for a contrabandist, I go provided with a very
diplomatic-looking certificate from the Governor here, stating
the service upon which I am employed, requesting aid and
protection in obtaining the food wanted. And God grant you may
fully succeed, says your warm heart, in so benevolent an object;
and thus also say I; Amen, say many others of my friends.”
But was the diplomatic-looking paper intended rather to serve
as a screen than as a guarantee of bona fides? “In a few hours,”
wrote Bass at the beginning of February, 1803, “I sail again on
another pork voyage, but it combines circumstances of a different
nature also”; and at the end of the same letter he added: “Speak
not of South America to anyone out of your family, for there is
treason in the very name.” What did he mean by that? He spoke of
“digging gold in South America,” and clearly did not mean it in
the strict literal sense.
It is true that the Governor was anxious to get South American
cattle and beef for the settlement in Sydney, but can that have
been the only motive for a voyage beyond Tahiti? “If our
approaching voyage proves at all fortunate in its issue, I expect
to make a handsome thing out of it, and to be much expedited on
my return to old England,” Bass wrote in January. He would not
have been likely to make so very handsome a thing out of beef in
one voyage, to enable him to expedite his return to England.
The factors of the case are, then, that Bass had on his hands
a large quantity of goods which he had failed to sell in Sydney;
that there was a considerable and enormously profitable
contraband trade with South America at the time; that he expected
to make a very large and rapid profit out of the venture he was
about to undertake; that he warned Waterhouse against mentioning
the matter outside the family circle, “for there is treason in
the very name”; and that he was himself a man distinguished by
dash and daring, who was very anxious to make a substantial sum
and return to England soon. The inference from his language and
circumstances as to the scheme he had in hand is
irresistible.
The “very diplomatic-looking certificate” which the Governor
gave him was dated February 3, 1803. It certified that “Mr.
George Bass, of the brigantine Venus, has been employed since the
first day of November, 1801, upon His Britannic Majesty’s service
in procuring provisions for the subsistence of His Majesty’s
colony, and still continues using those exertions;” and it went
on to affirm that should he find it expedient to resort to any
harbour in His Catholic Majesty’s dominions upon the west coast
of America, “this instrument is intended to declare my full
belief that his sole object in going there will be to procure
food, without any view to private commerce or any other view
whatsoever.”
Notwithstanding the terms of this certificate, however, there
is clear evidence that Governor King was fully aware of the
nature of the trade conducted with the Spanish-American colonies
by vessels using Port Jackson; and though it may be that Bass did
not tell him in so many words what his whole intentions were,
King knew that Bass had a large stock of commodities to sell, and
could hardly have been ignorant that a considerable portion of
them were re-shipped on the Venus for this voyage. In a later
despatch he alluded to vessels which carried goods “from hence to
the coasts of the Spanish possessions on the west side of
America,” and he observed “that this must be a forced trade,
similar to that carried on among the settlements of that nation
and Portugal on the east side of America, and that much risk will
attend it to the adventurers.”
Bass sailed from Sydney on February 5th, 1803. He never
returned, and no satisfactory account of what became of him is
forthcoming.* (* The writer of the article on Bass in the
Dictionary of National Biography says that “except that he left
Australia in 1799 to return to England nothing certain is known
of Bass’s subsequent history.” But we know fairly fully what he
was doing up till February, 1803, as related above. The Bass
mystery commences after that date. The Encyclopaedia Britannica
(11th edition) finds no space for a separate article on this very
remarkable man.) Later in 1803 the brig Harrington, herself
concerned in the contraband trade, reported that the Venus had
been captured and confiscated by the Spaniards in Peru, and that
Bass and the mate, Scott, had been sent as prisoners to the
silver mines. In December, 1804, Governor King remarked in a
despatch to the Secretary of State that he had been “in constant
expectation” of hearing from Bass, “to whom, there is no doubt,
some accident has occurred.” The Harrington had reported the
capture of the Venus before King wrote that. Why did he not
mention the circumstance to the British Government? Why did he
not allude to the country to which he well knew that Bass
intended to sail? It would seem that King carefully avoided
referring in his official despatches to an enterprise upon which
he had good reason to be aware that Bass had embarked.
War between Great Britain and Spain did not break out till
December, 1804, after the seizure of the Spanish treasure fleet
by British frigates off Cadiz (October 5th). But in previous
years, while Spain, under pressure from Napoleon, lent her
countenance to his aggressive policy, English privateers had
freely plundered Spanish commerce in the south Pacific, and some
of them had brought their prizes to Sydney. That this was done
with the knowledge of the authorities cannot be doubted.
Everybody knew about it. When the French exploring ships were
lying at Sydney in 1802, Peron saw there vessels “provided with
arms, fitting out for the western coast of America, stored with
merchandise of various kinds. These vessels were intended to
establish, by force of arms, a contraband commerce with the
inhabitants of Peru, extremely advantageous to both parties.”
It would not, therefore, be wonderful that the Spanish
authorities in Chili or Peru should regard Port Jackson as a kind
of wasp’s nest, and should look with suspicion on any vessel
coming thence which might fall into their hands, however much her
commander might endeavour to make of his official certificate
declaring the Governor’s “full belief” in his lawful intentions.
The irritation caused by the use that was being made of Sydney as
a privateering and contraband base of operations can be well
imagined. As early as December, 1799, indeed, Governor Hunter
related that a captured Spanish merchant vessel had been brought
into port, and he acknowledged that “this being the second
Spanish prize brought hither, we cannot be surprised, should it
be known that such captures make a convenience of this harbour,
if it should provoke a visit from some of the ships of war from
the Spanish settlements on that coast.” The Spaniards would
naturally be thirsting for revenge; and a ship sailing direct
from the port of which the raiders made a “convenience” would be
liable to feel their ire, should there be the semblance of
provocation. The authorities would have been justified in holding
up the Venus if they suspected that she carried contraband goods;
and their treatment of her officers and crew might be expected to
reflect the temper of their disposition towards Port Jackson and
all that concerned it.
If, as the Harrington reported, Bass and his companions were
sent to the mines, the Spanish officials managed their act of
punishment, or revenge, very quietly. But at that time there was
not a formal state of belligerency between England and Spain,
though the tension of public feeling in Great Britain concerning
Spanish relations with France was acute. If it were considered
that such an act as the seizure of the Venus would be likely to
precipitate a declaration of war, the motive for secrecy was
strong. Secrecy, moreover, would have been in complete conformity
with Spanish methods in South America. It is not recorded whether
the seizure of the Venus occurred at Callao, Valparaiso or
Valdivia; but a British lieutenant, Fitzmaurice, who was at
Valparaiso five years later, heard that a man named Bass had been
in Lima some years before.
A friend of the Bass family residing at Lincoln in 1852 wrote
a letter to Samuel Sidney, the author of The Three Colonies of
Australia, stating that Bass’s mother last heard of him “in the
Straits of China.” But this was evidently an error of memory. If
Bass ever got out of South America, he would have written to his
“dear Bess,” to Waterhouse, and to Flinders. The latter, in 1814,
wrote of him as “alas, now no more.” There is on record a report
that he was seen alive in South America in that year, but the
story is doubtful. He was a man full of affectionate loyalty to
his friends, and it is not conceivable that he would have left
them without news of him if any channel of communication had been
open, as would have been the case had he been at liberty as late
as 1814. His father-in-law made enquiries, but failed to obtain
news. The report of the Harrington was probably true, but beyond
that we really have no information upon which we can depend. The
internal history of Spanish America has been very scantily
investigated, and it is quite possible that even yet some
diligent student of archives may find, some day, particulars
concerning the fate of this brave and adventurous spirit.
The disappearance of Bass’s letters to his mother is a
misfortune which the student of Australian history must deplore.
He was observant, shrewd, an untiring traveller, and an
entertaining correspondent. He probably related to his mother, to
whom he wrote frequently, the story of his excursions and
experiences, and the historical value of all that he wrote would
be very great. The letters, said the Lincoln friend, were long,
“containing full accounts of his discoveries.” His mother
treasured them till she died, when they came into the possession
of a Miss Calder. She kept them in a box, and used occasionally
to amuse herself by reading them. But some time before 1852 Miss
Calder went to the box to look at them again, and found that they
had disappeared. Whether she had lent them to some person who had
failed to return them, or had mislaid them, is unknown. It is
possible that they may still be in existence in some dusty
cupboard in England, and that we may even yet be gratified by an
examination of documents which would assuredly enable us to
understand more of the noble soul of George Bass.
It has been mentioned that Flinders and Bass did not meet
again after the voyage of the Norfolk and Bass’s return to
England. Though Sydney was the base of both Flinders in the
Investigator and Bass in the Venus in 1802 and 1803, they always
had the ill-luck to miss each other. Bass was at Tahiti while
Flinders lay in port from May 9th to July 21st, 1802. He returned
in November, and left once more on his final voyage in February,
1803. Flinders arrived in Sydney again, after his exploration of
the Gulf of Carpentaria, in June, 1803. A farewell letter from
him to his friend is quoted in a later chapter.
CHAPTER 11. ON THE QUEENSLAND COAST.
Two more incidents in the career of Flinders will concern us
before we deal with his important later voyages. The first of
these is only worth mentioning for the light it throws upon the
character of the man. In March, 1799, he sat as a member of a
court of criminal judicature in Sydney, for the trial of Isaac
Nichols, who was charged with receiving a basket of tobacco
knowing it to have been stolen. The case aroused passionate
interest at the time. People in the settlement took sides upon
it, as upon a matter of acute party politics, and the Governor
was hotly at variance with the Judge Advocate, the chief judicial
officer.
Nichols had been a convict, but his conduct was good, and he
was chosen to be chief overseer of a gang employed in labour of
various kinds. On the expiration of his sentence, he acquired a
small farm, and by means of sobriety and industry built himself a
comfortable house. Through his very prosperity he became “an
object to be noticed,” as the Governor wrote, and by reason of
his diligent usefulness securing him official employment, “he
stood in the way of others.” In Hunter’s opinion, the ruin of
Nichols was deliberately planned; and he was convicted on what
the Governor believed to be false and malicious evidence.
The striking feature of the trial was that the Court
(consisting of seven members—three naval officers and three
officers of the New South Wales Corps, presided over by the Judge
Advocate) was sharply divided in opinion. The three naval men,
Flinders, Waterhouse, and Lieutenant Kent, were convinced of the
accused man’s innocence; the three military men, with the Judge
Advocate, voted for his conviction. There was thus a majority
against Nichols; but the Governor, believing that an injustice
was being done, suspended the execution of the sentence, and
submitted the papers to the Secretary of State. Bass came into
the matter in the month after the trial, as a member of a Court
of Inquiry into the allegation that certain persons had carried
the tobacco to Nichols’ house with the object of implicating
him.
The only point that need concern us here, is that Flinders
wrote a memorandum analysing the evidence with minute care, in
justification of his belief in the prisoner’s innocence. It was a
skilfully drawn document, and it exhibits Flinders in a light
which enhances our respect for him, as the strong champion of an
accused man whom he believed to be wronged. In the result, the
Crown granted a pardon to Nichols; but this did not arrive till
1802, so tardy was justice in getting itself done. Apart from
Flinders’ share in it, the case is interesting as revealing the
strained relations existing between the principal officials in
the colony at the time. The Judge Advocate was a bitter enemy of
the Governor, and the very administration of the law, affecting
the liberties of the people, was tinctured by these
animosities.
It is pleasant to turn from so grimy a subject to the work for
which Flinders’ tastes and talents peculiarly fitted him. The
explorations which he had hitherto accomplished were sufficient
to convince Hunter that he had under him an officer from whom
good work could be expected, and, the Reliance not being required
for service, he readily acquiesced when Flinders proposed that he
should take the Norfolk northward, to Moreton Bay, the
“Glasshouse Bay” of Cook, and Hervey Bay, east of Bundaberg. On
this voyage he was accompanied by his younger brother, Samuel
Flinders. He also took with him an aboriginal named Bongaree,
“whose good disposition and manly conduct had attracted my
esteem.”
He sailed on July 8th. The task did not occupy much time, for
the sloop was back in Sydney by August 20th. The results were
disappointing. It had been hoped to find large rivers, and by
means of them to penetrate the interior of the country; but none
were found.
Flinders missed the Clarence, though he actually anchored off
its entrance. Nor did he find the Brisbane, though, ascending the
Glasshouse Mountains, he saw indications of a river, which he
could not enter with the Norfolk on account of the intricacy of
the channel and the shortness of the time available.
Uneasiness of mind respecting the condition of the sloop must
have had much to do with the missing of the rivers. She sprung a
leak two days out of Port Jackson, and this was “a serious cause
of alarm,” the more so as grains of maize, with which the Norfolk
had been previously loaded, were constantly choking up the pump.
Weather conditions, also, did not favour taking the vessel close
inshore on her northward course, and it would have been almost
impossible to detect the mouths of the New South Wales rivers
without a close scrutiny of the coastline. Those considerations
are quite sufficient, when duly weighed, to account for the
omissions. It certainly was a rash statement, after so imperfect
an examination, that “however mortifying the conviction might be,
it was then an ascertained fact that no river of importance
intersected the east coast between the 24th and 39th degrees of
south latitude.” But it is equally certain that he could not have
found these rivers with the means at his disposal. They could not
well have been observed from the deck of a vessel off the coast.*
(* See Coote, History of Queensland, 1 7, and Lang, Cooksland,
page 17.) A closer inspection of the shore-line was required. In
fact, the rivers were not found by seaward exploration; they were
discovered by inland travellers.
The most interesting features of the voyage lay in the meeting
with aboriginals in Moreton Bay. Some of the incidents were
amusing, though at one time there seemed to be danger of a
serious encounter. Flinders went ashore to meet a party of the
natives, and endeavoured to establish friendly relations with
them. But as he was leaving, one of them threw a spear. Flinders
snatched up his gun and aimed at the offender, but the flint
being wet missed fire. A second snap of the trigger also failed,
but on a third trial the gun went off, though nobody was hurt.
Flinders thought that it might obviate future mischief if he gave
the blacks an idea of his power, so he fired at a man who was
hiding behind a tree; but without doing him any harm. The sound
of the gun caused the greatest consternation among the natives,
and the small party of white men had no more serious trouble with
them while they were in the bay. Flinders was “satisfied of the
great influence which the use of a superior power has in savages
to create respect and render their communications friendly”; but
he was fortunately able to keep on good terms without resort to
severity.
An effort to tickle the aboriginal sense of humour was a
failure. Two of the crew who were Scotch, commenced to dance a
reel for the amusement of the blacks. “For want of music,” it is
related, “they made a very bad performance, which was
contemplated by the natives without much amusement or curiosity.”
The joke, like Flinders’ gun, missed fire. There have been, it is
often alleged, other occasions when jokes made by Scotsmen have
not achieved a shining success; and we do well to respect the
intention while we deplore the waste of effort.
An example of cunning which did not succeed occurred shortly
after the first landing. Flinders was wearing a cabbage-tree hat,
for which a native had a fancy. The fellow took a long stick with
a hook at the end of it, and, laughing and talking to divert
attention from his purpose, endeavoured to take the hat from the
commander’s head. His detection created much laughter; as did
that of another black with long arms, who tried to creep up to
snatch the hat, but was afraid to approach too near. The account
which Collins, writing from Flinders’ notes, gave of the
Queensland natives seen at Moreton Bay, is graphic but hardly
attractive. Two paragraphs about their musical attainments and
their general appearance will bear quotation:—
“These people, like the natives of Port Jackson, having fallen
to the low pitch of their voices, recommenced their song at the
octave, which was accompanied by slow and not ungraceful motions
of the body and limbs, their hands being held up in a
supplicating posture; and the tone and manner of their song and
gestures seemed to bespeak the goodwill and forbearance of their
auditors. Observing that they were attentively listened to, they
each selected one of our people and placed his mouth close to his
ear, as if to produce a greater effect, or, it might be, to teach
them the song, which their silent attention might seem to express
a desire to learn.” As a recompense for the amusement they had
afforded him Flinders gave them some worsted caps, and a pair of
blanket trousers, with which they seemed well pleased. Several
other natives now made their appearance; and it was some time
before they could overcome their dread of approaching the
strangers with the firearms; but, encouraged by the three who
were with them, they came up, and a general song and dance was
commenced. Their singing was not confined to one air; they gave
three.
“Of those who came last, three were remarkable for the
largeness of their heads, and one, whose face was very rough, had
much more the appearance of a baboon than of a human being. He
was covered with oily soot; his hair matted with filth; his
visage, even among his fellows, uncommonly ferocious; and his
very large mouth, beset with teeth of every hue between black,
white, green and yellow, sometimes presented a smile which might
make anyone shudder.”
The Norfolk remained fifteen days in Moreton Bay. The judgment
that Flinders formed of it was that it was “so full of shoals
that he could not attempt to point out any passage that would
lead a ship into it without danger.” The east side was not
sounded, and he was of opinion that if a good navigable channel
existed it would be found there. His visit to Hervey Bay, further
north, did not lead to any interesting observations. He left
there on his return voyage on August 7th, and reached Port
Jackson at dusk on the 20th.
CHAPTER 12. THE INVESTIGATOR.
Flinders sailed from Port Jackson for England in the Reliance
on March 3rd, 1800. The old ship was in such a bad condition that
Governor Hunter “judged it proper to order her home while she may
be capable of performing the voyage.” She carried despatches,
which Captain Waterhouse was directed to throw overboard in the
event of meeting with an enemy’s ship of superior force and being
unable to effect his escape. She lived through a tempestuous
voyage, making nine or ten inches of water per hour, according to
the carpenter’s report, and providing plenty of pumping exercise
for a couple of convict stowaways who emerged from hiding two
days out of Sydney. At St. Helena, reached at the end of May,
company was joined with four East India ships, and off Ireland
H.M.S. Cerberus took charge of the convoy till the arrival at
Portsmouth on August 26th.
When Flinders left England six years before, he was a
midshipman. He passed the examination qualifying him to become
lieutenant at the Cape of Good Hope in 1797, and was appointed
provisionally to that rank on the return of the Reliance to
Sydney from the South African voyage in that year. The prompt
confirmation of his promotion by the admiralty he attributed to
the kind interest of Admiral Pasley.
When he quitted his ship at Deptford in October, 1800, he was
a man of mark. His name was honourably known to the elders of his
profession, whilst he was esteemed by men concerned with
geography, navigation, and kindred branches of study, for the
importance of the work he had done, and for the thorough
scientific spirit manifested in it.
Chief among those who recognised his quality was Sir Joseph
Banks, the learned and wealthy squire who was ever ready to be to
zealous men of science a friend, a patron, and an influence.
Banks was, indeed, memorable for the men and work he helped,
rather than for his own original contributions to knowledge.
During his presidency of the Royal Society, from 1777 to 1820—a
long time for one man to occupy the principal place in the most
distinguished learned body in the world—he not only encouraged,
but promoted and directed, a remarkable radiation of research
work, and was the accessible friend of every man of ability
concerned in extending the bounds of enquiry into phenomena.
Banks took a special interest in the young navigator, who was
a native of his own bit of England, Lincolnshire. He knew well
what a large field for geographical investigation there was in
Australia, and recognised that Flinders was the right man to do
the work. Banks had always foreseen the immense possibilities of
the country; he was the means of sending out the naturalists
George Caley, Robert Brown, and Allan Cunningham, to study its
natural products. That he was quick to recognise the sterling
capacity of Matthew Flinders constitutes his principal claim to
our immediate attention. The spirit of our age is rather out of
sympathy with the attitude of patronage, which, as must be
confessed, it gratified Banks to assume; but at all events it
was, in this instance, patronage of the only tolerable sort, that
which helps an able man to fulfil himself and serve his kind.
Before he went to sea again, Flinders was married (April 1801)
to Miss Ann Chappell, stepdaughter of the Rev. William Tyler,
rector of Brothertoft, near Boston. She was a sailor’s daughter,
her own father having died while in command of a ship out of
Hull, engaged in the Baltic trade. It is probable that there was
an attachment between the pair before Flinders left England in
1794; for during the Norfolk expedition in 1798 he had named a
smooth round hill in Kent’s group Mount Chappell, and had called
a small cluster of islands the Chappell Isles. He does not tell
us why they were so named, as was his usual practice. He merely
speaks of them as “this small group to which the name of Chappell
Isles is affixed in the chart.” But a tender little touch of
sentiment may creep in, even in the making of charts; and we
cannot have or wish to have, any doubt as to the reason in this
case.
In his Observations, published in the year of his marriage,
Flinders remarks (page 24) that the hill “had received the name
of Mount Chappell in February, 1798, and the name is since
extended to the isles which lie in its immediate neighbourhood.”
The fact that the name was given in 1798, indicates that a kindly
feeling, to say the least of it, was entertained for Miss
Chappell before Flinders left England in 1795. The lover in As
You Like It carved his lady’s name on trees:
“O Rosalind, these trees shall be my books, And in their barks
my thoughts I’ll character.”
Here we find our young navigator writing his lady’s name on
the map. It is rather an uncommon symptom of a very common
complaint.
Miss Chappell and her sister, the sisters of Flinders, and the
young ladies of the Franklin family, were a group of affectionate
friends who lived in the same neighbourhood, and were constantly
together. The boys of the families were brothers to all the
girls, who were all sisters to them. Matthew on the Reliance
wrote to them letters intended to be read by all, addressing them
as “my charming sisters.” In one of these epistles he told the
girls: “never will there be a more happy soul than when I return.
O, may the Almighty spare me all those dear friends without whom
my joy would be turned into sorrow and mourning.” But that he
nourished the recollection of Ann Chappell in his heart with
especial warmth is apparent from a letter he wrote to her very
shortly after the Reliance returned to England (September 25th,
1800):* (* Flinders’ Papers.) “You are one of those friends,” he
assured her, “whom I consider it indispensably necessary to see.
I should be glad to have some little account of your movements,
where you reside, and with whom, that my motions may be regulated
accordingly…You see that I make everything subservient to
business. Indeed, my dearest friend, this time seems to be a very
critical period of my life. I have long been absent—have done
services abroad that were not expected, but which seem to be
thought a good deal of. I have more and greater friends than
before, and this seems to be the moment that their exertions may
be most serviceable to me. I may now perhaps make a bold dash
forward, or may remain a poor lieutenant all my life.” And he
ended this letter, which Miss Chappell would not fail to read
“between the lines,” by assuring “my dear friend Annette,” that
“with the greatest sincerity, I am her most affectionate friend
and brother, Matthew Flinders.”
From this point the comforting understanding between the two
young people developed in ways as to which there is no evidence
in correspondence; but shortly after Flinders received promotion
he must have proposed marriage. He wrote a short time afterwards
in these terms:
“H.M.S. Investigator, at the Nore, April 6, 1801.
“My dearest friend,
“Thou hast asked me if there is a POSSIBILITY of our living
together. I think I see a PROBABILITY of living with a moderate
share of comfort. Till now I was not certain of being able to fit
myself out clear of the world. I have now done it, and have
accommodation on board the Investigator, in which as my wife a
woman may, with love to assist her, make herself happy. This
prospect has recalled all the tenderness which I have so
sedulously endeavoured to banish. I am sent for to London, where
I shall be from the 9th to the 19th, or perhaps longer. If thou
wilt meet me there, this hand shall be thine for ever. If thou
hast sufficient love and courage, say to Mr. and Mrs. Tyler* (*
Her mother and stepfather.) that I require nothing more with thee
than a sufficient stock of clothes and a small sum to answer the
increased expenses that will necessarily and immediately come
upon me; as well for living on board as providing for it at Port
Jackson; for whilst I am employed in the most dangerous part of
my duty, thou shalt be placed under some friendly roof there. I
need not, nor at this time have I time to enter into a detail of
my income and prospects. It will, I trust, be sufficient for me
to say that I see a fortune growing under me to meet increasing
expenses. I only want a fair start, and my life for it, we will
do well and be happy. I will write further to-morrow, but shall
most anxiously expect thy answer at 86 Fleet Street, London, on
my visit on Friday; and, I trust, thy presence immediately
afterwards. I have only time to add that most anxiously I am,
Most sincerely thine,
MATTHEW FLINDERS.”
He appended a postscript which covertly alludes to the manner
in which Sir Joseph Banks might be expected to regard the
marriage on the eve of commencing the new voyage: “It will be
much better to keep this matter entirely secret. There are many
reasons for it yet, and I have also a powerful one: I do not know
how my great friends might like it.”
But, taking all the risks in this direction, he snatched the
first opportunity that presented itself to hurry down to
Lincolnshire, get married, and bring his bride up to London,
stuffing into his boot, for safe keeping, a roll of bank notes
given to him by Mr. Tyler at the moment of farewell.
In a letter* to his cousin Henrietta, (* Flinders’ Papers.) he
relates how hurriedly the knot matrimonial was at length tied, on
the 17th of April:
“Everything was agreed to in a very handsome manner, and just
at this time I was called up to town and found that I might be
spared a few days from thence. I set off on Wednesday evening
from town, arrived next evening at Spilsby, was married next
morning,* which was Friday; on Saturday we went to Donington, on
Sunday reached Huntingdon, and on Monday were in town. Next
morning I presented myself before Sir Joseph Banks with a grave
face as if nothing had happened, and then went on with my
business as usual. We stayed in town till the following Sunday,
and came on board the Investigator next day, and here we have
remained ever since, a few weeks on shore and a day spent on the
Essex side of the Thames excepted.” (* Captain F.J. Bayldon, of
the Nautical Academy, Sydney, tells me an interesting story about
the Flinders-Chappell marriage registration. His father was
rector of Partney, Lincolnshire, a village lying two or three
miles from Spilsby. When the Captain and his brothers were boys,
they found in the rectory a large book, such as was used for
parish registers. It was apparently unused. They asked their
father if they might have the blank pages for drawing paper, and
he gave them permission. But they found upon a single page, a few
marriage entries, and one of these was the marriage of Matthew
Flinders to Ann Chappell. Captain Bayldon, a student of
navigation then as he has been ever since, knew Flinders’ name at
once, and took the book to his father. The marriage was
celebrated at Partney, where the Tylers lived.)
In a letter* written on the day of the marriage to Elizabeth
Flinders the bride’s fluttered and mixed emotions were apparent.
(* Mitchell Library manuscripts.) At this time she believed that
she was to make the voyage to Australia in the Investigator with
her husband, and hardly knew whether the happiness of her new
condition or the regretful prospect of a long farewell to her
circle of friends prevailed most in her heart.
“April 17th, 1801.
“My beloved Betsy,
“Thou wilt be much surprised to hear of this sudden affair;
indeed I scarce believe it myself, tho’ I have this very morning
given my hand at the altar to him I have ever highly esteemed,
and it affords me no small pleasure that I am now a part, tho’ a
distant one, of thy family, my Betsy. It grieves me much thou art
so distant from me. Thy society would have greatly cheered me.
Thou wilt to-day pardon me if I say but little. I am scarce able
to coin one sentence or to write intelligibly. It pains me to
agony when I indulge the thought for a moment that I must leave
all I value on earth, save one, alas, perhaps for ever. Ah, my
Betsy, but I dare not, must not, think [that]. Therefore,
farewell, farewell. May the great God of Heaven preserve thee and
those thou lovest, oh, everlastingly. Adieu, dear darling girl;
love as ever, though absent and far removed from your poor
ANNETTE.”
We are afforded a confidential insight into Mrs. Flinders’
opinion of her husband in a letter from her to another girl
friend. It was written after the marriage, and when Matthew was
again at sea, prosecuting that voyage from which he was not to
return for over nine years. “I don’t admire want of firmness in a
man. I love COURAGE and DETERMINATION in the male character.
Forgive me, dear Fanny, but INSIPIDS I never did like, and having
not long ago tasted such delightful society I have now a greater
contempt than in former days for that cast of character.” An
“insipid” Ann Chappell certainly had not married, and she found
in Matthew Flinders no lack of the courage and determination she
admired.
A second marriage contracted by the elder Matthew Flinders,
connecting his family with the Franklins, had an important
influence upon the life of another young sailor who had commenced
his career in the Navy in the previous year. The Franklin family,
which sprang from the village of Sibsey (about six miles
north-east of Boston), was now resident at Spilsby. At the time
of the Flinders-Chappell wedding, young John Franklin was serving
on the Polyphemus, and had only a few days previously (April 1)
taken part in the battle of Copenhagen. In the ordinary course of
things he would, there can hardly be a doubt, have followed his
profession along normal lines. His virile intellect and
resourceful courage would probably have won him eminence, but it
is not likely that he would have entered upon that career of
exploration which shed so much lustre on his name, and in the end
found him a grave beneath the immemorial snows of the frozen
north. It was by Flinders that young Franklin was diverted into
the glorious path of discovery; from Flinders that he learnt the
strictly scientific part of navigation. “It is very reasonable
for us to infer,” writes one of Franklin’s biographers* (*
Admiral Markham, Life of Sir John Franklin page 43.) “that it was
in all probability in exploring miles of practically unknown
coastline, and in surveying hitherto undiscovered bays, reefs,
and islands in the southern hemisphere, that John Franklin’s mind
became imbued with that ardent love of geographical research
which formed such a marked and prominent feature in his future
professional career. Flinders was the example, and Australian
exploration was the school, that created one of our greatest
Arctic navigators and one of the most eminent geographers of his
day.”
Another matter with which Flinders was occupied during his
stay in England was the preparation of a small publication
dealing with his recent researches. It was entitled “Observations
on the coasts of Van Diemen’s Land, on Bass’s Strait and its
Islands, and on parts of the coasts of New South Wales, intended
to accompany the charts of the late discoveries in those
countries, by Matthew Flinders, second lieutenant of His
Majesty’s ship Reliance.” It consisted of thirty-five quarto
pages, issued without a wrapper, and stitched like a large
pamphlet. John Nichols, of Soho, was the publisher, but some
copies were issued with the imprint of Arrowsmith, the publisher
of charts. Very few copies now remain, and the little book, which
is one of the rare things of bibliography, is not to be found
even in many important libraries.
Flinders dedicated the issue to Sir Joseph Banks. “Your
zealous exertions to promote geographical and nautical knowledge,
your encouragement of men employed in the cultivation of the
sciences that tend to this improvement, and the countenance you
have been pleased to show me in particular, embolden me to lay
the following observations before you.” Generally speaking, the
Observations contain matter that was afterwards embodied in the
larger Voyage to Terra Australis, and taken from reports that
have been used in the preceding pages. The special purpose of the
book was to be of use to navigators who might sail in Australian
waters, and it is therefore full of particulars likely to guide
them. He pointed out that there might be some errors in the
longitude records of the Norfolk voyage because “no time-keepers
could be procured for this expedition,” but he pointed out that
the survey was made with great care. “The sloop was kept close to
the shore, and brought back every morning within sight of the
same point it had been hauled off during the preceding evening,
by which means the chain of angles was never broken.” This was,
as will be seen later, the method employed on the more important
voyage about to be undertaken.
The task that mainly occupied his attention during these few
months in England, was the making of preparations for a voyage of
discovery intended to complete the exploration of the coasts of
Australia. It has already been remarked that the initiative in
regard to the Francis and Norfolk explorations sprang from
Flinders’ own eager desire, and not from the governing
authorities. Precisely the same occurred in the case of the far
more important Investigator voyage. He did not wait for something
to turn up. Immediately after his arrival in England, he
formulated a plan, pointed out the sphere of investigation to
which attention ought to be directed, and approached the proper
authorities. He wrote to Sir Joseph Banks, “offering my services
to explore minutely the whole of the coasts, as well those which
were imperfectly known as those entirely unknown, provided the
Government would provide me with a proper ship for the purpose. I
did not address myself in vain to this zealous promoter of
science; and Earl Spencer, then First Lord of the Admiralty,
entering warmly into the views of his friend, obtained the
approbation of his Majesty, and immediately set out a ship that
could be spared from the present demands of war, which Great
Britain then waged with most of the Powers of Europe.”* (*
Flinders’ Papers.)
Lord Spencer’s prompt and warm acquiescence in the proposition
is not less to be noted than the friendly interest of Banks. His
administration of the Admiralty in Pitt’s Government was
distinguished by his selection of Nelson as the admiral to
frustrate the schemes of the French in sea warfare; and it stands
as an additional tribute to his sagacity that he at once
recognised Flinders to be the right man to maintain the prowess
of British seamanship in discovery.
Three reasons made the Government the more disposed to equip
an expedition for the purpose. The first was that in June, 1800,
L.G. Otto, the representative of the French Republic in London,
applied for a passport for two discovery ships which were being
despatched to the south seas. French men of science had for many
years interested themselves in the investigation of these unknown
portions of the globe. The expeditions of Laperouse (1785 to
1788) and of Dentrecasteaux (1791 to 1796) were evidence of their
concern with the problems awaiting elucidation. The professors of
the Museum in Paris were eager that collections of minerals and
plants should be made in the southern hemisphere. The Institute
of France was led by keen men of science, one of whom, the Comte
de Fleurieu, had prepared the instructions for the two previous
voyages. They had found a warm friend to research in Louis XVI,
and the fall of the monarchy did not diminish their anxiety that
France should win honour from pursuing the enquiry. They
represented to Napoleon, then First Consul, the utility of
undertaking another voyage, and his authorisation was secured in
May. A passport was granted by Earl Spencer when Otto made the
application, but there was a suspicion that the French Government
was influenced by motives of policy lying deeper than the
ostensible desire to promote discovery.
Secondly, the East India Company was concerned lest the French
should establish themselves somewhere on the coast of Australia,
and, with a base of operations there, menace the Company’s
trade.
Thirdly, Sir Joseph Banks, after conversations with Flinders
and an examination of his charts, saw the importance of the work
remaining to be done, and used his influence with the Admiralty
to authorise a ship to be detailed for the purpose.
Thus imperial policy, trade interests and scientific ardour
combined to procure the equipment of a new research expedition.
In view of the fact that the Admiralty became officially aware in
June of the intentions of the French, it cannot be said that they
were precipitate in making their own plans; for it was not until
December 12 that they issued their orders.
The vessel allotted for the employment was a 334-ton sloop,
built in the north of England for the merchant service. She had
been purchased by the Government for naval work, and, under the
name of the Xenophon, had been employed in convoying merchant
vessels in the Channel. Her name was changed to the Investigator,
her bottom was re-coppered, the plating being put on “two streaks
higher than before,” and she was equipped for a three years’
voyage. Flinders took command of her at Sheerness on January
25th, 1801. He was promoted to the rank of commander on the 16th
of the following month.
The renovated ship was good enough to look at, and she
commended herself to Flinders’ eye as being the sort of vessel
best fitted for the work in contemplation. In form she “nearly
resembled the description of vessel recommended by Captain Cook
as best calculated for voyages of discovery.” But, though
comfortable, she was old and unsound. Patching and caulking
merely plugged up defects which the buffetings of rough seas soon
revealed. But she was the best ship the Admiralty was able to
spare at the time. Long before she had completed her outward
voyage, however, the senility of the Investigator had made itself
uncomfortably evident. Writing of the leaks experienced on the
run down to the Cape, Flinders said:—
“The leakiness of the ship increased with the continuance of
the southwest winds, and at the end of a week amounted to five
inches of water an hour. It seemed, however, that the leaks were
above the water’s edge, for on tacking to the westward they were
diminished to two inches. This working of the oakum out of the
seams indicated a degree of weakness which, in a ship destined to
encounter every hazard, could not be contemplated without
uneasiness. The very large ports, formerly cut in the sides to
receive thirty-two pound carronades, joined to what I have been
able to collect from the dockyard officers, had given me an
unfavourable opinion of her strength; and this was now but too
much confirmed. Should it be asked why representations were not
made and a stronger vessel procured, I answer that the exigencies
of the navy were such at that time, that I was given to
understand no better ship could be spared from the service; and
my anxiety to complete the investigation of the coasts of Terra
Australis did not admit of refusing the one offered.”
The history of maritime discovery is strewn with rotten ships.
Certainly if the great navigators, before venturing to face the
unknown, had waited to be provided with vessels fit to make long
voyages, the progress of research would have been much slower
than was the case. It sounds like hyperbole to say that, when
pitch and planks failed, these gallant seamen stopped their leaks
with hope and ardour; but really, something like that is pretty
near the truth.
The fitting out of the Investigator proceeded busily during
January and February, 1801. The Admiralty was liberal in its
allowances. Indeed, the equipment was left almost entirely to
Banks and Flinders. The commander “obtained permission to fit her
out as I should judge necessary, without reference to the
supplies usually allotted to vessels of the same class.” The
extent to which the Admiralty was guided by Banks is indicated in
a memorandum by the Secretary, Evan Nepean, penned in April.
Banks wrote “Is my proposal for an alteration in the undertaking
in the Investigator approved?” Nepean replied “Any proposal you
may make will be approved; the whole is left entirely to your
decision.”
In addition to plentiful supplies and special provision for a
large store of water, the Investigator carried an interesting
assortment of “gauds, nick-nacks, trifles,” to serve as presents
to native peoples with whom it was desired to cultivate friendly
relations. The list included useful articles as well as
glittering toys, and is a curious document as illustrating a
means by which civilisation sought to tickle the barbarian into
complaisance. Flinders carried for this purpose 500
pocket-knives, 500 looking-glasses, 100 combs, 200 strings of
blue, red, white and yellow beads, 100 pairs of ear-rings, 200
finger rings, 1000 yards of blue and red gartering, 100 red caps,
100 small blankets, 100 yards of thin red baize, 100 yards of
coloured linen, 1000 needles, five pounds of red thread, 200
files, 100 shoemakers’ knives, 300 pairs of scissors, 100
hammers, 50 axes, 300 hatchets, a quantity of other samples of
ironmongery, a number of medals with King George’s head imprinted
upon them, and some new copper coins.
It is a curious assortment, but it may be observed that the
materials, as well as the method of ingratiation, were very much
the same with the earlier as with the later navigators. An early
instance occurs in Rene Laudonniere’s account of his relations
with the natives of Florida in 1565:* (* Hakluyt’s Voyages
edition of 1904 Volume 9 pages 31 and 49.) “I gave them certaine
small trifles, which were little knives or tablets of glasse,
wherein the image of King Charles the Ninth was drawen very
lively…I recompensed them with certaine hatchets, knives,
beades of glasse, combes and looking-glasses.”
The crew of the Investigator was selected with particular
care. Flinders desired to carry none but young sailors of good
character. He was given permission to take men from the Zealand,
and he explained to those who volunteered the nature of the
service, and its probably severe and protracted character. The
readiness with which men came forward gave him much pleasure.
“Upon one occasion, when eleven volunteers were to be received
from the Zealand, a strong instance was given of the spirit of
enterprise prevalent amongst British seamen. About three hundred
disposable men were called up, and placed on one part of the
deck; and after the nature of the voyage, with the number of men
wanted, had been explained to them, those who volunteered were
desired to go over to the opposite side. The candidates were no
less than two hundred and fifty, most of whom sought with
eagerness to be received; and the eleven who were chosen proved,
with one single exception, to be worthy of the preference they
obtained.”
Of the whole crew (and the total ship’s company numbered 83)
only two caused any trouble to the commander. As these two
“required more severity in reducing to good order than I wished
to exercise in a service of this nature,” when the Investigator
reached the Cape, Flinders arranged with the Admiral there, Sir
Roger Curtis, to exchange them—as well as two others who from
lack of sufficient strength were not suitable—for four sailors
upon the flagship, who made a pressing application to go upon a
voyage of discovery. Thus purged of a very few refractories and
inefficients, the ship’s company was a happy, loyal and healthy
crew, of whom the commander was justifiably proud.
The officers and scientific staff were chosen with a view to
making the voyage fruitful in utility. The first lieutenant,
Robert Fowler, had served on the ship when she was the Xenophon.
He was a Lincolnshire man, hailing from Horncastle, and had been
a schoolfellow of Banks. But it was not through Sir Joseph’s
influence that he was selected. Flinders made his acquaintance
while the refitting of the vessel was in progress, and found him
desirous of making the voyage. As his former captain spoke well
of him, his services were accepted. Samuel Ward Flinders went as
second lieutenant, and there were six midshipmen, of whom John
Franklin was one.
Originally it was intended that Mungo Park, the celebrated
African traveller, who was at this time in England looking round
for employment, should go to Australia on the Investigator, and
act as naturalist. But no definite engagement was entered into;
the post remained vacant, and a Portuguese exile living in
London, Correa de Sena, introduced to Banks a young Scottish
botanist who desired to go, describing him as one “fitted to
pursue an object with a staunch and a cold mind.” Robert Brown
was then not quite twenty-seven years of age. Like the gusty
swashbuckler, Dugald Dalgetty, he had been educated at the
Marischal College, Aberdeen. For a few years he served as ensign
and assistant surgeon of a Scottish regiment, the Fife Fencibles.
Always a keen botanist, he found a ready friend in Banks, who
promised to recommend him “for the purpose of exploring the
natural history, amongst other things.” His salary was 420 pounds
a year, and he earned it by admirable service. Brown remained in
Australia for two years after the discovery voyage, and his great
Prodromus Florae Novae Hollandiae, which won the praise of
Humboldt, is a classic monument to the extent and value of his
researches.
William Westall was appointed landscape and figure draftsman
to the expedition at a salary of 315 pounds per annum. The nine
fine engravings which adorn the Voyage to Terra Australis are his
work. He was but a youth of nineteen when he made this voyage.
Afterwards he attained repute as a landscape painter, and was
elected as Associate of the Royal Academy. One hundred and
thirty-eight of his drawings made on the Investigator are
preserved.
Ferdinand Bauer was appointed botanical draftsman to the
expedition at a salary of 315 pounds. He was an Austrian, forty
years of age, an enthusiast in his work, and a man of uncommon
industry. He made 1600 botanical drawings which, in Robert
Brown’s opinion, were “for beauty, accuracy and completion of
detail unequalled in this or in any other country in Europe.”
Bauer’s Illustrationes Florae Novae Hollandiae, published in
1814, consisted of plates which were drawn, engraved and coloured
by his own hand. Flinders formed a very high opinion of the
capacity of both Brown and Bauer. “It is fortunate for science,”
he wrote to Banks “that two men of such assiduity and abilities
have been selected; their application is beyond what I have been
accustomed to see.”
Peter Good, appointed gardener to the expedition at a salary
of 105 pounds, was a foreman at the Kew Gardens when he was
selected for this service. Brown found him a valuable assistant,
and an indefatigable worker. He died in Sydney in June, 1803,
from dysentery contracted at Timor. Of John Allen, engaged as a
miner at a salary of 105 pounds, nothing is known.
John Crossley was engaged to sail as astronomer, at a salary
of 420 pounds, but he did not accompany the Investigator further
than the Cape of Good Hope, where his health broke down, and he
returned to England. The instruments with which he had been
furnished by the Board of Longitude were, however, left on board,
and Flinders undertook to do his work in cooperation with his
brother Samuel, who had been assisting Crossley, and was able to
take charge of the astronomical clocks and records.
The interest taken by the East India Company’s Court of
Directors in the expedition was manifested in their vote of 600
pounds for the table money of the officers and staff.* (* The
East India Company, through its Court of Directors, actually
voted 1200 pounds in May, 1801; but only 600 pounds of this sum
was paid at the commencement of the voyage. The remainder was to
be paid to the commander and officers as a reward if they
successfully accomplished their task. Flinders’ manuscript
letter-book contains a copy of a letter dated November 14, 1810,
wherein he reminds the Company of their promise. I have found no
record of the payment of the remaining 600 pounds, but Flinders’
Journal shows him to have dined with the directors a few weeks
after the letter was sent, and a little later the Journal
contains a record of a merry evening spent together by Flinders
and a party of his old Investigator shipmates. It is a fair
assumption that the money was divided up on that occasion.) They
gave this sum “from the voyage being within the limits of the
Company’s charter, from the expectation of the examinations and
discoveries proving advantageous, and partly, as they said”—so
Flinders modestly observed—”for my former services.” The
Company’s charter gave to it a complete monopoly of trade with
the east and the Pacific, and it was therefore interested in the
finding of fresh harbours for its vessels in the South Seas. But,
despite this display of concern, the East India Company had been
no friend to Australian discovery and colonization. In the early
years of the settlement at Port Jackson, it resisted the opening
of direct trade between Great Britain and New South Wales, with
as jealous a dislike as ever the Spanish monopolists at Seville
displayed in the sixteenth century concerning all trade with
America that did not flow through their hands. Even so recently
as 1806 the Company opposed—and, strangely enough,
successfully—the sale of a cargo of sealskins and whale oil from
Sydney, on the ground “that the charter of the colony gave the
colonists no right to trade, and that the transaction was a
violation of Company’s charter and against its welfare.” The
grant to Flinders was not, therefore, a manifestation of zeal for
Australian development, except in the matter of finding harbours,
and except, also, that there was an uneasy feeling that the
French would be mischievously busy on the north coast. “I hope
the French ships of discovery will not station themselves on the
north-west coast of Australia,” wrote C.F. Greville, one of the
Company’s directors.
The instructions furnished to Flinders prescribed the course
of the voyage very strictly. They were that he should first run
down the coast from 130 degrees of east longitude (that is, from
about the head of the Great Australian Bight) to Bass Strait, and
endeavour to discover such harbours as there might be. Then,
proceeding through the Strait, he was to call at Sydney to
refresh his company and refit the ship. After that he was to
return along the coast and diligently examine it as far as King
George’s Sound. As the sailing was delayed till the middle of
July, Flinders expressed a wish that he should not be ordered to
return to the south coast from Port Jackson. “If my orders do not
forbid it, I shall examine the south coast more minutely in my
first run along it, and if anything material should present
itself, as a strait, gulf, or very large river, shall take as
much time in its examination as the remaining part of the summer
shall then consist of; for I consider it very material to the
success of the voyage and to its early completion that we should
be upon the northern coasts in winter and the southern ones in
summer.”
This was written to Banks, who, as we have seen, could
probably have secured an alteration of the official instructions
had he desired to do so. But they were not modified; and about a
fortnight later (July 17) Flinders wrote: “The Admiralty have not
thought good to permit me to circumnavigate New Holland in the
way that appears to me (underlined) best suited to expedition and
safety.” It is probable that, if Banks discussed the proposed
alteration with the Admiralty, the more rapid run along the south
coast was insisted upon, because that was the field to which the
French expedition might be expected to apply itself with most
diligence; as, in fact, was actually the case. Governor King had
also written to Banks pointing out the importance of a southern
survey, “to see what shelter it affords in case a ship should be
taken before she can clear the land to the southward and the
western entrance to the Strait.”
The instructions continued that after the exploration of the
south of New Holland, the Investigator was to sail to the
north-west and examine the Gulf of Carpentaria, carefully
investigating Torres Strait and the whole of the remainder of the
north-west and north-east coasts. After that, the east coast was
to be more fully explored; and when the whole programme was
finished Flinders was to return to England for further
instructions.
The functions of the “scientific gentlemen” were carefully
defined. Flinders was directed to afford facilities for the
naturalists to collect specimens and the artists to make
drawings. The hand of Banks is apparent in the nice balancing of
liberty of independent study with liability to direction from the
commander; and his forethought in these particulars was probably
inspired by his experience with Cook’s expedition many years
before.
One other set of instructions from the Admiralty is of great
importance in view of what subsequently occurred, and had a
bearing upon the expedition as it affected political relations.
Great Britain was at war with France, and the Investigator,
though on a peaceful mission, was a sloop belonging to the
British navy. Flinders wrote to the Admiralty (July 2) soliciting
instructions as to what he was to do in case he met French
vessels at sea, “for without an order to desist, the articles of
war will oblige me to act inimically to them.” The directions
that he received were explicit. He was to act towards any French
ship “as if the two countries were not at war; and with respect
to the ships and vessels of other powers with which this country
is at war, you are to avoid, if possible, having any
communication with them; and not to take letters or packets other
than such as you may receive from this office or the office of
his Majesty’s Secretary of State.” The concluding words of the
instruction intimately concern the events which, in the next year
but one, commenced that long agony of imprisonment which Flinders
had to endure in Ile-de-France.
He was also provided with a passport from the French
Government, and the terms in which it was couched are of the
utmost importance for the understanding of what followed. It was
issued for the Investigator, commanded by Captain Matthew
Flinders, for a voyage of discovery of which the object was to
extend human knowledge and promote the progress of nautical
science. It commanded all French officers, at sea or on shore,
not to interfere with the ship and its officers, but on the
contrary to assist them if they needed help. But this treatment
was only to be extended as long as the Investigator did not
announce her intention of committing any act of hostility against
the French Republic and her allies, did not render assistance to
her enemies, and did not traffic in merchandise or contraband
goods. The passport was signed by the French Minister of Marine
and Colonies, Forfait, on behalf of the First Consul.* (* A
transcript of Flinders’ own copy of the French passport is now at
Caen, amongst the Decaen Papers Volume 84 page 133.)
Before the expedition sailed, Flinders became engaged in a
correspondence which must have been embarrassing to him, relating
to his wife. He was married, as has been stated, in April, after
he had been promoted commander, and while the Investigator was
lying at Sheerness, awaiting sailing orders. As the voyage would
in all probability extend over several years, his intention was
to take his bride with him to Sydney, and leave her there while
he prosecuted his investigations in the south, north and east. He
had no reason to think that his doing so would give offence in
official quarters, especially as he was aware of cases where
commanders of ships had been permitted to take their wives on
cruises when their vessels were not protected by passports
securing immunity from attack. There are even instances of wives
of British naval officers being on board ship during engagements.
During Nelson’s attack on Santa Cruz, in 1797, Captain Fremantle
of the Seahorse had with him his wife, whom he had lately
married. It was in that engagement that Nelson lost an arm; and
when he returned, bleeding and in great pain, he would not go on
board the Seahorse, saying that he would not have Mrs. Fremantle
alarmed by seeing him in such a condition, without any news of
her husband, who had accompanied the landing. The amputation of
the shattered limb was therefore performed on the Theseus.
The wisdom of permitting a naval officer to take his wife on a
long voyage in a ship of the navy may well be questioned, and the
contrary rule is now well established. But it was not invariably
observed a century or more ago; and that Flinders acted in
perfect good faith in the matter is evident from the
correspondence, which, on so delicate a subject, he conducted
with a manliness and good taste that display his character in an
amiable light.
In all probability Mrs. Flinders would have been allowed to
proceed to Port Jackson unchallenged but for the unlucky
circumstance that, when the commissioners of the Admiralty paid
an official visit of inspection to the ship, she was seen “seated
in the captain’s cabin without her bonnet.”* (* Flinders’
Papers.) They considered this to be “too open a declaration of
that being her home.” Her husband first heard of the matter
semi-officially from Banks, who wrote on May 21st:—
“I have but time to tell you that the news of your marriage,
which was published in the Lincoln paper, has reached me. The
Lords of the Admiralty have heard also that Mrs. Flinders is on
board the Investigator, and that you have some thought of
carrying her to sea with you. This I was very sorry to hear, and
if that is the case I beg to give you my advice by no means to
adventure to measures so contrary to the regulations and the
discipline of the Navy; for I am convinced by language I have
heard, that their Lordships will, if they hear of her being in
New South Wales, immediately order you to be superseded, whatever
may be the consequences, and in all likelihood order Mr. Grant to
finish the survey.
To threaten to supercede Flinders if it were even heard that
his wife was in New South Wales was surely an excess of rigour.
His reply was written from the Nore, May 24th, 1801:
“I am much indebted to you, Sir Joseph, for the information
contained in your letter of the 21st. It is true that I had an
intention of taking Mrs. Flinders to Port Jackson, to remain
there until I should have completed the voyage, and to have then
brought her home again in the ship, and I trust that the service
would not have suffered in the least by such a step. The
Admiralty have most probably conceived that I intended to keep
her on board during the voyage, but this was far from my
intentions. As some vindication of the step I was about to take,
I may be permitted to observe that until it was intended to apply
for a passport, I not only did not take the step, but did not
intend it—which is perhaps a greater attention to that article
of the Naval Instructions than many commanders have paid to it.
If their Lordships understood this matter in its true light, I
should hope that they would have shown the same indulgence to me
as to Lieutenant Kent of the Buffalo, and many others who have
not had the plea of a passport.
“If their Lordships’ sentiments should continue the same,
whatever may be my disappointment, I shall give up the wife for
the voyage of discovery; and I would beg of you, Sir Joseph, to
be assured that even this circumstance will not damp the ardour I
feel to accomplish the important purpose of the present voyage,
and in a way that shall preclude the necessity of any one
following after me to explore.
“It would be too much presumption in me to beg of Sir Joseph
Banks to set this matter in its proper light, because by your
letters I judge it meets with your disapprobation entirely; but I
hope that this opinion has been formed upon the idea of Mrs.
Flinders continuing on board the ship when engaged in real
service.”
Banks promised to lay before the Admiralty the representations
made to him, but Flinders a few days later (June 3rd) wrote
another letter in which he conscientiously expressed his
determination not to risk a misunderstanding with his superiors
by taking his wife:
“I feel much obliged by your offer to lay the substance of my
letter before the Admiralty, but I foresee that, although I
should in the case of Mrs. Flinders going to Port Jackson have
been more particularly cautious of my stay there, yet their
Lordships will conclude naturally enough that her presence would
tend to increase the number of and to lengthen my visits. I am
therefore afraid to risk their Lordships’ ill opinion, and Mrs.
Flinders will return to her friends immediately that our sailing
orders arrive.
It can well be believed that “my Lords” of the Admiralty did
not feel very considerate towards ladies just at that time; for
one of their most brilliant officers, Nelson, was, while this
very correspondence was taking place, gravely compromising
himself with Emma Hamilton at Naples. St. Vincent and Troubridge,
salt-hearted old veterans as they were, were just the men to be
suspicious on the score of petticoats fluttering about the decks
of the King’s ships. It seems that they were inclined unjustly
and ungallantly to frown and cry cherchez la femme about small
things that went wrong, even when Flinders was in no way to blame
for them. They blamed him for some desertions before properly
apprehending the circumstances, and when he had merely reported a
fact for which he was not responsible.
The next two letters close the whole incident, which gave more
annoyance to all parties than ought to have been the case in
connection with an officer so sedulously scrupulous in matters
concerning the honour and efficiency of the service as Flinders
was. Banks, in quite a patron’s tone, wrote on June 5th:
“I yesterday went to the Admiralty to enquire about the
Investigator, and was indeed much mortified to learn there that
you had been on shore in Hythe Bay, and I was still more
mortified to hear that several of your men had deserted, and that
you had had a prisoner entrusted to your charge, who got away at
a time when the quarter-deck was in charge of a midshipman. I
heard with pain many severe remarks on these matters, and in
defence I could only say that as Captain Flinders is a sensible
man and a good seaman, such matters could only be attributed to
the laxity of discipline which always takes place when the
captain’s wife is on board, and that such lax discipline could
never again take place, because you had wisely resolved to leave
Mrs. Flinders with her relations.”
It was a kindly admonishment from an elderly scholar to a
young officer of twenty-seven only recently married; but to
attribute affairs for which Flinders was not to blame to the
presence of his bride, was a little unamiable. With excellent
taste, Flinders, in his answer, avoided keeping his wife’s name
in the controversy, and he disposed of the allegations both
effectively and judiciously:
“My surprise is great that the Admiralty should attach any
blame to me for the desertion of these men from the Advice brig,
which is the next point in your letter, Sir Joseph. These men
were lent, among others, to the brig, by order of Admiral Graeme.
From her it was that they absented themselves, and I reported it
to the Admiralty. I had been so particular as to send with the
men a request to the commanding officer to permit none of them to
go on shore, but Lieutenant Fowler pointed out to him such of
them as might be most depended on to go in boats upon duty.
Nothing more could have been done on our part to prevent
desertion, and if blame rests anywhere it must be upon the
officers of the Advice. The three men were volunteers for this
voyage, but having gotten on shore with money in their pockets
most probably stayed so long that they became afraid to
return.”
On the subject of discipline he said: “It is only a duty to
myself to assert that the discipline and good order on board the
Investigator is exceeded in very few ships of her size, and is at
least twice what it was under her former commander. I beg to
refer to Lieutenant Fowler on this subject, who knows the ship
intimately both as the Xenophon and Investigator. On the last
subject I excuse myself from not having thought the occurrence of
sufficient consequence to trouble Sir Joseph with, and it was
what I least suspected that my character required a defender, for
it was in my power to have suppressed almost the whole of those
things for which I am blamed; but I had the good of the service
sufficiently at heart to make the reports which brought them into
light. That the Admiralty have thrown blame on me, and should
have represented to my greatest and best friend that I had gotten
the ship on shore, had let a prisoner escape, and three of my men
run away, without adding the attendant circumstances, is most
mortifying and grievous to me; but it is impossible to express so
gratefully as I feel the anxious concern with which you took the
part of one who has not the least claim to such generosity.”
The last two paragraphs refer to an incident which will be
dealt with presently.
Although the Investigator was ready to sail in April, 1801,
the Admiralty withheld orders till the middle of July. Flinders,
vexed as he naturally was at having to leave his young wife
behind, was impatient at the delay for two good reasons. First,
he was anxious to have the benefit of the Australian summer
months, between November and February, for the exploration of the
south-west, the winter being the better time for the northern
work; and secondly, reports had appeared in the journals about
the progress of the French expedition, and he did not wish to be
forestalled in the making of probably important discoveries. The
“Annual Register” for 1801, for example (page 33) stated that
letters were received from the Isle of France, dated April 29th,
stating that Le Naturaliste and Le Geographe had left that
station on their voyage to New Holland. While “my Lords” were
warming up imaginary errors in the heat of an excited imagination
on account of poor Mrs. Flinders, the commander of the
Investigator was losing valuable time. In May he wrote to Sir
Joseph Banks: “The advanced state of the season makes me
excessively anxious to be off. I fear that a little longer delay
will lose us a summer and lengthen our voyage at least six
months. Besides that, the French are gaining time upon us.”
On May 26th, the Investigator left the Nore for Spithead to
wait further orders. She was provided, by the Admiralty itself,
with a chart published by J.H. Moore, upon which a sandbank known
as the Roar, extending from Dungeness towards Folkestone, between
2 1/2 to 4 miles from land, was not marked. On the evening of the
28th, in a perfectly calm sea, and at a time when, sailing by the
chart, there was no reason to apprehend any danger, the ship
glided on to the bank. She did not suffer a particle of injury,
and in a very short time had resumed her voyage. If Flinders had
said nothing at all about the incident, nobody off the ship would
have been any the wiser. But as the Admiralty had furnished him
with a defective chart, and might do the same to other
commanders, who might strike the sand in more inimical
circumstances, he considered it to be his duty to the service to
report the matter; when lo! the Admiralty, instead of censuring
its officials for supplying the Investigator with a faulty chart,
gravely shook its head, and made those “severe remarks” about
Flinders, which induced Sir Joseph Banks to admonish him so
paternally in the letter already quoted. The Investigator had, it
seemed to be the opinion of their Lordships, struck the sand, not
because it was uncharted, but because Mrs. Flinders was on board
between the Nore and Spithead! Flinders’ letter to Banks, June
6th, stated his position quite conclusively:
“Finding so material a thing as a sandbank three or four miles
from the shore unlaid down in the chart, I thought it a duty
incumbent upon me to endeavour to prevent the like accident from
happening to others, by stating the circumstances to the
Admiralty, and giving the most exact bearings from the shoal that
our situation would enable me to take, with the supposed distance
from the land. It would have been very easy for me to have
suppressed every part of the circumstance, and thus to have
escaped the blame which seems to attach to me, instead of some
share of praise for my good intentions. I hope that it will not
be thought presumptuous in me to say that no blame ought to be
attributed to me…The Admiralty do not seem to take much into
consideration that I had no master appointed, who ought to be the
pilot, or that having been constantly employed myself in foreign
voyages I cannot consequently have much personal knowledge of the
Channel. In truth, I had nothing but the chart and my own general
observations to direct me; and had the former been at all correct
we should have arrived here as safe as if we had any number of
pilots.”
It is significant of Flinders’ truth-telling habit of mind
that when he came to write the history of the voyage, published
thirteen years later, he did not pass over the incident at the
Roar, though he can hardly have remembered as agreeable an event
for which he was blamed when he was not wrong. But perhaps he
found satisfaction in being able to write that the circumstance
“showed the necessity there was for a regulation, since adopted,
to furnish His Majesty’s ships with correct charts.” A natural
comment is that it is odd that so obviously sensible a thing was
not done until an accident showed the danger of not doing it. The
blame temporarily put upon Flinders did no harm to his credit,
and was probably merely an oblique form of self-reproach on the
part of the Admiralty.
The Investigator arrived at Spithead on June 2nd, but did not
receive final sailing orders till more than another month had
elapsed. “I put an end, I hope, to our correspondence for some
months, concluding that you will sail immediately,” wrote Sir
Joseph Banks in June, “and with sincere good wishes for your
future prosperity, and with a firm belief that you will, in your
future conduct, do credit to yourself as an able investigator,
and to me as having recommended you.” The true spirit of
friendship breathes in those words, the friendship, too, of a
discerning judge of character for a younger man whom he respected
and trusted. The trust was nobly justified. Flinders undertook
the work with the firm determination to do his work thoroughly.
“My greatest ambition,” he had written some weeks previously
(April 29),”is to make such a minute investigation of this
extensive and very interesting country that no person shall have
occasion to come after me to make further discoveries.” It was
with that downright resolve that Flinders set out, and in that
spirit did he pursue his task to its end. It was not for nothing
that this man was the nautical grandson of Cook.
Sailing orders arrived from London on July 17th, and on the
following day the Investigator sailed from Spithead. Mrs.
Flinders was at this time residing with her friends in
Lincolnshire. She had been ill from fretful disappointment when
forbidden to sail with her husband, but had recovered before they
parted. Many a weary, bitter year was to pass before she would
see him again; years of notable things done, and of cruel wrongs
endured; and then they were only to meet for a few months, till
death claimed the brave officer and fine-spirited gentleman who
was Matthew Flinders.
From the correspondence of these weeks a few passages may be
chosen, as showing the heart-side of a gallant sailor’s nature.
He wrote to his wife in June: “The philosophical calmness which I
imposed upon thee is fled from myself, and I am just as awkward
without thee as one half of a pair of scissors without its
fellow,” an image for separation which may be commended to any
poet ingenious enough to find a rhyme for “scissors.” The
following is dated July 7th: “I should not forget to say that the
gentle Mr. Bauer seldom forgets to add ‘and Mrs. Flinders’ good
health’ after the cloth is withdrawn, and even the bluff Mr. Bell
does not forget you…Thou wilt write me volumes, my dearest
love, wilt thou not? No pleasure is at all equal to that I
receive from thy letters. The idea of how happy we MIGHT be will
sometimes intrude itself and take away the little spirits that
thy melancholy situation leaves me. I can write no longer with
this confounded pen. I will find a better to-morrow. May the
choicest blessings of Heaven go with thee, thou dearest, kindest,
best of women.”
This one was written from the Cape in November: “Write to me
constantly; write me pages and volumes. Tell me the dress thou
wearest, tell me thy dreams, anything, so do but talk to me and
of thyself. When thou art sitting at thy needle and alone, then
think of me, my love, and write me the uppermost of thy thoughts.
Fill me half a dozen sheets, and send them when thou canst. Think
only, my dearest girl upon the gratification which the perusal
and reperusal fifty times repeated will afford me, and thou wilt
write me something or other every day. Adieu, my dearest, best
love. Heaven bless thee with health and comfort, and preserve thy
full affection towards thy very own, Matthew Flinders.”
To return from these personal relations to the voyage: Some
days before the Investigator reached Madeira, a Swedish brig was
met, and had to receive a lesson in nautical manners during
war-time. The incident is reported by seaman Samuel Smith with a
pretty mixture of pronouns, genders and tenses: “At night we was
piped all hands in the middle watch to quarters. A brig was
bearing down upon our starboard bow. Our Captn spoke her, but
receiving no answer we fired a gun past his stern. Tacked ship
and spoke her, which proved to be a Swede.”* (* Manuscript,
Mitchell Library: “Journal of Samuel Smith, Seaman, who served on
board the Investigator, Captain Flinders, on a voyage of
discovery in the South Seas.” The manuscript covers 52 small
quarto pages, and is neatly written. Some of Smith’s dates are
wrong. It may be noted here that Smith, on his return from the
voyage, was impressed in the Downs and retained in the Navy till
1815. He died at Thornton’s Court, Manchester, in 1821, aged 50.
He was therefore 30 years of age when he made this voyage.)
Flinders was, it has been said, the nautical grandson of Cook.
How thoroughly he followed the example of the great sailor is
apparent from the lines upon which he managed his ship and
governed his crew. This is what he was able to write of the
voyage down to the Cape of Good Hope, reached on October 16th:
“At this time we had not a single person in the sick list, both
officers and men being fully in as good health as when we sailed
from Spithead. I had begun very early to put in execution the
beneficial plan first practised and made known by the great
Captain Cook. It was in the standing orders of the ship, that on
every fine day the deck below and the cockpit should be cleaned,
washed, aired with stoves, and sprinkled with vinegar. On wet and
dull days they were cleaned and aired, without washing. Care was
taken to prevent the people from sleeping upon deck or lying down
in their wet clothes; and once in every fortnight or three weeks,
as circumstances permitted, their beds, and the contents of their
chests and bags were opened out and exposed to the sun and air.
On the Sunday and Thursday mornings, the ship’s company was
mustered, and every man appeared clean-shaved and dressed; and
when the evenings were fine the drum and fife announced the
forecastle to be the scene of dancing; nor did I discourage other
playful amusements which might occasionally be more to the taste
of the sailors, and were not unseasonable.
“Within the tropics lime juice and sugar were made to suffice
as antiscorbutics; on reaching a higher latitude, sour-krout and
vinegar were substituted; the essence of malt was served for the
passage to New Holland, and for future occasions, on consulting
with the surgeon, I had thought it expedient to make some slight
changes in the issuing of the provisions. Oatmeal was boiled for
breakfast four days in the week, as usual; and at other times,
two ounces of portable broth, in cakes, to each man, with such
additions of onions, pepper, etc., as the different messes
possessed, made a comfortable addition to their salt meat. And
neither in this passage, nor, I may add, in any subsequent part
of the voyage, were the officers or people restricted to any
allowance of fresh water. They drank freely at the scuttled cask,
and took away, under the inspection of the officer of the watch,
all that was requisite for culinary purposes; and very frequently
two casks of water in the week were given for washing their
clothes. With these regulations, joined to a due enforcement of
discipline, I had the satisfaction to see my people orderly and
full of zeal for the service in which we were engaged; and in
such a state of health that no delay at the Cape was required
beyond the necessary refitment of the ship.”
How wise, considerate, and farseeing this policy was! It reads
like the sageness of a gray-headed veteran. Yet Flinders had only
attained his 27th birthday precisely seven months before he
reached the Cape on this voyage. He had learned how men, as well
as ships, should be managed. “It was part of my plan for
preserving the health of the people to promote active amusements
amongst them,” he said of the jollity on crossing the line; and
we can almost see the smile of recollection which played upon his
lips when he wrote that “the seamen were furnished with the means
and the permission to conclude the day with merriment.” Seaman
Smith, who shared in the fun, tells us what occurred with his own
peculiar disregard of correct spelling and grammatical
construction: “we crossd the equinocial line and had the usuil
serimony of Neptune and his attendance hailing the ship and
coming on board. The greatest part of officers and men was
shaved, not having crossd the line before. At night grog was
servd out to each watch, which causd the evening to be spent in
merriment.”
At the Cape the seams were re-caulked, and the ship gave less
trouble on the voyage across the Indian Ocean than she had done
on the run south. She left False Bay on November 4th. The run
across the Indian Ocean was uneventful, except that the ship ran
foul of a whale apparently sleeping on the water, and “caused
such an alarm that he sank as expeditiously as possible”; and
that an albatross was captured which, “being caught with hook and
line it had its proper faculties and appeared of a varocious
nature.”* (* Smith’s Journal, Mitchell Library manuscripts.) On
December 6th the coast of Australia was sighted near Cape
Leeuwin.
CHAPTER 13. THE FRENCH EXPEDITION.
It will be necessary to devote some attention to the French
expedition of discovery, commanded by Nicolas Baudin, which
sailed from Havre on October 19th, 1800, nearly two months before
the British Admiralty authorised the despatch of the
Investigator, and nine months all but two days before Flinders
was permitted to leave England.
The mere fact that this expedition was despatched while
Napoleon Bonaparte was First Consul of the French Republic, has
led many writers to jump to the conclusion that it was designed
to cut out a portion of Australia for occupation by the French;
that, under the thin disguise of being charged with a scientific
mission, Baudin was in reality an emissary of Machiavellian
statecraft, making a cunning move in the great game of
world-politics. The author has, in an earlier book* endeavoured
to show that such was not the case. (* Terre Napoleon (London,
1910). Since that book was published, I have had the advantage of
reading a large quantity of manuscript material, all unpublished,
preserved in the Archives Nationales and the Bibliotheque
Nationale, Paris. It strengthens the main conclusions promulgated
in Terre Napoleon, but of course amplifies the evidence very
considerably. The present chapter is written with the Baudin and
other manuscripts, as well as the printed material, in mind.)
Bonaparte did not originate the discovery voyage. He simply
authorised it, as head of the State, when the proposition was
laid before him by the Institute of France, a scientific body,
concerned with the augmentation of knowledge, and anxious that an
effort should be made to complete a task which the abortive
expeditions of Laperouse and Dentrecasteaux had failed to
accomplish.
Moreover, if Bonaparte had wished to acquire territory in
Australia, he was not so foolish a person as to fit out an
expedition estimated to cost over half a million francs,* and
which actually cost a far larger sum, when he could have obtained
what he wanted simply by asking. (* Report of the Commission of
the Institute manuscripts, Bibliotheque Nationale, nouveaux
acquisitions, France 9439 page 139.) The treaty of Amiens was
negotiated and signed while Baudin’s ships were at sea. The
British Government at that time was very anxious for peace, and
was prepared to make concessions—did, in fact, surrender a vast
extent of territory won by a woful expenditure of blood and
treasure. It cannot be said that Australia was greatly valued by
Great Britain at the time. She occupied only a small portion of
an enormous continent, and would certainly not have seriously
opposed a project that the French should occupy some other
portion of it, if Bonaparte had put forward a claim as a
condition of peace. But he did nothing of the kind.
If we are to form sound views of history, basing conclusions
on the evidence, we must set aside suspicions generated at a time
of fierce racial antipathy, when it was almost part of an
Englishman’s creed to hate a Frenchman. Neither the published
history of Baudin’s voyage, nor the papers relating to it which
are now available for study—except two documents to which
special attention will be devoted hereafter, and which did not
emanate from persons in authority—afford warrant for believing
that there was any other object in view than that professed when
application for a passport was made to the Admiralty. The
confidential instructions of the Minister* of Marine (*
Manuscripts, Archives Nationales BB4 999, Marine. I have given an
account of this important manuscript, with copious extracts, in
the English Historical Review, April, 1913.) to Baudin* leave no
doubt that the purpose was quite bona fide. (* Fleurieu to
Forfait, manuscripts, Bibliotheque Nationale, nouveaux
acquisitions, France 9439 page 137.) “Your labours,” wrote
Forfait, “having for their sole object the perfecting of
scientific knowledge, you should observe the most complete
neutrality, allowing no doubt to be cast upon your exactitude in
confining yourself to the object of your mission, as set forth in
the passports which have been furnished. In your relations with
foreigners, the glorious success of our arms, the power and
wisdom of your government, the grand and generous views of the
First Consul for the pacification of Europe, the order that he
has restored in the interior of France, furnish you with the
means of giving to foreign peoples just ideas upon the real state
of the Republic and upon the prosperity which is assured to it.”
The men of science who had promoted the voyage were anxious that
not even a similitude of irregularity should be permitted. Thus
we find the Comte de Fleurieu, who drew up the itinerary, writing
to the Minister urging him to include in the instructions a
paragraph prohibiting the ships from taking on board, under any
pretext, merchandise which could give to a scientific expedition
the appearance of a commercial venture, “because if an English
cruiser or man-of-war should visit them, and find on board other
goods than articles of exchange for dealing with aboriginal
peoples, this might serve as a pretext for arresting them, and
Baudin’s passport might be disregarded on the ground that it had
been abused by being employed as a means of conducting without
risk a traffic which the state of war would make very
lucrative.”
The question of the origin and objects of the expedition is,
however, an entirely different one from that of the use which
Napoleon would have made of the information collected, had the
opportunity been available of striking a blow at Great Britain
through her southern colony. It is also different from the
question (as to which something will be said later) of the
advantage taken by two members of Baudin’s staff of the scope
allowed them at Port Jackson, to “spy out the land” with a view
of furnishing information valuable in a military sense to their
Government.
The instructions to Baudin were very similar to those which
had been given to Laperouse and Dentrecasteaux in previous years,
being drafted by the same hand, and some paragraphs in an
“instruction particuliere,” show that the French were thoroughly
up-to-date with their information, and knew in what parts of the
coast fresh work required to be done.* (* “Projet d’itineraire
pour le Commandant Baudin; memoire pour servir d’instruction
particuliere.” Manuscripts, Archives Nationales, Marine BB4
999.)
Nicolas Baudin was not a French naval officer. He had been in
the merchant service, and, more recently, had had charge of an
expedition despatched to Africa by the Austrian Government to
collect specimens for the museum at Vienna. War between France
and Austria broke out before he returned; and Baudin, feeling
less loyal to his Austrian employers than to his own country,
handed over the whole collection to the Museum in Paris. This
action, which in the circumstances was probably regarded as
patriotic, brought him under the notice of Jussieu, the famous
French botanist; and when the South Sea expedition was
authorised, that scientist recommended Baudin as one who had
taken an interest in natural history researches, and who had
given “a new proof of his talent and of his love for science by
the choice of the specimens composing his last collection,
deposited in the museum.” The Minister of Marine minuted
Jussieu’s recommendation in the margin: “No choice could be
happier than that of Captain Baudin,”* and so he was appointed.
(* Manuscripts, Bibliotheque Nationale, nouveaux acquisitions,
France 9439 page 121.) He was by no means the kind of officer
whom Napoleon would have selected had his designs been such as
have commonly been alleged.
Two ships of the navy were commissioned for the service. Under
the names La Serpente and Le Vesuve they had been built with a
view to an invasion of England, contemplated in 1793.* (*
Manuscripts, Bibliotheque Nationale, nouveaux acquisitions,
France 9439 report of de Bruix to the Minister.) They were
re-named Le Geographe and Le Naturaliste on being allotted to a
much safer employment. Both were described as solidly built, good
sailers, and easy to control; and the officer who surveyed them
to determine whether they would be suitable reported that without
impairing their sea-going qualities it would be easy to construct
upon their decks high poops to hold quantities of growing plants,
which it was intended to collect and bring home. On these ships
Baudin and his selected staff embarked at Havre, and, a British
passport being obtained under the circumstances already related,
sailed south in October.
If Baudin had been the keen and capable commander that those
who secured his appointment believed him to be, he should have
discovered and charted the whole of the unknown southern coast of
Australia, before Flinders was many days’ sail from England. The
fact that this important work was actually done by the English
navigator was in no measure due to the sagacity of the
Admiralty—whose officials procrastinated in an inexplicable
fashion even after the Investigator had been commissioned and
equipped—but to his own promptness, competence and zeal, and the
peculiar dilatoriness of his rivals. Baudin’s vessels reached
Ile-de-France (Mauritius) in March, 1801, and lay there for the
leisurely space of forty days. Two-thirds of a year had elapsed
before they came upon the Australian coast. But Baudin did not
even then set to work where there was discovery to be achieved.
Winter was approaching, and sailing in these southern seas would
be uncomfortable in the months of storm and cold; so he dawdled
up the west coast of Australia, in warm, pleasant waters, and
made for Timor, where he arrived in August. He remained in the
Dutch port of Kupang till the middle of November—three whole
months wasted, nearly eleven months consumed since he had sailed
from France. In the meantime, the alert and vigorous captain of
the Investigator was speeding south as fast as the winds would
take him, too eager to lose a day, flying straight to his work
like an arrow to its mark, and doing it with the thoroughness and
accuracy that were part of his nature.
The French on board Le Geographe and Le Naturaliste were as
unhappy as their commander was slow. Scurvy broke out, and spread
among the crew with virulence. Baudin appeared to have little or
no conception of the importance of the sanitary measures which
Cook was one of the earliest navigators to enjoin, and by which
those who emulated his methods were able to keep in check the
ravages of this scourge of seafaring men. He neglected common
precautions, and paid no heed to the counsel of the ship’s
surgeons. As a consequence, the sufferings of his men were such
that it is pitiful to read about them in the official history of
the voyage.
From Timor Baudin sailed for southern Tasmania, arriving there
in January, 1802, and remaining in the neighbourhood till March.
There was no European settlement upon the island at that time,
and Baudin described it as a country “which ought not to be
neglected, and which a nation that does not love us does not look
upon with indifference.”* (* Baudin to the Minister of Marine,
manuscripts, Archives Nationales BB4 995 Marine.) A severe storm
separated Le Geographe from her escort on March 7 and 8, in the
neighbourhood of the eastern entrance of Bass Strait. Le
Naturaliste spent some time in Westernport, making a survey of
it, and discovering the second island, which Bass had missed on
his whaleboat cruise. Her commander, Captain Hamelin, then took
her round to Port Jackson, to solicit aid from the Governor of
the English colony there. Meanwhile Baudin sailed through the
Strait from east to west. He called at Waterhouse Island, off the
north-east coast of Van Diemen’s Land, misled by its name into
thinking that he would find fresh water there. The island was
named after Captain Henry Waterhouse of the Reliance, but Baudin,
unaware of this, considered that it belied its name. “It does not
seem,” he wrote, “to offer any appearance of water being
discoverable there, and I am persuaded that it can have been
named Water House only because the English visited it at a time
when heavy rains had fallen.”* (* Baudin’s Diary, manuscripts,
Bibliotheque Nationale: “Je suis persuade qu’on ne l’a nomme
Wather House que par ce que les Anglais qui l’ont visite y auront
eu beaucoup de pluie.”) Baudin passed Port Phillip, rounded Cape
Otway, and coasted along till he came to Encounter Bay, where
occurred an incident with which we shall be concerned after we
have traced the voyage of Flinders eastward to the same
point.
CHAPTER 14. SOUTH COAST DISCOVERY.
We now resume the story of Flinders’ voyage along the southern
coast of Australia, from the time when he made Cape Leeuwin on
December 6th, 1801.
That part of the coast lying between the south-west corner of
the continent and Fowler’s Bay, in the Great Australian Bight,
had been traversed prior to this time. In 1791 Captain George
Vancouver, in the British ship Cape Chatham, sailed along it from
Cape Leeuwin to King George’s Sound, which he discovered and
named. He anchored in the harbour, and remained there for a
fortnight. He would have liked to pursue the discovery of this
unknown country, and did sail further east, as far as the
neighbourhood of Termination Island, in longitude 122 degrees 8
minutes. But, meeting with adverse winds, he abandoned the
research, and resumed his voyage to north-west America across the
Pacific. In 1792, Bruny Dentrecasteaux, with the French ships
Recherche and Esperance, searching for tidings of the lost
Laperouse, followed the line of the shore more closely than
Vancouver had done, and penetrated much further eastward. His
instructions, prepared by Fleurieu, had directed him to explore
the whole of the southern coast of Australia; but he was short of
water, and finding nothing but sand and rock, with no harbour,
and no promise of a supply of what he so badly needed, he did not
continue further than longitude 131 degrees 38 1/2 minutes east,
about two and a half degrees east of the present border line of
Western and South Australia. These navigators, with the Dutchman
Pieter Nuyts, in the early part of the seventeenth century, and
the Frenchman St. Alouarn, who anchored near the Leeuwin in 1772,
were the only Europeans known to have been upon any part of these
southern coasts before the advent of Flinders; and the extent of
the voyage of Nuyts is by no means clear.
Flinders, as we have seen, laid it down as a guiding principle
that he would make so complete a survey of the shores visited by
him as to leave little for anybody to do after him. He therefore
commenced his work immediately he touched land, constructing his
own charts as the ship slowly traversed the curves of the coast.
The result was that many corrections and additions to the charts
of Vancouver and Dentrecasteaux were made before the entirely new
discoveries were commenced. In announcing this fact, Flinders,
always generous in his references to good work done by his
predecessors, warmly praised the charts prepared by
Beautemps-Beaupre, “geographical engineer” of the Recherche.
“Perhaps no chart of a coast so little known as this is, will
bear a comparison with its original better than this of M.
Beaupre,” he said. His own charts were of course fuller and more
precise, but he made no claim to superiority on this account,
modestly observing that he would have been open to reproach if,
after following the coast with an outline of M. Beaupre’s chart
before him, he had not effected improvements where circumstances
did not permit so close an examination to be made in 1792.
Several inland excursions were made, and some of the King
George’s Sound aboriginals were encountered. Flinders noted down
some of their words, and pointed out the difference from words
for the same objects used by Port Jackson and Van Diemen’s Land
natives. An exception to this rule was the word used for calling
to a distance—cau-wah! (come here). This is certainly very like
the Port Jackson cow-ee, whence comes the one aboriginal word of
universal employment in Australia to-day, the coo-ee of the
townsman and the bushman alike, a call entered in the vocabulary
collected by Hunter as early as 1790.
The method of research adopted by Flinders was similar to that
employed on the Norfolk voyage. The ship was kept all day as
close inshore as possible, so that water breaking on the shore
was visible from the deck, and no river or opening could escape
notice. When this could not be done, because the coast retreated
far back, or was dangerous, the commander stationed himself at
the masthead with a glass. All the bearings were laid down as
soon as taken, whilst the land was in sight; and before retiring
to rest at night Flinders made it a practice to finish up his
rough chart for the day, together with his journal of
observations. The ship hauled off the coast at dusk, but especial
care was taken to come upon it at the same point next morning, as
soon after daylight as practicable, so that work might be resumed
precisely where it had been dropped on the previous day. “This
plan,” said Flinders, “to see and lay down everything myself,
required constant attention and much labour, but was absolutely
necessary to obtaining that accuracy of which I was desirous.”
When bays or groups of islands were reached, Flinders went ashore
with the theodolite, took his angles, measured, mapped, and made
topographical notes. The lead was kept busy, making soundings.
The rise and fall of the tides were observed; memoranda on
natural phenomena were written; opportunities were given for the
naturalists to collect specimens, and for the artist to make
drawings. The net was frequently drawn in the bays for examples
of marine life. Everybody when ashore kept a look out for plants,
birds, beasts, and insects. In short, a keenness for
investigation, an assiduity in observation, animated the whole
ship’s company, stimulated by the example of the commander, who
never spared himself in his work, and interested himself in that
of others.
As in a drama, “comic relief” was occasionally interposed amid
more serious happenings. The blacks were friendly, though
occasionally shy and suspicious. In one scene the mimicry that is
a characteristic of the aboriginal was quaintly displayed. The
incident, full of colour and humour, is thus related by
Flinders:
“Our friends, the natives, continued to visit us; and an old
man with several others being at the tents this morning, I
ordered the party of marines on shore, to be exercised in their
presence. The red coats and white crossed belts were greatly
admired, having some resemblance to their own manner of
ornamenting themselves; and the drum, but particularly the fife,
excited their astonishment; but when they saw these beautiful red
and white men, with their bright muskets, drawn up in a line,
they absolutely screamed with delight; nor were their wild
gestures and vociferation to be silenced but by commencing the
exercise, to which they paid the most earnest and silent
attention. Several of them moved their hands, involuntarily,
according to the motions; and the old man placed himself at the
end of the rank, with a short staff in his hand, which he
shouldered, presented, grounded, as did the marines their
muskets, without, I believe, knowing what he did. Before firing,
the Indians were made acquainted with what was going to take
place; so that the volleys did not excite much terror.”
Seaman Smith was naturally much interested in the aboriginals,
whose features were however to him “quite awful, having such
large mouths and long teeth.” They were totally without clothing,
and “as soon as they saw our tents they run into the bushes with
such activity that would pawl any European to exhibit. Because
our men would not give them a small tommy-hawk they began to
throw pieces of wood at them, which exasperated our men; but
orders being so humane towards the natives that we must put up
with anything but heaving spears.” Furthermore, “they rubbd their
skin against ours, expecting some mark of white upon their’s, but
finding their mistake they appeared surprised.”
Pleasures more immediately incidental to geographical
discovery—those pleasures which eager and enterprising minds
must experience, however severe the labour involved, on
traversing portions of the globe previously unknown to civilised
mankind—commenced after the head of the Great Bight was passed.
From about the vicinity of Fowler’s Bay (named after the first
lieutenant of the Investigator) the coast was virgin to
geographical science. Comparisons of original work with former
charts were no longer possible. The ship was entering
un-navigated waters, and the coasts delineated were new to the
world’s knowledge. The quickening of the interest in the work in
hand, which touched both officers and men of the expedition, can
be felt by the reader of Flinders’ narrative. There was a
consciousness of having crossed a line separating what simply
required verification and amplification, from a totally fresh
field of research. Every reach of coastline now traversed was
like a cable, long buried in the deep of time, at length hauled
into daylight, with its oozy deposits of seaweed, shell and mud
lying thick upon it.
Contingent upon discovery was the pleasure of naming important
features of the coast. It is doubtful whether any other single
navigator in history applied names which are still in use to so
many capes, bays and islands, upon the shores of the habitable
globe, as Flinders did. The extent of coastline freshly
discovered by him was not so great as that first explored by some
of his predecessors. But no former navigator pursued extensive
new discoveries so minutely, and, consequently, found so much to
name; while the precision of Flinders’ records left no doubt
about the places that he named, when in later years the
settlement of country and the navigation of seas necessitated the
use of names. Compare, for instance, in this one respect, the
work of Cook and Dampier, Vasco da Gama and Magellan, Tasman and
Quiros, with that of Flinders. Historically their voyages may
have been in some respects more important; but they certainly
added fewer names to the map. There are 103 names on Cook’s
charts of eastern Australia from Point Hicks to Cape York; but
there are about 240 new names on the charts of Flinders
representing southern Australia and Tasmania. He is the Great
Denominator among navigators. He named geographical features
after his friends, after his associates on the Investigator,
after distinguished persons connected with the Navy, after places
in which he was interested. Fowler’s Bay, Point Brown, Cape
Bauer, Franklin’s Isles, Point Bell, Point Westall, Taylor’s
Isle, and Thistle Island, commemorate his shipmates. Spencer’s
Gulf was named “in honour of the respected nobleman who presided
at the Board of Admiralty when the voyage was planned and the
ship was put in commission,” and Althorp Isles celebrated Lord
Spencer’s heir.* (* Cockburn, Nomenclature of South Australia,
(Adelaide 1909) page 9, is mistaken in speculating that “there is
a parish of Althorp in Flinders’ native country in Lincolnshire
which probably accounts for the choice of the name here.”
Althorp, which should be spelt without a final “e,” is not in
Lincolnshire, but in Northamptonshire.) St. Vincent’s Gulf was
named “in honour of the noble admiral” who was at the head of the
Admiralty when the Investigator sailed from England, and who had
“continued to the voyage that countenance and protection of which
Earl Spencer had set the example.” To Yorke’s Peninsula, between
the two gulfs, was affixed the name of the Right Hon. C.P. Yorke,
afterwards Lord Hardwicke, the First Lord who authorised the
publication of Flinders’ Voyage. Thus, the ministerial heads of
the Admiralty in three Governments (Pitt’s, Addington’s and
Spencer Perceval’s) came to be commemorated. It may be remarked
as curious that a naval officer so proud of his service as
Flinders was, should nowhere have employed the name of the
greatest sailor of his age, Nelson. There is a Cape Nelson on the
Victorian coast, but that name was given by Grant.
In Spencer’s Gulf we come upon a group of Lincolnshire
place-names, for Flinders, his brother Samuel, the mate, Fowler,
and Midshipman John Franklin, all serving on this voyage, were
Lincolnshire men. Thus we find Port Lincoln, Sleaford Bay, Louth
Bay, Cape Donington, Stamford Hill, Surfleet Point, Louth Isle,
Sibsey Isle, Stickney Isle, Spilsby Isle, Partney Isle, Revesby
Isle, Point Boston, and Winceby Isle. Banks’ name was given to a
group of islands, and Coffin’s Bay must not be allowed to suggest
any gruesome association, for it was named after Sir Isaac
Coffin, resident naval commissioner at Sheerness, who had given
assistance in the equipment of the Investigator. A few names,
like Streaky Bay, Lucky Bay, and Cape Catastrophe, were applied
from circumstances that occurred on the voyage. A poet of the
antipodes who should, like Wordsworth, be moved to write “Poems
on the Naming of Places,” would find material in the names given
by Flinders.
Interest in this absorbing work rose to something like
excitement on February 20th, when there were indications, from
the set of the tide, that an unusual feature of the coast was
being approached. “The tide from the north-eastward, apparently
the ebb, ran more than one mile an hour, which was the more
remarkable from no set of the tide worthy to be noticed having
hitherto been observed upon this coast.” The ship had rounded
Cape Catastrophe, and the land led away to the north, whereas
hitherto it had trended east and south. What did this mean?
Flinders must have been strongly reminded of his experience in
the Norfolk in Bass Strait, when the rush of the tide from the
south showed that the north-west corner of Van Diemen’s Land had
been turned, and that the demonstration of the Strait’s existence
was complete. There were many speculations as to what the signs
indicated. “Large rivers, deep inlets, inland seas and passages
into the Gulf of Carpentaria, were terms frequently used in our
conversations of this evening, and the prospect of making an
interesting discovery seemed to have infused new life and vigour
into every man in the ship.” The expedition was, in fact, in the
bell-mouth of Spencer’s Gulf, and the next few days were to show
whether the old surmise was true—that Terra Australis was cloven
in twain by a strait from the Gulf of Carpentaria to the southern
ocean. It was, indeed, a crisis-time of the discovery voyage.
But before the gulf was examined, a tragedy threw the ship
into mourning. On the evening of Sunday, February 21st, the
cutter was returning from the mainland, where a party had been
searching for water in charge of the Master, John Thistle. She
carried a midshipman, William Taylor, and six sailors. Nobody on
the ship witnessed the accident that happened; but the cutter had
been seen coming across the water, and as she did not arrive when
darkness set in, the fear that she had gone down oppressed
everybody on board. A search was made, but ineffectually; and
next day the boat was found floating bottom uppermost, stove in,
and bearing the appearance of having been dashed against rocks.
The loss of John Thistle was especially grievous to Flinders. The
two had been companions from the very beginning of his career in
Australia. Thistle had been one of Bass’s crew in the whaleboat;
he had been on the Norfolk when Van Diemen’s Land was
circumnavigated; and he had taken part in the cruise to Moreton
Bay. His memory lives in the name of Thistle Island, on the west
of the entrance to the gulf, and in the noble tribute which his
commander paid to his admirable qualities. It would be wrong to
deprive the reader of the satisfaction of reading Flinders’
eulogy of his companion of strenuous years:
“The reader will pardon me the observation that Mr. Thistle
was truly a valuable man, as a seaman, an officer, and a good
member of society. I had known him, and we had mostly served
together, from the year 1794. He had been with Mr. Bass in his
perilous expedition in the whaleboat, and with me in the voyage
round Van Diemen’s Land, and in the succeeding expedition to
Glass House and Hervey’s Bays. From his merit and prudent
conduct, he was promoted from before the mast to be a midshipman
and afterwards a master in His Majesty’s service. His zeal for
discovery had induced him to join the Investigator when at
Spithead and ready to sail, although he had returned to England
only three weeks before, after an absence of six years.* Besides
performing assiduously the duties of his situation, Mr. Thistle
had made himself well acquainted with the practice of nautical
astronomy, and began to be very useful in the surveying
department. His loss was severely felt by me, and he was lamented
by all on board, more especially by his messmates, who knew more
intimately the goodness and stability of his disposition.” (* In
a letter to Banks from Spithead on June 3rd, 1801, Flinders had
written: “I am happy to inform you that the Buffalo has brought
home a person formerly of the Reliance whom I wish to have as
master. He volunteers, the captain of the ship agrees, and I have
made application by to-day’s post and expect his appointmnt by
Friday.” The reference was evidently to John Thistle.)
Taylor’s Isle was named after the young midshipman of this
catastrophe, and six small islands in the vicinity bear the names
of the boat’s crew. It is a singular fact that only two of the
eight sailors drowned could swim. Even Captain Cook never learnt
to swim!
Before leaving the neighbourhood, Flinders erected a copper
plate upon a stone post at the head of Memory Cove, and had
engraved upon it the names of the unfortunates who had perished,
with a brief account of the accident. Two fragments of the
original plate are now in the museum at Adelaide. In later years
it was beaten down by a storm, and the South Australian
Government erected a fresh tablet in Memory Cove to replace
it.
A thorough survey of Port Lincoln was made while the ship was
being replenished with water. Some anxiety had been felt owing to
the lack of this necessity, and Flinders showed the way to obtain
it by digging holes in the white clay surrounding a brackish
marsh which he called Stamford Mere. The water that drained into
the holes was found to be sweet and wholesome, though milky in
appearance. As the filling of the casks and conveying them to the
ship—to a quantity of 60 tons—occupied several days, the
surveying and scientific employments were pursued diligently on
land.
The discovery of Port Lincoln was in itself an event of
consequence, since it is a harbour of singular commodiousness and
beauty, and would, did it but possess a more prolific territory
at its back, be a maritime station of no small importance. Nearly
forty years later, Sir John Franklin, then Governor of Tasmania,
paid a visit to Port Lincoln, expressly to renew acquaintance
with a place in the discovery of which he had participated in
company with a commander whose memory he honoured; and he erected
on Stamford Hill, at his own cost, an obelisk in commemoration of
Flinders. In the same way, on his first great overland arctic
journey in 1821, Franklin remembered Flinders in giving names to
discoveries.
It was on March 6th that the exploration of Spencer’s Gulf
commenced. As the ship sailed along the western shore, the
expectations which had been formed of a strait leading through
the continent to the Gulf of Carpentaria faded away. The coast
lost its boldness, the water became more and more shallow, and
the opposite shore began to show itself. The gulf was clearly
tapering to an end. “Our prospects of a channel or strait cutting
off some considerable portion of Terra Australis grew less, for
it now appeared that the ship was entering into a gulph.” On the
10th, the Investigator having passed Point Lowly, and having on
the previous day suddenly come into two-and-a-half fathoms,
Flinders decided to finish the exploration in a rowing boat,
accompanied by Surgeon Bell. They rowed along the shore till
night fell, slept in the boat, and resumed the journey early next
morning (March 11th). At ten o’clock, the oars touched mud on
each side, and it became impossible to proceed further. They had
reached the head of the gulf, then a region of mangrove swamps
and flat waters, but now covered by the wharves of Port Augusta,
and within view of the starting point of the transcontinental
railway.
The disappointment was undoubtedly great at not finding even a
large river flowing into the gulf. The hope of a strait had been
abandoned as the continually converging shores, shallow waters,
and diminishing banks made it clear, long before the head was
reached, that the theory of a bifurcated Terra Australis was
impossible. But as Flinders completed his chart and placed it
against the outline of the continent, he might fairly enjoy the
happiness of having settled an important problem and of taking
one more stride towards completing the map of the world.
The Investigator travelled down by the eastern shore, once
hanging upon a near bank for half an hour, and by March 20th was
well outside. The length of the gulf, from the head to Gambier
Island, Flinders calculated to be 185 miles, and its width at the
mouth, in a line from Cape Catastrophe, 48 miles. At the top it
tapered almost to a point. The whole of it was personally
surveyed and charted by Flinders, who was able to write that for
the general exactness of his drawing he could “answer with
tolerable confidence, having seen all that is laid down, and, as
usual, taken every angle which enters into the construction.”
The next discovery of importance was that of Kangaroo Island,
separated from the foot-like southern projection of Yorke’s
Peninsula by Investigator Strait. The island was named on account
of the quantity of kangaroos seen and shot upon it; for a supply
of fresh meat was very welcome after four months of salt pork.
Thirty-one fell to the guns of the Investigator’s men. Half a
hundredweight of heads, forequarters and tails were stewed down
for soup, and as much kangaroo steak was available for officers
and men as they could consume “by day and night.” It was declared
to be a “delightful regale.”
The place where Flinders is believed to have first landed on
Kangaroo Island is now marked by a tall cairn, which was
spontaneously built by the inhabitants, the school children
assisting, in 1906. An inscription on a faced stone commemorates
the event. The white pyramid can be seen from vessels using
Backstairs Passage.* (* See the account of the making of the
cairn, by C.E. Owen Smythe, I.S.O., who initiated and
superintended the work, South Australian Geographical Society’s
Proceedings 1906 page 58.)
A very short stay was made at Kangaroo Island on this first
call. On March 24th Investigator Strait was crossed, and the
examination of the mainland was resumed. The ship was steered
north-west, and, the coast being reached, no land was visible to
the eastward. The conclusion was drawn that another gulf ran
inland, and the surmise proved to be correct. The new discovery,
named St. Vincent’s Gulf, was penetrated on the 27th, and was
first explored on the eastern shore, not on the western as had
been the case with Spencer’s Gulf. Mount Lofty was sighted at
dawn on Sunday, March 28th. The nearest part of the coast was
three leagues distant at the time, “mostly low, and composed of
sand and rock, with a few small trees scattered over it; but at a
few miles inland, where the back mountains rise, the country was
well clothed with forest timber, and had a fertile appearance.
The fires bespoke this to be a part of the continent.” The coast
to the northward was seen to be very low, and the soundings were
fast decreasing. From noon to six o’clock the Investigator ran
north thirty miles, skirting a sandy shore, and at length dropped
anchor in five fathoms.
On the following morning land was seen to the westward, as
well as eastward, and there was “a hummocky mountain, capped with
clouds, apparently near the head of the inlet.” Wind failing,
very little progress was made till noon, and at sunset the shores
appeared to be closing round. The absence of tide gave no
prospect of finding a river at the head of the gulf. Early on the
morning of the 30th Flinders went out in a boat, accompanied by
Robert Brown, and rowed up to the mud-flats at the head of the
gulf. Picking out a narrow channel, it was found possible to get
within half a mile of dry land. Then, leaving the boat, Flinders
and Brown walked along a bank of mud and sand to the shore, to
examine the country. Flinders ascended one of the foot-hills of
the range that forms the backbone of Yorke’s Peninsula,
stretching north and south upwards of two hundred miles.
At dawn on March 31st the Investigator was got under way to
proceed down the eastern side of Yorke’s Peninsula. The wind was
contrary, and the work could be done only “partially,” though, of
course, sufficiently well to complete the chart. The peninsula
was described as “singular in form, having some resemblance to a
very ill-shaped leg and foot.” Its length from Cape Spencer to
the northern junction with the mainland was calculated to be 105
miles. On April 1st Flinders was able to write that the
exploration of St. Vincent’s Gulf was finished.
The general character of the country, especially on the east,
he considered to be superior to that on the borders of Spencer’s
Gulf; and the subsequent development of the State of South
Australia has justified his opinion. He would assuredly have
desired to linger longer upon the eastern shore, could he have
foreseen that within forty years of the discovery there would be
laid there the foundations of the noble city of Adelaide, with
its fair and fruitful olive-groves, vineyards, orchards and
gardens, and its busy port, whither flow the wheat of vast plains
and the wool from a million sheep leagues upon leagues away.
A second visit to Kangaroo Island was necessitated by a desire
to make corrections in the Investigator’s timekeepers, and on
this occasion a somewhat longer stay was made. The ship arrived
on April 2nd, and did not leave again till the 7th.
Very few aboriginals were seen upon the shores of the two
gulfs, and these only through a telescope. At Port Lincoln some
blacks were known to be in the neighbourhood, but the expedition
did not succeed in getting into contact with them. Flinders
scrupulously observed the policy of doing nothing to alarm them;
and his remarks in this relation are characterised by as much
good sense as humane feeling. Writing of a small party of natives
who were heard calling but did not show themselves, probably
having hidden in thick scrub to observe the boat’s crew, he
said:
“No attempt was made to follow them, for I had always found
the natives of this country to avoid those who seemed anxious for
communication; whereas, when left entirely alone, they would
usually come down after having watched us for a few days. Nor
does this conduct seem to be unnatural; for what, in such case,
would be the conduct of any people, ourselves for instance, were
we living in a state of nature, frequently at war with our
neighbours, and ignorant of the existence of any other nation? On
the arrival of strangers so different in complexion and
appearance to ourselves, having power to transplant themselves
over, and even living upon, an element which to us was
impossible, the first sensation would probably be terror, and the
first movement flight. We should watch these extraordinary people
from our retreats in the woods and rocks, and if we found
ourselves sought and pursued by them, should conclude their
designs to be inimical; but if, on the contrary, we saw them
quietly employed in occupations which had no reference to us,
curiosity would get the better of fear, and after observing them
more closely, we should ourselves risk a communication. Such
seemed to have been the conduct of these Australians;* and I am
persuaded that their appearance on the morning when the tents
were struck was a prelude to their coming down; and that, had we
remained a few days longer, a friendly communication would have
ensued. The way was, however, prepared for the next ship which
may visit this port, as it was to us in King George’s Sound by
Captain Vancouver and the ship Elligood; to whose previous visits
and peaceable conduct we were most probably indebted for our
early intercourse with the inhabitants of that place. So far as
could be perceived with a glass, the natives of this port were
the same in personal appearance as those of King George’s Sound
and Port Jackson. In the hope of conciliating their goodwill to
succeeding visitors, some hatchets and various other articles
were left in their paths, fastened to stumps of trees which had
been cut down near our watering pits.” (* The only occasion, I
think, where Flinders uses this word. He usually called
aboriginals “Indians.”)
More wild life was seen at Kangaroo Island than in the gulf
region. Thirty emus were observed on one day; kangaroos, as has
been remarked, were plentiful; and a large colony of pelicans
caused the name of Pelican Lagoon to be given to a feature of the
island’s eastern lobe. The marsupial, the seal, the emu, and the
bag-billed bird that nature built in one of her whimsical moods,
had held unchallenged possession for tens of thousands of years,
probably never visited by any ships, nor even preyed upon by
blacks. The reflections of Flinders upon Pelican Lagoon have a
tinting of poetic feeling which we do not often find in his solid
pages:
“Flocks of the old birds were sitting upon the beaches of the
lagoon, and it appeared that the islands were their breeding
places; not only so, but from the number of skeletons and bones
there scattered it should seem that they had for ages been
selected for the closing scene of their existence. Certainly none
more likely to be free from disturbance of every kind could have
been chosen, than these inlets in a hidden lagoon of an
uninhabited island, situate upon an unknown coast near the
antipodes of Europe; nor can anything be more consonant to the
feelings, if pelicans have any, than quietly to resign their
breath whilst surrounded by their progeny, and in the same spot
where they first drew it. Alas, for the pelicans! their golden
age is past; but it has much exceeded in duration that of
man.”
The picture of the zoological interests of Kangaroo Island is
heightened by Flinders’ account of the seals and marsupials.
“Never perhaps has the dominion possessed here by the kangaroo
been invaded before this time. The seal shared with it upon the
shores, but they seemed to dwell amicably together. It not
unfrequently happened that the report of a gun fired at a
kangaroo, near the beach, brought out two or three bellowing
seals from under bushes considerably further from the water side.
The seal, indeed, seemed to be much the more discerning animal of
the two; for its actions bespoke a knowledge of our not being
kangaroos, whereas the kangaroo not unfrequently appeared to
consider us to be seals.” In the quotation, it may be as well to
add, the usual spelling of “kangaroo” is followed, but Flinders
invariably spelt it “kanguroo.” The orthography of the word was
not settled in his time; Cook wrote “kangooroo” and “kanguru,”
but Hawkesworth, who edited his voyages, made it “kangaroo.”
The quantity of fallen timber lying upon the island prompted
the curiosity of Flinders. Trunks of trees lay about in all
directions “and were nearly of the same size and in the same
progress towards decay; from whence it would seem that they had
not fallen from age nor yet been thrown down in a gale of wind.
Some general conflagration, and there were marks apparently of
fire on many of them, is perhaps the sole cause which can be
reasonably assigned; but whence came the woods on fire? There
were no inhabitants upon the island, and that the natives of the
continent did not visit it was demonstrated, if not by the want
of all signs of such visits, yet by the tameness of the kangaroo,
an animal which, on the continent, resembles the wild deer in
timidity. Perhaps lightning might have been the cause, or
possibly the friction of two dead trees in a strong wind; but it
would be somewhat extraordinary that the same thing should have
happened at Thistle’s Island, Boston Island, and at this place,
and apparently about the same time. Can this part of Terra
Australis have been visited before, unknown to the world? The
French navigator, Laperouse, was ordered to explore it, but there
seems little probability that he ever passed Torres Strait.
“Some judgment may be formed of the epoch when these
conflagrations happened, from the magnitude of the growing trees;
for they must have sprung up since that period. They were a
species of eucalyptus, and being less than the fallen tree, had
most probably not arrived at maturity; but the wood is hard and
solid, and it may thence be supposed to grow slowly. With these
considerations, I should be inclined to fix the period at not
less than ten, nor more than twenty years before our arrival.
This brings us back to Laperouse. He was in Botany Bay in the
beginning of 1788, and, if he did pass through Torres Strait, and
come round to this coast, as was his intention, it would probably
be about the middle or latter end of that year, or between
thirteen and fourteen years before the Investigator. My opinion
is not favourable to this conjecture; but I have furnished all
the data to enable the reader to form his own opinion upon the
cause which might have prostrated the woods of these
islands.”
The passage is worth quoting, if only for the interesting
allusion to Laperouse, whose fate was, at the time when Flinders
sailed and wrote, an unsolved mystery of the sea. Captain
Dillon’s discovery of relics at Vanikoro, in 1826, twelve years
after the death of Flinders, informed the world that the
illustrious French navigator did not pass through Torres Strait,
but was wrecked in the Santa Cruz group.* (* See the author’s
Laperouse, Sydney 1912 pages 90 et sqq.) The fire, so many signs
of which were observed on Kangaroo Island, was in all probability
caused naturally in the heat of a dry summer.
Very shortly after leaving Kangaroo Island Flinders met one of
the vessels of the French exploring expedition; and the story of
that occurrence must occupy our particular consideration in the
next chapter.
CHAPTER 15. FLINDERS AND BAUDIN IN ENCOUNTER BAY.
Flinders did not complete the examination of Kangaroo island.
The approach of the winter season, and an apprehension that
shortness of provisions might compel him to make for Port Jackson
before concluding the discovery of the south coast, induced him
to leave the south and west parts of the island, with the
intention of making a second visit at a later time. Therefore, in
the afternoon of Tuesday, April 6th, the anchor was weighed and
he resumed the exploration of the mainland eastward from Cape
Jervis, at the extremity of St. Vincent’s Gulf. Wind and tide
made against a rapid passage, and the east end of Kangaroo Island
had not been cleared by eight o’clock on the following
evening.
At four o’clock on the afternoon of April 8th the sloop was
making slow progress eastward, when the man aloft reported that a
white rock was to be seen ahead. The attention of everybody on
board was at once turned in the direction of the object. Very
soon it became apparent that it was not a rock but a ship, which
had sighted the Investigator, and was making towards her. As no
sail had been seen for five months, and it seemed beyond all
likelihood that another ship should be spoken in these uncharted
seas, where there was no settlement, no port at which refreshment
could be obtained, no possibility of trade, no customary maritime
route, it may be imagined that there was a feeling of excitement
among the ship’s company. Flinders of course knew that the French
had a discovery expedition somewhere in Australasian waters, and
the fact that it had secured some months’ start of him had
occasioned a certain amount of anxiety before he left England. He
was aware that it was protected by a passport from the British
Government. The approaching vessel might be one of Baudin’s; but
she might by some strange chance be an enemy’s ship of war. In
any case, he prepared for emergencies: “we cleared for action in
case of being attacked.”
Glasses were turned on the stranger, which proved on closer
scrutiny to be “a heavy-looking ship, without any top-gallant
masts up.” The Investigator hoisted her colours—the Union Jack,
it may be remarked, since that flag was adopted by Great Britain
at the beginning of 1801, before the expedition sailed. The
stranger put up the tricolour, “and afterwards an English Jack
forward, as we did a white flag.”* (* Flinders relates the story
of his meeting with Baudin, in his Voyage to Terra Australis, 1
188, and in letters to the Admiralty; and to Sir Joseph Banks,
printed in Historical Records of New South Wales, 4 749 and 755.
The official history of the French voyage was written by Francois
Peron, and is printed in his Voyage de Decouvertes aux Terres
Australes, 1 324. But Peron was not present at the interviews
between Flinders and Baudin. Captain Baudin’s own account of the
incident is related in his manuscript diary, and in a long letter
to the French Minister of Marine, dated “Port Jackson, 10th
November, 1802,” both of which are in the Archives Nationales,
BB4, 995, Marine. These sources have been compared and used in
the writing of this chapter. Baudin’s narrative is translated in
an appendix.)
It has already been explained (Chapter 11) that Le Geographe,
commanded by the commodore of the French expedition, separated
from Le Naturaliste at the eastern entrance to Bass Strait on
March 7th and 8th, and that Baudin sailed through the Strait
westward. We take up the thread again at that point, and will
follow Baudin until he met Flinders. He was between Wilson’s
Promontory and Cape Otway from March 28th to 31st, in very good
weather. The most important fact relating to this part of his
voyage is that he missed the entrance to Port Phillip. In his
letter to the Minister of Marine, he described the Promontory and
the situation of Westernport, and then proceeded to relate that
“from the 9th to the 11th (of the month Germinal in the French
Revolutionary calendar, by which of course Baudin dated events;
equivalent to March 30 to April 1st) the winds having been very
favourable to us, we visited an extensive portion of the coast,
where the land is high, well-wooded, and of an agreeable
appearance, but does not present any place favourable to
debarkation. All the points were exactly determined, and the
appearance of the shores depicted.” That describes the Cape Otway
country; and the part of the letter which follows refers to the
land on the west of the Otway. There is no word of any port being
sighted. The letter agrees with what Baudin told Flinders, that
“he had found no ports, harbours or inlets, or anything to
interest”; and Flinders was subsequently surprised to find that
so large a harbour as Port Phillip had been missed by Baudin,
“more especially as he had fine winds and weather.”* (* Flinders
to Banks, Hist. Rec. 4 755.) Nevertheless, when Peron and
Freycinet came to write the history of the French voyage—knowing
then of the existence of Port Phillip, and having a chart of it
before them—they very boldly claimed that they had seen it, and
had distinguished its contours from the masthead,* a thing
impossible to do from the situation in which they were. (* Voyage
de Decouvertes 1 316 and 3 115.)
The company on board Le Geographe were as excited about the
ship sailing eastward, as were the Investigator’s men when the
reported white rock ahead proved to be the sails of another
vessel. The French crew were in a distressingly sick condition.
Scurvy had played havoc among them, much of the ship’s meat was
worm-eaten and stinking, and a large number of the crew were
incapacitated. On the morning of April 8th some of Baudin’s
people had been engaged in harpooning dolphins. They were
desperately in need of fresh food, and a shoal of these rapid
fish, appearing and playing around the prow, appeared to them
“like a gift from heaven.” Nine large dolphins had been caught,
giving a happy promise of enough meat to last a day or two, when
the man at the masthead reported that there was a sail in sight.
At first Baudin was of opinion that the ship ahead was Le
Naturaliste, rejoining company after a month’s separation. But as
the distance between the two ships diminished, and the
Investigator ran up her ensign, her nationality was perceived,
and Baudin hoisted the tricolour.
The situation of the Investigator when she hove to was in 35
degrees 40 minutes south and 138 degrees 58 minutes east. The
time was half-past five o’clock in the evening; the position
about five miles south-west of the nearest bit of coast, in what
Flinders called Encounter Bay, in commemoration of the event. Le
Geographe passed the English ship with a free wind, and as she
did so Flinders hailed her, enquiring “Are you Captain Baudin?”
“It is he,” was the response. Flinders thereupon called out that
he was very glad to meet the French explorer, and Baudin
responded in cordial terms, without, however, knowing whom he was
addressing. Still the wariness of the English captain was not to
be lulled; he records, “we veered round as Le Geographe was
passing, so as to keep our broadside to her, lest the flag of
truce should be a deception.” But being now satisfied of her good
faith, Flinders brought his ship to the wind on the opposite
tack, had a boat hoisted out, and prepared to go on board the
French vessel.
As Flinders did not speak French, he took with him Robert
Brown, who was an accomplished French scholar. On board Le
Geographe they were received by an officer, who indicated Baudin,
and the three passed into the captain’s cabin.
It is curious that Baudin, in his letter to the Minister of
Marine, makes no reference to the presence of Brown at this
interview, and at a second which occurred on the following
morning. He speaks of inviting Flinders to enter his cabin, and
proceeds to allude to the conversation which followed when they
were “alone” (“nous trouvant seul”). But Flinders’ statement, “as
I did not understand French, Mr. Brown, the naturalist, went with
me in the boat; we were received by an officer who pointed out
the commander, and by him were conducted into the cabin,” can
have no other meaning than that Brown was present. He also says,
further on in his narrative, “no person was present at our
conversations except Mr. Brown, and they were mostly carried on
in English, which the captain spoke so as to be understood.” It
may be that Baudin regarded Brown merely as an interpreter, but
certainly his presence was a fact.
In the cabin Flinders produced his passport from the French
Government, and asked to see Baudin’s from the Admiralty. Baudin
found the document and handed it to his visitor, but did not wish
to see the passport carried by Flinders. He put it aside without
inspection.
The conversation then turned upon the two voyages. Flinders
explained that he had left England about eight months after the
departure of the French ships, and that he was bound for Port
Jackson. Baudin related the course of his voyage, mentioning his
work in Van Diemen’s Land, his passage through Bass Strait, and
his run along the coast of what is now the State of Victoria,
where he had not found “any river, inlet or other shelter which
afforded anchorage.” Flinders enquired about a large island said
to lie in the western entrance to Bass Strait (that is, King
Island), but Baudin said he had not seen it, and seemed to doubt
whether it existed. Baudin observed in his letter that Flinders
appeared to be pleased with this reply, “doubtless in the hope of
being able to make the discovery himself.”
Baudin was very critical about an English chart of Bass
Strait, published in 1800. He found fault with the representation
of the north side, but commended the drawing of the south side,
and of the neighbouring islands. Flinders pointed to a note upon
the chart, explaining that it was prepared from material
furnished by George Bass, who had merely traversed the coast in a
small open boat, and had had no good means of fixing the latitude
and longitude; but he added that a rectified chart had since been
published, and offered, if Baudin would remain in the
neighbourhood during the night, to visit Le Geographe again in
the morning, and bring with him a copy of this improved drawing,
with a memorandum on the navigation of the strait. He was
alluding to his own small quarto book of Observations, published
before he left England, as related in Chapter 12. Baudin accepted
the offer with pleasure, and the two ships lay near together
during the night.
The story of the interviews, as related by the two captains,
is not in agreement on several points, and the differences are
not a little curious. Baudin states that he knew Flinders at the
very beginning of the first interview, on April 8th: “Mr.
Flinders, who commanded the ship, presented himself, and as soon
as I learnt his name I had no doubt that he, like ourselves, was
occupied with the exploration of the south coast of New Holland.”
But Flinders affirms that Baudin did not learn his name until the
end of the second interview on April 9th: “At parting…on my
asking the name of the captain of Le Naturaliste he bethought
himself to ask mine; and finding it to be the same as the author
of the chart which he had been criticising, expressed not a
little surprise, but had the politeness to congratulate himself
on meeting me.” There may well have been some misunderstanding
between the two captains, especially as Flinders did not speak
French and Baudin only spoke English “so as to be understood,”
which, as experience teaches, usually means so as to be
misunderstood. It is not very likely that Baudin was unaware of
the name of the English captain until the end of the second
meeting. While the interview of April 8th was taking place in the
cabin, Flinders’ boatmen were questioned by some of Le
Geographe’s company who could speak English, and Peron tells us
that the men related the story of the Investigator’s voyage.* (*
Peron, Voyage de Decouvertes 1 323. Flinders also said that “some
of his officers learnt from my boat’s crew that our object was
also discovery.”) It is difficult to believe that Flinders’ name
would not be ascertained in this manner; equally difficult to
believe that Captain Baudin would sustain two interviews with the
commander of another ship without knowing to whom he was talking.
In fact, Baudin had the name of Flinders before him on the Bass
Strait chart which he had been criticising. It was a chart copied
in Paris from an English print, and was inscribed as “levee par
Flinders.” Baudin in his letter to the Minister observed that he
pointed out to Flinders errors in the chart “that he had given
us.” Flinders was of opinion that Baudin criticised the chart
without knowing that he was the author of it. Baudin may have
been surprised at first to learn that the Captain Flinders with
whom he was conversing was the same as he whose name appeared on
the chart; but his own statement that he knew the name at the
first interview appears credible.
Again, Baudin was of opinion that at the first interview
Flinders was “reserved”; whilst Flinders, on the other hand, was
surprised that Baudin “made no enquiries concerning my business
on this unknown coast, but as he seemed more desirous of
communicating information I was happy to receive it.” Reading the
two narratives together, it is not apparent either that Flinders
wished to be reserved or that Baudin lacked curiosity as to what
the Investigator had been doing. The probable explanation is that
the two men were not understanding each other perfectly.
At half-past six o’clock on the morning of April 9th Flinders
again visited Le Geographe, where he breakfasted with Baudin.* (*
Flinders does not mention this circumstance; but as he boarded Le
Geographe at 6.30 in the morning and did not return to the
Investigator till 8.30, Baudin’s statement is not doubtful.) On
this occasion they talked freely about their respective voyages,
and, said the French commodore, “he appeared to me to have been
happier than we were in the discoveries he had made.” Flinders
pointed out Cape Jervis, which was in sight, related the
discovery of Spencer’s and St. Vincent’s Gulfs, and described
Kangaroo Island, with its abundance of fresh food and water. He
handed to Baudin a copy of his little book on Bass Strait and its
accompanying chart, related the story of the loss of John Thistle
and his boat’s crew, and listened to an account which his host
gave of a supposed loss of one of his own boats with a number of
men on the east coast of Van Diemen’s Land. Baudin intimated that
it was likely that Flinders, in sailing east, would fall in with
the missing Naturaliste, and he requested that, should this
occur, the captain of that ship might be informed that Baudin
intended to sail to Port Jackson as soon as the bad winter
weather set in. Flinders himself had invited Baudin to sail to
Sydney to refresh, mentioning that he would be able to obtain
whatever assistance he required there. The interview was
thoroughly cordial, and the two captains parted with mutual
expressions of goodwill. Flinders and Brown returned to the
Investigator at half-past eight o’clock.
Seaman Smith has nothing new to tell us concerning the
Encounter Bay incident, but his brief reference is of some
interest as showing how it struck a member of the Investigator
crew, and may be cited for that purpose. “In the morning (9th
April) we unmoord and stood for sea between Van Diemen’s Land and
New Holland. In the afternoon we espied a sail which loomd large.
Cleared forequarters, not knowing what might be the consequence.
On the ship coming close, our captn spoke her. She proved to be
the Le Geography (sic) French ship upon investigation. Our boats
being lowerd down our captn went on board of her, and soon
returnd. Both ships lay to untill the next morning, when our
captn went on board of her and soon returnd. We found her poorly
mannd, having lost a boat and crew and several that run away. Her
acct. was that they had parted compy with the Naturalizer (sic)
on investigation in a gale of wind. Have been from France 18
months. On the 20th we parted compy.”
Baudin sailed for Kangaroo Island, where his men enjoyed a
similar feast to that which had delighted the English sailors a
little while before. But the scurvy-stricken condition of his
crew made the pursuit of exploration painful, and he did not
continue on these coasts beyond another month. On May 8th he
abandoned the work for the time being, resolving to pay a second
visit to the region of the gulfs after he had refreshed his
people. Sailing for Sydney, he arrived there on June 20th, in
circumstances that it will be convenient to relate after
describing the remainder of the voyage of the Investigator up to
her arrival in the same port.
CHAPTER 16. FLINDERS IN PORT PHILLIP.
Flinders’ actual discovery work on the south coast was
completed when he met Baudin in Encounter Bay; for the whole
coast line to the east had been found a short while before he
appeared upon it, though he was not aware of this fact when
completing his voyage. For about a hundred and fifty miles, from
the mouth of the Murray eastward to Cape Banks, the credit of
discovery properly belongs to Baudin, and Flinders duly marked
his name upon the chart. Further eastward, from Cape Banks to the
deep bend of the coast at the head of which lies Port Phillip,
the discoverer was Captain Grant of the Lady Nelson. His voyage
was projected under the following circumstances.
When Philip Gidley King, who in 1800 succeeded Hunter as
Governor of New South Wales, was in England in 1799, he
represented to the Admiralty the desirability of sending out to
Australia a small, serviceable ship, capable of being used in
shallow waters, so that she might explore bays and rivers. One of
the Commissioners of the Transport Board, Captain John Schanck,
had designed a type of vessel that was considered suitable for
this purpose. She was to be fitted with a sliding keel, or
centreboard, and was deemed to be a boat of staunch sea-going
qualities, as well as being good for close-in coastal service. A
sixty-ton brig, the Lady Nelson, was built to Schanck’s plans,
and was entrusted to the command of Lieutenant Grant. She was
tried in the Downs in January, 1800, when Grant reported
enthusiastically on her behaviour. She rode out a gale in five
fathoms of water without shipping “even a sea that would come
over the sole of your shoe.” Running her into Ramsgate in a heavy
sea, Grant wrote of her in terms that, though somewhat crabbed to
a non-nautical ear, were a sailor’s equivalent for fine poetry:
“though it blew very strong, I found the vessel stand well up
under sail, and with only one reef out of the topsails, no jib
set, a lee tide going, when close hauled she brought her wake
right aft and went at the rate of five knots.”
Grant was ambitious to make discoveries on his own account,
and did not lack zeal. He was a skilful sailor, but was lacking
in the scientific accomplishment required for the service in
which he aspired to shine. When at length he returned from
Australia, King summed him up in a sentence: “I should have been
glad if your ability as a surveyor, or being able to determine
the longitude of the different places you might visit, was any
ways equal to your ability as an officer and a seaman.”
Grant left England early in 1800, intending to sail to
Australia by the usual route, making the Cape of Good Hope, and
then rounding the south of Van Diemen’s Land. But news of the
discovery of Bass Strait was received after the Lady Nelson had
put to sea; and the Admiralty (April, 1800) sent instructions to
reach him at the Cape, directing him to sail through the strait
from the west. This he did. Striking the Australian coast
opposite Cape Banks on December 3rd, 1800, he followed it along
past Cape Otway, thence in a line across to Wilson’s Promontory
and, penetrating the strait, was the first navigator to work
through it from the far western side. He attempted no survey, and
shortness of water and provisions deterred him from even pursuing
the in-and-out curves of the shore; but he marked down upon a
rough eye-sketch such prominent features as Mount Gambier, Cape
Northumberland, Cape Bridgewater, Cape Nelson, Portland Bay,
Julia Percy Island, and Cape Otway. “I took the liberty of naming
the different capes, bays, etc., for the sake of distinction,” he
reported to the Governor on his arrival at Sydney on December
16th.
It was in this way that both Baudin and Flinders were
anticipated in the discovery of the western half of the coast of
Victoria. The Investigator voyage had not been planned when the
Lady Nelson sailed; and when Flinders was commissioned the
Admiralty directed that Grant should be placed under his orders,
the brig being used as a tender.
The baffling winds that had delayed Flinders’ departure from
Kangaroo Island on April 8th, 1802, continued after he sailed
from Encounter Bay, so that he did not pass the fifty leagues or
so first traversed by Le Geographe for eight tedious days. On
April 17th he reached Grant’s Cape Banks; on April 18th passed
Cape Northumberland; and on the 19th Capes Bridgewater, Nelson
and Grant. But the south-west gale blew so hard during this part
of the voyage that, the coast trending south-easterly, it was
difficult to keep the ship on a safe course; and Flinders
confessed that he was “glad to miss a small part of the coast.”
Thick squally weather prevented the survey being made with
safety; and, indeed, it was rarely that the configuration of the
land could be distinguished at a greater distance than two miles.
On the 21st Flinders noticed a subsidence of the sea, which made
him conclude that he was to the windward of the large island
concerning which he had questioned Baudin. He resolved to take
advantage of a period when the close examination of the mainland
had become dangerous to determine the exact position of this
island, of whose whereabouts he had heard from sealers in
1799.
The south part of King Island had been found by the skipper of
a sealing brig, named Reid, in 1799, but the name it bears was
given to it by John Black, commander of the brig Harbinger, who
discovered the northern part in January, 1801. Flinders was
occupied for three days at King Island. On the 24th, the wind
having moderated, he made for Cape Otway. But it was still
considered imprudent to follow the shore too closely against a
south-east wind; and on the 26th the ship ran across the water to
Grant’s Cape Schanck.
The details of these movements are of some moment, for the
ship was nearing the gates of Port Philip. “We bore away
westward,” Flinders records, “in order to trace the land round
the head of the deep bight.” In view of the importance of the
harbour which he was about to enter, we may quote his own
description of his approach to it, and his surprise at what he
found:
“On the west side of the rocky point,* (* Point Nepean.) there
was a small opening, with breaking water across it. However, on
advancing a little more westward the opening assumed a more
interesting aspect, and I bore away to have a nearer view. A
large extent of water presently became visible withinside, and
although the entrance seemed to be very narrow, and there were in
it strong ripplings like breakers, I was induced to steer in at
half-past one; the ship being close upon a wind and every man
ready for tacking at a moment’s warning. The soundings were
irregular, between 6 and 12 fathoms, until we got four miles
within the entrance, when they shoaled quick to 2 3/4. We then
tacked; and having a strong tide in our favour, worked to the
eastward, between the shoal and the rocky point, with 12 fathoms
for the deepest water. In making the last stretch from the shoal,
the depth diminished from 10 fathoms quickly to 3; and before the
ship could come round, the flood tide set her upon a mud bank and
she stuck fast. A boat was lowered down to sound; and, finding
the deep water lie to the north-west, a kedge anchor was carried
out; and, having got the ship’s head in that direction, the sails
were filled, and she drew off into 6 and 10 fathoms; and it being
then dark, we came to an anchor.
“The extensive harbour we had thus unexpectedly found I
supposed must be Westernport; although the narrowness of the
entrance did by no means correspond with the width given to it by
Mr. Bass. It was the information of Captain Baudin, who had
coasted along from thence with fine weather, and had found no
inlet of any kind, which induced this supposition; and the very
great extent of the place, agreeing with that of Westernport, was
in confirmation of it. This, however, was not Westernport, as we
found next morning; and I congratulated myself on having made a
new and useful discovery. But here again I was in error. This
place, as I afterwards learned at Port Jackson, had been
discovered ten weeks before by Lieutenant John Murray, who had
succeeded Captain Grant in the command of the Lady Nelson. He had
given it the name of Port Phillip, and to the rocky point on the
east side of the entrance that of Point Nepean.”
It was characteristic of Flinders that he allowed no
expression of disappointment to escape him, on finding that he
had been anticipated by a few weeks in the discovery of Port
Phillip. Baudin, it will be remembered, observed the satisfaction
felt by his visitor in Encounter Bay, when he learnt that Le
Geographe had not found King Island, because he thought he would
have the happiness of being the first to lay it down upon a
chart. In this he had been forestalled by Black of the Harbinger;
and now again he was to find that a predecessor had entered the
finest harbour in southern Australia. Disappointment he must have
felt; but he was by no means the man to begrudge the success that
had accrued to another navigator. He made no remark, such as
surely might have been forgiven to him, about the determining
accidents of time and weather; though it is but right for us to
observe that, had the Investigator been permitted to sail from
England when she was ready (in April, 1801) instead of being
delayed by the Admiralty officials till July, Port Phillip, as
well as the stretch of coast discovered by Baudin, would have
been found by Flinders. That delay was caused by nothing more
than a temporary illness of the Secretary of the Admiralty, Evan
Nepean, whose name is commemorated in Point Nepean, one of the
headlands flanking the entrance to the Port.
A perfectly just recognition of the real significance of
Flinders in southern exploration has led to his name being
honoured and commemorated even with respect to parts where he was
not the actual discoverer. It is a function of history to do
justice in the large, abiding sense, discriminating the spiritual
potency of personalities that dominate events from the accidental
connection of lesser persons with them. In that wider sense,
Flinders was the true discoverer of the whole of the southern
coast of Australia. He, of course, made no such claim; but we who
estimate the facts after a long lapse of years can see clearly
that it was so. Only the patching up of the old Reliance kept him
in Sydney while Bass was creeping round the coast to Westernport.
Only the illness of an official and other trifling causes
prevented him from discovering Port Phillip. It was the
completion of his chart of Bass Strait, based upon his friend’s
memoranda, that led the Admiralty to direct Grant to sail through
the strait from the west, and so enabled him to be the first to
come upon the coast from Cape Banks to Cape Schanck. It was only
the delay before-mentioned and the contrary winds that hindered
him from preceding Baudin along the fifty leagues that are
credited to that navigator.
Thus it is that although not a league of the coastline of
Victoria is in strict verity to be attributed to Flinders as
discoverer, he is habitually cited as if he were. Places are
named after him, memorials are erected to him. The highest
mountain in the vicinity of Port Phillip carries on its summit a
tablet celebrating the fact that Flinders entered the port at the
end of April, 1802; but there is nowhere a memorial to remind
anyone that Murray actually discovered it in January of the same
year. The reason is that, while it is felt that time and
circumstance enabled others to do things which must be inscribed
on the historical page, the triumph that should have followed
from skill, knowledge, character, preparation and opportunities
well and wisely used, was fairly earned by Flinders. The dates,
not the merits, prevent their being claimed for him. His
personality dominates the whole group of discoveries. We
chronicle the facts in regard to Grant, Baudin, Murray, and Bass,
but we feel all the time that Flinders was the central man.
Not being aware of Murray’s good fortune in January, Flinders
treated Port Phillip as a fresh discovery, and examined its
approaches with as much thoroughness as his resources would
allow. At this time, however, the store of provisions was running
low. The Investigator was forty weeks out from England, and
re-equipment was fast becoming imperative. Her commander had felt
the urgency of his needs before he reached Port Phillip. He had
seriously considered whether he should not make for Sydney from
King Island. “I determined, however, to run over to the high land
we had seen on the north side of Bass Strait, and to trace as
much of the coast from thence eastward as the state of the
weather and our remaining provisions could possibly allow.”
As related in the passage quoted above, Flinders at first
thought he had reached Westernport, though the narrowness of the
entrance did not correspond with Bass’s description of the
harbour he had discovered four years previously. But Baudin had
told him that he found no port or harbour of any kind between
Westernport and Encounter Bay. Consequently, it was all the more
astonishing to behold this great sheet of blue water broadening
out to shores overlooked by high hills, and extending northward
further than the eye could penetrate. It was not until the
following day, April 27th, that he found he was not in the port
which his friend had discovered in the whaleboat. Immediately
after breakfast he rowed away from the ship in a boat,
accompanied by Brown and Westall, to ascend the bluff mountain on
the east side which Murray had named Arthur’s Seat. From the top
he was able to survey the landscape at a height of a thousand
feet; and then he saw the waters and islands of Westernport lying
beneath him only a few miles further to the east, whilst, to his
surprise, the curves of Port Phillip were seen to be so extensive
“that even at this elevation its boundary to the northward could
not be distinguished.”
Next morning, April 28th, Flinders commenced to sail round the
bay. But the wind was slight and progress was slow; with his fast
diminishing store of provisions vexing his mind, he felt that he
could not afford the time for a complete survey. Besides, the
lead showed many shallows, and there was a constant fear of
running the ship aground. He therefore directed Fowler to take
the Investigator back to the entrance, whilst, on the 29th, he
went with Midshipman Lacy, in a boat provisioned for three days,
to make a rapid reconnaissance of as much as could be seen in
that time. He rowed north-east nine miles from Arthur’s Seat,
reaching about the neighbourhood of Mornington. Then he crossed
to the western side of the bay, and on the 30th traversed the
opening of the arm at the head of which Geelong now stands.
At dawn on May 1st he landed with three of the boat’s crew,
for the purpose of ascending the highest point of the You-yang
range, whose conical peaks, standing up purple against the
evening sky, had been visible when the ship first entered Port
Phillip. “Our way was over a low plain, where the water appeared
frequently to lodge. It was covered with small-bladed grass, but
almost destitute of wood, and the soil was clayey and shallow.
One or two miles before arriving at the feet of the hills, we
entered a wood, where an emu and a kangaroo were seen at a
distance; and the top of the peak was reached at ten
o’clock.”
From the crest of this granite mountain he would command a
superb view. Towards the north, in the interior, the dark bulk of
Mount Macedon was seen; and all around lay a fertile, promising
country, mile after mile of green pastures, as fair a prospect as
the eye could wish to rest upon. There can be little doubt that
Flinders made his observations from the flat top of a huge
granite boulder which forms the apex of the peak. “I left the
ship’s name,” he says, “on a scroll of paper deposited in a small
pile of stones upon the top of the peak.” He called it Station
Peak, for the reason that he had made it his station for making
observations. In 1912 a fine bronze tablet was fastened on the
eastern face of the boulder on which Flinders probably stood and
worked.* (* It is much to be regretted that this very laudable
mark of honour to his memory was not effected without doing a
thing which is contrary to a good rule and was repugnant to
Flinders’ practice. The name Station Peak was sought to be
changed to Flinders’ Peak, and those who so admirably occasioned
the erection of the tablet managed to secure official sanction
for the alteration by its notification in the Victorian
Government Gazette. But nobody with any historical sense or
proper regard for the fame of Flinders will ever call the
mountain by any other name than Station Peak. It was his name;
and names given by a discoverer should be respected, except when
there is a sound reason to the contrary, as there is not in this
instance. As previously observed, Flinders never named any
discovery after himself. Honour him by calling any other places
after him by all means; the name Flinders for the Commonwealth
Naval Base in Westernport is an excellent one, for instance. But
his names for natural features should not be disturbed.)
The boat was reached, after the descent of the mountain and
the return tramp across the sodden flats, at three o’clock in the
afternoon. The party were very weary from this twenty-mile
excursion, a feat requiring some power of endurance, as one who
has walked along the same route and climbed Station Peak several
times can testify; and especially hard on men who were fresh from
a long voyage. The party camped for the night at Indented Head,
on the west side of the port, and on Sunday, May 2nd, they again
boarded the Investigator.
The ship was anchored under the shelter of the Nepean
Peninsula, nearly opposite the present Portsea. On the way back
Flinders shot “some delicate teal,” near the piece of water which
Murray had called Swan Harbour, and a few black swans were
caught.
Port Phillip has since become important as the seat of one of
the great cities of the world, and its channels are used by
commercial fleets flying every colour known to the trading
nations. Scarcely an hour of the day goes by, but the narrow
waters dividing the port from the ocean are churned by the
propellers of great ships. The imagination sets itself a task in
trying to realize those few days in May, 1802, when Flinders
called it a “useful but obscure port” and when the only keels
that lay within the bay were those of one small sloop at anchor
near the entrance, and one tiny boat in which her captain was
rowing over the surface and making a map of the outline. And if
it is difficult for us to recapture that scene of spacious
solitude, it was quite impossible for Flinders to foresee what a
century would bring forth. He recognised that the surrounding
country “has a pleasing and in many places a fertile appearance.”
He described much of it as patently fit for agricultural
purposes. “It is in great measure a grassy country, and capable
of supporting much cattle, though much better calculated for
sheep.” It was, indeed, largely on his report that settlement was
attempted at Port Phillip in 1803. But it is quaint, at this time
of day, to read his remark that “were a settlement made at Port
Phillip, as doubtless there will be some time hereafter, the
entrance could be easily distinguished, and it would not be
difficult to establish a friendly intercourse with the natives,
for they are acquainted with the effect of firearms, and desirous
of possessing many of our conveniences.”
Seaman Smith devotes a paragraph in his Journal to the visit
to Port Phillip, and it may as well be quoted for its historical
interest: “On the 28th we came to an anchor in a bay of very
large size. Thinking there was a good channel in a passage
through, we got aground; but by good management we got off
without damadge. Here we caught a Shirk which measured 10 feet 9
inch in length; in girt very large. 29th the captn and boats went
to investigate the interior part of the harbr for 3 days, while
those on board imploy’d in working ship to get as near the mouth
of the harbr as possible. May 2nd our boat and crew came on
board. Brought with them 2 swanns and a number of native
spears.”
At daylight on May 3rd the Investigator dropped out of Port
Phillip with the tide. Westall, the artist, made a drawing of the
heads from a distance of 5 miles.
At dusk on Saturday, May 8th, she stood seven miles off the
entrance to Port Jackson. Flinders was so thoroughly well
acquainted with the harbour that he tried to beat up in the
night; but the wind was adverse, and he did not pass the heads
till one o’clock on the following day. At three o’clock the ship
was brought to anchor, and the long voyage of discovery, which
had had larger results than any voyage since the great days of
Cook, was over. It had lasted nine months and nine days.
The horrors of scurvy were such a customary accompaniment of
long voyages in those days that the condition of Flinders’
company at the termination of this protracted navigation was
healthy almost beyond precedent. But this young captain had
learnt how to manage a ship in Cook’s school, and had profited
from his master’s admonitions. Cook, in his Endeavour voyage of
1770 and 1771, brought his people through a protracted period at
sea with, “generally speaking,” freedom from scurvy, and showed
how by scrupulous cleanliness, plenty of vegetable food, and
anti-scorbutic remedies the dreadful distemper could be kept at
bay. But, fine as Cook’s record is in this respect, it is
eclipsed by that of Flinders, who entered Port Jackson at the end
of this long period aboard ship with an absolutely clean bill of
health. There is no touch of pride, but there is a note of very
proper satisfaction, in the words which he was able to write of
this remarkable record:—
“There was not a single individual on board who was not on
deck working the ship into harbour; and it may be averred that
the officers and crew were, generally speaking, in better health
than on the day we sailed from Spithead, and not in less good
spirits. I have said nothing of the regulations observed after we
made Cape Leeuwin. They were very little different from those
adopted in the commencement of the voyage, and of which a strict
attention to cleanliness and a free circulation of air in the
messing and sleeping places formed the most essential parts.
Several of the inhabitants of Port Jackson expressed themselves
never to have been so strongly reminded of England as by the
fresh colour of many amongst the Investigator’s ship’s
company.”
As soon as the anchor was dropped, Flinders went ashore and
reported himself to Governor King, to whom he delivered his
orders from the Admiralty. He also reported to Captain Hamelin of
Le Naturaliste, who had sought refuge in the port and had been
lying there since April 24th, the intention of Baudin to bring
round Le Geographe in due course. Then he set about making
preparations for refitting the ship and getting ready for further
explorations.
CHAPTER 17. THE FRENCH AT PORT JACKSON: PERON THE SPY.
The condition of Le Geographe when she made her appearance
outside Port Jackson, on June 20th, 1802, was in striking and
instructive contrast with that of the Investigator on her entry
forty-two days before. Flinders had not a sick man on board. His
crew finished the voyage a company of bronzed, jolly, hearty
sailors, fit for any service. Baudin, on the contrary, had not a
single man on board who was free from disease. His men were
covered with sores and putrid ulcers;” the surgeon, Taillefer,
found the duty of attending upon them revolting; they lay
groaning about the decks in misery and pain, and only four were
available for steering and management, themselves being reduced
almost to the extremity of debility. “Not a soul among us was
exempt from the affliction,” wrote the commandant in his
journal.
The utmost difficulty had been experienced in working the
vessel round the south of Van Diemen’s Land and up the east coast
in tempestuous weather. Baudin obstinately refused, in the teeth
of the urgent recommendation of his officers, to sail through
Bass Strait, and thus save several days; though, as he had
already negotiated the strait from the east, he knew the
navigation, and the distressful condition of his people should
have impelled him to choose a route which would take them to
succour in the briefest period of time. He insisted on the longer
course, and in consequence brought his ship to the very verge of
disaster, besides intensifying the sufferings of his crew. The
voyage from the region of the gulfs to the harbour of refuge was
full of pain and peril. Man after man dropped out. The sailors
were unable to trim the sails properly; steersmen fell at the
wheel; they could not walk or lift their limbs without groaning
in agony. It was a plague ship that crept round to Port Jackson
Heads in that month of storms:
“And as a full field charging was the sea, And as a cry of
slain men was the wind.”
All this bitter suffering was caused because, as the official
historian of the expedition tells us, Baudin “neglected the most
indispensable precautions relative to the health of the men.” He
disregarded instructions which had been furnished with reference
to hygiene, paid no heed to the experience of other navigators,
and permitted practices which could not but conduce to disease.
His illustrious predecessor, Laperouse, a true pupil of Cook, had
conducted a long voyage with fine immunity from scurvy, and
Baudin could have done the same had he possessed valid
qualifications for his employment.
There is no satisfaction in dwelling upon the pitiful
condition to which Baudin’s people were reduced; but it is
necessary to set out the facts clearly, because the visit paid by
Le Geographe and Le Naturaliste to Sydney, and what the French
officers did there, is of the utmost importance in relation to
what happened to Flinders at a later date.
Baudin brought his vessel up to the entrance to the harbour on
June 20th, but so feeble were his crew that they could not work
her into port. It was reported that a ship in evident distress
was outside, and at once a boat’s crew of Flinders’ men from the
Investigator was sent down to assist in towing her to an
anchorage. “It was grievous,” Flinders said, “to see the
miserable condition to which both officers and men were reduced
by scurvy, there being not more out of one hundred and seventy,
according to the Captain’s account, than twelve men capable of
doing their duty.” Baudin’s own journal says they were only four;
but, whatever the number may have been, even these were sick, and
could only perform any kind of work under the whip of absolute
necessity. All the sufferers were attended with “the most
touching activity” by the principal surgeon of the settlement,
James Thomson.
The resources of Sydney at that time were slender, but such as
they were Governor King immediately placed them at the disposal
of the French commodore. The sick were removed to the hospital,
permission was given to pitch tents close to where the
Investigator’s were erected, at Cattle Point on the east side of
Sydney Cove,* and everything was done to extend a cordial welcome
to the visitors. (* Flinders, Voyage, 1 227. The “Cattle Point”
of Flinders is the present Fort Macquarie, or Bennelong Point,
behind which Government House stands.) “Although,” wrote the
Governor to Baudin, “last night I had the pleasure of announcing
that a peace had taken place between our respective countries,
yet a continuance of the war would have made no difference in my
reception of your ship, and affording every relief and assistance
in my power; and, although you will not find abundant supplies of
what are most requisite and acceptable to those coming off so
long a voyage, yet I offer you a sincere welcome. I am much
concerned to find from Monsieur Ronsard that your ship’s company
are so dreadfully afflicted with the scurvy. I have sent the
Naval Officer with every assistance to get the ship into a safe
anchorage. I beg you would give yourself no concern about
saluting. When I have the honour of seeing you, we will then
concert means for the relief of your sick.” That was, truly, a
letter replete in every word of it with manly gentleness,
generous humanity and hospitable warmth. The same spirit was
maintained throughout of the six months of the Frenchmen’s stay
at Port Jackson. King even reduced the rations of his own people
in order that he might have enough to share with the strangers.
Fresh meat was so scarce in the colony that when the Investigator
arrived Flinders could not buy any for his men; but as soon as
the French appeared, King, pitying their plight, at once ordered
the slaughtering of some oxen belonging to the Government in
order that they might be fed on fresh food. Baudin was daily at
the Governor’s house,* and King entertained his officers
frequently. (* Historical Records 4 952.) His tact was as
conspicuous as his good nature. Baudin was not on good terms with
some of his officers, and the Governor was made aware of this
fact. He conducted himself as host with a resourceful
consideration for the feelings of his quarrelsome guests. And as
the Governor comported himself towards them, so also did the
leading people of Sydney. “Among all the French officers serving
in the division which I command,” wrote Baudin, “there is not one
who is not, like myself, convinced of the indebtedness in which
we stand to Governor King and the principal inhabitants of the
colony for the courteous, affectionate, and distinguished manner
in which they have received us.”
Not only on the social side was this extreme kindness
displayed. King did everything in his power to further the
scientific purposes of the expedition and to complete the
re-equipment of Baudin’s ships. Le Geographe required to be
careened, and to have her copper lining extensively repaired.
Facilities were at once granted for effecting these works.
Baudin, intending to send Le Naturaliste back to France with
natural history specimens and reports up to date, desired to
purchase a small Australian-built vessel to accompany him on the
remainder of his voyage. King gave his consent, “as it is for the
advancement of science and navigation,” and the Casuarina, a
locally-built craft of between 40 and 50 tons, was acquired for
the purpose. The French men of science were assisted in making
excursions into the country in prosecution of their researches.
Baudin refused the application of his geologist, Bailly, who
wished to visit the Hawkesbury River and the mountains to collect
specimens and study the natural formation. The British,
thereupon, furnished him with boats, guides and even food for the
journey, since his own commander declined to supply him. Peron,
the naturalist, who afterwards wrote the history of the voyage,
was likewise afforded opportunities for travelling in prosecution
of his studies, and the disreputable use which he made of the
freedom allowed to him will presently appear.
There is no reason to believe that any of the French officers,
or the men of science on Baudin’s staff, abused the hospitality
so nobly extended to them, with two exceptions. The conduct of
the crew appears to have been exemplary. Baudin himself won
King’s confidence, and was not unworthy of it. His demeanour was
perfectly frank. “Entre nous,” wrote King to Banks in May, 1803,
“he showed me and left with me all his journals, in which were
contained all his orders from the first idea of the voyage taking
place…He informed me that he knew of no idea that the French
had of settling on any part or side of this continent.”
After the departure of the two ships, on November 17th, a
rumour came to the Governor’s ears that some of the French
officers had informed Lieutenant-Colonel Paterson that it was
their intention to establish a settlement on Dentrecasteaux
Channel in the south of Van Diemen’s Land. The news occasioned
grave anxiety to King, who immediately took steps to frustrate
any such plans. He sent acting-Lieutenant Robbins in the
Cumberland in pursuit of Baudin, informing him of what was
alleged, and calling upon him for an explanation. Baudin
positively denied that he had entertained such an intention; and
certainly he had not acted, after leaving Port Jackson, as if he
had the design to lay the foundations of a settlement at the
place specified, for he had not sailed anywhere near southern Van
Diemen’s Land. He had made direct for King Island, and was
quietly continuing his exploratory work when Robbins found him.
This vague and unsubstantial rumour, which Paterson had not even
taken the trouble to report officially to the Governor when he
heard it, was the only incident with which Baudin was connected
that gave King any cause to doubt his perfect good faith; and
Baudin’s categorical denial of the allegation is fully confirmed
by his diary and correspondence—now available for study—which
contain no particle of evidence to suggest that the planting of a
settlement, or the choice of a site for one, was a purpose of the
expedition.
Baudin’s gratitude for King’s hospitality was expressed in a
cordial personal letter, and also in an open letter which he
addressed to the Governors of the French colonies of
Ile-de-France and Reunion. Twelve copies of the letter were left
in King’s hands, to be given by him to the captain of any British
ships that might have occasion to put in to any port in those
colonies. Blanks were left in the letter, to be filled up by
King, with the name of the captain to whom he might give a copy
and the name of the ship.* (* Mr. F.M. Bladen, in a note appended
to a copy of this interesting letter, in the Historical Records
of New South Wales, Volume 4 page 968 says: “The letter was
handed to Governor King by Commodore Baudin, in case it should be
required, but was retained by King amongst his papers, and never
used. Had it been in the hands of Flinders when forced to touch
at the Isle of France it might have prevented any question, real
or pretended, as to his bona fides. Indeed, it is not unlikely
that it was originally intended for Flinders.” But, although the
letter was not used by Flinders, Baudin gave a copy of it to
General Decaen, Governor of Ile-de-France, when he called there
on his homeward voyage. The copy is now among Decaen’s
manuscripts at Caen, Volume 84. The blanks are in it, as in
King’s copy. Decaen was therefore fully aware of the generous
treatment accorded to his countrymen at Port Jackson.) In this
document, it will be noticed, Baudin was bespeaking from
representatives of his country in their own colonies such
consideration as he had experienced from his British hosts at
Sydney. The fulness of his obligation could scarcely have been
expressed in more thorough terms:
“The assistance we have found here, the kindness of Governor
King towards us, his generous attentions for the recovery of our
sick men, his love for the progress of science, in short,
everything seemed to have united to make us forget the hardships
of a long and painful voyage, which was often impeded by the
inclemency of the weather; and yet the fact of the peace being
signed was unknown, and we only heard of it when our sick men had
recovered, our vessels had been repaired, our provisions shipped,
and when our departure was near at hand. Whatever the duties of
hospitality may be, Governor King had given the whole of Europe
the example of a benevolence which should be known, and which I
take a great pleasure in publishing.
“On our arrival at Port Jackson, the stock of wheat there was
very limited, and that for the future was uncertain. The arrival
of 170 men was not a happy circumstance at the time, yet we were
well received; and when our present and future wants were known,
they were supplied by shortening part of the daily ration allowed
to the inhabitants and the garrison of the colony. The Governor
first gave the example. Through those means, which do so great
honour to the humane feelings of him who put them into motion, we
have enjoyed a favour which we would perhaps have experienced
much difficulty in finding anywhere else.
“After such treatment, which ought in future to serve as an
example for all the nations, I consider it my duty, as much out
of gratitude as by inclination, to recommend particularly to you
Mr. —— commander of H.M.S. ——. Although he does not propose
to call at the Isle of France, it may be possible some unforeseen
circumstance might compel him to put into port in the colony, the
government of which is entrusted to you. Having been a witness of
the kind manner with which his countrymen have treated us on
every occasion, I hope he will be convinced by his own experience
that Frenchmen are not less hospitable and benevolent; and then
his mother-country will have over us the advantage only of having
done in times of war what happier times enabled us to return to
her in time of peace.”
That letter has been quoted, and the circumstances attending
Baudin’s arrival and stay at Sydney have been narrated with some
fulness, in order to give particular point to the conduct of two
members of his expedition, Francois Peron and Lieutenant Louis de
Freycinet. As will be seen from what follows, both of them used
the latitude allowed to them while receiving King’s generous
hospitality, to spy, to collect information for the purpose of
enabling an attack to be made upon Port Jackson, and to supply it
with mischievous intent to the military authorities of their
nation.
Le Naturaliste returned to Europe from King Island on December
8th. She took with her all the natural history specimens
collected up to that time, and reports of the work done. Baudin,
with Le Geographe and the Casuarina, spent six months longer in
Australian waters, exploring Spencer’s and St. Vincent’s Gulfs,
completing the chart of Kangaroo Island, and making a second
voyage along the coast. On July 7th, 1803, he determined to
return to France. He reached Ile-de-France on August 7th, became
seriously ill there, and died on September 16th. The Casuarina
was dismantled, and Le Geographe, which stayed there for three
months after her commander’s death, arrived in France on March
24th, 1804.
The military Governor of Ile-de-France at this time was
General Charles Decaen. As a later chapter will be devoted to his
career and character, it is only necessary to say here that he
was a dogged, strong-willed officer, imbued with a deep-rooted
hatred of British policy and power, and anxious to avail himself
of any opportunity that might occur of striking a blow at the
rival of his own nation. Francois Peron very soon found that the
Governor was eager to get information that might, should a
favourable chance present itself, enable him to attack the
British colony in Australia, and he lost no time in ministering
to the General’s belligerent animosity.
On December 11th, 1804, four days before Le Geographe sailed
for Europe, Peron furnished to Decaen a long report on Port
Jackson, containing some very remarkable statements.* (*
Manuscripts, Decaen Papers Volume 92. The complete document is
translated in appendix B to this volume.) He alleged that the
First Consul, Bonaparte, in authorising Baudin’s expedition, had
given to it a scientific semblance with the object of disguising
its real intent from the Governments of Europe, and especially
from the cabinet of Great Britain. “If sufficient time were
available to me,” said Peron, “it would be very easy to
demonstrate to you that all our natural history researches,
extolled with so much ostentation by the Government, were merely
the pretext of its enterprise.” The principal object was “one of
the most brilliant and important conceptions,” which would, if
successful, have made the Government for ever illustrious. The
unfortunate circumstance was, however, Peron declared, that after
so much had been done to conduce to the success of these designs,
the execution of them had been confided to a man utterly unsuited
to conduct them to a successful issue.
That there were such designs as those alleged by Peron is
disclosed by no word in Napoleon’s Correspondance; there is no
suggestion of anything of the kind in the papers communicated to
Baudin by the Minister of Marine, or in Baudin’s confidential
reports to his Government. It is in the nature of a spy to
flavour with his own conjectures the base fruit of his illicit
inquisitions, and Peron knew that he was writing to a man greedy
to obtain such material as he was ready to supply. There is no
word from any other member of the expedition, except Freycinet,
written before or after, to support Peron’s allegations; and it
is extremely unlikely that, if the purpose he indicated had been
the real one, he would have been the man to know about it. Peron
had not originally been a member of the staff of the expedition.
Baudin’s ships had been equipped, their complement was complete,
and they were lying at Havre in October, 1800, awaiting sailing
orders, when Peron sought employment. He had been a student under
Jussieu at the Museum, and to that savant he applied for the use
of his influence. Jussieu, with the aid of the biologist,
Lacepede, secured an opportunity for Peron to read a paper before
the Institute, expounding his views as to research work which
might be done in Australasia; the result was that at almost the
last moment he obtained appointment.* (* See the biographies of
Peron by Deleuze (1811) and Girard (1857).) He was not in the
confidence of Baudin, with whom he was on bad terms throughout
the voyage, and his hatred for whom continued relentlessly after
the unfortunate captain’s death. On the point in question,
therefore, Peron is by no means a trustworthy witness. The very
terms in which Baudin wrote of Sydney, in his confidential letter
to the Minister of Marine, indicate that he was innocent of any
knowledge of a secret purpose. If he had known he would have
referred to it here; and if he did not know of one, Peron
certainly did not. “I believe it to be my duty,” wrote Baudin,
“to warn you that the colony of Port Jackson ought to engage the
attention of the Government and indeed of other European power
also. People in France or elsewhere are very far from imagining
that the English, in the space of fourteen years, have been able
to build up their colony to such a degree of prosperity, which
will be augmented every year by the dispositions of their
Government. It seems to me that policy demands (il me semble que
la politique exige) that by some means the preparations they are
making for the future, which foreshadow great projects, ought to
be balanced.” That was simply Baudin’s personal opinion: “it
seemed to him.” But the statement Peron made to Decaen, as to
what he could demonstrate “if he had time,” together with his
other assertions, may have had an influence on the general’s
mind, and may have affected the later treatment of Flinders; and
that constitutes its importance for our purpose.
Peron went on to allege that while he was at Port Jackson, “I
neglected no opportunity of procuring all the information that I
foresaw would be of interest. I was received in the house of the
Governor with much consideration; he himself and his secretary
spoke our language well. Mr. Paterson, the commandant of the New
South Wales troops, always treated me with particular regard. I
was received in his house, as one may say, like a son. Through
him I knew all the officials of the colony. The surgeon, Mr.
Thomson, honoured me with his friendship. Mr. Grimes, the
surveyor-general, Mr. Palmer the commissary-general, Mr. Marsden
a clergyman at Parramatta, and a cultivator as wealthy as he was
discerning, were all capable of furnishing me with valuable
information. My functions permitted me to hazard the asking of a
number of questions which would have been indiscreet on the part
of another, especially on military matters. I have, in a word,
known all the principal people of the colony, in all walks of
life, and all of them have furnished me with information as
valuable as it is new. Finally, I made in Mr. Paterson’s company
long journeys into the interior of the country; I have seen the
best farms, and I assure you that I have collected everywhere
interesting ideas, and have stated them in as exact a form as
possible.”
After this illuminating dissertation as to his own value as a
spy, and the clever use he had made of his functions as a
naturalist to exploit unsuspecting people, Peron proceeded to
describe the British establishment in detail. But he omitted to
tell Decaen how kindly he and his countrymen had been treated
there; not a word had he to say on that subject; no circumstance
was mentioned that might tend to withhold an attack if a
favourable chance for one should occur. He gave an interesting
description of Sydney and its environs, spoke of the growth of
its trade, the spread of cultivation, the increase of wealth.
Then he gave his views on the designs of the British to extend
their power in the Pacific. Their ambitions were not confined to
New Holland itself, vast as it was. Their cupidity had been
excited by Van Diemen’s Land. They did not intend, if they could
avoid it, to permit any other nation to occupy that country. They
would soon extend their dominion to New Zealand. They were even
casting avaricious glances across the Pacific. They had occupied
Norfolk Island, and he did not hesitate to say that they were
looking for a place further east, whence they might assail Chili
and Peru. The British were quite aware of the feebleness of the
Spaniards in those regions, and meant to appropriate their
possessions in time.
Next Peron gave an account of the transportation system, of
which he approved, as making for rapid colonization, and as
having valuable reformatory effects. The climate and
productiveness of New South Wales were enthusiastically praised
by him, and its eminent suitability for European occupation was
extolled. In all that the British had done in Australia were to
be recognised great designs for the future. Steps had been taken
to convert felons into good colonists, to educate their children,
and to train them for useful avocations.
He drew attention to the number of Irish prisoners who had
been transported for participation in rebellious movements at
home, and to their implacable hatred of Great Britain. “The
Irish, kept under by an iron sceptre, are quiet to-day; but if
ever the Government of our country, alarmed by the rapidly
increasing power of that colony, formed the project of taking or
destroying it, at the very name of the French the Irish would
rise. We had a striking example of what might be expected on our
first arrival in the colony. Upon the appearance of the French
flag, the alarm became general in the country. The Irish began to
flock together from all parts, and if their error had not been
speedily dissipated, there would have been a general rising among
them. One or two were put to death on that occasion, and several
were deported to Norfolk Island.”
The troops at Port Jackson, said Peron, did not number more
than 700 or 800 men while the French ships were there, but he
believed that as many as 8,000 were expected. He doubted,
however, whether Great Britain could maintain a very large force
there, in view of the demands upon her resources elsewhere owing
to the war; but was of opinion that she would use Port Jackson as
a depot for India, on account of the healthiness of the climate.
He summed up in eighteen paragraphs the advantage which Great
Britain drew, and was likely to draw, from her possession of Port
Jackson; and he terminated these by telling Decaen that “my
opinion, and that of all those among us who have been
particularly occupied with the organization of that colony, would
be that we should destroy it as soon as possible. To-day we can
do that easily; we shall not be able to do it in a few years to
come.” There followed a postscript in which Peron informed the
General that Lieutenant de Freycinet “has particularly occupied
himself with examining all the points on the coast in the
neighbourhood of Port Jackson that are favourable for the
debarkation of troops. He has made especial enquiries concerning
the entry to the port, and if ever the Government thought of
putting into execution the project of destroying this freshly set
trap of a great Power, that distinguished officer’s services
would be of precious value in such an operation.” The
recommendation of Peron’s fellow-spy at the end of the report is
interesting, as indicating how the pair worked together. Peron,
under the guise of a man of science collecting facts about
butterflies and grasshoppers, exploited his hosts for information
of a political and military nature; whilst Freycinet, ostensibly
examining the harbour in the interest of navigation, made plans
of places suitable for landing troops. Both together, having been
nourished and nursed in their day of dire calamity by the
abundant kindness of the people of Sydney, concocted plans for
bringing destruction upon their benefactors, and proffered their
services to show the way. One thinks perforce of a rough speech
of Dol Common in Ben Jonson’s Alchemist:
“S’death, you perpetual curs, Fall to your couples again, and
cozen kindly.”
Five days after the arrival of Le Geographe in France, on
March 29th, 1804, Peron wrote to the Minister of Marine* in
similar terms, relating the valuable opportunities he had had of
making himself acquainted with the situation of Port Jackson, and
mentioning the names of leading citizens with whom he had
associated, and from whom he had collected information. (* Arch.
Nat. BB4 996.)
A second report upon Port Jackson was furnished to General
Decaen, giving precise information as to where troops could be
landed if an invasion were undertaken. The document is unsigned,*
but, having regard to Peron’s statement concerning Freycinet’s
investigations, there can be no doubt that the information came
from him. (* “Coup d’oeil rapide sur l’establissement des Anglais
de la Nouvelle Hollande,” manuscripts, Decaen Papers Volume 92
page 74.) The writer described Sydney as “perhaps the most
beautiful port in the world,” and observed that, though its
natural defences were strong, the English had employed no means
to fortify the approaches. Many of the convicts were Irish, and
were capable of everything except good.* (* “Ils sont capable de
tout, excepte le bien.”) Persons who had played a part in
connection with the recent rebellion in Ireland were subject to
transportation, and were naturally a disaffected class. England
had only 600 troops to maintain order in that “society of
brigands,” and discipline was not very well observed amongst
them. Particulars were given as to how an invasion could be
effected:
“The conquest of Port Jackson would be very easy to
accomplish, since the English have neglected every species of
means of defence. It would be possible to make a descent through
Broken Bay, or even through the port of Sydney itself; but in the
latter case it would be necessary to avoid disembarking troops on
the right side of the entrance, on account of the arm of the sea
of which I have already spoken.* (* Middle Harbour.) That
indentation presents as an obstacle a great fosse, defended by a
battery of ten or twelve guns, firing from eighteen to
twenty-four-pound balls. The left shore of the harbour is
undefended, and is at the same time more accessible. The town is
dominated by its outlying portions to such an extent, that it
might be hoped to reduce the barracks in a little time. There is
no battery, and a main road leads to the port of Sydney. Care
ought to be taken to organize the invaders in attacking parties.
The aboriginals of the country need not be reckoned with. They
make no distinctions between white men. Moreover, they are few in
numbers. The residence of the Governor, that of the colonel of
the New South Wales Regiment, the barracks, and one public
building, are the principal edifices. The other houses, to the
number of three or four hundred, are small. The chief buildings
of the establishment captured, the others would fall naturally
into the hands of the conqueror. If the troops had to retreat,
they would best do so by the River Oxbury* (* i.e., the
Hawkesbury; the Frenchman guessed at the spelling from the
pronunciation.) and thence to Broken Bay. I regret very much that
I have not more time to give* to this slight review of the
resources, means of defence of and methods of attack on that
colony. I conclude by observing that scarcely any coinage is to
be found in circulation there. They use a currency of copper with
which they pay the troops, and some paper money.” (* Compare
Peron’s remark concerning the little time at his disposal. Both
reports were written only a few days before Le Geographe left
Ile-de-France for Europe.)
There is no need to emphasise the circumstances in which this
piece of duplicity was perpetrated. They are made sufficiently
clear from the plain story related in the preceding pages. But it
should be said in justice to Baudin that there is no reason to
associate him with the espionage of Peron. Nor is it the case
that the expedition originally had any intention of visiting Port
Jackson, for this or any other purpose. As explained in the
chapter relating to the Encounter Bay incident, it was Flinders
who suggested to Baudin that he should seek the succour he so
sorely needed at Sydney; and Le Naturaliste, which preceded him
thither, was driven by a like severity of need to his own. “It
does not appear by his orders,” wrote King to Banks “that he was
at all instructed to touch here, which I do not think he intended
if not obliged by distress.” Such was the case; and it was this
very distress, and the generous alleviation of it by the British
colonists, that make the singular turpitude of Peron and
Freycinet in pursuing nefarious designs of their own and plotting
to rend the breast that fed them. The great war gave rise to many
noble acts of chivalry on both sides, deeds which are luminous
with a spirit transcending the hatreds of the time, and glorify
human nature; but it is happily questionable whether it produced
an example to equal that expounded in these pages, of ignoble
treachery and ungrateful baseness.
Flinders, when reviewing the unjust account of his own
discoveries given by Peron in his Voyage de Decouvertes, adopted
the view that what he wrote was under compulsion from authority.
“How came M. Peron to advance what was so contrary to truth?” he
asked. “Was he a man destitute of all principle? My answer is
that I believe his candour to have been equal to his acknowledged
abilities; and that what he wrote was from over-ruling authority,
and smote him to the heart.” Could Flinders have known what Peron
was capable of doing, in the endeavour to advance himself in
favour with the rulers of his country, he would certainly not
have believed him so blameless.
That Port Jackson was never attacked during these years of war
was not due to its own capabilities of defence, which were
pitifully weak; nor to reluctance on the part of Napoleon and
Decaen; but simply to the fact that the British Navy secured and
kept the command of the sea. In 1810 Napoleon directed the
equipment of a squadron to “take the English colony of Port
Jackson, where considerable resources will be found.”* (*
Napoleon’s Correspondance Volume 20 document 16 544.) But it was
a futile order to give at that date. Trafalgar had been fought,
and the defence of the colony in Australia was maintained
effectively wherever British frigates sailed.
Peron’s report, then, did no mischief where he intended that
it should. But by inflaming Decaen’s mind with suspicions it may
not have been ineffectual in another unfortunate direction, as we
shall presently see.
The action of Peron in trying to persuade Decaen that the
object of Baudin’s expedition was not truly scientific was all
the more remarkable because he himself, as one of its expert
staff, did work which earned him merited repute. His papers on
marine life, on phosphorescence in the sea, on the zoology of the
South Seas, on the temperature of the sea at measured depths, and
on other subjects pertaining to his scientific functions, were
marked by conspicuous originality and acumen. But he was not
content to allow the value of his services to be estimated by
researches within his own sphere. He knew the sort of information
that would please General Decaen, and evidently considered that
espionage would bring him greater favour from his Government, at
that time, than science.
Nevertheless, it is right to bring out the fact, in justice to
the diligent savants who worked under Baudin, that their
researches generally were of real importance. Professor Jussieu,
one of the foremost men of science in Europe, was deputed to
report upon them, and did so in a comprehensive document.* (*
Manuscripts, Archives of the Museum d’Histoire Naturelle de
Paris.) “Of all the collections which have come to us from
distant countries at different times,” wrote Jussieu, “those
which Le Geographe and Le Naturaliste have brought home are
certainly the most considerable.” The botanist Leschenalt had
found over 600 species of plants which were believed to be new to
science; and he eulogised the zoological work of Peron, who had
succeeded in bringing to France alive seven kinds of kangaroo, an
emu, a lyre-bird and several black swan. Altogether, 18,414
specimens of Australian fauna had been collected, comprised in
3872 species, of which 2592 species were new to the museum. The
men of science had “succeeded beyond all our hopes.” Their task
had been perfectly fulfilled, and their services to science
deserved to be liberally rewarded by a just and generous
government.
It would have been a source of satisfaction if it could be
recorded that work so laborious and so well performed had earned
for Peron a reputation unstained by such conduct as has been
exhibited in the preceding pages.
CHAPTER 18. AUSTRALIA CIRCUMNAVIGATED.
Preparations for the continuance of researches in the
Investigator proceeded speedily during June and July, 1802.
Friendly relations were maintained with the staff of the French
ships, who on one occasion dined on board with Flinders, and were
received with a salute of eleven guns. A new chart of the south
coast was then shown to Baudin, with the part which he had
discovered marked with his name. He made no objection to the
justice of the limits indicated, though he expressed himself
surprised that they were so small; for up to this time he was not
aware of the discovery by Grant of the coast eastward from Cape
Banks. “Ah, Captain,” said Freycinet, when he recognised the
missed opportunities, “if we had not been kept so long picking up
shells and catching butterflies at Van Diemen’s Land, you would
not have discovered the south coast before us.”
A glimpse of the social life of the settlement is afforded in
a letter to Mrs. Flinders, concerning the King’s birthday
celebrations.* (* Flinders’ Papers.) Very little is known about
the amusements and festivities of Sydney in those early days, but
that gaiety and ceremony were not absent from the convict colony
is apparent from this epistle, which was dated June 4th, 1802:
“This is a great day in all distant British settlements, and we
are preparing to celebrate it with due magnificence. The ship is
covered with colours, and every man is about to put on his best
apparel and to make himself merry. We go through the form of
waiting on His Excellency the Governor at his levee, to pay our
compliments to him as the representative of majesty; after which,
a dinner and ball are given to the colony, at which not less than
52 gentlemen and ladies will be present. Amidst all this, how
much preferable is such a ‘right hand and left’ as that we have
had at Spilsby with those we love, to that which we shall go
through this evening.”
A few alterations were made in the ship, which was re-rigged
and overhauled; and a new eight-oar boat was built to replace the
one lost in Spencer’s Gulf. She cost 30 pounds, and was
constructed after the model of the boat in which Bass had made
his famous expedition to Westernport. She proved, “like her
prototype, to be excellent in a sea, as well as for rowing and
sailing in smooth water.”
Fourteen men were required to make up the ship’s complement. A
new master was found in John Aken of the Hercules, a convict
transport, and five seamen were engaged; but it was impossible to
secure the services of nine others from amongst the free people.
Flinders thereupon proposed to the Governor that he should ship
nine convicts who could bring “respectable recommendations.” King
concurred, and the number required were permitted to join the
Investigator, with the promise that they should receive
conditional or absolute pardons on their return, “according to
Captain Flinders’ recommendation of them.” Several of them were
experienced seamen, and proved a great acquisition to the
strength of the ship. Flinders also took with him his old friend
Bongaree, “the worthy and brave fellow” who had accompanied him
on the Norfolk voyage in 1799, and a native lad named
Nambaree.
It was determined, after consultation with King, to sail to
the north of Australia and explore Torres Strait and the east
side of the Gulf of Carpentaria, as well as to examine the
north-east coast with more care than Cook had been able to give
to it. The Lady Nelson, under Murray’s direction, was to
accompany the Investigator; if rivers were found, it was hoped
that she would be able to penetrate the country by means of
them.
On the 21st July the provisioning of the ship was completed,
the new boat was hoisted into her place, and the Investigator
dropped down the harbour to make her course northward.
The Lady Nelson proved more of a hindrance than a help to the
work of exploration. She was painfully slow, and, to make matters
worse, Murray, “not being much accustomed to make free with the
land,” hugged the coast, and kept the Investigator waiting for
him at every appointed rendezvous. In August she bumped on a reef
in Port Curtis and lost her sliding keel; in September she ran
aground in Broad Sound and injured her main keel. Her capacity
for beating to windward was never great, and after she had been
repaired her tardiness became irritating. Murray had also lost
one anchor and broken another. His ship sailed so ill, in fact,
and required so much attention, that she dragged on Flinders’
vessel; and Murray had given many proofs that he “was not much
acquainted with the kind of service” in which they were engaged.
On October 18th, therefore, Flinders sent her back to Sydney,
with an expression of regret at depriving Murray, who had shown
zeal to make himself useful, of the advantage of continuing the
voyage.
On August 7th Port Curtis was discovered, and was named after
Sir Roger Curtis, the admiral at the Cape who had been so
attentive to the requirements of the Investigator on her voyage
out from England. In Keppel Bay (discovered by Cook in 1770) the
master’s mate and a seaman became bogged in a mangrove swamp, and
had to pass the night persecuted by clouds of mosquitoes. In the
morning their plight was relieved by a party of aboriginals, who
took them to a fire whereat they dried themselves, and fed them
on broiled wild duck. Natives were encountered at every
landing-place, and were invariably friendly.
Another important discovery was made on August 21st, when Port
Bowen was entered. It had not only escaped Cook’s notice, but,
owing to a change of wind, was nearly missed by Flinders also. He
named it after Captain James Bowen of the Royal Navy.
In every bay he entered Flinders examined the refuse thrown up
by the sea, with the object of finding any particle of wreckage
that might have been carried in. If, as was commonly believed
(and was, in fact, the case), Laperouse had been wrecked
somewhere in the neighbourhood of New Caledonia, it was possible
that remnants of his vessels might be borne to the Queensland
coast by the trade winds. “Though the hope of restoring Laperouse
or any of his companions to their country and friends could not,
after so many years, be rationally entertained, yet to gain some
certain knowledge of their fate would do away the pain of
suspense.”* (* In 1861, remains of a small vessel were found at
the back of Temple Island, not far from Mackay, 150 miles or more
north of Flinders’ situation when he wrote this passage. The
wreckage is believed by some to be part of the craft built by
Laperouse’s people at Vanikoro, after the disaster which overtook
them there. The sternpost recovered from the wreckage is, I am
informed, included among the Laperouse relics preserved at Paris.
See A.C. Macdonald, on “The Fate of Laperouse,” Victorian
Geographical Journal 26 14.)
The Percy Islands (September 28th) were a third discovery of
importance on this northern voyage. Flinders now desired to find
a passage through the Barrier Reef to the open Pacific, in order
that he might make the utmost speed for Torres Strait and the
Gulf of Carpentaria. Several openings were tried. At length an
opening was found. It is known as Flinders’ Passage, in latitude
18 degrees 45 minutes south, longitude 148 degrees 10 minutes
east, and is frequently used nowadays. It is about 45 miles
north-east from Cape Bowling Green, and is the southernmost of
the passages used by shipping through the Barrier. Three anxious
days were spent in tacking through the intricacies of the untried
passage. The perplexity and danger of the navigation must have
recalled to the commander’s mind his experiences as a midshipman
under Bligh ten years before. It was not until the afternoon of
October 20th that a heavy swell from the eastward was felt under
the ship, and Flinders knew by that sign that the open sea had
been gained. He finished his description of this treacherous
piece of reef-ribbed sea by a bit of seaman’s advice to brother
sailors. A captain who wished to make the experiment of getting
through the Barrier Reef “must not be one who throws his ship’s
head round in a hurry so soon as breakers are announced from
aloft. If he do not feel his nerves strong enough to thread the
needle, as it is called, amongst the reefs, while he directs the
steerage from the masthead, I would strongly recommend him not to
approach this part of the coast.” Strong nerves and seamanship
had pulled through in this case, with a few exciting phases; and
the Investigator, in the open ocean, was headed for Torres
Strait.
The strait was entered eight days later, by a passage through
the reef which had been found by Captain Edwards of the Pandora
in 1791, and which Flinders marked on his chart as Pandora’s
Entrance.* (* It is generally marked Flinders’ Entrance on modern
maps; but Flinders himself held to his principle of never calling
a place after himself, and of invariably ascribing full credit to
his predecessors.) He preferred this opening to the one further
north, found by Bligh in 1792. The ship was brought to anchor on
October 29th under the lee of the largest of Murray’s
Islands.
Immediately afterwards three long Papuan canoes, carrying
about fifty natives, came in sight. Remembering the attacks he
had witnessed in the Providence, Flinders kept his marines under
arms and his guns ready, and warned his officers to watch every
movement of the visitors. But the Papuans were merely bent on
barter on this occasion, hatchets especially being in demand.
Seven canoes appeared on the following morning. “Wishing to
secure the friendship and confidence of these islanders to such
vessels as might hereafter pass through Torres Strait, and not
being able to distinguish any chief amongst them, I selected the
oldest man, and presented him with a handsaw, a hammer and nails,
and some other trifles; of all which we attempted to show him the
use, but I believe without success; for the poor old man became
frightened on finding himself to be so particularly noticed.”
Darwin, in writing his treatise on the Structure and
Distribution of Coral Reefs, in 1842, made use of Flinders’ chart
and description of the Great Barrier Reef, which extends for more
than a thousand miles along the east side of the continent, and
into the throat of Torres Strait. The hypothesis that as the bed
of the ocean subsides the coral polyps go on building steadily
upwards, occurred to Darwin more than thirty years after Flinders
sailed along the Reef; and what the navigator wrote was the
result of his own observation and thought. Many absurd and
fanciful speculations about coralline formation were current in
his day, and have often been repeated since. But the reader who
has given any study to Darwin’s array of facts and powerful
reasoning will be interested in the ideas of the earlier
observer:
“It seems to me, that, when the animalcules which form the
corals at the bottom of the ocean cease to live, their structures
adhere to each other, by virtue either of the glutinous remains
within, or of some property in salt water; and the interstices
being gradually filled up with sand and broken pieces of coral
washed by the sea, which also adhere, a mass of rock is at length
formed. Future races of these animalcules erect their habitations
upon the rising bank, and die in their turn, to increase, but
principally to elevate, this monument of their wonderful labours.
The care taken to work perpendicularly in the early stages would
mark a surprising instinct in these diminutive creatures. Their
wall of coral, for the most part in situations where the winds
are constant, being arrived at the surface, affords a shelter to
leeward of which their infant colonies may be safely sent forth;
and to their instructive foresight it seems to be owing that the
windward side of a reef exposed to the open sea is generally, if
not always, the highest part, and rises almost perpendicular,
sometimes from the depth of 200, and perhaps many more fathoms.
To be constantly covered with water seems necessary to the
existence of the animalcules, for they do not work, except in
holes upon the reef, beyond low-water mark; but the coral, sand,
and other broken remnants thrown up by the sea adhere to the
rock, and form a solid mass with it, as high as the common tides
reach. That elevation surpassed, the future remnants, being
rarely covered, lose their adhesive property, and, remaining in a
loose state, form what is usually called a key upon the top of
the reef. The new bank is not long in being visited by sea-birds;
plants take root upon it; a cocoanut, or the drupe of a pandanus
is thrown on shore; land-birds visit it and deposit the seeds of
shrubs and trees; every high tide, and still more every gale,
adds something to the bank; the form of an island is gradually
assumed; and last of all comes man to take possession.”
The Gulf of Carpentaria was entered on November 3rd, and a
suitable place was found for careening the ship. As the
carpenters proceeded with their work, their reports became
alarming. Many of her timbers were found to be rotten, and the
opinion was confidently expressed that in a strong gale with much
sea running she could hardly escape foundering. She was totally
unfit to encounter much bad weather. The formal report to the
commander concluded with the depressing warning, “from the state
to which the ship seems now to be advanced, it is our joint
opinion that in twelve months there will scarcely be a sound
timber in her, but that, if she remain in fine weather and no
accident happen, she may run six months longer without much
risk.”
Upon receipt of this report Flinders, with much surprise and
sorrow, saw that a return to Port Jackson was almost immediately
necessary. “My leading object had hitherto been to make so
accurate an investigation of the shores of Terra Australis that
no future voyage to this country should be necessary; and with
this always in view, I had ever endeavoured to follow the land so
closely that the washing of the surf upon it should be visible,
and no opening, nor anything of interest, escape notice. Such a
degree of proximity is what navigators have usually thought
neither necessary nor safe to pursue, nor was it always
persevered in by us; sometimes because the direction of the wind
or shallowness of the water made it impracticable, and at other
times because the loss of the ship would have been the probable
consequence of approaching so near to a lee shore. But when
circumstances were favourable, such was the plan I pursued, and,
with the blessing of God, nothing of importance should have been
left for future discoverers upon any part of these extensive
coasts; but with a ship incapable of encountering bad weather,
which could not be repaired if sustaining injury from any of the
numerous shoals or rocks upon the coast—which, if constant fine
weather could be ensured and all accidents avoided, could not run
more than six months—with such a ship I knew not how to
accomplish the task.”
Very serious consideration had to be given to the route by
which the return voyage should be made. If Flinders returned as
he had come, the monsoon season made it certain that storms would
be encountered in Torres Strait, and to thread the Barrier Reef
in a rotten ship in tempestuous weather was to court destruction.
Weighing the probabilities carefully Flinders, with a steady
nerve and cool judgment, resolved to continue his exploration of
the gulf until the monsoon abated, and then to make for Port
Jackson round the north-west and west of Australia—or, if it
should appear that the Investigator could not last out a winter’s
passage by this route, to run for safety to the nearest port in
the East Indies. In the meantime all that the carpenters could do
was to replace some of the rottenest parts of the planking and
caulk the bends.
Flinders remained on these coasts, in pursuit of his plan,
till the beginning of March, doing excellent work. The Cape Van
Diemen of Dutch charts, at the head of the gulf, was found to be
not a projection from the mainland but an island, which was named
Mornington Island, after the Governor-General of India; and the
group of which it is the largest received the designation of
Wellesley Islands* after the same nobleman. (* Richard, Earl of
Mornington, afterwards the Marquess Wellesley, was
Governor-General of India from 1798 to 1805.) The Sir Edward
Pellew group, discovered on the south-west of the gulf, was named
after a British admiral who will figure in a later part of this
biography.
Traces of the visits of Malays to this part of Australia were
found in the form of fragments of pottery, bamboo basket-work,
and blue cotton rags, as well as a wooden anchor and three boat
rudders. The Cape Maria of Dutch charts was found to be an
island, which received the name of Maria Island. In Blue Mud Bay,
Morgan, the master’s mate, was speared by a native, and died. A
seaman shot another native in revenge, and Flinders was “much
concerned” and “greatly displeased” about the occurrence. His
policy throughout was to keep on pleasant terms with all natives,
and to encourage them to look upon white men as friendly. Nothing
that could annoy them was countenanced by him at any time. The
incident was so unusual a departure from his experience on this
voyage as to set him conjecturing that the natives might have had
differences with Asiatic visitors, which led them to entertain a
common enmity towards foreigners.
Melville Bay, the best harbour near the gulf, was discovered
on February 12th, and on the 17th the Investigator moved out of
the gulf and steered along the north coast of Australia. Six
Malay vessels were sighted on the same day. They hung out white
flags as the English ship approached and displayed her colours;
and the chief of one of them came on board. It was found that
sixty prows from Macassar were at this time on the north coast,
in several divisions; they were vessels of about twenty-five
tons, each carrying about twenty men; their principal business
was searching for beche-de-mer, which was sold to the Chinese at
Timor.
Arnhem Bay was found marked, but not named, upon an old Dutch
chart, and Flinders gave it the name it bears from the conviction
that Tasman or some other navigator had previously explored it.
In the early part of March he came to the conclusion that it
would be imprudent to delay the return to Sydney any longer. Not
only did the condition of the ship cause anxiety, but the health
of the crew pointed to the urgency of quitting these tropical
coasts. Mosquitoes, swarms of black flies, the debility induced
by the moist heat of the climate, and the scarcity of nourishing
food, made everybody on board anxious to return. Scorbutic ulcers
broke out on Flinders’ feet, so that he was no longer able to
station himself at his customary observation-point, the
mast-head. Nevertheless, though driven by sheer necessity, it was
not without keen regret that he determined to sail away. “The
accomplishment of the survey was, in fact,” he said, “an object
so near to my heart, that could I have foreseen the train of ills
that were to follow the decay of the Investigator and prevent the
survey being resumed, and had my existence depended upon the
expression of a wish, I do not know that it would have received
utterance; but Infinite Wisdom has, in infinite mercy, reserved
the knowledge of futurity to itself.”
Even in face of the troubles facing him, Flinders fought hard
to continue his work to a finish. He planned to make for the
Dutch port of Kupang, in Timor, and thence send Lieutenant Fowler
home in any ship bound for Europe to take to the Admiralty his
reports and charts, and a scheme for completing the survey. He
hoped then to spend six months upon the north and north-west
coasts of Australia, and on the run to Port Jackson, and there to
await Fowler’s return with a ship fit for the service. But this
plan was frustrated. He reached Timor at the end of March, and
was courteously received by the Dutch Governor, also renewing
acquaintance with Baudin and his French officers, who had put
into port to refresh. But no ship bound for England was met. A
homeward-bound vessel from India had touched at Kupang ten days
before the Investigator arrived, but when another one would put
in was uncertain. A vessel was due to sail for Batavia in May,
and the captain consented to take charge of a packet of letters
for transmission to England; but there was no opportunity of
sending Fowler. A few days were spent in charting a reef about
which the Admiralty had given instructions, and by April 16th the
voyage to Port Jackson was being pursued at best speed by way of
the west and south coasts. Flinders did not even stay to examine
the south of Kangaroo Island, which had not been charted during
the visit in 1802, for dysentery made its appearance on
board—owing, it was believed, to a change of diet at Timor—and
half a dozen men died. Sydney was reached on June 9th, after a
voyage of ten months and nineteen days.
Australia had thus been, for the first time, completely
circumnavigated by Flinders.
An examination of the Investigator showed how perilously near
destruction she had been since she left the Gulf of Carpentaria.
On the starboard side some of the planks were so rotten that a
cane could be thrust through them. By good fortune, when she was
running along the south coast the winds were southerly, and the
starboard bow, where the greatest weakness lay, was out of the
water. Had the wind been northerly, Flinders was of opinion that
it would not have been possible to keep the pumps going
sufficiently to keep the ship afloat, whilst a hard gale must
inevitably have sent her to the bottom.
As Flinders said in a letter to his wife:* (* Flinders’
Papers.) “It was the unanimous opinion of the surveying officers
that, had we met with a severe gale of wind in the passage from
Timor, she must have crushed like an egg and gone down. I was
partly aware of her bad state, and returned sooner to Port
Jackson on that account before the worst weather came. For me,
whom this obstruction in the voyage and the melancholy state of
my poor people have much distressed, I have been lame about four
months, and much debilitated in health and I fear in
constitution; but am now recovering, and shall soon be altogether
well.” In another letter he describes the ship as “worn out—she
is decayed both in skin and bone.”
Of the nine convicts who were permitted to make this voyage,
one died; the conduct of a second did not warrant Flinders in
recommending him for a pardon; the remaining seven were fully
emancipated. Four sailed with Flinders on his next voyage; but
two of them, no longer having to gain their liberty by good
behaviour, conducted themselves ill, and a third was convicted
again after he reached England.
Upon his arrival in port after this voyage Flinders learnt of
the death of his father. The occasion called forth a letter to
his step-mother, which is especially valuable from the light it
throws upon his character.* (* Flinders’ Papers.) The manly
tenderness of his sorrow and sympathy throbs through every
sentence of it. In danger, in adversity, in disappointment, in
difficulty, under tests of endurance and throughout perilous
cruises, we always find Flinders solicitous for the good of
others and unsparing of himself; and perhaps there is no more
moving revelation of his quality as a man than that made in this
letter:
“Investigator, Port Jackson, June 10th, 1803.
“My dearest Mother,
“We arrived here yesterday from having circumnavigated New
Holland, and I received numerous and valuable marks of the
friendship of all those whose affection is so dear to me; but the
joy which some letters occasioned is dreadfully embittered by
what you, my good and kind mother, had occasion to communicate.
The death of so kind a father, who was so excellent a man, is a
heavy blow, and strikes deep into my heart. The duty I owed him,
and which I had now a prospect of paying with the warmest
affection and gratitude, had made me look forward to the time of
our return with increased ardour. I had laid such a plan of
comfort for him as would have tended to make his latter days the
most delightful of his life; for I think an increased income,
retirement from business, and constant attention from an
affectionate son whom he loved, would have done this. Indeed, my
mother, I thought the time fast approaching for me to fulfil what
I once said in a letter, that my actions should some day show how
I valued my father. One of my fondest hopes is now destroyed. O,
my dearest, kindest father, how much I loved and reverenced you,
you cannot now know!
“I beg of you, my dear mother, to look upon me with affection,
and as one who means to contribute everything in his power to
your happiness. Independent of my dear father’s last wish, I am
of myself desirous that the best understanding and correspondence
should exist between us; for I love and reverence you, and hope
to be considered by you as the most anxious and affectionate of
your friends, whose heart and purse will be ever ready for your
services.
“I know not who at present can receive my dividend from his
legacy to me; but if you can, or either Mr. Franklin or Mr.
Hursthouse, I wish the yearly interest to be applied to the
education of my young sisters,* (* His step-sisters.) in such
manner as you will think best. This, my dear Madam, I wish to
continue until such time as I can see you and put things upon the
footing that they ought to remain.
“Do not let your economy be carried too far. I hope you will
continue to visit and see all our good friends, and have things
comfortable about you. I should be sorry that my dear mother
should lose any of the comforts and conveniences she has been
accustomed to enjoy.
“I have much satisfaction in hearing both from you and Susan
that Hannah* (* The elder of his two step-sisters.) makes so good
use of the opportunities she has for improvement. If she goes on
cultivating her mind, forming her manners from the best examples
before her, and behaves respectfully and kindly to her mother and
elder friends, she shall be my sister indeed, and I will love her
dearly.
“With great regard for you and my young sisters, I am your
anxious and affectionate son,
“MATTHEW FLINDERS.”
In another vein is a playful letter to his wife written in the
same month, June, 1803.* (* Flinders’ Papers.)
“If I could laugh at the effusion of thy tenderness, it would
be to see the idolatrous language thou frequently usest to me.
Thou makest an idol and then worshippest it, and, like some of
the inhabitants of the East, thou also bestowest a little
castigation occasionally, just to let the ugly deity know the
value of thy devotion. Mindest thou not, my dearest love, that I
shall be spoiled by thy endearing flatteries? I fear it, and yet
can hardly part with one, so dear to me is thy affection in
whatever way expressed.”
Some account of his companions on the voyage is given in a
letter to Mrs. Flinders written at this time (June 25th, 1803).*
(* Flinders’ Papers.) In a letter previously quoted he had
referred to being debilitated in health, “and I fear in
constitution”; and in this one he mentions that he, like the
ship’s cat, Trim, was becoming grey. Such hard unsparing service
as he had given was writing its tale on his form and features,
and there were worse trials to come: “Mr. Fowler is tolerably
well and my brother is also well; he is becoming more steady, and
is more friendly and affectionate with me since his knowledge of
our mutual loss. Mr. Brown is recovering from ill health and
lameness. Mr. Bauer, your favourite, is still polite and gentle.
Mr. Westall wants prudence, or rather experience, but is
good-natured. The two last are well, and have always remained on
good terms with me. Mr. Bell* (* The surgeon.) is misanthropic
and pleases nobody. Elder* (* Flinders’ servant.) continues to be
faithful and attentive as before; I like him, and he apparently
likes me. Whitewood I have made a master’s mate, and he behaves
well. Charrington is become boatswain, and Jack Wood is now my
coxswain. Trim, like his master, is becoming grey; he is at
present fat and frisky, and takes meat from our forks with his
former dexterity. He is commonly my bedfellow. The master we have
in poor Thistle’s place* (* John Aken.) is an easy, good-natured
man.” In another letter to his wife* (* Flinders’ Papers.) he
tells her: “Thou wouldst have been situated as comfortably here
as I hoped and told thee. Two better or more agreeable women than
Mrs. King and Mrs. Paterson are not easily found. These would
have been thy constant friends, and for visiting acquaintances
there are five or six ladies very agreeable for short periods and
perhaps longer.”
In a previous chapter it was remarked that Flinders and Bass
did not meet again after their separation following on the
Norfolk voyage. Bass was not in Sydney when the Investigator lay
there, greatly to Flinders’ disappointment. “Fortune seems
determined to give me disappointments,” he wrote to Mrs. Kent;
“when I came into Port Jackson all the most esteemed of my
friends were absent. In the case of Bass I have been twice served
this way.”* But he left a letter for his friend with Governor
King.* (* Flinders’ Papers.) It was the last word which passed
between these two men; and, remembering what they did together,
one can hardly read the end of the letter without feeling the
emotion with which it was penned:
“I shall first thank you, my dear Bass, for the two letters
left for me with Bishop, and then say how much I am disappointed
that the speculation is not likely to afford you a competency so
soon as we had hoped. This fishing and pork-carrying may pay your
expenses, but the only other advantage you get by it is
experience for a future voyage, and this I take to be the purport
of your Peruvian expedition.
“Although I am so much interested in your success, yet what I
say about it will be like one of Shortland’s letters, vague
conjectures only, mingled with ‘I hope’. Concerning the
Investigator and myself, there will be more certainty in what I
write. In addition to the south coast, we have explored the east
coast as far as Cape Palmerston, with the islands and extensive
reefs which lie off. These run from a little to the north-west of
Breaksea Spit to those of the Labyrinth. The passage through
Torres Straits you will learn as much of here as I can tell you.
The newspaper of June 12 last will give you information enough to
go through, and it is the best I have (the chart excepted) until
the strait is properly surveyed. Should these three ships go
through safely, and I do not fear the contrary, the utility of
the discovery will be well proved, and the consequences will
probably be as favourable to me as the CONCLUSION of the voyage
might have been without it. I do indeed privately hope that,
whether the voyage is or is not further prosecuted, I may attain
another step; many circumstances are favourable to this, but the
peace and the non-completion of the voyage are against it. To
balance these, I must secure the interest of the India House, by
means of Sir Joseph, Mr. Dalrymple, and the owner of the
Bridgewater, Princeps, with whom I am acquainted. I am fortunate
in having the attachment of Governor King, who by introductions,
favourable reports, and I believe every proper means in his
power, has, and is still, endeavouring to assist me; and you are
to understand that my going home for another ship is in
conformity to an opinion first brought forward by him. The shores
of the Gulf of Carpentaria have undergone a minute
examination.
“It might appear that the presence of the French upon these
coasts would be much against me; but I consider that circumstance
as favourable, inasmuch as the attention of the world will be
more strongly attracted towards New Holland, and some comparisons
will no doubt be found between our respective labours. Now, in
the department of geography, or rather hydrography, the only one
where the execution rests with me, they seem to have been very
vague and inconclusive, even by their own testimony. By
comparison, therefore, my charts will rise in value. It is upon
these that I wish to rest my credit. You must, however, make the
requisite allowance for the circumstances under which each part
was examined, and these circumstances I have made the charts
themselves explain, I hope to your satisfaction, as you will see
on publication.
“I shall see your wife, if in London, as well as her family.
Accounts speak indifferently of her brother* and his prospects.
(* Captain Henry Waterhouse.) His sun seems to have passed the
meridian, if they speak true. Your good mother I shall endeavour
to see too, if my business will anyway fit it.
“God bless you, my dear Bass; remember me, and believe me to
be,
“Your very sincere and affectionate friend,
“MATTHEW FLINDERS.”
One other letter of this period may be quoted for the insight
it gives into the relations between the Governor and the
principal residents of the colony at this time. The urbanity and
good sense of Flinders, and the fact that his voyages kept him
out of the official circle for prolonged periods, enabled him to
avoid offence under such circumstances. The letter was written to
Captain Kent’s wife, a treasured friend:
“The attention of the Governor to me has been indeed very
great, as well as that which I have received from my kind friend,
Mrs. King. It is a cause of much uneasiness to me that Colonel
and Mrs. P—-* (* The quarrel between King and Paterson was
bitter, and affected the affairs of the colony in many
directions.) should be upon terms of disagreement with ——.
There is now Mrs. K—-,* (* King.) Mrs. P—-* (* Paterson.) and
Mrs. M—-,* (* Marsden.) for all of whom I have the greatest
regard. who scarcely speak to each other. It is really a
miserable thing to split a small society into such small parts.
Why do you ladies meddle with politics? But I do not mean
YOU.”
What subsequently happened to the Investigator, a ship which
had played so memorable a part in discovery, may be chronicled in
a few lines. She was used as a store ship in Sydney harbour till
1805. In that year she was patched sufficiently to take her to
England. Captain William Kent commanded her on the voyage,
leaving Sydney on May 24th. She arrived in Liverpool in a
shattered condition on October 24th, having been driven past the
Channel in a storm. The Admiralty ordered Kent to take her round
to Plymouth. He carried out the order, but not without great
difficulty. “A more deplorably crazy vessel than the Investigator
is perhaps not to be seen,” Kent informed the Admiralty on
reaching Falmouth. She was sold and broken up in 1810. But those
rotten planks had played a part in history, and if only a few
splinters of them remained to-day they would be preserved with
the tenderest reverence.
CHAPTER 19. THE CALAMITY OF WRECK REEF.
There was some anxious discussion between King and Flinders as
to the best course to follow for the expeditious completion of
the survey of the coasts of Australia. The Investigator being no
longer fit for the service, consideration was given to the
qualifications of the Lady Nelson, the Porpoise, the Francis, and
the Buffalo, all of which were under the Governor’s direction.
King was most willing to give his concurrence and assistance in
any plan that might be considered expedient. He confessed himself
convinced of Flinders’ “zealous perseverance in wishing to
complete the service you have so beneficially commenced,” and
cheerfully placed his resources at the explorer’s disposal.
Flinders went for a few days to the Hawkesbury settlement,
where fresh air, a vegetable diet and medical care promoted his
recovery from the ailments occasioned by prolonged ship-life in
the tropics; and on his return, at the beginning of July,
determined upon a course of action. The Porpoise was the best of
the four vessels mentioned, but she was by no means a sound ship,
and it did not seem justifiable to incur the expense of fitting
her for special service only to find her incapable of finishing
the task. It was determined, therefore, that she should be sent
to England under Fowler’s command, and that Flinders should go in
her as a passenger, in order that he might lay his charts and
journals before the Admiralty, and solicit the use of another
vessel to continue his explorations. Brown, the botanist,* and
Bauer, the botanical draftsman. desired to remain in Port Jackson
to pursue their scientific work, but Westall accompanied
Flinders, who with twenty-one of the remainder of the
Investigator’s company, embarked on the Porpoise. (* Brown, in
the preface to his Prodromus (which, being intended for the
elect, was written in Latin), made but one allusion to the
discovery voyage whereby his botanical researches became
possible. Dealing with the parts of Australia where he had
collected his specimens, he spoke of the south coast, “Oram
meridionalem Novae Hollandiae, a promontorio Lewin ad
promontorium Wilson in Freto Bass, complectentem Lewin’s Land,
Nuyt’s Land et littora Orientem versus, a Navarcho Flinders in
expeditione cui adjunctus fui, primum explorata, et paulo post a
navigantibus Gallicis visa: insulis adjacentibus inclusis.”) She
sailed on August 10th, in company with the East India Company’s
ship Bridgewater and the Cato, of London, both bound for Batavia.
It was intended to go north, and through Torres Strait, in order
that further observations might be made there; and Fowler was
ordered to proceed “by the route Captain Flinders may indicate.”
Had not Flinders been so eager to take advantage of this as of
every other opportunity to prosecute his researches—had he
sailed by the Bass Strait and Cape of Good Hope route—the
misfortunes that were soon to come upon him would have been
averted. But he deliberately chose the Torres Strait course, not
only because he considered that a quick passage could be made at
that season of the year, but chiefly for the reason that “it will
furnish me with a second opportunity of assuring myself whether
that Strait can or cannot become a safe general passage for ships
from the Pacific into the Indian Ocean.”
He was destined to see once again the settlement at Sydney,
whence had radiated the series of his valuable and unsparing
researches; but on the next and final occasion he was “caught in
the clutch of circumstance.” His leave-taking in August, 1803,
was essentially his farewell; and his general observations on the
country he had served, and which does not forget the service,
are, though brief, full of interest. He had seen the little town
grow from a condition of dependence to one of self-reliance, few
as were the years of his knowledge of it. Part of his early
employment had been to bring provisions to Sydney from abroad. In
1803, he saw large herds spreading over the country. He saw
forests giving way before the axe, and spreading fields of grain
and fruit ripening for the harvest. The population was
increasing, the morale was improving, “and that energetic spirit
of enterprise which characterises Britannia’s children seemed to
be throwing out vigorous shoots in this new world.” He perceived
the obstacles to progress. The East India Company’s charter,
which prohibited trade between Sydney and India and the western
coasts of America, was one of them. Convict labour was another
deterrent. But he had vision, and found in the signs of
development which he saw around him phenomena “highly interesting
to the contemplator of the rise of nations.”
Seven days out of Sydney, on August 17th, the Porpoise struck
a reef and was wrecked.
The three vessels were running under easy sail, the Porpoise
leading on what was believed to be a clear course. At half-past
nine o’clock at night the look-out man on the forecastle called
out “Breakers ahead.” Aken, the master, who was on watch,
immediately ordered the helm to be put down, but the ship
answered slowly. Fowler sprang on deck at once; but Flinders, who
was conversing in the gun-room, had no reason to think that
anything serious had occurred, and remained there some minutes
longer. When he went on deck, he found the ship beyond control
among the breakers, and a minute later she struck a coral reef
and heeled over on her starboard beam ends. “It was,” says Seaman
Smith, “a dreadful shock.” The reef—now called Wreck Reef—was
in latitude 22 degrees 11 minutes south, longitude 155 degrees 13
minutes east, about 200 miles north-east of Hervey Bay, and 739
miles north of Sydney.* (* Extract from the Australia Directory
Volume 2 (Published by the Admiralty): “Wreck Reef, on the
central portion of which the ships Porpoise and Cato were wrecked
in 1803, consists of a chain of reefs extending 18 1/2 miles and
includes 5 sand cays; Bird Islet, the easternmost, is the only
one known to produce any vegetation. Of the other four bare cays
none are more than 130 yards in extent, or exceed six feet above
high water; they are at equal distances apart of about four
miles, and each is surrounded by a reef one to one and a half
miles in diameter. The passages between these reefs are about two
miles wide…On the northern side of most of them there is
anchorage.”) The wind was blowing fresh, and the night was very
dark. The heave of the sea lifted the vessel and dashed her on
the coral a second and third time; the foremast was carried away,
and the bottom was stove in. It was realised at once that so
lightly built and unsound a ship as the Porpoise was must soon be
pounded to pieces under the repeated shocks.
Anxiety for the safety of the Cato and the Bridgewater was
felt, as they were following the lead of the King’s vessel. An
attempt was made to fire a gun to warn them, but the heavy surf
and the violent motion of the wrecked ship prevented this being
done. Before any warning could be given the Cato dashed upon the
coral about two cables’ length from the Porpoise, whose company
saw her reel, fall over, and disappear from view. The Bridgewater
happily cleared the reef.
After the first moments of confusion had passed, Flinders
ordered the cutter and the gig to be launched. He informed Fowler
that he intended to save his charts and journals, and to row to
the Bridgewater to make arrangements for the rescue of the
wrecked people. The gig, in which he attempted to carry out this
plan, was compelled to lie at a little distance from the ship, to
prevent being stove in; so he jumped overboard and swam to her.
She leaked badly, and there was nothing with which to bale her
out but the hats and shoes of the ship’s cook and two other men
who had taken refuge under the thwarts. Flinders steered towards
the Bridgewater’s lights, but she was standing off, and it was
soon seen to be impossible to reach her. It was also unsafe to
return to the Porpoise through the breakers in the darkness; so
that the boat was kept on the water outside the reef till
morning, the small party on board being drenched, cold under a
sharp south-easter, and wretchedly miserable. Flinders did his
best to keep up their spirits, telling them that they would
undoubtedly be rescued by the Bridgewater at daylight; but he
occupied his own mind in devising plans for saving the wrecked
company in case help from that ship was not forthcoming.
Meanwhile blue lights had been burnt on the ship every
half-hour, as a guide to the Bridgewater, whose lights were
visible till about two o’clock in the morning. Fowler also
occupied time in constructing a raft from the timbers, masts and
yards of the Porpoise. “Every breast,” says Smith’s narrative,
“was filled with horror, continual seas dashing over us with
great violence.” Of the Cato nothing could be seen. She had
struck, not as the Porpoise had done, with her decks towards the
reef, but opposed to the full force of the lashing sea. Very soon
the planks were torn up and washed away, and the unfortunate
passengers and crew were huddled together in the forecastle, some
lashed to timber heads, others clinging to any available means of
support, and to each other, expecting every moment that the
stranded vessel would be broken asunder. In Smith’s expressive
words, the people were “hanging in a cluster by each other on
board the wreck, having nothing to take to but the unmerciful
waves, which at this time bore a dreadful aspect.”
At dawn, Flinders climbed on to the Porpoise by the help of
the fallen masts. As the light grew, it was seen that about half
a mile distant lay a dry sandbank above high-water mark,
sufficiently large to receive the whole company, with such
provisions as could be saved from the ship. Orders were at once
given to remove to this patch, that gave promise of temporary
safety, everything that could be of any service; and the Cato’s
company, jumping overboard and swimming through the breakers with
the aid of planks and spars, made for the same spot. All were
saved except three lads, one of whom had been to sea on three or
four voyages and was wrecked on every occasion. “He had bewailed
himself through the night as the persecuted Jonah who carried
misfortune wherever he went. He launched himself upon a broken
spar with his captain; but, having lost his hold in the breakers,
was not seen afterwards.”
The behaviour of the Bridgewater in these distressing
circumstances was inhuman and discreditable to such a degree as
is happily rare in the history of seamanship. On the day
following the wreck (August 18th) it would have been easy and
safe for her captain, Palmer, to bring her to anchor in one of
the several wide and sufficiently deep openings in the reef, and
to take the wrecked people and their stores on board. Flinders
had the gig put in readiness to go off in her, to point out the
means of rescue. A topsail was set up on the highest part of the
reef, and a large blue ensign, with the union downwards, was
hoisted to it as a signal of distress. But Palmer, who saw the
signal, paid no heed to it. Having sailed round the reef,
deluding the unfortunates for a while with the false hope of
relief, he stood off and made for Batavia, leaving them to their
fate. Worse still, he acted mendaciously as well as with a
heartless disregard of their plight; for on his arrival at
Tellicherry he sent his third mate, Williams, ashore with an
untrue account of the occurrence, reporting the loss of the
Porpoise and Cato, and saying that he had not only found it
impossible to weather the reef, but even had he done so it would
have been too late to render assistance. Williams, convinced that
the crews were still on the reef, and that Palmer’s false account
had been sent ashore to excuse his own shameful conduct, and
“blind the people,” left his captain’s narrative as instructed,
but only “after relating the story as contrary as possible” on
his own account. He told Palmer what he had done, and his action
“was the cause of many words.” What kind of words they were can
be easily imagined. The result of Williams’ honest independence
was in the end fortunate for himself. Though he left the ship,
and forfeited his wages and part of his clothes by so doing, he
saved his own life from drowning. The Bridgewater left Bombay for
London, and was never heard of again. “How dreadful,” Flinders
commented, “must have been his reflections at the time his ship
was going down.”
On the reef rapid preparations were made for establishing the
company in as much comfort as means would allow, and for
provisioning them until assistance could be procured. They were
94 men “upon a small uncertainty”—the phrase is Smith’s—nearly
eight hundred miles from the nearest inhabited port. But they had
sufficient food for three months, and Flinders assured them that
within that time help could be procured. Stores were landed,
tents were made from the sails and put up, and a proper spirit of
discipline was installed, after a convict-sailor had been
promptly punished for disorderly conduct. Spare clothing was
served out to some of the Cato’s company who needed it badly, and
there was some fun at the expense of a few of them who appeared
in the uniforms of the King’s navy. With good humour came a
feeling of hope. “On the fourth day,” wrote Flinders in a
letter,* “each division of officers and men had its private tent,
and the public magazine contained sufficient provisions and water
to subsist us three months. We had besides a quantity of other
things upon the bank, and our manner of living and working had
assumed the same regularity as on board His Majesty’s ships. I
had to punish only one man, formerly a convict at Port Jackson;
and on that occasion I caused the articles of war to be read, and
represented the fatal consequences that might ensue to our whole
community from any breach of discipline and good order, and the
certainty of its encountering immediate punishment.” (* Flinders’
Papers.)
The stores available,* with the periods for which they would
suffice on full allowance, consisted of: Biscuit, 940 pounds and
Flour, 9644 pounds : 83 days. Beef in four pounds, 1776 pieces
and Pork in two pounds, 592 pieces : 94 days. Pease, 45 bushels :
107 days. Oatmeal, 50 bushels : 48 days. Rice, 1225 pounds : 114
days. Sugar, 320 pounds and Molasses, 125 pounds : 84 days.
Spirits, 225 gallons, Wine, 113 gallons and Porter, 60 gallons :
49 days. Water, 5650 gallons at half a gallon per day.
(* Sydney Gazette, September 18th, 1803.)
In addition there were some sauer kraut, essence of malt,
vinegar, salt, a new suit of sails, some spars, a kedge anchor,
iron-work and an armourer’s forge, canvas, twine, various small
stores, four-and-a-half barrels of gunpowder, two swivels, and
several muskets and pistols, with ball and flints. A few sheep
were also rescued. When they were being driven on to the reef
under the supervision of young John Franklin, they trampled over
some of Westall’s drawings. Their hoof-marks are visible on one
of the originals, preserved in the Royal Colonial Institute
Library, to this day.
As soon as the colony on the reef had been regularly
established, a council of officers considered the steps most
desirable to be taken to secure relief. It was resolved that
Flinders should take the largest of the Porpoise’s two six-oar
cutters, with an officer and crew, and make his way to Port
Jackson, where the aid of a ship might be obtained. The
enterprise was hazardous at that season of the year. The voyage
would in all probability have to be undertaken in the teeth of
strong southerly winds, and the safe arrival of the cutter, even
under the direction of so skilful a seaman as Flinders, was the
subject of dubious speculation. But something had to be done, and
that promptly; and Flinders unhesitatingly undertook the attempt.
He gave directions for the government of the reef during his
absence, and ordered that two decked boats should be built by the
carpenters from wreckage, so that in the event of his failure the
whole company might be conveyed to Sydney.
By the 25th August the cutter had been prepared for her long
voyage, and on the following day she was launched and
appropriately named the Hope. It was a Friday morning, and some
of the sailors had a superstitious dread of sailing on a day
supposed to be unlucky. But the weather was fine and the wind
light. Flinders laughed at those who talked of luck. With Captain
Park of the Cato as his assistant officer, and a double set of
rowers, fourteen persons in all, he set out at once. He carried
three weeks’ provisions. “All hands gave them 3 chears, which was
returned by the boat’s crew,” says Seaman Smith. At the moment
when the Hope rowed away a sailor sprang to the flagstaff whence
the signal of distress had been flying since the morning when
help from the Bridgewater had been hoped for, and hauled down the
blue ensign, which was at once rehoisted with the union in the
upper canton. “This symbolic expression of contempt for the
Bridgewater and of confidence in the success of our voyage, I did
not see without lively emotion,” Flinders relates.
Leaving the Hope to continue her brave course, we may learn
from Smith how the 80 men remaining on the reef occupied
themselves:
“From this time our hands are imployd, some about our new
boat, whose keel is laid down 32 feet; others imployd in getting
anything servisible from the wreck. Our gunns and carriadges we
got from the wreck and placed them in a half moon form, close to
our flag staf, our ensign being dayly hoisted union downward. Our
boats sometimes is imployd in going to an island about ten miles
distant; and sometimes caught turtle and fish. This island was in
general sand. Except on the highest parts, it produced sea
spinage; very plentifully stockd with birds and egs. In this
manner the hands are imployd and the month of October is set in.
Still no acct. of our Captn’s success. Our boat likewise ready
for launching, the rigging also fitted over her masthead, and had
the appearance of a rakish schooner. On the 4th of Octr. we
launchd her and gave her name of the Hope.* (* Smith was in
error. The boat built at the reef was named the Resource. The
Hope, as stated above, was the cutter in which Flinders sailed
from the reef to Sydney. See A Voyage to Terra Australis 2 315
and 329.) On the 7th we loaded her with wood in order to take it
over to the island before mentiond to make charcoal for our smith
to make the ironwork for the next boat, which we intend to build
directly. She accordingly saild.”
A letter by John Franklin to his father* gives an entertaining
account of the wreck and of some other points pertaining to our
subject (* Manuscript, Mitchell Library.):
“Providential Bank, August 26th, 1803,
“Latitude 22 degrees 12 minutes, longitude 155 degrees 13
minutes (nearly) east.
“Dear Father,
“Great will be your surprise and sorrow to find by this that
the late investigators are cast away in a sandy patch of about
300 yards long and 200 broad, by the wreck of H.M.S. Porpoise on
our homeward bound passage on the reefs of New South Wales. You
will then wonder how we came into her. I will explain: The
Investigator on her late voyage, was found when surveying the
Gulf of Carpentaria to be rotten, which obliged us to make our
best way to Port Jackson; but the bad state of health of our crew
induced Captain Flinders to touch at Timor for refreshment; which
being done he sailed, having several men died on the passage of
dysentery. On our arrival she was surveyed and condemned as being
unfit for service. There being no other ship in Sydney fit to
complete her intended voyage, Governor King determined to send us
home in the Porpoise. She sailed August 10th, 1803, in company
with the Bridgewater, extra Indiaman, and Cato, steering to the
north-west intending to try how short a passage might be made
through Torres Straits to England. On Wednesday, 17th, we fell in
with reefs,* (* Cato Islet and reefs.) surveyed them, and kept
our course, until half-past nine, when I was aroused by the cry
of breakers, and before I got on deck the ship struck on the
rocks.* (* Wreck Reef.) Such boats as could be were got out, the
masts cut away, and then followed the horrors of ship-wreck, seas
breaking over, men downcast, expecting the ship every moment to
part. A raft of spars was made, and laid clear, sufficiently
large to take the ship’s company in case the ship should part;
but as Providence ordained she lasted until morning, when happy
were we to see this sandbank bearing north-west quarter of a
mile. But how horrible on the other hand to see the Cato in a
worse condition than ourselves, the men standing forward shouting
for assistance, but could get none, when their ship was parting.
All except three of them committed themselves to the waves, and
swam to us, and are now living on this bank. The Bridgewater
appeared in sight, and then in a most shameful and inhuman manner
left us, supposing probably every soul had perished. Should she
make that report on her arrival consider it as false. We live, we
have hopes of reaching Sydney. The Porpoise being a tough little
ship hath, and still does in some measure, resist the power of
the waves, and we have been able to get most of her provisions,
water, spars, carpenter’s tools, and every other necessary on the
bank, fortunate spot that it is, on which 94 souls live. Captain
Flinders and his officers have determined that he and fourteen
men should go to Port Jackson in a cutter and fetch a vessel for
the remainder; and in the meantime to build two boats
sufficiently large to contain us if the vessels should not come.
Therefore we shall be from this bank in six or eight weeks, and
most probably in England by eight or nine. Our loss was more felt
as we anticipated the pleasure of seeing our friends and
relations after an absence of two years and a half. Let me
recommend you to give yourselves no anxiety, for there is every
hope of reaching England ere long. I received the letters by the
Glatton and was sorry to find that Captain F. had lost his
father. He was a worthy man. You would not dislike to have some
account of our last voyage, I suppose. We were 11 months from
Sydney, and all that time without fresh meat or vegetables,
excepting when we were at Timor, and now and then some fish, and
mostly in the torrid zone, the sun continually over our head, and
the thermometer at 85, 86, and 89. The ship’s company was so
weakened by the immense heat that when we were to the southward
they were continually ill of the dysentery; nay, nine of them
died, besides eight we lost on our last cruise. Thus you see the
Investigator’s company has been somewhat shattered since leaving
England. Our discoveries have been great, but the risks and
misfortunes many.
“Have you got the prize money? I see it is due, and may be had
by applying at No. 21 Milbank Street, Westminster; due July 22,
1802. If you do not, it will go to Greenwich Hospital. I had
occasion to draw for necessaries at Sydney this last time 24
pounds from Captain F.
“JOHN FRANKLIN.”
CHAPTER 20. TO ILE-DE-FRANCE IN THE CUMBERLAND.
Governor King received the news of the wreck of the Porpoise
immediately after the arrival of the Hope in Port Jackson, on the
evening of September 8th. King and his family were at dinner when
to his great amazement Flinders was announced. “A razor had not
passed over our faces from the time of the shipwreck,” he
records, “and the surprise of the Governor was not little at
seeing two persons thus appear whom he supposed to be many
hundred leagues on their way to England; but so soon as he was
convinced of the truth of the vision before him, and learned the
melancholy cause, an involuntary tear started from the eye of
friendship and compassion, and we were received in the most
affectionate manner.”
King in an official letter confessed that he could not
“sufficiently commend your voluntary services, and those who came
with you, in undertaking a voyage of 700 miles in an open boat to
procure relief for our friends now on the reef.” It was, indeed,
an achievement of no small quality in itself.
Plans for the relief of the wrecked people were immediately
formed. Captain Cumming of the Rolla, a 438-ton merchant ship,
China-bound, agreed to call at the reef, take some of them on
board, and carry them to Canton, whilst the Francis, which was to
sail in company, was to bring the remainder back to Sydney.
Flinders himself was to take command of the Cumberland, a 29-ton
schooner, and was to sail in her to England with his charts and
papers as rapidly as possible.
The Cumberland was a wretchedly small vessel in which to
traverse fifteen thousand miles of ocean. She was “something less
than a Gravesend passage boat” and hardly better suited for the
effort than a canal barge. But, given anything made of wood that
would float and steer, inconvenience and difficulty never baffled
Matthew Flinders when there was service to perform. She was the
first vessel that had been built in Australia. Moore, the
Government boat-builder, had put her together for colonial
service, and she was reputed to be strong, tight, and well
behaved in a sea; but of course she was never designed for long
ocean voyages. However, she was the only boat available; and
though Flinders regretted that the meagre accommodation she
afforded would prevent him from working at his charts while
making the passage, he was too eager to accomplish his purpose to
hesitate about accepting the means. “Fortuna audaces juvat” might
at any time have been his motto; fortune helpeth them that dare.
An unavoidable delay of thirteen days caused some anxiety. “Every
day seemed a week,” until he could get on his way towards the
reef. But, at length, on September 21st, the Cumberland in
company with the Rolla and Francis sailed out of Port Jackson.
The crew consisted of a boatswain and ten men.
On Friday, October 7th, exactly six weeks after the Hope had
left Wreck Reef, the ensign on the flagstaff was sighted from the
mast-head of the Rolla. At about the same time a seaman who was
out with Lieutenant Fowler, in a new boat that had been
constructed from the wreckage, saw a white object in the distance
against the blue of the sky. At first he took it for a sea-bird;
but, looking at it more steadfastly, he suddenly jumped up,
exclaiming, “damn my blood, what’s that?” It was, in truth, the
top-gallant sail of the Rolla. Everybody looked at it; a sail
indeed it was; Flinders had not failed them, and rescue was
imminent. A shout of delight went up, and the boat scurried back
to the reef to announce the news.
At about two o’clock in the afternoon, Flinders anchored under
the lee of the bank. The shell of the Porpoise still lay on her
beam side high up on the reef, but, her carronades having been
landed, the happy people welcomed their deliverers with a salute
of eleven guns. “Every heart was overjoyed at this unexpected
delivery,” as seaman Smith’s narrative records; and when Flinders
stepped ashore, he was long and loudly cheered. Men pressed
around him to shake his hands and thank him, and tears of joy
rolled down the hard, weather-worn faces of men not over-given to
a display of feeling. For his own part “the pleasure of rejoining
my companions so amply provided with the means of relieving their
distress made this one of the happiest moments of my life.”
In singular contrast with the pleasure of everyone else was
the cool demeanour of Samuel Flinders. A letter previously cited
contains a reference to him, which suggests that he was not
always quite brotherly or generally satisfactory. On this
occasion he was oddly stiff and uncordial. Flinders relates the
incident: “Lieutenant Flinders, then commanding officer on the
bank, was in his tent calculating some lunar distances, when one
of the young gentlemen ran to him calling, ‘Sir, sir, a ship and
two schooners in sight.’ After a little consideration, Mr.
Flinders said he supposed it was his brother come back, and asked
if the vessels were near. He was answered, not yet; upon which he
desired to be informed when they should reach the anchorage, and
very calmly resumed his calculations. Such are the varied effects
produced by the same circumstances upon different minds. When the
desired report was made, he ordered the salute to be fired, and
took part in the general satisfaction.”
After the welcoming was over, Flinders assembled all the
people and informed them what his plans were. Those who chose
might go to Sydney in the Francis; the others, with the exception
of ten, would sail in the Rolla to Canton and others take ship
for England. To accompany him in the Cumberland he chose John
Aken, who had been master of the Investigator, Edward
Charrington, the boatswain, his own servant, John Elder, and
seven seamen. Their names are contained in the logbook which
General Decaen detained at Ile-de-France. They were George Elder,
who had been carpenter on the Porpoise, John Woods, Henry Lewis,
Francis Smith, N. Smith, James Carter, and Jacob Tibbet, all
picked men.
Young Franklin went in the Rolla. As he explained in a letter
to his mother* (* Manuscripts, Mitchell Library.): “The reason I
did not accompany Captain Flinders was the smallness of the
vessel and badness of accommodation, he having only taken the
master with him.” The young sailor’s application had won the
commendation of the commander, who was a hero to him throughout
his adventurous life. We find Flinders writing to his wife* “John
Franklin approves himself worthy of notice. He is capable of
learning everything that we can show him, and but for a little
carelessness I would not wish to have a son otherwise than he
is.” (* Flinders Papers.)
At noon on October 11th, four days after the arrival of the
relieving ships at the reef, they parted company, with cheers and
expressions of good will. The Rolla accomplished her voyage to
China safely, and in the following year Lieutenant Fowler, Samuel
Flinders, John Franklin, and the remainder of the old
Investigator’s company who sailed in her returned to England. On
their return voyage they participated in as remarkable a comedy
as the history of naval warfare contains. Their ship was one of a
company of thirty-one sail, all richly laden merchantmen, under
the general command of the audacious Commodore Nathaniel Dance;
and he, encountering a French squadron under Rear-Admiral Linois,
succeeded by sheer, impudent “bluff” in making him believe that
they were convoyed by British frigates, and deterred him from
capturing or even seriously attacking them.* (* Lieutenant Fowler
was presented with a sword valued at 50 guineas for his part in
this action, which took place on 14th February, 1804, off Polo
Aor, Malacca Strait. See the author’s Terre Napoleon page
16.)
From the very commencement of the voyage the little Cumberland
caused trouble and anxiety. She leaked to a greater extent than
had been reported, and the pumps were so defective that a fourth
part of every day had to be spent at them to keep the water down.
They became worse with constant use, and by the time Timor was
reached, on November 10th, one of them was nearly useless. At
Kupang no means of refitting the worn-out pump or of pitching the
leaky seams in the upper works of the boat were obtainable; and
Flinders had to face a run across the Indian Ocean with the
prospect of having to keep down the water with an impaired
equipment.
When discussing the route with Governor King before leaving
Sydney, Flinders had pointed out that the size of the Cumberland,
and the small quantity of stores and water she could carry, would
oblige him to call at every convenient port; and he mentioned
that the places which he contemplated visiting were Kupang in
Timor, Ile-de-France (Mauritius), the Cape of Good Hope, St.
Helena, and one of the Canaries. But King took exception to a
call being made at Ile-de-France, partly because he did not wish
to encourage communication between Port Jackson and the French
colony, and partly because he understood that hurricane weather
prevailed in the neighbourhood at about the time of the year when
the Cumberland would be in the Indian Ocean. To respect King’s
wishes, Flinders on leaving Kupang set a course direct for the
Cape of Good Hope. But when twenty-three days out from Timor, on
the 4th of December, a heavy south-west ground swell combined
with a strong eastern following sea caused the vessel to labour
exceedingly, and to ship such quantities of water that the one
effective pump had to be kept working day and night continually.
If anything went wrong with this pump, a contingency to be feared
from its incessant employment, there was a serious risk of
foundering.
After enduring two days of severe shaking, Flinders came to
the determination that considerations of safety compelled him to
make for Ile-de-France. On December 6th, therefore, he altered
the Cumberland’s course for that island.
When he wrote his Voyage to Terra Australis, he had not his
journal in his possession, and worked from notes of his
recollections. In telling the story now, the author has before
him not only what Flinders wrote in this way, but also a copy of
the French translation of the journal which Decaen had prepared
for his own use, and several letters written by Flinders, wherein
he related what passed in his mind when he resolved to alter his
course.
The first and most imperative reason was the necessity for
repairing the ship and refitting the pumps. Secondly, rations had
had to be shortened, and victuals and water were required.
Thirdly, Flinders had come to the conclusion that the Cumberland
was unfit to complete the voyage to England, and he hoped to be
able to sell her, and procure a passage home in another ship. “I
cannot write up my journal unless the weather is extremely fine,”
he wrote. Fourthly, he desired “to acquire a knowledge of the
winds and weather at the island of the actual state of the French
colony, of what utility it and its dependencies in Madagascar,
might be to Port Jackson, and whether the colony could afford me
resources in my future voyages.”* (* Journal.)
When he sailed from Port Jackson there was, as far as he knew,
peace between England and France. But there was a possibility
that war had broken out again. In that event, the thought
occurred to him that it would be safer to call at the French
colony than at the Cape, since he had a passport from the French
Government, but not from the Dutch, who would probably be
involved in hostilities against England. He did not forget that
the passport was made out for the Investigator, not for the
Cumberland. “But I checked my suspicions by considering that the
passport was certainly intended to protect the voyage and not the
Investigator only. A description of the Investigator was indeed
given in it, but the intention of it could be only to prevent
imposition. The Cumberland was now prosecuting the voyage, and I
had come in her for a lawful purpose, and upon such an occasion
as the passport allowed me to put into a French port. The great
desire also that the French nation has long shown to promote
geographical researches, and the friendly treatment that the
Geographe and the Naturaliste had received at Port Jackson, rose
up before me as guarantees that I should not be impeded, but
should receive the kindest welcome and every assistance.”* (*
Flinders to Fleurieu; copy in Record Office, London. An entry in
his Journal shows that only when he was informed that the war had
been renewed did it occur to Flinders that the French authorities
would interpret literally the fact that the passport was granted
to the Investigator.)
He had no chart of Ile-de-France, but a description in the
third edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica informed him that
the principal harbour, Port Louis, was on the north-west side,
and thither he intended to steer.
On December 15th the peaks of the island showed up against the
morning sky. At noon the Cumberland was running along the shore,
close enough to be observed, and made a signal for a pilot from
the fore-topmast head. A small French schooner came out of a
cove, and Flinders, wishing to speak with her to make enquiries,
followed her. She ran on, and entered a port, which proved to be
Baye du Cap (now Cape Bay) on the south-west coast. Flinders
steered in her wake, thinking that she was piloting him to
safety. The truth was that the French on board thought they were
being pursued by an English fighting ship, which meant to attack
them; and immediately they came to anchor, without even waiting
to furl sails, they hurried ashore in a canoe and reported
accordingly. Thus from the very beginning of his appearance at
Ile-de-France, was suspicion cast on Flinders. So began his years
of sore trouble.
It was evident from the commotion on shore that the arrival of
the Cumberland had aroused excitement. Flinders saw the people
from the schooner speaking to a soldier, who, from the plumes in
his hat, appeared to be an officer. Presently some troops with
muskets appeared in sight. Apparently orders had been given to
call out the guard. Flinders concluded that a state of war
existed, and hastened to inform the authorities by sending Aken
ashore in a boat, that he had a passport, and was free from
belligerent intentions.
Aken returned with an officer, Major Dunienville, to whom the
passport was shown, and the necessities of the Cumberland
explained. He politely invited Flinders to go on shore and dine
with him. It was pointed out that the immediate requirements were
fresh water and a pilot who would take the ship round to Port
Louis, as repairs could not be effected at Baye du Cap. The pilot
was promised for the next day, and Major Dunienville at once sent
a boat for the Cumberland’s empty casks.
As soon as he got ashore again, Dunienville wrote a report of
what had occurred to the Captain-General, or Military Governor of
the island, General Decaen, and sent it off by a special
messenger. In this document* he related that a schooner flying
the English flag had chased a coastal schooner into the bay; that
the alarm had been given that she was a British privateer; that
he had at once called out the troops; and that, expecting an
attack, he had ordered the women and children to retire to the
interior, and had given orders for cattle and sheep to be driven
into the woods! “Happily,” he proceeded, “all these precautions,
dictated by circumstances, proved to be unnecessary.” (* Decaen
Papers Volume 84.) The English captain had explained to him that
he had merely followed the coastal boat because he had no pilot,
and wished to enter the bay to solicit succour; “adding that he
did not know of the war, and consequently had no idea that he
would spread alarm by following it.
Later in the afternoon Dunienville returned to the Cumberland
with the district commandant, Etienne Bolger, and an interpreter.
The passport was again examined, when Bolger pointed out that it
was not granted to the Cumberland but to the Investigator, and
that the matter must be dealt with by the Governor personally. At
first he desired to send the passport to him, but Flinders
objected to allowing it to leave his possession, as it
constituted his only guarantee of protection from the French
authorities. Then it was arranged that he should travel overland
to Port Louis, while Aken took round the ship. But finally Bolger
allowed Flinders to sail round in the Cumberland, under the
guidance of a pilot. He was hospitably entertained at dinner by
Major Dunienville, who invited a number of ladies and gentlemen
to meet him; and on the morning of December 16th he sailed, with
the major on board, for Port Louis, where he was to confront
General Decaen.
The character and position of the Captain-General of
Ile-de-France are so important in regard to the remainder of
Flinders’ life, that it will be desirable to devote a chapter to
some account of him.
CHAPTER 21. GENERAL DECAEN.
Charles Mathieu Isidore Decaen was born at Caen, the ancient
and picturesque capital of Normandy, on April 13th, 1769. Left an
orphan at the age of twelve, his education was superintended by a
friend of his father, who had been a public official. At the end
of his schooldays he studied law under an advocate of local
celebrity, M. Lasseret. Though his juristic training was not
prolonged, the discipline of the office gave a certain bent to
his mind, a certain lawyer-like strictness and method to his mode
of handling affairs, that remained characteristic during his
military career, and was exceedingly useful to him while he
governed Ile-de-France. Very often in perusing his Memoires* the
reader perceives traces of the lawyer in the language of the
soldier. (* The Memoires et Journaux du General Decaen were
prepared for publication by himself, and the portion up to the
commencement of his governorship has been printed, with notes and
maps, by Colonel Ernest Picard, Chief of the Historical Section
of the Staff of the French Army (2 volumes Paris 1910). Colonel
Picard informed me that he did not intend to print the remainder,
thinking that the ground was sufficiently covered by Professor
Henri Prentout’s admirable book L’Ile de France sous Decaen. I
have, therefore, had the section relating to Flinders transcribed
from the manuscript, and used it freely for this book.) Thus,
when during the campaign of the Rhine he found that his superior
officer, General Jourdan, was taking about with him as his
aide-de-camp a lady in military attire, Decaen, with a solemnity
that seems a little un-French under the circumstances, condemned
the breach of the regulations as conduct “which was not that of a
father of a family, a legislator and a general-in-chief.” As for
the lady, “les charmes de cette maussade creature” merely evoked
his scorn. It does not appear that Jourdan’s escapade produced
any ill effects in a military sense, but it was against the
regulations, and Decaen was as yet as much lawyer as soldier.
When the revolutionary wars broke out, and France was ringed
round by a coalition of enemies, the voice of “la patrie en
danger” rang in the ears of the young student like a call from
the skies. He was twenty-two years of age when two deputies of
the Legislative Assembly came down to Caen and made an appeal to
the manhood of the country to fly to arms. Decaen, fuming with
patriotic indignation, threw down his quill, pitched his
calf-bound tomes on to their shelf, and was the first to inscribe
his name upon the register of the fourth battalion of the
regiment of Calvados, an artillery corps. He was almost
immediately despatched to Mayence on the Rhine, where Kleber (who
was afterwards to serve with distinction under Bonaparte in
Egypt) hard pressed by the Prussians, withdrew the French troops
into the city (March, 1793) and prepared to sustain a siege.
Decaen rose rapidly, by reason not merely of his bull-dog
courage and stubborn tenacity, but also of his intelligence and
integrity. He received his “baptism of fire” in an engagement in
April, when Kleber sent a detachment to chase a Prussian outpost
from a neighbouring village and to collect whatever forage and
provisions might be obtained. He was honest enough to
confess—and his own oft-proved bravery enabled him to do so
unashamed—that, when he first found the bullets falling about
him, he was for a moment afraid. “I believe,” he wrote, “that
there are few men, however courageous they may be, who do not
experience a chill, and even a feeling of fear, when for the
first time they hear around them the whistling of shot, and above
all when they first see the field strewn with killed and wounded
comrades.”* (* Memoires 1 13.) But he was a sergeant-major by
this time, and remembered that it was his duty to set an example;
so, screwing up his courage to the sticking-place by an effort of
will, and saying to himself that it was not for a soldier of
France to quail before a ball, he deliberately wheeled his horse
to the front of a position where a regiment was being shaken by
the enemy’s artillery fire, and by his very audacity stiffened
the wavering troops and saved the situation.
After the capitulation of Mayence in July, 1793, Decaen fought
with distinction in the war in La Vendee. In this cruel campaign
he displayed unusual qualities as a soldier, and attained the
rank of adjutant-general. Kleber gave him a command calling for
exceptional nerve, with the comment, “It is the most dangerous
position, and I thought it worthy of your courage.” It was
Decaen, according to his own account, who devised the plan of
sending out a number of mobile columns to strike at the rebels
swiftly and unexpectedly. But though he was succeeding in a
military sense, these operations against Frenchmen, while there
were foreign foes to fight beyond the frontiers, were thoroughly
distasteful to him. The more he saw of the war in La Vendee, and
the more terribly the thumb of the national power pressed upon
the throat of the rebellion, the more he hated the service. It
was at his own solicitation, therefore, that he was transferred
to the army of the Rhine in January, 1795.
Here he served under the ablest general, saving only Bonaparte
himself, whom the wars of the Revolution produced to win glory
for French arms, Jean Victor Moreau. His bravery and capacity
continued to win him advancement. Moreau promoted him to the
command of a brigade, and presented him with a sword of honour
for his masterly conduct of a retreat through the Black Forest,
when, in command of the rear-guard, he fought the Austrians every
mile of the road to the Rhine.
He became a general of division in 1800. At the battle of
Hohenlinden, where Moreau concentrated his troops to give battle
to the Austrians under the Archduke John, Decaen performed
splendid service; indeed it was he who chose the position, and
recommended it as a favourable place for taking a stand.* (*
Memoires 2 89.) Moreau knew him well by now, and on the eve of
the fight (December 2nd) when he brought up his division to the
plateau in the forest of Ebersberg, where the village of
Hohenlinden stands, and presented himself at headquarters to ask
for orders, the commander-in-chief rose to greet him with the
welcome, “Ah, there is Decaen, the battle will be ours
to-morrow.” It was intended for a personal compliment, we cannot
doubt, though Decaen in his Memoires (2 136) interpreted it to
mean that the general was thinking of the 10,000 troops whose
arrival he had come to announce.
Moreau’s plan was this. He had posted his main force strongly
fronting the Austrian line of advance, on the open Hohenlinden
plateau. The enemy had to march through thickly timbered country
to the attack. The French general instructed Decaen and
Richepance to manoeuvre their two divisions, each consisting of
10,000 men, through the forest, round the Austrian rear, and to
attack them there, as soon as they delivered their attack upon
the French front. The Archduke John believed Moreau to be in full
retreat, and hurried his army forward from Haag, east of
Hohenlinden, amid falling snow.
“By torch and trumpet fast array’d Each horseman drew his
battle-blade, And furious every charger neigh’d To join the
dreadful revelry. Then shook the hills with thunder riven; Then
rush’d the steed, to battle driven, And louder than the bolts of
Heaven Far flashed the red artillery.”
Decaen’s division marched at five o’clock on the morning of
December 3rd, and shortly before eight the boom of the Austrian
cannon was heard. His troops pressed forward in a blinding
snowstorm. An officer said that the guns seemed to show that the
Austrians were turning the French position. “Ah, well,” said
Decaen, “if they turn ours, we will turn theirs in our turn.” It
was one of the few jokes he made in his whole life, and it
exactly expressed the situation. The Austrian army was caught
like a nut in a nut-cracker. Battered from front and rear, their
ranks broke, and fugitives streamed away east and west, like the
crumbled kernel of a filbert. Decaen threw his battalions upon
their rear with a furious vigour, and crumpled it up; and almost
at the very moment of victory the snow ceased to fall, the leaden
clouds broke, and a brilliant sun shone down upon the scene of
carnage and triumph. Ten thousand Austrians were killed, wounded,
or taken prisoners, whilst 80 guns and about two hundred baggage
waggons fell as spoils to the French. In this brilliant victory
Decaen’s skill and valour, rapidity and verve, had been of
inestimable value, as Moreau was prompt to acknowledge.
The quick soldier’s eye of Bonaparte recognised him at once as
a man of outstanding worth. The Consulate had been established in
December, 1799, and the First Consul was anxious to attach to him
strong, able men. In 1802 Decaen ventured to use his influence
with the Government regarding an appointment to the court of
appeal at Caen, for which Lasseret, his old master in law, was a
candidate; and we find Bonaparte writing to Cambaceres, who had
charge of the law department, that “if the citizen possesses the
requisite qualifications I should like to defer to the wishes of
General Decaen, who is an officer of great merit.”* (* Napoleon’s
Correspondance Document 5596.) He saw much of Bonaparte in Paris
during 1801 and 1802, when the part he had to play was an
extremely difficult one, demanding the exercise of tact and moral
courage in an unusual measure. The Memoires throw a vivid light
on the famous quarrel between Moreau and Napoleon, which in the
end led to the exile of the victor of Hohenlinden.
Moreau was Decaen’s particular friend, the commander who had
given him opportunities for distinction, one whom he loved and
honoured as a man and a patriot. But he was jealous of Napoleon’s
success, was disaffected towards the consular government, and was
believed to be concerned in plots for its overthrow. On the other
hand, Napoleon was not only the head of the State, but was the
greatest soldier of his age. Decaen’s admiration of him was
unbounded, and Napoleon’s attitude towards Decaen was cordial. He
tried to reconcile these two men whom he regarded with such warm
affection, but failed. One day, when business was being
discussed, Napoleon said abruptly, “Decaen, General Moreau is
conducting himself badly; I shall have to denounce him.” Decaen
was moved to tears, and insisted that Napoleon was ill informed.
“You are good yourself,” said the First Consul, “and you think
everybody else is like you. Moreau is corresponding with
Pichegru,” whose conspiracy was known to the Government. “It is
not possible.” “But I have a letter which proves it.” Moreover,
Moreau was openly disrespectful to the Government. He had
presented himself out of uniform on occasions when courtesy
demanded that he should wear it. If Moreau had anything to
complain about, he did not make it better by associating with
malcontents. “He has occupied a high position, which gives him
influence, and a bad influence upon public opinion hampers the
work of the Government. I have not fallen here out of the sky,
you know; I follow my glory. France wants repose, not more
disturbance.” Decaen manfully championed his friend, “I am
persuaded,” he said, “that if you made overtures to Moreau you
would easily draw him towards you.” “No,” said Napoleon “he is a
shifting sand.” Moreau said to Decaen, “I am too old to bend my
back”; but the latter was of opinion that the real source of the
mischief was that Moreau had married a young wife, and that she
and his mother-in-law considered they were entitled to as much
attention as Madame Bonaparte received. Pride, jealousy and
vanity, he declared, were the real source of the quarrel. Decaen,
indeed, has a story that when Madame Moreau once called upon
Josephine at Malmaison, she returned in an angry state of mind
because she was not at once admitted, bidding a servant tell her
mistress that the wife of General Moreau was not accustomed to be
kept waiting. The simple explanation was that Josephine was in
her bath!
Decaen came to be appointed Governor of Ile-de-France in this
way. One day, after dining with Napoleon at Malmaison, the First
Consul took a stroll with him, and in the course of conversation
asked him what he wanted to do. “I have my sword for the service
of my country,” said Decaen. “Very good,” answered Napoleon, “but
what would you like to do now?” Decaen then mentioned that he had
been reading the history of the exploits of La Bourdonnaye and
Dupleix in India, and was much attracted by the possibilities for
the expansion of French power there. “Have you ever been to
India?” enquired Napoleon. “No, but I am young, and, desiring to
do something useful, I should like to undertake a mission which I
believe would not be likely to be coveted by many, having regard
to the distance between France and that part of the world. And
even if it were necessary to spend ten years of my life awaiting
a favourable opportunity of acting against the English, whom I
detest because of the injury they have done to our country, I
should undertake the task with the utmost satisfaction.” Napoleon
merely observed that what he desired might perhaps be
arranged.
A few months later Decaen was invited to breakfast with
Napoleon at Malmaison. He was asked whether he was still inclined
to go to India, and replied that he was. “Very well, then, you
shall go.” “In what capacity?” “As Captain-General. Go and see
the Minister of Marine, and tell him to show you all the papers
relative to the expedition that is in course of being fitted
out.”
Under the treaty of Amiens, negotiated in 1801, Great Britain
agreed to restore to the French Republic and its allies all
conquests made during the recent wars except Trinidad and Ceylon.
From the British point of view it was an inglorious peace.
Possessions which had been won in fair fight, by the ceaseless
activity and unparalleled efficiency of the Navy, and by the
blood and valour of British manhood, were signed away with a
stroke of the pen. The surrender of the Cape was especially
lamentable, because upon security at that point depended the
safety of India and Australia. But the Addington ministry was
weak and temporising, and was alarmed about the internal
condition of England, where dear food, scarcity of employment and
popular discontent, consequent upon prolonged warfare, made the
King’s advisers nervously anxious to put an end to the struggle.
The worst feature of the situation was that everybody thoroughly
well understood that it was a mere parchment peace. Cornwallis
called it “an experimental peace.” It was also termed “an
armistice” and “a frail and deceptive truce”; and though
Addington declared it to be “no ordinary peace but a genuine
reconciliation between the two first nations of the world,” his
flash of rhetoric dazzled nobody but himself. He was the Mr.
Perker of politics, an accommodating attorney rubbing his hands
and exclaiming “My dear sir!” while he bartered the interests of
his client for the delusive terms of a brittle expediency.
Decaen was to go to India to take charge of the former French
possessions there, under the terms of the treaty, and from
Pondicherry was also to control Ile-de-France (Mauritius) which
the English had not taken during the war. Napoleon’s instructions
to him clearly indicated that he did not expect the peace to
endure. Decaen was “to dissimulate the views of the Government as
much as possible”; “the English are the tyrants of India, they
are uneasy and jealous, it is necessary to behave towards them
with suavity, dissimulation and simplicity.” He was to regard his
mission primarily as one of observation upon the policy and
military dispositions of the English. But Napoleon informed him
in so many words that he intended some day to strike a blow for
“that glory which perpetuates the memory of men throughout the
centuries.” For that, however, it was first necessary “that we
should become masters of the sea.”* (* Memoires 2 310.)
Decaen sailed from Brest in February, 1803. Lord Whitworth,
the British ambassador to Paris, watched the proceedings with
much care, and promptly directed the attention of his Government
to the disproportionate number of officers the new
Captain-General was taking with him. The Government passed the
information on to the Governor-General of India, Lord Wellesley,
who was already determined that, unless absolutely ordered so to
do, he would not permit a French military force to land. Before
Decaen arrived at Pondicherry, indeed, in June, 1803, Wellesley
had received a despatch from Lord Hobart, Secretary of State for
War and the Colonies, warning him that, notwithstanding the
treaty of Amiens, “certain circumstances render desirable a delay
in the restitution of their possessions in India” to the French,
and directing that territory occupied by British troops was not
to be evacuated by them without fresh orders. Great Britain
already perceived the fragility of the peace, and, in fact, was
expediting preparations for a renewal of war, which was declared
in May, 1803.
When, therefore, the French frigate Marengo, with Decaen on
board, arrived at Pondicherry, the British flag still flew over
the Government buildings, and he soon learnt that there was no
disposition to lower it. Moreover, La Belle Poule, which had been
sent in advance from the Cape to herald the Captain-General’s
coming, was anchored between two British ships of war, which had
carefully ranged themselves alongside her. Decaen grasped the
situation rapidly. A few hours after his arrival, the French brig
Belier appeared. She had left France on March 25th, carrying a
despatch informing the Captain-General that war was anticipated,
and directing him to land his troops at Ile-de-France, where he
was to assume the governorship.
Rear-Admiral Linois, who commanded the French division, wanted
to sail at once. Decaen insisted on taking aboard some of the
French who were ashore, but Linois pointed to the strong British
squadron in sight, and protested that he ought not to compromise
the safety of his ships by delaying departure. Linois was always
a very nervous officer. Decaen stormed, and Linois proposed to
call a council of his captains. “A council!” exclaimed Decaen, “I
am the council!” It was worthy of what Voltaire attributed to
Louis XIV: “l’etat, c’est mois.” After sunset Decaen visited the
ships of the division in a boat, and warned their captains to get
ready to follow the Marengo out of the roadstead of Pondicherry
in the darkness. He considered that it would be extremely
embarrassing if the British squadron, suspecting their
intentions, endeavoured to frustrate them. At an appointed hour
the Marengo quietly dropped out of the harbour, cutting the cable
of one of her anchors rather than permit any delay.
On August 15th Decaen landed at Port Louis, Ile-de-France, and
on the following day he took over the government. He had
therefore been in command exactly four months when Matthew
Flinders, in the Cumberland, put into Baye du Cap on December
15th.
For his conduct in the Flinders affair Decaen has been
plentifully denounced. “A brute,” “a malignant tyrant,”
“vindictive, cruel and unscrupulous”—such are a few shots from
the heavy artillery of language that have been fired at his
reputation. The author knows of one admirer of Flinders who had a
portrait of Decaen framed and hung with its face to the wall of
his study. It is, unfortunately, much easier to denounce than to
understand; and where resonant terms have been flung in freest
profusion, it does not appear that an endeavour has been made to
study what occurred from the several points of view, and to
examine Decaen’s character and actions in the light of full
information. A postponement of epithets until we have ascertained
the facts is in this, as in so many other cases, extremely
desirable.
No candid reader of Decaen’s Memoires, and of Prentout’s
elaborate investigation of his administration, can fail to
recognise that he was a conspicuously honest man. During his
governorship he handled millions of francs. Privateers from
Ile-de-France captured British merchant ships, to a value,
including their cargo, of over 3 million pounds sterling,* a
share of which it would have been easy for Decaen to secure. (*
“Prentout, page 509, estimates the value of captures at 2 million
pounds, but Mr. H. Hope informed Flinders in 1811, that insurance
offices in Calcutta had actually paid 3 million pounds sterling
on account of ships captured by the French at Mauritius.
Flinders, writing with exceptional opportunities for forming an
opinion, calculated that during the first sixteen months of the
war the French captures of British merchant ships brought to
Ile-de-France were worth 1,948,000 pounds (Voyage 2 416).) But
his financial reputation is above suspicion. His management was
economical and efficient. He ended his days in honourable
poverty.
He was blunt and plainspoken; and though he could be pleasant,
was when ruffled by no means what Mrs. Malaprop called “the very
pineapple of politeness.” His quick temper brought him into
continual conflict with superiors and subordinates. He quarrelled
repeatedly with generals and ministers; with Admiral Linois, with
Soult, with Decres, with Barras, with Jourdan, and with many
others. When General Lecourbe handed him a written command during
the Rhine campaign, he says himself that, “when I received the
order I tightened my lips and turned my back upon him.” He speaks
of himself in one place as being “of a petulant character and too
free with my tongue.” That concurs with Flinders’ remark, after
bitter experience of Decaen, that he possessed “the character of
having a good heart, though too hasty and violent.”
Decaen’s military capacity was much higher than his historical
reputation might lead one to suppose. During the fierce wars of
the Napoleonic empire, whilst Ney, Oudinot, Murat, Junot,
Augereau, Soult, St. Cyr, Davoust, Lannes, Marmont, Massena and
Suchet, were rendering brilliant service under the eye of the
great captain, and were being converted into dukes and princes,
Decaen was shut up in a far-off isle in the Indian Ocean, where
there was nothing to do but hold on under difficulties, and wait
in vain for the turn of a tide that never floated a French fleet
towards the coveted India. Colonel Picard, than whom there is
hardly a better judge, is of opinion that had Decaen fought with
the Grand Army in Europe, his military talents would have
designated him for the dignity of a marshal of the Empire. On his
return he did become a Comte, but then the Napoleonic regime was
tottering to its fall.
Such then was the man—stubborn, strong-willed, brusque,
honest, irritable, ill-tempered, but by no means a bad man at
heart—with whom Matthew Flinders had to do. We may now follow
what occurred.
CHAPTER 22. THE CAPTIVITY.
At four o’clock in the afternoon of December 17th the
Cumberland entered Port Louis, where Flinders learnt that Le
Geographe had sailed for France on the previous day. As soon as
he could land he went ashore to present himself to the Governor,
whom he found to be at dinner. To occupy the time until an
interview could be arranged, he joined a party of officers who
were lounging in a shady place, and gossiped with them about his
voyage, about Baudin’s visit to Port Jackson, about the English
settlement there, “and also concerning the voyage of Monsieur
Flindare, of whom, to their surprise, I knew nothing, but
afterwards found it to be my own name which they so
pronounced.”
In a couple of hours he was conducted to Government House,
where, after a delay of half an hour, he was shown into a room.
At a table stood two officers. One was a short, thick man in a
gold-laced mess jacket, who fixed his eyes sternly on Flinders,
and at once demanded his passport and commission. This was
General Decaen. Beside him stood his aide-de-camp, Colonel
Monistrol. The General glanced over the papers, and then enquired
“in an impetuous manner,” why Flinders had come to Ile-de-France
in the Cumberland, when his passport was for the Investigator.
The necessary explanation being given, Decaen exclaimed
impatiently, “You are imposing on me, sir! It is not probable
that the Governor of New South Wales should send away the
commander of a discovery expedition in so small a vessel.”
Decaen’s own manuscript Memoires show that when this story was
told to him, he thought it “very extraordinary that he should
have left Port Jackson to voyage to England in a vessel of 29
tons;” and, in truth, to a man who knew nothing of Flinders’
record of seamanship it must have seemed unlikely. He handed back
the passport and commission, and gave some orders to an officer;
and as Flinders was leaving the room “the Captain-General said
something in a softer tone about my being well treated, which I
could not comprehend.”
It is clear that Decaen’s brusque manner made Flinders very
angry. He did not know at this time that it was merely the
General’s way, and that he was not at all an ill-natured man if
discreetly handled. On board the Cumberland, in company with the
interpreter and an officer, who were very polite, he confesses
having “expressed my sentiments of General Decaen’s manner of
receiving me,” adding “that the Captain-General’s conduct must
alter very much before I should pay him a second visit, or even
set my foot on shore again.” It is very important to notice
Flinders’ state of mind, because it is apparent that a whole
series of unfortunate events turned upon his demeanour at the
next interview. His anger is perfectly intelligible. He was a
British officer, proud of his service; he had for years been
accustomed to command, and to be obeyed; he knew that he was
guiltless of offence; he felt that he had a right to protection
and consideration under his passport. Believing himself to have
been affronted, he was not likely to be able to appreciate the
case as it presented itself at the moment to this peppery
general; that here was the captain of an English schooner who, as
reported, had chased a French vessel into Baye du Cap, and who
gave as an explanation that he had called to seek assistance
while on a 16,000 mile voyage, in a 29-ton boat. Surely Flinders’
story, as Decaen saw it at this time, was not a probable one; and
at all events he, as Governor of Ile-de-France, had a duty to
satisfy himself of its truth. We can well understand Flinders’
indignation; but can we not also appreciate Decaen’s doubt?
The officers, acting under instructions, collected all the
charts, papers, journals, letters, and packets, found on board,
and put them in a trunk which, says Flinders, “was sealed by me
at their desire.” They then requested him to go ashore with them,
to a lodging at an inn, which the General had ordered to be
provided for him. In fact, they had orders to take him there.
“What! I exclaimed in the first transports of surprise and
indignation, I am then a prisoner!” The officers expressed the
hope that the detention would not last more than a few days, and
assured him that in the meantime he should want for nothing.
Flinders, accompanied by Aken, went ashore, and the two were
escorted to a large house in the middle of the town, the Cafe
Marengo, where they were shown into a room approached by a dark
entry up a dirty staircase, and left for the night with a sentry
on guard in the passage outside.
That Flinders had no doubt that he would soon be released, is
shown by the fact that he wrote from the tavern the following
letter to the captain of the American ship Hunter, then lying in
Port Louis: “Sir, understanding that you are homeward bound, I
have to represent to you that I am here with an officer and nine
men belonging to His Britannic Majesty’s ship Investigator,
lately under my command, and if I am set at liberty should be
glad to get a passage on board your vessel to St. Helena, or on
any other American who does not touch at the Cape of Good Hope*
and may be in want of men. I am, Sir, etc., etc., MATTHEW
FLINDERS.
“If it is convenient for you to call upon me at the tavern
where I am at present confined, I shall be glad to see you as
soon as possible.”
(* He did not wish to call at the Cape, because if he got
clear of the French frying-pan he did not want to jump into the
Dutch fire.)
Early in the afternoon of the following day Colonel Monistrol
came to the inn to take Flinders and Aken before the General, who
desired to ask certain questions. The interrogatories were read
from a paper, as dictated by Decaen, and Flinders’ answers were
translated and written down. In the document amongst Decaen’s
papers the French questions and answers are written on one side
of the paper, with the English version parallel; the latter being
signed by Flinders. The translation is crude (the scribe was a
German with some knowledge of English) but is printed below
literally:
“Questions made to the commanding officier of an English
shooner anchored in Savanna Bay, at the Isle of France, on the
24th frimaire 12th year (on the 17th December, 1803) chasing a
coaster, which in consequence of the declaration of war between
the French Republic and Great Britain, had intention to avoid the
poursuit of said shooner. Said shooner carried the next day in
the harbour of Port North-West, where she anchored under cartel
colours, the commanding officer having declared to the officer of
the health boat that his name was Matthew Flinders, and his
schooner the Cumberland.
“Demanded: the Captain’s name?
“Answered: Matthew Flinders.
“D.: From what place the Cumberland sailed?
“A.: From Port Jackson.
“D.: At what time?
“A.: The Captain does not recollect the date of his departure.
He thinks it is on the 20th of September.
“D.: What is the purpose of his expedition?
“A.: His only motive was to proceed on to England as soon as
possible, to make the report of his voyages and to request a ship
to continue them.
“D.: What can be the reason which has determined Captain
Flinders to undertake a voyage on board of the so small a
vessel?
“A.: To avoid losing two months on proceeding by China, for a
ship sailing from Port Jackson was to put in China.
“D.: Does not Port Jackson offer frequent opportunities for
Europe?
“A.: There are some, as he has observed it above, but that
ship putting in China is the reason which determined him not to
proceed that way.
“D.: At what place had the Cumberland put in?
“A.: At Timor.
“D.: What could be the reason of her putting in at Timor?
“A.: To take fresh provision and water. He has left Timor 34
days ago.
D.: What passports or certificates has he taken in that
place?
“A.: None.
“D.: What has been his motive for his coming at the Isle of
France?
“A.: The want of water. His pumpers (sic) are bad, and his
vessel is very leaky.
“D.: To what place does Captain Flinders intend to go to from
this island?
“A.: Having no passport for the Dutch Government, he cannot
put in the Cape, according to his wishes, and will be obliged to
stop at St. Helena.
“D.: What can be the reason of his having none of his
officiers, naturalis, or any of the other persons employed in
said expedition?
“A.: Two of these gentlemen have remained in Port Jackson to
repair on board of the ship Captain Flinders expected to obtain
in England,* and the rest have proceeded on to China. (* “Pour
s’embarquer sur le vaisseau que le Cap. Flinders a espoir
d’obtenir en Angleterre,” in the French. That is to say, Brown
and Bauer remained behind till Flinders came out again with
another ship.)
“D.: What reason induced Captain Flinders to chase a boat in
sight of the island?
“A.: Being never to this island, he was not acquainted with
the harbour. Seeing a French vessel he chased her* for the only
purpose of obtaining a pilot, and seeing her entering a bay he
followed her. (* It is singular that Flinders did not take
exception to this word “chased” in the translation when he signed
it. The French version of his statement is correct: “il forca de
voile, NON POUR LUY APPUYER CHASSE mais pour luy demander un
pilote.” The German translator boggled between the French and the
English.)
“D.: What reason had he to make the land to leewards, the
different directories pointing out the contrary route to anchor
in the harbour.
“A.: He came to windwards, but the wind shifting contrary he
took to leewards and perceiving said vessel he followed her and
anchored in the same bay. He has no chart of the island.
“D.: Why has he hoisted cartel colours?
“A.: He answers that it is the custom, since Captain Baudin
coming to Port Jackson hoisted the colours of both nations.
“D.: Was he informed of the war?
“A.: No.
“D.: Has he met with any ship either at sea or in the
different ports where he put in?
“A.: He met one ship only, by the 6 or 7 degrees to the east
of the Isle of France. He did not speak her, though desirous of
so doing, being prevented by the night. He met with no ship at
Timor.
“In consequence of the questions made to Captain Flinders
respecting to his wreck, he declares that after putting in at
Port Jackson with the ship under his command, he was through her
bad condition obliged to leave her, being entirely decayed. The
Governor at that time furnished him with a ship thought capable
of transporting him to Europe. He had the misfortune to wreck on
the east coast of New Holland by the 22 degrees 11 minutes of
latitude south on some rock distant 700 miles from Port Jackson,
and 200 miles from the coast. He embarked in the said ship’s
boat, taking with him 14 men, and left the remainder of his crew
on a sand bank. He lost on this occasion three charts respecting
his voyages and particularly Golph Carpentary. After 14 days’
passage he arrived at Port Jackson. After tarrying in said place
8 or 9 days, the Governor furnished him with the small vessel he
is now in, and a ship to take the remainder of the crew left on
the bank. This vessel not being a government ship and bound to
China, proceeded on her intended voyage with the officers and the
crew which had been left on the bank.
“Captain Flinders declares that of the two boxes remitted by
him one contains despatches directed to the Secretary of State
and the other was entrusted to him by the commanding officer of
the troops in Port Jackson, and that he is ignorant what they
contain.
“Captain Mw. Flinders to ascertain the legality of this
expedition and the veracity of what he expose,* (* “La verite de
son expose,” i.e., the truth of his statement.) has opened in our
presence a trunk sealed by him containing the papers having a
reference to his expedition, and to give us a copy by him
certified of the passport delivered to him by the First Consul
and His Majesty King of Great Britain; equally the communication
of his journal since the condemnation of his ship
Investigator.
“Port North-West, Ile of France, the 26th frimaire 12th year
of the French Republic (answering to the 19th December,
1803).
“(Signed) MATTW. FLINDERS.”
Flinders corroborates the statement regarding the taking of
papers from the trunk, stating that they consisted of the third
volume of his rough log-book, which contained “the whole of what
they desired to know,” respecting his voyage to Ile-de-France. He
told Decaen’s Secretary to make such extracts as were considered
requisite, “pointing out the material passages.” “All the books
and papers, the third volume of my rough log-book excepted, were
then returned into the trunk, and sealed as before.” It is
important to notice that at no time were papers taken from the
trunk without Flinders’ knowledge and concurrence, because the
charge has frequently been made, even by historical writers of
authority,* that his charts were plagiarised by the cartographers
of Baudin’s expedition. (* In the Cambridge Modern History, for
instance (9 739): “The French authorities at Mauritius having
captured and imprisoned the explorer Flinders on his passage to
England, attempted by the use of his papers to appropriate for
their ships the credit of his discoveries along the south coast
of Australia.”) Flinders himself never made any such allegation,
nor is there any foundation for it. On the contrary, as will be
made clear hereafter, neither Decaen and his officers, nor any of
the French, ever saw any of Flinders’ charts at any time.
Immediately after the examination the General, on behalf of
Madame Decaen, sent Flinders an invitation to dine, dinner being
then served. At this point, one cannot help feeling, he made a
tactical mistake. It is easily understood, and allowance can be
made for it, but the consequences of it were serious. He was
angry on account of his detention, irritated by the treatment to
which he had been subjected, and unable in his present frame of
mind to appreciate the Governor’s point of view. He refused to
go, and said he had already dined. The officer who bore the
invitation pressed him in a kindly manner, saying that at all
events he had better go to the table. Flinders replied that he
would not; if the General would first set him at liberty he would
accept the invitation with pleasure, and be flattered by it.
Otherwise he would not sit at table with Decaen. “Having been
grossly insulted both in my public and private character, I could
not debase the situation I had the honour to hold.”
The effect of so haughty a refusal upon an inflammatory temper
like that of Decaen may be readily pictured. Presently an
aide-de-camp returned with the message that the General would
renew the invitation when Captain Flinders was set at liberty.
There was a menace in the cold phrase.
Now, had Flinders bottled up his indignation and swallowed his
pride—had he frankly recognised that he was in Decaen’s
power—had he acknowledged that some deference was due to the
official head of the colony of a foreign nation with whom his
country was at war—his later troubles might have been averted.
An opportunity was furnished of discussing the matter genially
over the wine and dessert. He would have found himself in the
presence of a man who could be kind-hearted and entertaining when
not provoked, and of a charming French lady in Madame Decaen. He
would have been assisted by the secretary, Colonel Monistrol, who
was always as friendly to him as his duty would permit. He would
have been able to hold the company spell-bound with the story of
the many adventures of his active, useful life. He would have
been able to demonstrate his bona fides completely. It is a
common experience that the humane feelings of men of Decaen’s
type are easily touched; and his conduct regarding the
Napoleon-Moreau quarrel has been related above with some fulness
for the purpose of showing that there was milk as well as
gunpowder in his composition. But Flinders was angry; justifiably
angry no doubt, but unfortunately angry nevertheless, since
thereby he lost his chance.
He learnt afterwards that “some who pretended to have
information from near the fountain-head hinted that, if his
invitation to dinner had been accepted, a few days would have
been the whole” of his detention.* (* Flinders Voyage 2 398.)
That seems probable. He had no better friend than Sir Joseph
Banks; and he learnt to his regret that Banks “was not quite
satisfied with his conduct to the Government of Mauritius,
thinking he had treated them perhaps with too much haughtiness.”
His comment upon this was, “should the same circumstances happen
to me again I fear I should follow nearly the same steps.”* (*
Flinders’ Papers.) That is the sort of thing that strong-willed
men say; but a knowledge of the good sense and good feeling that
were native to the character of Matthew Flinders enables one to
assert with some confidence that if, after this experience, the
choice had been presented to him, on the one hand of conquering
his irritation and going to enjoy a pleasant dinner in
interesting company with the prospect of speedy liberation; on
the other of scornfully disdaining the olive branch, with the
consequence of six-and-a-half years of heart-breaking captivity;
he would have chosen the former alternative without much
reluctance. There is a sentence in one of his own letters which
indicates that wisdom counted for more than obstinacy in his
temperament: “After a misfortune has happened, we all see very
well the proper steps that ought to have been taken to avoid it;
to be endowed with a never-failing foresight is not within the
power of man.”
That the view presented above is not too strong is clear from
a passage in an unpublished portion of Decaen’s Memoires. He
stated that after the examination of Flinders, “I sent him an
invitation from my wife* to come to dine with us, (* Flinders
does not state that the invitation came from Madame Decaen. He
may not have understood. But the refusal of it would on that
account have been likely to make the General all the more angry.)
although he had given me cause to withhold the invitation on
account of his impertinence; but from boorishness, or rather from
arrogance, he refused that courteous invitation, which, if
accepted, would indubitably have brought about a change
favourable to his position, through the conversation which would
have taken place.”* (* Decaen Papers Volume 10. Decaen said in
his despatch to the Minister: “Captain Flinders imagined that he
would obtain his release by arguing, by arrogance, and especially
by impertinence; my silence with regard to his first letter led
him to repeat the offence.”) Here it is distinctly suggested that
if the invitation had been accepted, and a pleasant discussion of
the case had ensued, the detention of the Cumberland and her
commander would probably not have been prolonged.
Further light is thrown on these regrettable occurrences by a
manuscript history of Ile-de-France, written by St. Elme le Duc,*
(* Bibliotheque Nationale, nouveaux acquisitions, France Number 1
775.) a friend of Decaen, who possessed intimate knowledge of the
General’s feelings. It is therein stated that Decaen received
Flinders “in uniform, the head uncovered,” but that “Captain
Flinders presented himself with arrogance, his hat upon his head;
they had to ask him to remove it.” The same writer alleges that
Flinders disregarded all the rules of politeness. It is fair to
state these matters, since the candid student must always wish to
see a case presented from several points of view. But it must be
said that only an intense feeling of resentment could have
unhinged the courteous disposition which was habitual with
Flinders. A gentler man in his relations with all could hardly
have been found. He was not more respectful to authority than he
was considerate to subordinates; and throughout his career a
close reading of his letters and journals, and of documents
relating to him, can discover no other instance of even temporary
deviation from perfect courtesy. Even in this case one can hardly
say that he was to blame. There was sufficient in what occurred
to make an honest man angry. But we wish to understand what
occurred and why it occurred, and for that reason we cannot
ignore or minimise the solitary instance wherein a natural flame
of anger fired a long train of miserable consequences.
What, then, did Decaen intend to do with Flinders, at the
beginning? He never intended to keep him six-and-a-half years. He
simply meant to punish him for what he deemed to be rudeness; and
his method of accomplishing that object was to report to Paris,
and allow the case to be determined by the Government, instead of
settling it himself forthwith. Here again Flinders was well
informed. His journal for May 24th, 1806, contains the following
entry:* (* Flinders’ Papers.) “It has been said that I am
detained a prisoner here solely because I refused the invitation
of General Decaen to dine; that to punish me he referred the
judgment of my case to the French Government, knowing that I
should necessarily be detained twelve months before an answer
arrived.” Or, as he stated the matter in his published book (2
489): “My refusal of the intended honour until set at liberty so
much exasperated the Captain-General that he determined to make
me repent it.”
It will be seen presently that the term of detention,
originally intended to endure for about a year, was lengthened by
circumstances that were beyond Decaen’s control; that the
punishment which sprang from the hasty ire of a peppery soldier
increased, against his own will, into what appeared to all the
world, and most of all to the victim, to be a piece of malevolent
persecution. The ball kicked off in a fit of spleen rolled on and
on beyond recovery.
There was, it must be admitted, quite enough in the facts
brought under Decaen’s notice to warrant a reference to Paris, if
he chose to be awkward. In the first place, Flinders was carrying
on board the Cumberland a box of despatches from Governor King
for the Secretary of State. As pointed out in Chapter 12, the
Admiralty instructions for the Investigator voyage cautioned him
“not to take letters or packets other than those such as you may
receive from this office or the office of His Majesty’s Secretary
of State.” Governor King was well aware of this injunction. Yet
he entrusted to Flinders this box of despatches, containing
material relative to military affairs. It is true that a state of
war was not known to exist at the time when the Cumberland sailed
from Port Jackson in September, 1803, although as a matter of
fact it had broken out in the previous May. But it was well known
that war was anticipated. It is also true that Flinders knew
nothing of the contents of the despatches. But neither, as a
rule, does any other despatch carrier in war time. When the
Cumberland’s papers were examined by Decaen’s officers, and these
despatches were read and translated, there was at once a prima
facie ground for saying, “this officer is not engaged on purely
scientific work; he is the bearer of despatches which might if
delivered have an influence upon the present war.” Flinders
himself, writing to Banks,* (* Historical Records 6 49.) said: “I
have learnt privately that in the despatches with which I was
charged by Governor King, and which were taken from me by the
French General, a demand was made for troops to be sent out to
Port Jackson for the purpose of annoying Spanish America in the
event of another war, and that this is considered to be a breach
of my passport. ‘Tis pity that Governor King should have
mentioned anything that could involve me in the event of a war,
either with the French at Mauritius, or the Dutch at Timor or the
Cape; or that, having mentioned anything that related to war, he
did not make me acquainted in a general way with the
circumstances, in which case I should have thrown them overboard
on learning that war was declared; but as I was situated, having
little apprehension of being made a prisoner, and no idea that
the despatches had any reference to war, since it was a time of
peace when I left Port Jackson, I did not see the necessity of
throwing them overboard at a hazard. To be the bearer of any
despatches in time of peace cannot be incorrect for a ship on
discovery more than for any other; BUT WITH A PASSPORT, AND IN
TIME OF WAR, IT CERTAINLY IS IMPROPER.” With characteristic
straightforwardness, Flinders did not hesitate to tell King
himself that the despatches had cast suspicion on him:* (*
Historical Records 6 105.) “I have learned privately that in your
despatches to the Secretary of State there is mention of Spanish
America, which rendered me being the bearer, criminal with
respect to my passport. ‘Tis pity I had not known anything of
this, for on finding myself under the necessity of stopping at
the Isle of France, and learning the declaration of war, I should
have destroyed the despatches; but leaving Port Jackson in time
of peace, and confiding in my passport, I did not think myself
authorised to take such a step, even after I knew of the war,
having no idea there was anything in the despatches that could
invalidate my passport; neither, indeed, is it invalidated in
justice, but it is said to be the under-plea against me.”
These despatches of King are preserved among Decaen’s papers,*
(* Decaen Papers Volumes 84 and 105.) and an examination of them
reveals that they did contain material of a military character.
In one of them, dated August 7th, 1803, King referred to the
possibility in any future war “of the Government of the Isle of
France annoying this colony, as the voyage from hence may be done
in less than seven weeks; and on the same idea this colony may
hereafter annoy the trade of the Spanish settlements on the
opposite coast. But to defend this colony against the one, and to
annoy the other, it would be necessary that some regard should be
had to the military and naval defences. The defences of the port
may be made as strong as in any port I know of. By the return of
cannon and batteries your Lordship will observe that those we
have are placed in the best situation for annoying an enemy.
Still, a small establishment of artillery officers and men are
wanted to work those guns effectually in case of necessity.” King
went on to make recommendations for the increase of the military
strength in men, officers, and guns. The originals of those
despatches, which could furnish the French Government with
valuable information concerning Port Jackson and the Flinders
affair, are endorsed, “letters translated and sent to France;”
and Decaen commented upon them that in his opinion the despatches
alone afforded a sufficient pretext for detaining Flinders.
“Ought a navigator engaged in discovery, and no longer possessing
a passport for his ship, to be in time of war in command of a
despatch-boat,* especially when, having regard to the distance
between the period of the declaration of war and his departure
from Port Jackson he could have obtained there the news that war
had broken out?” (* “Devait-il en temps de guerre conduire un
paquebot?”)
In reporting to his Government Decaen related the story of the
Cumberland’s arrival from his point of view at considerable
length. He expressed himself as satisfied that her commander
really was Captain Flinders of the Investigator, to whom the
French Government had issued a passport; detailed the
circumstances of the examination; and complained of Flinders’
“impertinence” and “arrogance.” Then he proceeded to describe
“several motives which have caused me to judge it to be
indispensable to detain Captain Flinders.”
The first motive alleged was “the conduct of the English
Government in Europe, where she has violated all treaties, her
behaviour before surrendering the Cape of Good Hope, and her
treatment of our ships at Pondicherry.” In no way could it be
pretended that Flinders was connected with these events.
The second motive was “the seizing of Le Naturaliste, as
announced by the newspapers.” Decaen was here referring to the
fact that, when Le Naturaliste was on her homeward voyage from
Port Jackson, conveying the natural history collections, she was
stopped by the British frigate Minerva and taken into Portsmouth.
But no harm was done to her. She was merely detained from May
27th, 1803, till June 6th, when she was released by order of the
Admiralty. In any case Flinders had nothing to do with that.
The third motive was that Captain Flinders’ logbook showed an
intention to make an examination of Ile-de-France and Madagascar,
from which Decaen drew the inference that, if the English
Government received no check, they would extend their power, and
would seize the French colony. Herein the General did a serious
injustice to Flinders. His log-book did indeed indicate that he
desired “to acquire a knowledge of the winds and weather
periodically encountered at Ile-de-France, of the actual state of
the French colony, and of what utility it and its dependencies in
Madagascar might be to Port Jackson, and whether that island
could afford resources to myself in my future voyages.” But
information of this description was such as lay within the proper
province of an explorer; and the log-book contained no hint, nor
was there a remote intention, of acquiring information which,
however used, could be inimical to the security of the French
colony.
Decaen’s mind had been influenced by reading Francois Peron’s
report to him concerning the expansive designs of the British in
the Pacific and Indian Oceans. “There is no doubt,” he informed
his Government, “that the English Government have the intention
to seize the whole trade of the Indian Ocean, the China Seas and
the Pacific, and that they especially covet what remains of the
Dutch possessions in these waters.” He derived that extravagant
idea from Peron’s inflammatory communication, as will be seen
from a perusal of that interesting document.
By these strained means, then, did Decaen give a semblance of
public policy to his decision to detain Flinders. It would have
been puerile to attempt to justify his action to his superiors on
the personal ground that the English captain had vexed him; so he
hooked in these various pretexts, though ingenuously
acknowledging that they would have counted for nothing if
Flinders had dined with him and talked the matter over
conversationally!
On the day following the examination and the refusal of the
invitation, Flinders was again conducted on board the Cumberland
by Colonel Monistrol and the official interpreter, who “acted
throughout with much politeness, apologising for what they were
obliged by their orders to execute.” On this occasion all
remaining books and papers, including personal letters, were
collected, locked up in a second trunk, and sealed. The document
noting their deposition and sealing was signed by Flinders,* who
was ordered to be detained in the inn under guard. (* Decaen
Papers.) It was, Decaen reported, the best inn in the island, and
orders were given to furnish the prisoner with all that he could
want; but Flinders described it as an exceedingly dirty
place.
On his return to the inn from the ship Flinders wrote a letter
to the Governor, recounting the history of his explorations, and
making two requests: that he might have his printed books ashore,
and that his servant, John Elder, might be permitted to attend
him. On the following day Elder was sent to him. On the 22nd he
wrote again, soliciting “that I may be able to sail as soon as
possible after you shall be pleased to liberate me from my
present state of purgatory.”* (* Decaen Papers.) On Christmas Day
he sent a letter suffused with indignant remonstrance, wherein he
alleged that “it appears that your Excellency had formed a
determination to stop the Cumberland previously even to seeing
me, if a specious pretext were wanting for it,” and reminded
Decaen that “on the first evening of my arrival…you told me
impetuously that I was imposing on you.” He continued, in a
strain that was bold and not conciliatory: “I cannot think that
an officer of your rank and judgment to act either so
ungentlemanlike or so unguardedly as to make such a declaration
without proof; unless his reason had been blinded by passion, or
a previous determination that it should be so, nolens volens. In
your orders of the 21st last it is indeed said that the
Captain-General has acquired the conviction that I am the person
I pretend to be, and the same for whom a passport was obtained by
the English Government from the First Consul. It follows then, as
I am willing to explain it, that I AM NOT and WAS NOT an
imposter. This plea was given up when a more plausible one was
thought to be found; but I cannot compliment your Excellency upon
this alteration in your position, for the first, although false,
is the more tenable post of the two.”
Decaen’s reply was stiff and stern. He attributed “the
unreserved tone” of Flinders to “the ill humour produced by your
present situation,” and concluded: “This letter, overstepping all
the bounds of civility, obliges me to tell you, until the general
opinion judges of your faults or of mine, to cease all
correspondence tending to demonstrate the justice of your cause,
since you know so little how to preserve the rules of
decorum.”
Flinders in consequence of this snub forebore to make further
appeals for consideration; but three days later he preferred a
series of requests, one of which related to the treatment of his
crew:
“To his Excellency Captain-General Decaen, “Governor in Chief,
etc., etc., etc., Isle of France.
“From my confinement, December 28th, 1803.
“Sir,
“Since you forbid me to write to you upon the subject of my
detainer I shall not rouse the anger or contempt with which you
have been pleased to treat me by disobeying your order. The
purpose for which I now write is to express a few humble
requests, and most sincerely do I wish that they may be the last
I shall have occasion to trouble your Excellency with.
“First. I repeat my request of the 23rd to have my printed
books on shore from the schooner.
“Second. I request to have my private letters and papers out
of the two trunks lodged in your secretariat, they having no
connection with my Government or the voyage of discovery.
“Third. I beg to have two or three charts and three or four
manuscript books out of the said trunks, which are necessary to
finishing the chart of the Gulf of Carpentaria and some parts
adjacent. It may be proper to observe as an explanation of this
last request that the parts wanting were mostly lost in the
shipwreck, and I wish to replace them from my memory and
remaining materials before it is too late. Of these a memorandum
can be taken, or I will give a receipt for them, and if it is
judged necessary to exact it I will give my word that nothing in
the books shall be erased or destroyed, but I could wish to make
additions to one or two of the books as well as to the charts,
after which I shall be ready to give up the whole.
“Fourth. My seamen complain of being shut up at night in a
place where not a breath of air can come to them, which in a
climate like this must be not only uncomfortable in the last
degree, but also very destructive to European constitutions; they
say, further, that the people with whom they are placed are much
affected with that disagreeable and contagious disorder the itch;
and that the provisions with which they are fed are too scanty,
except in the article of meat, the proportion of which is large
but of bad quality. Your Excellency will no doubt make such an
amendment in their condition as circumstances will permit.
“A compliance with the above requests will not only furnish me
with a better amusement in this solitude than writing letters to
your Excellency, but will be attended with advantages in which
the French nation may some time share. This application
respecting the charts is not altogether made upon a firm
persuasion that you will return everything to me, for if I could
believe that they were never to be given to me or my Government I
should make the same request.
“Your prisoner,
“MATTHEW FLINDERS.”
On the day when the letter was despatched, Colonel Monistrol
called, and promised that the books and papers requested should
be supplied; and, in fact, the trunk containing them was without
delay brought to the inn. The Colonel courteously expressed his
regret that Flinders had adopted such a tone in his letters to
the General, thinking “that they might tend to protract rather
than terminate” his confinement. The complaint respecting the
seamen was attended to forthwith, and they were treated exactly
on the same footing as were French sailors on service.* (* St.
Eleme le Duc’s manuscript History.)
The first thing Flinders did, when he received the trunk, was
to take out his naval signal-book and tear it to pieces. Next day
he was conducted to Government House, and was allowed to take
from the second trunk all his private letters and papers, his
journals of bearings and observations, two log-books, and such
charts as were necessary to complete his drawings of the Gulf of
Carpentaria. All the other books and papers “were locked up in
the trunk and sealed as before.”
Until the end of March, 1804, Flinders was kept at the inn,
with a sentry constantly on guard over the rooms. St. Elme le
Duc, in the manuscript history already cited, declares that
“Captain Flinders was never put in prison,” and that his custom
of addressing letters “from my prison” was an “affectation.” But
a couple of inn rooms wherein a person is kept against his will,
under the strict surveillance of a military custodian, certainly
constitute a prison. It is true that the Governor allotted 450
francs per month for his maintenance, sent a surgeon to attend to
him when scorbutic sores broke out upon his body, and gave him
access to the papers and books he required in order that he might
occupy his time and divert his mind with the work he loved. But
it is surely quibbling to pretend that even under these
conditions he was not a prisoner. Even the surgeon and the
interpreter were not admitted without a written order; and when
the interpreter, Bonnefoy, took from Flinders a bill, which he
undertook to negotiate, the sentry reported that a paper had
passed between the two, and Bonnefoy was arrested, nor was he
liberated until it was ascertained that the bill was the only
paper he had received. The bill was the subject of an act of
kindness from the Danish consul, who negotiated it at face value
at a time when bills upon England could only be cashed in Port
Louis at a discount of 30 per cent. This liberal gentleman sent
the message that he would have proffered his assistance earlier
but for the fear of incurring the Governor’s displeasure.
An attempt was made in February to induce Decaen to send his
prisoner to France for trial. It was submitted in the following
terms:* (* Decaen Papers.)
“Sir,
“Having waited six weeks with much anxiety for your
Excellency’s decision concerning me, I made application for the
honour of an audience, but received no answer; a second
application obtained a refusal. It was not my intention to
trouble the Captain-General by recounting my grievances, but to
offer certain proposals to his consideration; and in now doing
this by letter it is my earnest wish to avoid everything that can
in the most distant manner give offence; should I fail, my
ignorance and not intention must be blamed.
“First. If your Excellency will permit me to depart with my
vessel, papers, etc., I will pledge my honour not to give any
information concerning the Isle of France, or anything belonging
to it, for a limited time, if it is thought that I can have
gained any information; or if it is judged necessary, any other
restrictions can be laid upon me. If this will not be complied
with I request:
“Second, to be sent to France.
“Third. But if it is necessary to detain me here, I request
that my officer and my people may be permitted to depart in the
schooner. I am desirous of this as well for the purpose of
informing the British Admiralty where I am, as to relieve our
families and friends from the report that will be spread of the
total loss of the two ships with all on board. My officer can be
laid under what restrictions may be thought necessary, and my
honour shall be a security that nothing shall be transmitted by
me but what passes under the inspection of the officer who might
be appointed for that purpose.
“If your Excellency does not think proper to adopt any of
these modes, by which, with submission, I conceive my voyage of
discovery might be permitted to proceed without any possible
injury to the Isle of France or its dependencies, I then think it
necessary to remind the Captain-General that since the shipwreck
of the Porpoise, which happened now six months back, my officers
and people as well as myself have been mostly confined either on
a very small sandbank in the open sea, or in a boat, or otherwise
on board the small schooner Cumberland, where there is no room to
walk, or been kept prisoners as at present; and also, that
previous to this time I had not recovered from a scorbutic and
very debilitated state arising from having been eleven months
exposed to great fatigue, bad climates and salt provisions. From
the scorbutic sores which have again troubled me since my arrival
in this port the surgeon who dressed them saw that a vegetable
diet and exercise were necessary to correct the diseased state of
the blood and to restore my health; but his application through
your Excellency’s aide-de-camp for me to walk out, unfortunately
for my health and peace of mind, received a negative. The
Captain-General best knows whether my conduct has deserved, or
the exigencies of his Government require, that I should continue
to remain closely confined in this sickly town and cut off from
all society.
“With all due consideration, I am,
“Your Excellency’s prisoner,
“MATTHEW FLINDERS.”
To this petition Decaen returned no reply. Feeling therefore
that his detention was likely to be prolonged, Flinders, weary of
confinement, and longing for human fellowship, applied to be
removed to the place where British officers, prisoners of war,
were kept. It was a large house with spacious rooms standing in a
couple of acres of ground, about a mile from the tavern, and was
variously called the Maison Despeaux, or the Garden Prison. Here
at all events fresh air could be enjoyed. The application was
acceded to immediately, and Colonel Monistrol himself came, with
the courtesy that he never lost an opportunity of manifesting, to
conduct Flinders and Aken and to assist them to choose rooms.
“This little walk of a mile,” Flinders recorded, “showed how
debilitating is the want of exercise and fresh air, for it was
not without the assistance of Colonel Monistrol’s arm that I was
able to get through it. Conveyances were sent in the evening for
our trunks, and we took possession of our new prison with a
considerable degree of pleasure, this change of situation and
surrounding objects producing an exhilaration of spirits to which
we had long been strangers.”
CHAPTER 23. THE CAPTIVITY PROLONGED.
We shall now see how a detention which had been designed as a
sharp punishment of an officer who had not comported himself with
perfect respect, and which Decaen never intended to be prolonged
beyond about twelve months, dragged itself into years, and came
to bear an aspect of obstinate malignity.
Decaen’s despatch arrived in France during the first half of
the year 1804. Its terms were not calculated to induce the French
Government to regard Flinders as a man entitled to their
consideration, even if events had been conducive to a speedy
determination. But the Departments, especially those of Marine
and War, were being worked to their full capacity upon affairs of
the most pressing moment. Napoleon became Emperor of the French
in that year (May), and his immense energy was flogging official
activities incessantly. War with England mainly absorbed
attention. At Boulogne a great flotilla had been organized for
the invasion of the obdurate country across the Channel. A large
fleet was being fitted out at Brest and at Toulon, the fleet
which Nelson was to smash at Trafalgar in the following year.
Matters relating to the isolated colony in the Indian Ocean did
not at the moment command much interest in France.
There were several other pieces of business, apart from the
Flinders affair, to which Decaen wished to direct attention. He
sent one of his aides-de-camp, Colonel Barois, to Paris to see
Napoleon in person, if possible, and in any case to interview the
Minister of Marine and the Colonies, Decres. Decaen especially
directed Barois to see that the Flinders case was brought under
Napoleon’s notice, and he did his best.* (* Prentout page 392.)
He saw Decres and asked him whether Decaen’s despatches had been
well received. “Ah,” said the Minister pleasantly, in a voice
loud enough to be heard by the circle of courtiers, “everything
that comes from General Decaen is well received.” But there was
no spirit of despatch. Finally Barois did obtain an interview
with Napoleon, through the aid of the Empress Josephine. He
referred to “l’affaire Flinders,” of which Napoleon knew little;
but “he appeared to approve the reasons invoked to justify the
conduct of Decaen.” The Emperor had no time just then for
examining the facts, and his approval simply reflected his trust
in Decaen. As he said to the General’s brother Rene, at a later
interview, “I have the utmost confidence in Decaen.” But
meanwhile no direction was given as to what was to be done. It
will be seen later how it was that pressure of business delayed
the despatch of an intimation to Ile-de-France of a step that was
actually taken.
That at this time Decaen was simply waiting for an order from
Paris to release Flinders is clear from observations which he
made, and from news which came to the ears of the occupant of the
Garden Prison. In March, 1804, he told Captain Bergeret of the
French navy, who showed Flinders friendly attentions, to tell him
to “have a little patience, as he should soon come to some
determination on the affair.” In August of the same year Flinders
wrote to King that Decaen had stated that “I must wait until
orders were received concerning me from the French Government.”*
(* Historical Records 6 411.) A year later (November, 1805) he
wrote: “I firmly believe that, if he had not said to the French
Government, during the time of his unjust suspicion of me, that
he should detain me here until he received their orders, he would
have gladly suffered me to depart long since.”* (* Historical
Records 6 737.) Again, in July, 1806,* (* Ibid 6 106.) he wrote:
“General Decaen, if I am rightly informed, is himself heartily
sorry for having made me a prisoner,” but “he remitted the
judgment of my case to the French Government, and cannot permit
me to depart or even send me to France, until he shall receive
orders.”
The situation was, then, that Decaen, having referred the case
to Paris in order that the Government might deal with it, could
not now, consistently with his duty, send Flinders away from the
island until instructions were received; and the Department
concerned had too much pressing business on hand at the moment to
give attention to it. Flinders had to wait.
His health improved amidst the healthier surroundings of his
new abode, and he made good progress with his work. His way of
life is described in a letter of May 18th, 1804:* (* Flinders’
Papers.) “My time is now employed as follows: Before breakfast my
time is devoted to the Latin language, to bring up what I
formerly learnt. After breakfast I am employed in making out a
fair copy of the Investigator’s log in lieu of my own, which was
spoiled at the shipwreck. When tired of writing I apply to music,
and when my fingers are tired with the flute, I write again till
dinner. After dinner we amuse ourselves with billiards until tea,
and afterwards walk in the garden till dusk. From thence till
supper I make one at Pleyel’s quartettes; afterwards walking half
an hour, and then sleep soundly till daylight, when I get up and
bathe.”
A letter to his stepmother, dated August 25th, of the same
year, comments on his situation in a mood of courageous
resignation:* (* Flinders’ Papers.) “I have gone through some
hardships and misfortunes within the last year, but the greatest
is that of having been kept here eight months from returning to
my dear friends and family. My health is, however, good at this
time, nor are my spirits cast down, although the tyranny of the
Governor of this island in treating me as a spy has been
grievous. I believe my situation is known by this time in
England, and will probably make some noise, for indeed it is
almost without example. The French inhabitants even of this
island begin to make complaints of the injustice of their
Governor, and they are disposed to be very kind to me. Four or
five different people have offered me any money I may want, or
any service that they can do for me, but as they cannot get me my
liberty their services are of little avail. I have a companion
here in one of my officers, and a good and faithful servant in my
steward, and for these last four months have been allowed to walk
in a garden. The Governor pretends to say that he cannot let me
go until he receives orders from France, and it is likely that
these will not arrive these four months. I am obliged to call up
all the patience that I can to bear this injustice; my great
consolation is that I have done nothing to forfeit my passport,
or that can justify them for keeping me a prisoner, so I must be
set at liberty with honour when the time comes, and my country
will, I trust, reward me for my sufferings in having supported
her cause with the spirit becoming an Englishman.”
A letter to Mrs. Flinders (August 24th, 1804) voices the
yearning of the captive for the solace of home:* (* Flinders’
Papers.) “I yesterday enjoyed a delicious piece of misery in
reading over thy dear letters, my beloved Ann. Shall I tell thee
that I have never before done it since I have been shut up in
this prison? I have many friends, who are kind and much
interested for me, and I certainly love them. But yet before thee
they disappear as stars before the rays of the morning sun. I
cannot connect the idea of happiness with anything without thee.
Without thee, the world would be a blank. I might indeed receive
some gratification from distinction and the applause of society;
but where could be the faithful friend who would enjoy and share
this with me, into whose bosom my full heart could unburthen
itself of excess of joy? Where would be that sweet intercourse of
soul, the fine seasoning of happiness, without which a degree of
insipidity attends all our enjoyments?…I am not without friends
even among the French. On the contrary. I have several, and but
one enemy, who unfortunately, alas, is all-powerful here; nor
will he on any persuasion permit me to pass the walls of the
prison, although some others who are thought less dangerous have
had that indulgence occasionally.”
“When my family are the subject of my meditation,” he said in
a letter to his step-mother, “my bonds enter deep into my
soul.”
His private opinion of Decaen is expressed in a letter written
at this period:* (* Flinders’ Papers.) “The truth I believe is
that the violence of his passion outstrips his judgment and
reason, and does not allow them to operate; for he is
instantaneous in his directions, and should he do an injustice he
must persist in it because it would lower his dignity to retract.
His antipathy, moreover, is so great to Englishmen, who are the
only nation that could prevent the ambitious designs of France
from being put into execution, that immediately the name of one
is mentioned he is directly in a rage, and his pretence and wish
to be polite scarcely prevent him from breaking out in the
presence even of strangers. With all this he has the credit of
having a good heart at the bottom.”
The captain of a French ship, M. Coutance, whom Flinders had
known at Port Jackson, saw Decaen on his behalf, and reported the
result of the interview. “The General accused me of nothing more
than of being trop vive; I had shown too much independence in
refusing to dine with a man who had accused me of being an
impostor, and who had unjustly made me a prisoner.”
Meanwhile two playful sallies penned at this time show that
his health and appetite had mended during his residence at the
Maison Despeaux:* (* Flinders’ Papers.) “My appetite is so good
that I believe it has the intention of revenging me on the
Governor by occasioning a famine in the land. Falstaff says,
‘Confound this grief, it makes a man go thirsty; give me a cup of
sack.’ Instead of thirsty read hungry, and for a cup of sack read
mutton chop, and the words would fit me very well.” The second
passage is from his private journal, and may have been the
consequence of too much mutton chop: “Dreamt that General Decaen
was sitting and lying upon me, to devour me; was surprised to
find devouring so easy to be borne, and that after death I had
the consciousness of existence. Got up soon after six much
agitated, with a more violent headache than usual.”
Flinders lost no opportunity of appealing to influential
Frenchmen, relating the circumstances of his detention. He
offered to submit himself to an examination by the officers of
Admiral Linois’ squadron, and that commander promised to speak to
Decaen on the subject, adding that he should be “flattered in
contributing to your being set at liberty.” Captain Halgan, of Le
Berceau, who had been in England during the short peace, and had
heard much of Flinders’ discoveries, visited him several times
and offered pecuniary assistance if it were required. Flinders
wrote to the French Minister of the Treasury, Barbe-Marbois,
urging him to intercede, and to the Comte de Fleurieu, one of the
most influential men in French scientific circles, who was
particularly well informed concerning Australian exploration.
The flat roof of the Maison Despeaux commanded a view of Port
Louis harbour; and, as Flinders was in the habit of sitting upon
the roof in the cool evenings, enjoying the sight of the blue
waters, and meditating upon his work and upon what he hoped still
to do, Decaen thought he was getting to know too much. In June,
1804, therefore, the door to the roof was ordered to be nailed
up, and telescopes were taken away from the imprisoned officers.
At this time also occurred an incident which shows that Flinders’
proud spirit was by no means broken by captivity. The sergeant of
the guard demanded the swords of all the prisoners, that of
Flinders among the rest. It was an affront to him as an officer
that his sword should be demanded by a sergeant, and he promptly
refused. He despatched the following letter to the Governor:* (*
Decaen Papers Volume 84.)
“To His Excellency Captain-General Decaen, “Governor-in-Chief,
etc., etc., etc.
“Sir,
The sergeant of the guard over the prisoners in this house has
demanded of me, by the order of Captain Neuville, my sword, and
all other arms in my possession.
“Upon this subject I beg leave to represent to Your Excellency
that it is highly inconsistent with my situation in His Britannic
Majesty’s service to deliver up my arms in this manner. I am
ready to deliver up to an officer bearing your Excellency’s
order, but I request that that officer will be of equal rank to
myself.
“I have the honour to be,
“Your Excellency’s most obedient servant and prisoner,
“MATTW. FLINDERS.
“Maison Despeaux, June 2, 1804.”
In a few days Captain Neuville called to apologise. It was, he
said, a mistake on the part of the sergeant to ask for the sword.
Had the Governor required it, an officer of equal rank would have
been sent, “but he had no intention to make me a prisoner until
he should receive orders to that effect.” Not a prisoner! What
was he, then? Certainly not, said Captain Neuville; he was merely
“put under surveillance for a short period.” Inasmuch as Flinders
was being treated with rather more strictness than those who were
confessedly prisoners of war, the benefit of the distinction was
hard to appreciate.
Flinders considered that he had been treated rather handsomely
in the matter of the sword. But about three months later a junior
officer, who behaved with much politeness, came under the orders
of Colonel D’Arsonville, the town major, to demand it.
D’Arsonville had been instructed by Decaen to take possession of
it, but had been unable to come himself. Flinders considered that
under the circumstances he had better give up the sword to save
further trouble, and did so. The significance of the incident is
that, having received no orders from France, Decaen from this
time regarded Flinders as a prisoner of war in the technical
sense. He felt bound to hold him until instructions arrived, and
could only justifiably hold him as a prisoner.
December, 1804, arrived, and still no order of release came.
On the anniversary of his arrest, Flinders wrote the following
letter to Decaen:* (* Decaen Papers.)
“Maison Despeaux, December 16, 1804.
“General,
“Permit me to remind you that I am yet a prisoner in this
place, and that it is now one year since my arrestation. This is
the anniversary of that day on which you transferred me from
liberty and my peaceful occupations to the misery of a close
confinement.
“Be pleased, sir, to consider that the great occupations of
the French Government may leave neither time nor inclination to
attend to the situation of an Englishman in a distant colony, and
that the chance of war may render abortive for a considerable
time at least any attempts to send out despatches to this island.
The lapse of one year shows that one or other of these
circumstances has already taken place, and the consequence of my
detainer until orders are received from France will most probably
be, that a second year will be cut out of my life and devoted to
the same listless inaction as the last, to the destruction of my
health and happiness, and the probable ruin of all my further
prospects. I cannot expect, however, that my private misfortunes
should have any influence upon Your Excellency’s public conduct.
It is from being engaged in a service calculated for the benefit
of all maritime nations; from my passport; the inoffensiveness of
my conduct; and the probable delay of orders from France. Upon
these considerations it is that my present hope of receiving
liberty must be founded.
“But should a complete liberation be so far incompatible with
Your Excellency’s plan of conduct concerning me as that no
arguments will induce you to grant it; I beg of you, General, to
reflect whether every purpose of the most severe justice will not
be answered by sending me to France; since it is to that
Government, as I am informed, that my case is referred for
decision.
“If neither of these requests be complied with, I must prepare
to endure still longer this anxious tormenting state of suspense,
this exclusion from my favourite and, I will add, useful
employment, and from all that I have looked forward to attain by
it. Perhaps also I ought to prepare my mind for a continuance of
close imprisonment. If so, I will endeavour to bear it and its
consequences with firmness, and may God support my heart through
the trial. My hopes, however, tell me more agreeable things, that
either this petition to be fully released with my people, books
and papers will be accorded, or that we shall be sent to France,
where, if the decision of the Government should be favourable, we
can immediately return to our country, our families and friends,
and my report of our investigations be made public if it shall be
deemed worthy of that honour.
“My former application for one of these alternatives was
unsuccessful, but after a year’s imprisonment and a considerable
alteration in the circumstances, I hope this will be more
fortunate.
“With all due consideration I have the honour to be, Your
Excellency’s most obedient humble servant.
“MATTW. FLINDERS.”
To this appeal the General vouchsafed no response.
The return of the hot weather aggravated a constitutional
internal complaint from which Flinders suffered severely. The
principal physician of the medical staff visited him and
recommended a removal to the high lands in the interior of the
island. John Aken, the companion of his captivity, also became
very ill, and his life was despaired of. In May, 1805, having
somewhat recovered, he applied to be allowed to depart with
several other prisoners of war who were being liberated on
parole. Very much to his surprise the permission was accorded.
Aken left on May 20th in an American ship bound for New York, the
captain of which gave him a free passage; taking with him all the
charts which Flinders had finished up to date, as well as the
large general chart of Australia, showing the extent of the new
discoveries, and all papers relating to the Investigator voyage.
There was at this time a general exchange of prisoners of war,
and by the middle of August the only English prisoners remaining
in Ile-de-France were Flinders, his servant, who steadfastly
refused to avail himself of the opportunity to leave, and a lame
seaman.
CHAPTER 24. THE CAPTIVITY MODIFIED.
Flinders continued to reside at the Garden prison till August,
1805. In that month he was informed that the Governor was
disposed to permit him to live in the interior of the island, if
he so desired. This change would give him a large measure of
personal freedom, he would no longer be under close surveillance,
and he would be able to enjoy social life. He had formed a
friendship with an urbane and cultivated French gentleman, Thomas
Pitot, whom he consulted, and who found for him a residence in
the house of Madame D’Arifat at Wilhelm’s Plains.
Here commenced a period of five years and six months, of
detention certainly, but no longer of imprisonment. In truth, it
was the most restful period of Flinders’ whole life; and, if he
could have banished the longing for home and family, and the
bitter feeling of wrong that gnawed at his heart, and could have
quietened the desire that was ever uppermost in his mind to
continue the exploratory work still remaining to be done, his
term under Madame D’Arifat’s roof would have been delightfully
happy.
Those twenty months in Port Louis had made him a greatly
changed man. Friends who had known him in the days of eager
activity, when fatigues were lightly sustained, would scarcely
have recognised the brisk explorer in the pale, emaciated, weak,
limping semi-invalid who took his leave of the kind-hearted
sergeant of the guard on August 19th, and stepped feebly outside
the iron gate in company with his friend Pitot. A portrait of
him, painted by an amateur some time later, crude in execution
though it is, shows the hollow cheeks of a man who had suffered,
and conveys an idea of the dimmed eyes whose brightness and
commanding expression had once been remarked by many who came in
contact with him.
But at all events over five years of fairly pleasant existence
were now before him. The reason why the period was so protracted
will be explained in the next chapter. This one can be devoted to
the life at Wilhelm’s Plains.
A parole was given, by which Flinders bound himself not to go
more than two leagues from his habitation, and to conduct himself
with that degree of reserve which was becoming in an officer
residing in a colony with whose parent state his nation was at
war.
The interior of Mauritius is perhaps as beautiful a piece of
country as there is in the world. The vegetation is rich and
varied, gemmed with flowers and plentifully watered by cool,
pure, never-failing streams. To one who had been long in prison
pent, the journey inland was a procession of delights. Monsieur
Pitot, who was intimate with the country gentlemen, made the
stages easy, and several visits were paid by the way. The
cultivated French people of the island were all very glad to
entertain Flinders, of whom they had heard much, and who won
their sympathy by reason of his wrongs, and their affection by
his own personality. Charming gardens shaded by mango and other
fruit trees, cool fish-ponds, splashing cascades and tumbling
waterfalls, coffee and clove plantations, breathing out a spicy
fragrance, stretches of natural forest—a perpetual variety in
beauty—gratified the traveller, as he ascended the thousand feet
above which stretched the plateau whereon the home of Madame
D’Arifat stood.
In the garden of the house were two comfortable pavilions. One
of these was to be occupied by Flinders, the other by his
servant, Elder, and the lame seaman who accompanied him. Madame
D’Arifat hospitably proposed that he should take his meals with
her family in the house, and his glad acceptance of the
invitation commenced a pleasant and profitable friendship with
people to whom he ever after referred with deep respect.
A note about the kindness of these gentle friends is contained
in a letter to his wife:* (* Flinders’ Papers.) “Madame and her
amiable daughters said much to console me, and seemed to take it
upon themselves to dissipate my chagrin by engaging me in
innocent amusement and agreeable conversation. I cannot enough be
grateful to them for such kindness to a stranger, to a foreigner,
to an enemy of their country, for such they have a right to
consider me if they will, though I am an enemy to no country in
fact, but as it opposes the honour, interest, and happiness of my
own. My employment and inclinations lead to the extension of
happiness and of science, and not to the destruction of
mankind.”
The kindly consideration of the inhabitants was unfailing.
Their houses were ever open to the English captain, and they were
always glad to have him with them, and hear him talk about the
wonders of his adventurous life. He enjoyed his walks, and
restored health soon stimulated him to renewed mental
activity.
He studied the French language, and learnt to speak and write
it clearly. He continued to read Latin, and also studied Malay,
thinking that a knowledge of this tongue would be useful to him
in case of future work upon the northern coasts of Australia and
the neighbouring archipelagoes. He never lost hope of pursuing
his investigations in the field where he had already won so much
distinction. To his brother Samuel, in a letter of October, 1807,
he wrote:* (* Flinders’ Papers.) “You know my intention of
completing the examination of Australia as soon as the Admiralty
will give me a ship. My intentions are still the same, and the
great object of my present studies is to render myself more
capable of performing the task with reputation.” He cogitated a
scheme for exploring the interior of Australia “from the head of
the Gulf of Carpentaria to the head of the great gulf on the
south coast,” i.e., Spencer’s Gulf. “In case of being again sent
to Australia I should much wish that this was part of my
instructions.” Much as he longed to see his friends in England,
work, always work, scope for more and more work, was his
dominating passion. “Should a peace speedily arrive,” he told
Banks (March, 1806), “and their Lordships of the Admiralty wish
to have the north-west coast of Australia examined immediately, I
will be ready to embark in any ship provided for the service that
they may choose to send out. My misfortunes have not abated my
ardour in the service of science.” If there was work to do, he
would even give up the chance of going home before commencing it.
“In the event of sending out another Investigator immediately
after the peace, probably Lieutenant Fowler or my brother might
be chosen as first lieutenant to bring her out to me.” He spoke
of directing researches to the Fiji Islands and the South
Pacific. Rarely has there been a man so keen for the most
strenuous service, so unsparing of himself, so eager to
excel.
Occasionally in the letters and journals appear lively
descriptions of life at Wilhelm’s Plains. The following is a
tinted vignette of this kind: “In the evening I walked out to
visit my neighbour, whom I had not seen for near a week. I met
the whole family going out in the following order: First, Madame,
with her youngest daughter, about six years old, in a palankin
with M. Boistel walking by the side of it. Next, Mademoiselle
Aimee, about 16, mounted astride upon an ass, with her younger
sister, about 7, behind her, also astride. Third, Mademoiselle
her sister, about 15, mounted upon M. Boistel’s horse, also
astride; and two or three black servants carrying an umbrella,
lanthorn, etc., bringing up the rear. The two young ladies had
stockings on to-day,* (* On a previous day, mentioned in the
journal, they had worn none.) and for what I know drawers also;
they seemed to have occasion for them. Madame stopped on seeing
me, and I paid my compliments and made the usual enquiries. She
said they were taking a promenade, going to visit a neighbour,
and on they set. I could perceive that the two young ladies were
a little ashamed of meeting me, and were cautious to keep their
coats well down to their ankles, which was no easy thing. I stood
looking after and admiring the procession some time; considering
it a fair specimen of the manner in which the gentry of the
island, who are not very well provided with conveyances, make
visits in the country. I wished much to be able to make a sketch
of the procession. It would have been as good, with the title of
‘Going to See our Neighbour’ under it, as the Vicar of
Wakefield’s family ‘Going to Church.'”
He was much interested in an inspection of the Mesnil estate,
where Laperouse had resided when as an officer of the French navy
he had visited Ile-de-France, and which in conjunction with
another French officer he purchased. It was here, though Flinders
does not seem to have been aware of the romantic fact, that the
illustrious navigator fell in love with Eleanore Broudou, whom,
despite family opposition, he afterwards married.* (* The
charming love-story of Laperouse has been related in the author’s
Laperouse, Sydney 1912.) “I surveyed the scene,” wrote Flinders,
“with mingled sensations of pleasure and melancholy: the ruins of
his house, the garden he had laid out, the still blooming
hedgerows of China roses, emblems of his reputation, everything
was an object of interest and curiosity. This spot is nearly in
the centre of the island, and upon the road from Port Louis to
Port Bourbon. It was here that the man lamented by the good and
well-informed of all nations, whom science illumined, and
humanity, joined to an honest ambition, conducted to the haunts
of remote savages, in this spot he once dwelt, perhaps little
known to the world, but happy; when he became celebrated he had
ceased to exist. Monsieur Airolles promised me to place three
square blocks of stone, one upon the other, in the spot where the
house of this lamented navigator had stood; and upon the
uppermost stone facing the road to engrave ‘Laperouse.'”
Investigations made in later years by the Comite des Souvenirs
Historiques of Mauritius, show that Airolles carried out his
promise to Flinders, and erected a cairn in the midst of what had
been the garden of Laperouse. But the stones were afterwards
removed by persons who had little sentiment for the associations
of the place. In the year 1897, the Comite des Souvenirs
Historiques obtained from M. Dauban, then the proprietor of the
estate, permission to erect a suitable memorial, such as Flinders
had suggested. This was done. The inscription upon the face of
the huge conical rock chosen for the purpose copies the words
used by Flinders. It reads:
LAPEROUSE
ILLUSTRE NAVIGATEUR
A achete ce terrain en Avril 1775 et l’a habite.
Le CAPITAINE FLINDERS dit:
“In this spot he once dwelt, perhaps little known to the
world, but happy.”
(Comite des Souvenirs Historiques. 1897.)
Flinders’ pen was very busy during these years. Access to his
charts and papers, printed volumes and log-books (except the
third log-book, containing details of the Cumberland’s voyage),
having been given to him, he wrote up the history of his voyages
and adventures. By July, 1806, he had completed the manuscript as
far as the point when he left the Garden prison. An opportunity
of despatching it to the Admiralty occurred when the French
privateer La Piemontaise captured the richly laden China
merchantman Warren Hastings and brought her into Port Louis as a
prize. Captain Larkins was released after a short detention, and
offered to take a packet to the Admiralty. Finished charts were
also sent; and Sir John Barrow, who wrote the powerful Quarterly
Review article of 1810, wherein Flinders’ cause was valiantly
championed, had resort to this material. A valuable paper by
Flinders, upon the use of the marine barometer for predicting
changes of wind at sea, was also the fruit of his enforced
leisure. It was conveyed to England, read before the Royal
Society by Sir Joseph Banks, and published in the Transactions of
that learned body in 1806.
The friendship of able and keen-minded men was not lacking
during these years. There existed in Ile-de-France a Societe
d’Emulation, formed to promote the study of literary and
philosophical subjects, whose members, learning what manner of
man Flinders was, addressed a memorial to the Institute of France
relating what had happened to him, and eulogising his courage,
his high character, his innocence, and the worth of his services.
They protested that he was a man into whose heart there had never
entered a single desire, a single thought, the execution of which
could be harmful to any individual, of whatever class or to
whatever nation he might belong. “Use then, we beg of you,” they
urged, “in favour of Captain Flinders the influence of the first
scientific body in Europe, the National Institute, in order that
the error which has led to the captivity of this learned
navigator may become known; you will acquire, in rendering this
noble service, a new title to the esteem and the honour of all
nations, and of all friends of humanity.”
The Governor-General of India, Lord Wellesley, took a keen
interest in Flinders’ situation, and in 1805 requested Decaen’s
“particular attention” to it, earnestly soliciting him to
“release Captain Flinders immediately, and to allow him either to
take his passage to India in the Thetis or to return to England
in the first neutral ship.” Rear-Admiral Sir Edward Pellew,
commander-in-chief of the British naval forces in the East
Indies, tried to effect an exchange by the liberation of a French
officer of equal rank. But in this direction nothing was
concluded.
Under these circumstances, with agreeable society, amidst
sympathetic friends, in a charming situation, well and profitably
employed upon his own work, Flinders spent over five years of his
captivity. He never ceased to chafe under the restraint, and to
move every available influence to secure his liberty, but it
cannot be said that the chains were oppressively heavy. Decaen
troubled him very little. Once (in May, 1806) the General’s anger
flamed up, in consequence of a strong letter of protest received
from Governor King of New South Wales. King’s affection for
Flinders was like that of a father for a son, and on receipt of
the news about the Cumberland his indignation poured itself out
in this letter to Decaen, with which he enclosed a copy of
Flinders’ letter to him. It happened that, at the time of the
arrival of the letter in Ile-de-France, Flinders was on a visit
to Port Louis, where he had been permitted to come for a few
days. The result of King’s intervention was that Decaen ordered
him to return to Wilhelm’s Plains, and refused the application he
had made to be allowed to visit two friends who were living on
the north-east side of the island.
John Elder, Flinders’ servant, remained with him until June,
1806. He might have left when there was a general exchange of
prisoners in August, 1805, and another opportunity of quitting
the island was presented in April, 1806, when the lame seaman
departed on an American ship bound for Boston. But Elder was
deeply attached to his master, and would have remained till the
end had not his mind become somewhat unhinged by frequent
disappointments and by his despair of ever securing liberation.
When his companion, the lame seaman, went away, Elder developed a
form of melancholy, with hallucinations, and appeared to be
wasting away from loss of sleep and appetite. Permission for him
to depart was therefore obtained, and from July, 1806, Flinders
was the only remaining member of the Cumberland’s company.
Throughout the period of detention Flinders was placed on
half-pay by the Admiralty. It cannot be said that he was treated
with generosity by the Government of his own country at any time.
He was not a prisoner of war in the strict sense, and the rigid
application of the ordinary regulations of service in his
peculiar case seems to have been a rather stiff measure. Besides,
the Admiralty had evidence from time to time, in the receipt of
new charts and manuscripts, that Flinders was industriously
applying himself to the duties of the service on which he had
been despatched. But there was the regulation, and someone in
authority ruled that it had to apply in this most unusual
instance. There is some pathos in a letter written by Mrs.
Flinders to a friend in England (August, 1806) “The Navy Board
have thought proper to curtail my husband’s pay, so it behoves me
to be as careful as I can; and I mean to be very economical,
being determined to do with as little as possible, that he may
not deem me an extravagant wife.”
CHAPTER 25. THE ORDER OF RELEASE.
The several representations concerning the case of Flinders
that were made in France, the attention drawn to it in English
newspapers, and the lively interest of learned men of both
nations, produced a moving effect upon Napoleon’s Government.
Distinguished Frenchmen did not hesitate to speak plainly.
Fleurieu, whose voice was attentively heard on all matters
touching geography and discovery, declared publicly that “the
indignities imposed upon Captain Flinders were without example in
the nautical history of civilised nations. Malte-Brun, a savant
of the first rank, expressed himself so boldly as to incur the
displeasure of the authorities. Bougainville, himself a famous
navigator, made personal appeals to the Government. Sir Joseph
Banks, whose friendly relations with French men of science were
not broken by the war, used all the influence he could command.
He had already, “from the gracious condescension of the Emperor,”
obtained the release of five persons who had been imprisoned in
France,* and had no doubt that if he could get Napoleon’s ear he
could bring about the liberation of his protege. (* Banks to
Flinders, Historical Records 5 646.)
At last, in March, 1806, the affair came before the Council of
State in Paris, mainly through the instrumentality of
Bougainville. Banks wrote to Mrs. Flinders:* (* Flinders’
Papers.) “After many refusals on the part of Bonaparte to
applications made to him from different quarters, he at last
consented to order Captain Flinders’ case to be laid before the
Council of State.”
On the first of March an order was directed to be sent to
Decaen, approving his previous conduct, but informing him that,
moved “by a sentiment of generosity, the Government accord to
Captain Flinders his liberty and the restoration of his ship.”
Accompanying the despatch was an extract from the minutes of the
Council of State, dated March 1st, 1806, recording that: “The
Council of State, which, after the return of His Majesty the
Emperor and King, has considered the report of its Marine section
on that of the Minister of Marine and the Colonies concerning the
detention of the English schooner Cumberland and of Captain
Flinders at Ile-de-France (see the documents appended to the
report), is of opinion that the Captain-General of Ile-de-France
had sufficient reason for detaining there Captain Flinders and
his schooner; but by reason of the interest that the misfortunes
of Captain Flinders has inspired, he seems to deserve that His
Majesty should authorise the Minister of Marine and the Colonies
to restore to him his liberty and his ship.” This document was
endorsed: “Approuve au Palais des Tuileries, le onze Mars,
1806.
NAPOLEON.”
The terms of the despatch with which the order was transmitted
contained a remarkable statement. Decres informed Decaen that he,
as Minister, had on the 30th July, 1804—nearly one year and nine
months before the order of release—brought Flinders’ case under
the notice of the Council of State. But nothing was done: the
Emperor had to be consulted, and at that date Napoleon was not
accessible. He was superintending the army encamped at Boulogne,
preparing for that projected descent upon England which even his
magnificent audacity never dared to make. He did not return to
St. Cloud, within hail of Paris, till October 12th.* (* The
movements of Napoleon day by day can be followed in Schuerman’s
Itineraire General de Napoleon.) Then the officials surrounding
him were kept busy with preparations for crowning himself and the
Empress Josephine, a ceremony performed by Pope Pius VII, at
Notre Dame, on December 2nd. The consequence was that this piece
of business about an unfortunate English captain in
Ile-de-France—like nearly all other business concerned with the
same colony at the time—got covered up beneath a mass of more
urgent affairs, and remained in abeyance until the agitation
stimulated by Banks, Fleurieu, Bougainville, Malte-Brun and
others forced the case under the attention of the Emperor and his
ministers.
Even then the despatch did not reach Ile-de-France till July,
1807, sixteen months after the date upon it; and it was then
transmitted, not by a French ship, but by an English frigate, the
Greyhound, under a flag of truce. The reason for that was
unfortunate for Flinders as an individual, but entirely due to
the efficiency of the navy of which he was an officer. In 1805
the British fleet had demolished the French at Trafalgar, and
from that time forward until the end of the war, Great Britain
was mistress of the ocean in full potency. Her frigates patrolled
the highways of the sea with a vigilance that never relaxed. In
January, 1806, she took possession of the Cape of Good Hope for
the second time, and has held it ever since. The consequences to
Decaen and his garrison were very serious. With the British in
force at the Cape, how could supplies, reinforcements and
despatches get through to him in Ile-de-France? He saw the danger
clearly, but was powerless to avert it. Of this particular
despatch four copies were sent from France on as many ships. One
copy was borne by a French vessel which was promptly captured by
the British; and on its contents becoming known the Admiralty
sent it out to Admiral Pellew, in order that he might send a ship
under a flag of truce to take it to Decaen. The Secretary to the
Admiralty, Marsden, wrote to Pellew (December, 1806) that the
despatch “has already been transmitted to the Isle of France in
triplicate, but as it may be hoped that the vessels have been all
captured you had better take an opportunity of sending this copy
by a flag of truce, provided you have not heard in the meantime
of Flinders being at liberty.” As a fact, one other copy did get
through, on a French vessel.
Pellew lost no time in informing Flinders of the news, and the
captive wrote to Decaen in the following terms:* (* Decaen
Papers.)
“July 24, 1807.
“General,
“By letters from Rear-Admiral Sir Edward Pellew, transmitted
to me yesterday by Colonel Monistrol, I am informed that orders
relating to me have at length arrived from His Excellency the
Marine Minister of France, which orders are supposed to authorize
my being set at liberty.
“Your Excellency will doubtless be able to figure to yourself
the sensations such a communication must have excited in me,
after a detention of three years and a half, and my anxiety to
have such agreeable intelligence confirmed by some information of
the steps it is in Your Excellency’s contemplation to take in
consequence. If these letters have flattered me in vain with the
hopes of returning to my country and my family, I beg of you,
General, to inform me; if they are correct, you will complete my
happiness by confirming their contents. The state of incertitude
in which I have so long remained will, I trust, be admitted as a
sufficient excuse for my anxiety to be delivered from it.
“I have the honour to be, Your Excellency’s most obedient
humble servant,
“MATTW. FLINDERS.
“His Excellency the Captain-General Decaen.”
In reply Decaen transmitted to Flinders a copy of the despatch
of the Minister of Marine, and informed him through Colonel
Monistrol “that, so soon as circumstances will permit, you will
fully enjoy the favour which has been granted you by His Majesty
the Emperor and King.”
But now, having at length received orders, countersigned by
Napoleon himself, that Flinders should be liberated, Decaen came
to a decision that on the face of it seems extremely perplexing.
We have seen that in August, 1805, Flinders, well informed by
persons who had conversed with Decaen, believed that the General
“would be very glad to get handsomely clear of me,” and that in
November of the same year he made the assertion that Decaen
“would have gladly suffered me to depart long since” but for the
reference of the case to Paris. We have direct evidence to the
same effect in a letter from Colonel Monistrol regarding Lord
Wellesley’s application for Flinders’ release.* (* Historical
Records 5 651.) The Colonel desired “with all my heart” that the
request could be acceded to, but the Captain-General could not
comply until he had received a response to his despatch. Yet,
when the response was received, and Flinders might have been
liberated with the full approbation of the French Government,
Decaen replied to the Minister’s despatch in the following terms
(August 20th, 1807):
“I have the honour to inform Your Excellency that by the
English frigate Greyhound, which arrived here on July 21st under
a flag of truce, in the hope of gathering information concerning
His British Majesty’s ships Blenheim and Java, I have received
the fourth copy of Your Excellency’s despatch of March 21st,
1806, Number 8, relative to Captain Flinders. Having thought that
the favourable decision that it contains regarding that officer
had been determined at a time when the possibility of some
renewal of friendliness with England was perceived, I did not
consider that the present moment was favourable for putting into
operation that act of indulgence on the part of His Majesty. I
have since received the second copy of the same despatch; but,
the circumstances having become still more difficult, and that
officer appearing to me to be always dangerous, I await a more
propitious time for putting into execution the intentions of His
Majesty. My zeal for his service has induced me to suspend the
operations of his command. I trust, Monsieur, that that measure
of prudence will obtain your Excellency’s approbation. I have the
honour to be, etc., etc., etc., DECAEN.”* (* This despatch was
originally published by M. Albert Pitot, in his Esquisses
Historiques de l’Ile-de-France. Port Louis, 1899.)
It will be observed that in this despatch Decaen describes the
circumstances of the colony he governed as having become “more
difficult,” and Flinders as appearing to him to be “always
dangerous.” We must, then, examine the circumstances to ascertain
why they had become so difficult, and why he considered that it
would now be dangerous to let Flinders go.
It is easy enough to attribute the General’s refusal to
obstinacy or malignity. But his anger had cooled down by 1807;
his prisoner was a charge on the establishment to the extent of
5400 francs a year, and Decaen was a thrifty administrator; why,
then, should he apparently have hardened his heart to the extent
of disobeying the Emperor’s command? The explanation is not to be
found in his temper, but in the military situation of
Ile-de-France, and his belief that Flinders was accurately
informed about it; as was, indeed, the case.
At this time Decaen was holding Ile-de-France by a policy
fairly describable as one of “bluff.” The British could have
taken it by throwing upon it a comparatively small force, had
they known how weak its defences were. But they did not know; and
Decaen, whose duty it was to defend the place to the utmost, did
not intend that they should if he could prevent information
reaching them. After the crushing of French naval power at
Trafalgar and the British occupation of the Cape, Decaen’s
position became untenable, though a capitulation was not forced
upon him till four years later. He constantly demanded
reinforcements and money, which never came to hand. The military
and financial resources of France were being strained to
prosecute Napoleon’s wars in Europe. There were neither men nor
funds to spare for the colony in the Indian Ocean. Decaen felt
that his position was compromised.* (* “Il sentait sa position
compromise.” Prentout page 521; who gives an excellent account of
the situation.) He addressed the Emperor personally “with all the
sadness of a wounded soul,” but nothing was done for
Ile-de-France. There was not enough money to repair public
buildings and quays, which fell into ruins. There was no timber,
no sail-cloth to re-fit ships. Even nails were lacking. A little
later (1809) he complained in despatches of the shortness of
flour and food. There was little revenue, no credit. Now that the
British had asserted their strength, and held the Cape, prizes
were few. Above all he represented “the urgent need for
soldiers.” He felt himself abandoned. But still, with a resolute
tenacity that one cannot but admire, he hung on to his post, and
maintained a bold front to the enemy.
Did Flinders know of this state of things? Unquestionably he
did; and Decaen knew that he knew. He could have informed the
British Government, had he chosen to violate his parole; but he
was in all things a scrupulously honourable man, and, as he said,
“an absolute silence was maintained in my letters.” He was
constantly hoping that an attack would be made upon the island,
and “if attacked with judgment it appeared to me that a moderate
force would carry it.”* (* Voyage to Terra Australis 2 419.) But
all this while the British believed that Ile-de-France was
strong, and that a successful assault upon it would require a
larger force than they could spare at the time. Even after
Flinders had returned to England, when he was asked at the
Admiralty whether he thought that a contemplated attack would
succeed, his confident assurance that it would was received with
doubt. Decaen’s “bluff” was superb.
On one point, if we may believe St. Elme le Duc, Decaen did
Flinders a grave injustice. It was believed, says that writer’s
manuscript, that Flinders had several times managed to go out at
night, that he had made soundings along the coast, and had
transmitted information to Bengal which was of use when
ultimately the colony was taken by the English. For that charge
there is not a shadow of warrant. There is not the faintest
ground for supposing that he did not observe his parole with the
utmost strictness. Had he supplied information, Ile-de-France
would have passed under British rule long before 1810.* (* The
belief that Flinders took soundings appears to have been common
among the French inhabitants of Port Louis. In the Proceedings of
the South Australian Branch of the Royal Geographical Society,
1912 to 1913 page 71, is printed a brief account of the detention
of Flinders, by a contemporary, D’Epinay, a lawyer of the town.
Here it is stated: “It is found out that at night he takes
soundings off the coast and has forwarded his notes to India.”
Those who gave credence to this wild story apparently never
reflected that Flinders had no kind of opportunity for taking
soundings.)
A few passages written for inclusion in the Voyage to Terra
Australis, but for some reason omitted, may be quoted to show how
rigorously visiting ships were treated lest information should
leak out.* (* Manuscript, Mitchell Library.)
“It may not be amiss to mention the rules which a ship is
obliged to observe on arriving at Port North-West, since it will
of itself give some idea of the nature of the Government. The
ship is boarded by a pilot one or two miles from the entrance to
the port, who informs the commander that no person must go on
shore, or any one be suffered to come on board until the ship has
been visited by the officer of health, who comes soon after the
ship has arrived at anchor in the mouth of the port, accompanied
with an officer from the captain of the port, and, if it is a
foreign ship, by an interpreter. If the health of the crew
presents no objection, and after answering the questions put to
him concerning the object of his coming to the island, the
commander goes on shore in the French boat, and is desired to
take with him all papers containing political information, and
all letters, whether public or private, that are on board the
vessel; and although there should be several parcels of
newspapers of the same date, they must all go. On arriving at the
Government House, to which he is accompanied by the officer and
interpreter, and frequently by a guard, he sooner or later sees
the Governor, or one of his aides-de-camp, who questions him upon
his voyage, upon political intelligence, the vessels he has met
at sea, his intentions in touching at the island, etc.; after
which he is desired to leave his letters, packets, and
newspapers, no matter to whom they are addressed. If he refuse
this, or to give all the information he knows, however
detrimental it may be to his own affairs, or appears to
equivocate, if he escapes being imprisoned in the town he is sent
back to his ship under a guard, and forbidden all communication
with the shore. If he gives satisfaction, he is conducted from
the General to the Prefect, to answer his questions, and if he
satisfies him also, is then left at liberty to go to his consul
and transact his business. The letters and packets left with the
General, if not addressed to persons obnoxious to the Government,
are sent unopened, according to their direction. I will not
venture to say that the others are opened and afterwards
destroyed, but it is much suspected. If the newspapers contain no
intelligence but what is permitted to be known, they are also
sent to their address. The others are retained; and for this
reason it is that all the copies of the same paper are demanded,
for the intention is not merely to gain intelligence, but to
prevent what is disagreeable from being circulated.”
Decaen’s conduct in refusing to liberate Flinders when the
order reached him need not be excused, but it should be
understood. To impute sheer malignity to him does not help us
much, nor does it supply a sufficient motive. What we know of his
state of mind, as well as what we know of the financial position
of the colony, induce the belief that he would have been quite
glad to get rid of Flinders in 1807, had not other and stronger
influences intervened. But he was a soldier, placed in an
exceedingly precarious situation, which he could only maintain by
determining not to lose a single chance. War is an affliction
that scourges a larger number of those who do not fight than of
those who do; and Flinders, with all his innocence, was one of
its victims. He was thought to know too much. That was why he was
“dangerous.” A learned French historian* stigmatises Decaen’s
conduct as “maladroit and brutal, but not dishonest.” (* Prentout
page 661.) Dishonest he never was; as to the other terms we need
not dispute so long as we understand the peculiar twist of
circumstances that intensified the maladroitness and brutality
that marked the man, and without which, indeed, he would not
perhaps have been the dogged, tough, hard-fighting, resolute
soldier that he was.
Flinders could have escaped from Ile-de-France on several
occasions, had he chosen to avail himself of opportunities. He
did not, for two reasons, both in the highest degree honourable
to him. The first was that he had given his parole, and would not
break it; the second that escape would have meant sacrificing
some of his precious papers. In May, 1806, an American captain
rejoicing in the name of Gamaliel Matthew Ward called at Port
Louis, and hearing of Flinders’ case, actually made arrangements
for removing him. It was Flinders himself who prevented the
daring skipper from carrying out his plan. “The dread of
dishonouring my parole,” he wrote, “made me contemplate this plan
with a fearful eye.”* (* Flinders’ Papers.) In December of the
same year he wrote to John Aken: “Since I find so much time
elapse, and no attention paid to my situation by the French
Government, I have been very heartily sorry for having given my
parole, as I could otherwise have made my escape long ago.”
Again, he wrote to his wife: “Great risks must be run and
sacrifices made, but my honour shall remain unstained. No captain
in His Majesty’s Navy shall have cause to blush in calling me a
brother officer.”
As time went on, and release was not granted, he several times
thought of surrendering his parole, which would have involved
giving up the pleasant life at Wilhelm’s Plains, and being again
confined in Port Louis. But escape would have meant the loss of
many of his papers, the authentic records of his discoveries; and
he could not bring himself to face that.
Consequently the captivity dragged itself wearily out for
three years after the order of release was received. The victim
chafed, protested, left no stone unturned, but Decaen was not to
be moved. Happily depression did not drag illness in its
miserable train. “My health sustains itself tolerably well in the
midst of all my disappointments,” he was able to write to Banks
in 1809.
CHAPTER 26. THE RELEASE.
From June, 1809, the British squadron in the Indian Ocean
commenced to blockade Ile-de-France.* (* Flinders to Banks,
Historical Records 7 202.) Decaen’s fear of Flinders’ knowledge
is revealed in the fact that he ordered him not for the future to
go beyond the lands attached to Madame D’Arifat’s habitation.
Flinders wrote complying, and henceforth declined invitations
beyond the immediate neighbourhood of the plantation. He amused
himself by teaching mathematics and the principles of navigation
to the two younger sons of the family, and by the study of French
literature.
After October the blockade increased in strictness, under
Commodore Rowley. Decaen’s situation was growing desperate.
Fortunately for him, the French squadron brought in three prizes
in January, 1810, slipping past Rowley’s blockade, much to that
enterprising officer’s annoyance. The situation was temporarily
relieved, but the assistance thus afforded was no better than a
plaster on a large wound. Here again we find Flinders accurately
and fully informed: Decaen did not underrate his “dangerous”
potentialities. “The ordinary sources of revenue and emolument
were nearly dried up, and to have recourse to the merchants for a
loan was impossible, the former bills upon the French treasury,
drawn it was said for three millions of livres, remaining in
great part unpaid; and to such distress was the Captain-General
reduced for ways and means that he had submitted to ask a
voluntary contribution in money, wheat, maize, or any kind of
produce from the half-ruined colonists. It was even said to have
been promised that, if pecuniary succour did not arrive in six
months, the Captain-General would retire and leave the
inhabitants to govern themselves.”
Decaen, in fact, saw clearly that the game was up. His threat
to retire in six months did not mean that he would not have given
the British a fight before he lowered the tricolour. He was not
the man to surrender quite tamely; but he knew that he could no
longer hold out for more than a measurable period, the length of
which would depend upon the enemy’s initiative.
There was, therefore, no longer any purpose in prolonging the
captivity of the prisoner who was feared on account of his
knowledge of the situation; and Decaen availed himself of the
first opportunity presented in 1810 to grant Flinders his
longed-for release. In March, Mr. Hugh Hope was sent to
Ile-de-France by Lord Minto (who had become Governor-General of
India in 1807) to negotiate for the exchange of prisoners. This
gentleman had done his best to secure Flinders’ release on a
former occasion, and had been refused. But now Decaen realised
that the end was drawing near, and there was no sound military
purpose to serve in keeping the prisoner any longer. It is quite
probable that he would have been glad if information had been
conveyed to the British which would expedite the inevitable fight
and the consequent fall of French power in Mauritius.
On March 15th Flinders received a letter from Mr. Hope
informing him that the Governor had consented to his liberation.
A fortnight later came official confirmation of the news in a
letter from Colonel Monistrol, who assured him of the pleasure he
had in making the announcement. His joy was great. At once he
visited his French friends in the neighbourhood to give them the
news and bid them farewell; next day he took an affectionate
leave of the kind family who had been his hosts for four years
and a half; and as soon as possible he departed for Port Louis,
where he stayed with his friend Pitot until he went aboard the
cartel. At the end of the month a dinner was given in his honour
by the president of the Societe D’Emulation, to which a large
number of English men and women were invited. When Flinders
arrived in Ile-de-France, more than six years before, he could
speak no French and could only decipher a letter in that language
with the aid of a dictionary; but now, when he found himself
again in the company of his own countrymen, he experienced a
difficulty in speaking English!
On June 13th, Flinders’ sword was restored to him. He was
required to sign a parole, wherein he pledged himself not to act
in any service which might be considered as directly or
indirectly hostile to France or her allies during the present
war. On the same day the cartel Harriet sailed for Bengal.
Flinders was free: “after a captivity of six years five months
and twenty-seven days I at length had the inexpressible pleasure
of being out of the reach of General Decaen.”
Rowley’s blockading squadron was cruising outside the port,
and the Harriet communicated with the commodore. It was
ascertained that the sloop Otter was running down to the Cape
with despatches on the following day, and Flinders had no
difficulty in securing a passage in her. After dining with Rowley
he was transferred to the Otter. He was delayed for six weeks at
the Cape, but in August embarked in the Olympia, and arrived in
England on the 23rd of October, after an absence of nine years
and three months.
News of his release had preceded him, and his wife had come up
from Lincolnshire to meet him. He speaks in a letter to a friend
of the meeting with the woman whom he had left a bride so many
years before:* (* Flinders’ Papers.) “I had the extreme good
fortune to find Mrs. Flinders in London, which I owe to the
intelligence of my liberty having preceded my arrival. I need not
describe to you our meeting after an absence of nearly ten years.
Suffice it to say I have been gaining flesh ever since.” John
Franklin, then a midshipman on the Bedford, had come up to London
to welcome his old commander, and, much to his disturbance,
witnessed the meeting of Flinders and his wife, as we find from a
letter written by him: “Some apology would be necessary for the
abrupt manner in which I left you, except in the peculiar
circumstances wherein my departure was taken. I felt so sensibly
the affecting scene of your meeting Mrs. Flinders that I would
not have remained any longer in the room under any
consideration.”
The capture of Ile-de-France by the British, when ultimately
an attack was made (on 3rd December, 1810), gave peculiar
pleasure to naval officers and Anglo-Indians. “It is incredible,”
Mr. Hope wrote to Flinders, “the satisfaction which the capture
of that island has diffused all over India, and everyone is now
surprised that an enterprise of such importance should never have
been attempted before.” When the change of rulers took place,
some of the French inhabitants objected to take the oath of
allegiance to the British Crown, and a letter on the subject was
sent to Napoleon. His comment was pithy: “I should like to see
anybody refuse me the oath of allegiance in any country I
conquered!”* (* Flinders’ Papers.)
It will be convenient to deal at this point with the
oft-repeated charge, to which reference has been made previously,
that charts were taken from Flinders during his imprisonment, and
were used in the preparation of the Atlas to Peron and
Freycinets’ Voyage de Decouvertes aux Terres Australes.
The truth is that no charts were at any time taken from the
trunks wherein they were deposited in 1803, except by Flinders
himself, nor was a single one of his charts ever seen by any
French officer unless he himself showed it. He never made any
such charge of dishonesty against his enemy, Decaen, or against
the General’s countrymen. He had, as will be seen, a cause of
grievance against Freycinet, who was responsible for the French
charts, and gave voice to it; but plagiarism was neither alleged
nor suspected by him.
On each occasion when Flinders applied to Decaen to be
supplied with papers from the trunks, he gave a formal receipt
for them. The first occasion when papers were removed was on
December 18th, 1803, when Flinders took from one of his trunks
his Cumberland log-book, in order that Decaen might ascertain
from it his reasons for calling at Ile-de-France. It was never
restored to him. Mr. Hope made application for it in 1810, when
he was set free, but Decaen did not give it up; and in 1813
Decres was still demanding it unavailingly. This book and the box
of despatches were the only papers of Flinders that Decaen ever
saw. When it was handed over, all other books and papers were
replaced in the trunk, “and sealed as before.” The second
occasion was on December 27th, 1803, when the trunk containing
printed books was restored to Flinders at his request in order
that he might employ himself in confinement at the Port Louis
tavern. The third occasion was on December 29th, when he was
conducted to Government House, and was allowed to take out of the
sealed trunk there his private letters and journals, two
log-books, and other memoranda necessary to enable him to
construct a chart of the Gulf of Carpentaria. All other papers
were “locked up in the trunk and sealed as before.” The fourth
occasion was in July, 1804, when Flinders was allowed to take out
of the same trunk a quantity of other books, papers and charts,
which he required for the pursuit of his work. For these also a
receipt was duly given. In that instance Flinders was especially
vigilant. He had received a private warning that some of his
charts had been copied, but when the seals were broken and he
examined the contents he was satisfied that this was not true. He
asked Colonel Monistrol, an honourable gentleman who was always
of friendly disposition, whether the papers had been disturbed,
and “he answered by an unqualified negative.” The fifth occasion
was in August, 1807, when all the remaining papers, except the
log-book and the despatches, were restored to him. He then gave
the following receipt:* (* Decaen Papers.)
“Received from Colonel Monistrol, chef d’etat-major general of
the Isle of France, one trunk containing the remainder of the
books, papers, etc., which were taken from me in Port North-West
on December 16th, 1803, and December 20th of the same year,
whether relating to my voyage of discovery or otherwise; which
books and papers, with those received by me at two different
times in 1804, make up the whole that were so taken; with the
following exceptions: First, Various letters and papers, either
wholly or in part destroyed by rats, of which the remains are in
the trunk. Second, The third volume of my rough log-books,
containing the journal of my transactions and observations on
board the Investigator, the Porpoise, the Hope cutter, and the
Cumberland schooner, from some time in June, 1803, to December
16th, 1803, of which I have no duplicate. Third, Two boxes of
despatches; the one from his Excellency Governor King of New
South Wales, addressed to His Majesty’s principal Secretary of
State for the Colonies; the other from Colonel Paterson,
Lieutenant-Governor at Port Jackson, the address of which I do
not remember. In truth of which I hereunto sign my name at Port
Napoleon, Isle of France this 24th day of August, 1807.
“MATTW. FLINDERS,
“Late commander of H.M. Sloop the Investigator, employed on
discoveries to the South Seas, with a French passport.”
The papers which the rats had destroyed were not described;
but there is a letter of Flinders to the Admiralty, written after
his return to England (November 8th, 1810), which informs us what
they were.* (* Flinders’ Papers.) In this letter he explained
that, when the trunk containing the papers was restored, “I found
the rats had gotten into the trunk and made nests of some of
them. I transmitted the whole from the Isle of France in the
state they then were, and now find that some of the papers
necessary to the passing of my accounts as commander and purser
of His Majesty’s sloop Investigator are wanting. I have therefore
to request you will lay my case before their Lordships and issue
an order to dispense with the papers which from the above
circumstances it is impossible for me to produce.” It is
apparent, therefore, that none of the navigation papers or charts
were destroyed. Had any been abstracted Flinders, who was a
punctiliously exact man, would have missed them. His intense
feeling of resentment against Decaen would have caused him to
call attention to the fact if any papers whatever had been
disturbed.
The Quarterly Review pointed out the circumstance that the
French charts were “VERY LIKE” those of Flinders, giving sinister
emphasis to the words in italics. They were very like in so far
as they were good. It is evident that if two navigators sail
along the same piece of coast, and each constructs a chart of it,
those charts will be “very like” each other to exactly the degree
in which they accurately represent the coast charted. Freycinet,
who did much of the hydrographical work on Baudin’s expedition,
was an eminently competent officer. Wherever we find him in
charge of a section, the work is well done. His Atlas contained
some extremely beautiful work. There is no reason whatever for
suggesting that it was not his own work. He certainly saw no
chart of Flinders, except the one shown to him at Port Jackson,
until the Atlas to the Voyage to Terra Australis was
published.
Moreover, the reports and material prepared by Baudin’s
cartographers, upon which Freycinet worked, are in existence. The
reports* to the commander give detailed descriptions of sections
of the Australian coast traversed and charted, and show
conclusively that some parts were examined with thoroughness. (*
I have read the whole of these reports from copies of the
originals in the Depot de la Marine, Service Hydrographique,
Paris, but have not thought it necessary to make further use of
them in this book.) For regions in which Baudin’s expeditions
sailed, Freycinet had no need to resort to Flinders’ material. He
had enough of his own. The papers of Flinders which Freycinet
might have wished to see were those relating to the Gulf of
Carpentaria, Torres Strait, and the Queensland coast, which
Baudin’s vessels did not explore. But the French maps contain no
new features in respect to these parts. They present no evidence
that Freycinet was acquainted with the discoveries made there by
Flinders.
The accusation of plagiarism arose partly from the intense
animosity felt against Frenchmen by English writers in a period
of fierce national hatred; partly from natural resentment of the
treatment accorded to Flinders; partly from the circumstance
that, while he was held in captivity, French maps were published
which appeared to claim credit for discoveries made by him; and
partly from a misunderstanding of a charge very boldly launched
by an eminent French geographer. Malte-Brun, in his Annales des
Voyages for 1814 (Volume 23 page 268) made an attack upon the
French Atlas. He detested the Napoleonic regime, and published
his observations while Napoleon was in exile at Elba. He pointed
out the wrong done to Flinders in labelling the southern coast of
Australia “Terre Napoleon,” and in giving French names to
geographical features of which Flinders, not Baudin, was the
discoverer. He continued: “the motive for that species of
national plagiarism* is evident. (* “Le motif de cette espece de
plagiat national.”) The Government wished to create for itself a
title for the occupation of that part of New Holland.” Malte-Brun
should have known Napoleon better than that. When he wanted
territory, and was strong enough to take it, he did not “create
titles.” He took: his title was the sword.
But the point of importance is that Malte-Brun did not allege
“plagiarism” against the authors of the French maps. His charge
was made against the Government. It was not that Freycinet had
plagiarised Flinders’ charts, but that the Government had
plagiarised his discoveries by, as Malte-Brun thought, ordering
French names to be strewn along the Terre Napoleon coasts. In a
later issue of the Annales des Voyages* Malte-Brun testified to
having seen Freycinet working at the material upon which his
charts were founded. (* Volume 24 273.) But his former use of the
word “plagiat” had created a general impression that Flinders’
charts had been dishonestly taken from him in Mauritius, and used
by those responsible for the French maps; a charge which
Malte-Brun never meant to make, and which, though still very
commonly stated and believed, is wholly untrue.
The really deplorable feature of the affair is that Peron and
Freycinet, in their published book and atlas, gave no credit to
Flinders for discoveries which they knew perfectly that he had
made. They knew where he was while they were working up their
material. It does not appear that either of them ever moved in
the slightest degree to try to secure his liberation. Peron died
in December, 1810. Malte-Brun, who saw him frequently after the
return of Baudin’s expedition, says that in conversation on the
discoveries of Flinders, Peron “always appeared to me to be
agitated by a secret sorrow, and has given me to understand that
he regretted not being at liberty to say in that regard all that
he knew.” Flinders also believed Peron to be a worthy man who
acted as he did “from overruling authority.” Those who have read
the evidence printed in this book, exhibiting the detestable
conduct of both Peron and Freycinet in repaying indulgence and
hospitality by base espionage, will hardly be precipitate in
crediting either of them with immaculate motives. There is no
evidence that authority was exercised to induce them to name the
southern coasts Terre Napoleon, or to give the name Golfe
Bonaparte to the Spencer’s Gulf of Flinders, that of Golfe
Josephine to his St. Vincent’s Gulf, that of Ile Decres to his
Kangaroo Island, that of Detroit de Lacepede to his Investigator
Strait, and so forth. They knew that Flinders had made these
discoveries before their own ships appeared in the same waters;
they knew that only the fact of his imprisonment prevented his
charts from being published before theirs. The names with which
they adorned their maps were a piece of courtiership and a means
of currying favour with the great and powerful, just as their
espionage, and their supply of illicitly-obtained and flavoured
information to Decaen in Mauritius, were essays to advance their
own interests by unworthy services.
Freycinet’s anxiety to get his maps out before Flinders had
time to publish is curiously exhibited in a letter from him to
the Minister of Marine (August 29th, 1811). Flinders was then
back in England, hard at work upon his charts. A volume of text,
and one thin book of plates, containing only two maps, had been
published at Paris in 1807. Then delay occurred, and in 1811 the
engravers, not having been paid for their work, refused to
continue. Freycinet appealed to the Minister in these terms:* (*
Manuscripts, Archives Nationales, Marine BB4 996.) “Very powerful
reasons, Monsieur, appear to demand that the atlas should be
published with very little delay, and even before the text which
is to accompany it. Independently of the advantages to me
personally as author, of which I shall not speak, the reputation
of the expedition ordered by His Majesty appears to me to be
strongly involved. I have the honour to remind your Excellency
that Captain Flinders was sent on discovery to Terra Australis a
short while after the French Government had despatched an
expedition having the same object. The rival expeditions carried
out their work in the same field, but the French had the good
fortune to be the first to return to Europe. Now that Flinders is
again in England, and is occupied with the publication of the
numerous results of his voyage, the English Government, jealous
on account of the rivalry between the two expeditions, will do
all it can for its own. The conjectures I have formed acquire a
new force by the recent announcement made by the newspapers, that
Captain Flinders’ voyages in the South Seas are to be published
by command of the Lords of the Admiralty. If the English publish
before the French the records of discoveries made in New Holland,
they will, by the fact of that priority of publication, take from
us the glory which we have a right to claim. The reputation of
our expedition depends wholly upon the success of our
geographical work, and the more nearly our operations and those
of the English approach perfection, and the more nearly our
charts resemble each other, the more likelihood there is of our
being accused of plagiarism, or at all events of giving rise to
the thought that the English charts were necessary to aid us in
constructing ours; because there will be no other apparent motive
for the delay of our publication.”
Here, it will be seen, Freycinet anticipated the charge of
plagiarism, but thought it would spring from the prior
publication of Flinders’ charts. He had no suspicion at this time
that the accusation would be made that he used charts improperly
taken from Flinders when he was under the thumb of Decaen; and
when this unjust impeachment was launched a few years later he
repudiated it with strong indignation. In that he was justified;
and our sympathy with him would be keener if his own record in
other respects had been brighter.
CHAPTER 27. LAST YEARS AND DEATH OF FLINDERS.
One of the first matters which occupied Flinders after his
arrival in England was the use of his influence with the
Admiralty to secure the release of a few French prisoners of war
who were relatives of his friends in Mauritius. In a letter he
pointed out that these men were connected with respectable
families from whom he himself and several other English prisoners
had received kindness.* (* Flinders’ Papers.) His plea was
successful. There was, surely, a peculiar beauty in this act of
sympathy on the part of one who had so recently felt the pain and
distress of captivity.
Flinders was anxious for news about his old Investigator
shipmates. The faithful Elder, he found, had secured an
appointment as servant to Admiral Hollowell, then on service in
the Mediterranean, and was a great favourite. Franklin was able
to enlighten him as to some of the others. Purdie, who had been
assistant-surgeon, was surgeon on the Pompey. Inman, who had been
sent out to act as astronomer during the latter part of the
voyage, was a professor at the Naval College, Portsmouth. Lacy
and Sinclair, midshipmen, were dead. Louth was a midshipman on
the Warrior. Olive was purser on the Heir Apparent, and Matt, the
carpenter, filled that post on the Bellerophon. Of Dr. Bell
Franklin knew nothing. “The old ship,” he said, “is lying at
Portsmouth, cut down nearly to the water’s edge.”
In naval and scientific circles Flinders was the object of
much honour and interest. He was received “with flattering
attention” at the Admiralty. We find him visiting Lord Spencer,
who, having authorised the Investigator voyage, was naturally
concerned to hear of its eventful history. Banks took him to the
Royal Society and gave a dinner in his honour. The Duke of
Clarence, afterwards William IV, himself a sailor, wished to meet
him and inspect his charts, and he was taken to see the Prince by
Bligh. In 1812 he gave evidence before a Committee of the House
of Commons on the penal transportation system.* (* House of
Commons Papers, 1812; the evidence was given on March 25th.) What
he had to say related principally to the nature of the country he
had examined in the course of his explorations. “Were you
acquainted with Port Dalrymple?” the chairman asked him. “I
discovered Port Dalrymple.” “Were you ever at the Derwent?” “I
was, and from my report, I believe, it was that the first
settlement was made there.” He was one of the few early explorers
of Australia whose vision was hopeful; and experience has in
every instance justified his foreseeing optimism.
But save for a few social events, and for some valuable
experiments with the magnetic needle, to be referred to in the
final chapter, his time and energies were absorbed by work upon
his charts. He laboured incessantly. “I am at my voyage,” he said
in a letter, “but it does by no means advance according to my
wishes. Morning, noon and night I sit close at writing, and at my
charts, and can hardly find time for anything else.” He was a
merciless critic when the proofs came from the engravers. One
half-sheet contains 92 corrections and improving marks in his
handwriting. Such directions as “make the dot distinct,”
“strengthen the coast-line,” “make this track a fair equal line,”
“points wanting,” are abundant. As we turn over the great folio
which represents so much labour, so much endurance, so much
suffering, it is good to remember that these superb drawings are
the result of the ceaselessly patient toil of perhaps the most
masterly cartographer who has ever adorned the British naval
service.
He took similar pains with the text of A Voyage to Terra
Australis. It was never meant to be a book for popular reading,
though there is no lack of entertainment in it. It was a
semi-official publication, in which the Admiralty claimed and
retained copyright, and its author was perhaps a little hampered
by that circumstance. Bligh asked that it should be dedicated to
him, but “the honour was declined.”* (* Flinders’ Papers.) The
book was produced under the direction of a committee appointed by
the Admiralty, consisting of Banks, Barrow, and Flinders
himself.
It abounds in exact data concerning the latitude and longitude
of coastal features. The English is everywhere clear and sound;
but the book which Flinders could have written had he lived a few
years longer, if it had been penned with the freedom which made
his conversation so delightful to his friends, might have been
one of the most entertaining pieces of travel literature in the
language. At first he was somewhat apprehensive about authorship,
and thought of calling in the aid of a friend; but the enforced
leisure of Ile-de-France induced him to depend upon his own
efforts. Before he left England in 1801, he had suggested that he
might require assistance. In a letter to Willingham Franklin,
John’s brother, a fellow of Oriel College, Oxford, and afterwards
a Judge in Madras, he wrote (November 27th, 1801):* (* Flinders’
Papers.)
“You must understand that this voyage of ours is to be written
and published on our return. I am now engaged in writing a rough
account, but authorship sits awkwardly upon me. I am diffident of
appearing before the public unburnished by an abler hand. What
say you? Will you give me your assistance if on my return a
narration of our voyage should be called for from me? If the
voyage be well executed and well told afterwards I shall have
some credit to spare to deserving friends. If the door now open
suits your taste and you will enter, it should be yours for the
undertaking. A little mathematical knowledge will strengthen your
style and give it perspicuity. Arrangement is the material point
in voyage-writing as well as in history. I feel great diffidence
here. Sufficient matter I can easily furnish, and fear not to
prevent anything unseamanlike from entering into the composition;
but to round a period well and arrange sentences so as to place
what is meant in the most perspicuous point of view is too much
for me. Seamanship and authorship make too great an angle with
each other; the further a man advances upon one line the further
distant he becomes from any point on the other.”
It did not prove so in Flinders’ own case, for his later
letters and the latter part of his book are written in an easier,
more freely-flowing style than marks his earlier writings. He
solicited no assistance in the final preparation of his work. He
preferred to speak to his public in his own voice, and was
unquestionably well advised in so doing. It is a plain, honest
sailor’s story; that of a cultivated man withal.
Intense application to the work in hand brought about a
recurrence of the constitutional internal trouble which had
occasioned some pain in Mauritius. The illness became acute at
the end of 1813. He was only 39 years of age, but Mrs. Flinders
wrote to a friend that he had aged so much that he looked 70, and
was “worn to a skeleton.” He mentioned in his journal that he was
suffering much pain. Yet he was never heard to complain, and was
never irritable or troublesome to those about him. He was full of
kindness and concern for his friends. We find him attending
sittings of the Admiralty Court, where his friend Pitot had a
suit against the British Government, and he interested himself in
the promotion of two of his old Investigator midshipmen. He urged
upon the Admiralty with all his force that his own branch of the
naval service was as honourable and as deserving of official
recognition as war service. The only inducement for young
officers to join a voyage of discovery, and forego the advantages
arising from prizes and active service, was the reasonable
certainty of promotion on their return. “This,” he observed,
“certainly has been relied upon and fulfilled in expeditions
which returned in time of peace, when promotion is so difficult
to be obtained; whereas I sailed and my officers returned during
a war in which promotion was never before so liberally bestowed.
Yet no one of my officers, so far as I have been able to
ascertain, has received promotion for their services in that
voyage, although it has been allowed the service was well
executed.”* (* Flinders’ Papers.)
The illness increased during 1814, while the “Voyage” and its
accompanying atlas were passing through the press. He never saw
the finished book. The first copy of it came from the publishers,
G. and W. Nicol, of Pall Mall, on July 18th, on the day before he
died; but he was then unconscious. His wife took the volumes and
laid them upon his bed, so that the hand that fashioned them
could touch them. But he never understood. He was fast wrapped in
the deep slumber that preceded the end. On the 19th he died. His
devoted wife stood by his pillow, his infant daughter (born April
1st, 1812) was in an adjoining room, and there was one other
friend present. Just before the brave life flickered out, he
started up, and called in a hoarse voice for “my papers.” Then he
fell back and died.
Upon the manuscript of the friend who wrote an account of his
death, there is pencilled a brief memorandum, which chronicles a
few words muttered some time before death touched his lips. The
pencil-writing is rubbed and only partly decipherable, but the
letters “Dr.” are distinct. I take the meaning to be that the
doctor attending him heard him murmur the words. They are: “But
it grows late, boys, let us dismiss!” One can easily realise the
kind of picture that floated before the mind of the dying
navigator. It was, surely, a happy vision of a night among
friends and companions, who had listened with delight to the
vivid talk of him who had seen and done so much in his wonderful
forty years of life. In such a company his mates would not be the
first to wish to break the spell, so he gave the word: “it grows
late, boys, let us dismiss.”
Flinders died at 14 London Street, Fitzroy Square, and was
buried in the graveyard of St. James’s, Hampstead Road, which was
a burial ground for St. James’s, Piccadilly. No man now knows
exactly where his bones were laid.* (* The vicar of St. James’s,
Piccadilly, who examined the burial register in response to an
enquiry by Mr. George Gordon McCrae, of Melbourne, in 1912,
states that the entry was made, by a clerical error, in the name
of Captain Matthew Flanders, aged 40.) A letter written years
later by his daughter, Mrs. Petrie, says: “Many years afterwards
my aunt Tyler went to look for his grave, but found the
churchyard remodelled, and quantities of tombstones and graves
with their contents had been carted away as rubbish, among them
that of my unfortunate father, thus pursued by disaster after
death as in life.”
On the 25th of the same month died Charles Dibdin, who wrote
the elegy of the perfect sailor:
“Here a sheer hulk lies poor Tom Bowling. The darling of our
crew, No more he’ll hear the tempest howling For death has
broached him to.”
During his last years in London, Flinders lodged in six houses
successively, and it may be as well to enumerate them. They were,
16 King Street, Soho, from November 5th, 1810; 7 Nassau Street,
Soho, from January 19th, 1811; 7 Mary Street, Brook Street, from
30th September, 1811; 45 Upper John Street, Fitzroy Square, from
March 30th, 1813; 7 Upper Fitzroy Street, from May 28th, 1813;
and 14 London Street, Fitzroy Square, from February 28th,
1814.
A letter from the widow to her husband’s French friend Pitot,
evidently in answer to a message of sympathy, is poignant: “You
who were in a measure acquainted with the many virtues and
inestimable qualities he possessed, will best appreciate the
worth of the treasure I have lost, and you will easily imagine
that, were the whole universe at my command, it could offer no
compensation; and even the tenderest sympathy of the truest
friend avails but little in a case of such severe trial and
affliction. You will not be surprised when I say that sorrow
continually circles round my heart and tears are my daily
companion. ‘Tis true the company of my little girl soothes and
cheers many an hour that would otherwise pass most wearily away,
but life has lost its chief charm, and the world appears a dreary
wilderness to me.
An unpleasant feature of the subject, which cannot be
overlooked, relates to the Admiralty’s ungenerous treatment of
Flinders and his widow. When he returned from Mauritius, the
First Lord was Mr. C.P. Yorke after whom Flinders named Yorke’s
Peninsula, who was inclined to recognise that the special
circumstances of the case demanded special treatment. He at once
promoted Flinders to the rank of Post-Captain. But in consequence
of his long detention Flinders had lost the opportunity for
earlier promotion. It was admitted that if he had returned to
England in 1804 he would at once have been rewarded for his
services by promotion to post-captain’s rank. Indeed, Lord
Spencer had definitely promised him a step in rank. It was
therefore urged in his behalf that, as he had not been a prisoner
of war in the ordinary sense, his commission should be ante-dated
to 1804. Yorke appeared to think the claim reasonable. The
Admiralty conceded that he had not been a prisoner of war, and he
was not brought before a court-martial, although the Cumberland,
left to rot in Port Louis, had been lost to the service. The
First Lord directed that the commission should be ante-dated to
the time of the release, but it was not considered that more
could be done without an Order in Council. This could not be
obtained at the moment, because King George III was mentally
incapacitated. When the Regency was established (1811) an
application did not meet with a sympathetic response. “The hinge
upon which my case depends,” said Flinders in a letter, “is
whether my having suffered so long and unjustly in the Isle of
France is a sufficient reason that I should now suffer in England
the loss of six years’ rank.” The response of the Admiralty
officials was that the case was peculiar; there was “no
precedent” for ante-dating a promotion.
Flinders asked that he might be put on full pay, while he was
writing the Voyage, which would make up the difference in the
expense to which he would be put by living in town instead of in
the country; but Barrow assured him that the Admiralty would
object “for want of a precedent.” He showed that he would be 500
or 600 pounds out of pocket, to say nothing of the loss of
chances of promotion by remaining ashore. It was to meet this
position that the Admiralty granted him 200 pounds; but as a
matter of fact he was still 300 pounds out of pocket,* and was
put out of health irrecoverably by intense application to the
task. (* Flinders’ Papers.) His friend, Captain Kent, then of the
Agincourt, advised him to abandon the work. “I conjure you,” he
wrote “to give the subject your serious attention, and do not
suffer yourself to be involved in debt to gratify persons who
seem to have no feeling.” But to have abandoned his beloved work
at this stage would have appeared worse to him than loss of life
itself. The consequence was that his expenses during this period,
even with the strictly economical mode of living which he
adopted, entrenched upon the small savings which he was able to
leave to his widow. He was compelled to represent that, unless a
concession were made, he would have to choose between abandoning
his task or reducing his family to distress; and it was for this
reason that the Admiralty granted a special allowance of 200
pounds, in supplement of his half-pay. This, with 500 pounds “in
lieu of compensation” on account of his detention in
Ile-de-France was the entire consideration that he received.
When he died, application was made to the Admiralty to grant a
special pension to Mrs. Flinders. The widow of Captain Cook had
been granted a pension of 200 pounds a year. (Mrs. Cook, by the
way, was still living in England at this time; she did not die
till 1835). Stout old Sir Joseph Banks declared that he would not
die happy unless something were done for the widow and child of
Matthew Flinders. But his influence with the Admiralty was not so
great as it had been in Lord Spencer’s time, and his efforts were
ineffectual. The case was at a later date brought under the
notice of William IV, who said that he saw no reason why the
widow of Captain Flinders should not receive the same treatment
as the widow of Captain Cook. The King mentioned the subject to
Lord Melbourne; he, however, was unsympathetic, and nothing
whatever was done. Mrs. Flinders was paid only the meagre pension
of a post-captain’s widow until she died in 1852. No official
reward of any kind was granted by the British Government for the
truly great services and discoveries of Flinders. The stinginess
of a rich nation is a depressing subject to reflect upon in a
case of this kind.
A gratifying contrast is afforded by the voluntary action of
two Australian colonies. It was learnt, to the surprise of many,
some time after 1850, that the widow of the discoverer and her
married daughter were living in England, and were not too well
provided for. The Colonies of New South Wales and Victoria
thereupon (1853) voted a pension of 100 pounds a year each to
Mrs. Flinders, with reversion to Mrs. Petrie. The news of this
decision did not reach England in time to please the aged widow,
but the spirit of the grant gave unfeigned satisfaction to
Flinders’ daughter. “Could my beloved mother have lived to
receive this announcement,” she wrote,* (* New South Wales
Parliamentary Papers 1854 1 785.) “it would indeed have cheered
her last days to know that my father’s long-neglected services
were at length appreciated. But my gratification arising from the
grant is extreme, especially as it comes from a quarter in which
I had not solicited consideration; and the handsome amount of the
pension granted will enable me to educate my young son in a
manner worthy of the name he bears, Matthew Flinders.”* (* “My
young son” is the present Professor W. Matthew Flinders
Petrie.)
The Voyage to Terra Australis, it may be mentioned, was
originally sold for 8 or 12 guineas, according to whether or not
the atlas was bought with the two quarto volumes. A copy to-day,
with the folio Atlas, sells for about 10 guineas.
CHAPTER 28. CHARACTERISTICS.
Matthew Flinders was a short, neatly-built, very lithe and
active man. He stood five feet six inches in height.* (* These
particulars are from the manuscript sketch by a friend,
previously cited; Flinders’ Papers.) His figure was slight and
well proportioned. When he was in full health, his light, buoyant
step was remarked upon by acquaintances. Neither of the two
portraits of him conveys a good impression of his alert,
commanding look. His nose was “rather aquiline,” and his lips
were customarily compressed. “He had a noble brow, hair almost
black, eyes dark, bright, and with a commanding expression,
amounting almost to sternness.” So his friend records.
Mrs. Flinders was not satisfied with the engraved portrait
published in the Naval Chronicle, 1814, nor with the miniature
from which it was reproduced. In a letter to Captain Stuart she
wrote: “In the portrait you will not be able to trace much of
your departed friend. The miniature from which it was taken is
but an indifferent likeness, and the engraver has not done
justice to it. He has given the firmness of the countenance but
not the intelligence or animation.” It is quite certain that a
rapid, piercing, commanding expression of eye and features was
characteristic of him. During his captivity, the look in his eyes
forbad all approach to familiarity. There is record of an
occasion—in all probability connected with the sword
incident—when he was addressed in terms that appeared to him to
be wanting in respect; and the unlucky Frenchman who ventured
thus far was so astonished at the sternness of countenance that
immediately confronted him, that he started back some paces. He
had been accustomed to command from an early age, and had
exercised authority on service of a kind that compelled him to
demand ceaseless vigilance and indefatigable vigour from himself
and those under him. In a passage written in Mauritius* (*
Flinders’ Papers.) he makes allusion to the stern element in his
character; and surely what he says here is worthy of being well
pondered by all whose duty demands the exercise of power over
other men:
“I shall learn patience in this island, which will perhaps
counteract the insolence acquired by having had unlimited command
over my fellow men. You know, my dearest, that I always dreaded
the effect that the possession of great authority would have upon
my temper and disposition. I hope they are neither of them
naturally bad; but, when we see such a vast difference between
men dependent and men in power, any man who has any share of
impartiality must fear for himself. My brother will tell you that
I am proud, unindulgent, and hasty to take offence, but I doubt
whether John Franklin will confirm it, although there is more
truth in the charge than I wish there were. In this land, those
malignant qualities are ostentatiously displayed. I am made to
feel their sting most poignantly. My mind has been taught a
lesson in philosophy, and my judgment has gained an accession of
experience that will not soon be forgotten.”
That is a fairly rigorous piece of self-analysis; but there
are abundant facts to show that he exercised authority with a
kindly and friendly disposition, and did not surpass the limits
of wisdom. Men like a commander who can command; the weak inspire
no confidence. Flinders had the art of attracting people to him.
His servant, the faithful John Elder, willingly endured
imprisonment with him, and would not leave him until his own
health gave way. John Thistle, who had served under him before
1800, returned to England shortly before the Investigator sailed,
and at once volunteered for service under him again. He ruled his
crews by sheer force of mind and unsparing example, and though
the good of the service in hand was ever his first thought, there
is plenty of evidence to prove that the happiness of the men
under him was constantly in his mind.
In hours of relaxation he was genial, a lively companion, a
warm friend. An intimate friend records: “He possessed the social
virtues and affections in an eminent degree, and in conversation
he was particularly agreeable, from the extent of his general
information and the lively acuteness of his observations. His
integrity, uprightness of intention, and liberality of sentiment
were not to be surpassed.”
A scrap of dialogue written for insertion in the Voyage to
Terra Australis, but cancelled with other matter, enables us to
realise that he could recall an incident with some dramatic
force. Bonnefoy, an interpreter in Ile-de-France, told him a
story of an American skipper under examination by one of General
Decaen’s officers, and he wrote it down as follows:—
“I was amused with his account of a blunt American captain
who, having left a part of his people to collect seal-skins upon
the island Tristan d’Acuna, had come in for provisions, and to
get his vessel repaired. This honest man did not wish to tell
where he was collecting his cargo, nor did he understand all the
ceremony he was required to go through. The dialogue that passed
between the old seaman and the French officers of the port was
nearly thus:
Off.: From whence do you come, Sir?
From whence do I come? Haugh! why, Monsieur, I come from the
Atlantic Ocean.
Off.: But, pray, Sir, from what port?
Port? You will find that out from my papers, which I suppose
you want to see?
Off.: It appears, Sir, that you have not above half your crew
on board. Be so good as to inform me where are the rest?
O, my crew? Poor fellows, yes, why, Sir, we met with an island
of ice on the road, and I left them there a-basket-making.
Off.: Making baskets on an island of ice? This is a very
strange answer, Sir; and give me leave to tell you such will not
do here; but you will accompany me to the Captain-General, and we
shall then see whether you will answer or not.
Ay, we shall see indeed. Why, look ye, Monsieur: as to what I
have been about, that is nothing to anybody. I am an honest man,
and that’s enough for you; but if you want to know why I am come
here, it is to buy provisions and to lie quiet a little bit. I am
not come to beg or steal, but to buy, and I fancy good bills upon
M—- of Salem will suit you very well, eh, Monsieur? Convenient
enough?
Off.: Very well, Sir, you will come with us to the
General.
To the General? I have nothing to do with Generals! They don’t
understand my business. Suppose I don’t go?
Off.: You will do as you please, Sir; but if you do not, you
will soon…”
The sheet on which the continuation of this vigorous bit of
dialogue was written* is unfortunately missing, so that we are
deprived of the joy of reading the conclusion of the comedy. But
as the passage stands it presents a truly dramatic picture. (*
Manuscript, Mitchell Library.)
We get a glimpse of the way in which genial spirits regarded
him in a jolly letter from Madras, from Lieutenant Fitzwilliam
Owen, who had been a prisoner with him in Mauritius, and was on
the cartel on which he sailed from that island. “You cannot doubt
how much our society misses you. We toasted you, Sir, like
Englishmen. We sent the heartiest good wishes of your countrymen,
ay, and women too, to Heaven for your success, in three times
three loud and manly cheers, dictated by that sincerity which
forms the glorious characteristic of our rough-spun English. Nay,
Waugh got drunk for you, and the ladies did each take an extra
glass to you.”* (* Flinders’ Papers.)
A pleasant playful touch makes the following letter to his
wife’s half-sister worth quoting. He was hungry for home letters
in Ile-de-France, and thus gently chid the girl: “There is indeed
a report among the whales in the Indian Ocean that a scrap of a
letter from you did pass by for Port Jackson, and a flying fish
in the Pacific even says he saw it; but there is no believing
these travellers. If you will take the trouble to give it under
your own hand I will then believe that you have written to me. A
certain philosopher being informed that his dear friend was dead,
replied that he would not believe it without having it certified
under his own hand; a very commendable prudence this, and worthy
of imitation in all intricate cases. As I have a fund of justice
at the bottom of my conscience, which will not permit me to exact
from others more than I would perform myself, I do hereby certify
that I have this day addressed a letter to my well-beloved sister
Isabella Tyler, spinster, in which letter I do desire for her all
manner of blessings, spiritual and temporal; that she may
speedily obtain a husband six feet high, if it so pleases her,
with the wishing cap of Fortunatus.”
The strictness of the man’s conduct, in his relations with
superiors and subordinates alike, sprang from his integrity of
heart. Everybody trusted him. A memoir published by a
contemporary commented upon the fidelity of his friendships. “He
was faithful to the utmost in the performance of a promise,
whether important or trifling in its consequences.”
Some of the best friends he ever made were among the French in
Ile-de-France; and he became so much attached to them that, even
when he secured his longed-for freedom, he could not part from
them without a pang of regret. They saw in him not only a wronged
man, but a singularly high-minded one. Pitot, writing to
Bougainville to urge him to do his utmost to secure Flinders’
release, repudiated, in these terms, the idea that he could be a
spy:* “No, Monsieur Flinders is not capable of such conduct; his
pure and noble character would never permit him to descend to the
odious employment of a spy.” (* Manuscripts, Mitchell Library;
letter dated 19 Vendemiaire, an 13. October 11, 1804.) One
wonders whether by any chance Bougainville had occasion to show
that letter to Messieurs Peron and Freycinet!
A touching and beautiful example of his gentleness occurred in
connection with a wounded French officer whom he visited at Port
Louis. Lieutenant Charles Baudin des Ardennes had sailed as a
junior officer on Le Geographe under Baudin (to whom he was not
related) and Flinders had known him at Port Jackson. In 1807 he
was serving as a lieutenant on La Semillante, in the Indian
Ocean. He was badly wounded in a sharp engagement with the
British ship Terpsichore in March, 1807, and was brought into
Port Louis, where his shattered right arm was amputated.
Flinders, full of compassion for the young man, visited him, and,
as oranges were required for the sufferer, bought up the whole
stock of a fruiterer, 53 of them. Upon his return to Wilhelm’s
Plains, he wrote Baudin a letter of sympathy and encouragement,
bidding him reflect that there were other branches of useful
service open to a sailor than that of warfare. He had commenced
his naval career with discovery; he now knew what the horrors of
war were. Which was the worthier branch of the two? Flinders
continued: “No, my friend, I cannot contemplate this waste of
human life to serve the cause of restless ambition without
horror. Never shall my hands be voluntarily steeped in blood, but
in the defence of my country. In such a cause every other
sentiment vanishes. Also, my friend, if ever you have thought my
actions worthy of being imitated, imitate me in this. You have,
like me, had just sufficient experience to learn what the
commander of a voyage of discovery ought to be, and what he ought
to know. Adieu, my dear friend. May the goodness of God speedily
restore you to perfect health, and turn your thoughts from war to
peace.” Young Baudin, it may be added, was not compelled by the
loss of his arm to leave the service. He became an Admiral in
1839, and lived till 1854.
Flinders endeavoured to exert a stimulating influence upon
young officers. Writing to his brother (December 6th, 1806) he
said:* “Remember that youth is the time in which a store of
knowledge, reputation and fortune must be laid in to make age
respectable. Imitate, my dear Samuel, all that you have found
commendable in my proceedings, manners, and principles, and avoid
the rest. Study is necessary, as it gives theory. I need not
speak to you now upon this, but active exertion is still more
necessary to a good sea officer. From both united it is that
perfection is attained. Neither would I have you neglect
politeness, and the best society to which circumstances may
permit your admission; though not the basis that constitutes a
good officer or valuable member of society, the manners thereby
acquired are yet of infinite service to those who possess them.”
(* Mr. Charles Bertie, of the Municipal Library, Sydney, has
kindly supplied me with this letter, which was obtained from
Professor Flinders Petrie.)
There could hardly be a sounder piece of advice to a young
officer from an elder than is contained in a letter written by
Flinders to John Franklin’s father. It was intended for the
youth’s eye, beyond a doubt. It is dated May 10th, 1805:* (*
Manuscripts, Mitchell Library.) “I hope John will have got into
some active ship to get his time completed before I go out
another voyage, and learn the discipline of the service. I have
no doubt of being able to get him a lieutenant’s commission if it
should be agreeable to him to sail with me again. He may rest
confident of my friendship, although I believe he had some fears
on that head when we parted, on account of a difference between
him and my brother. He has ability enough, but he must be
diligent, studious, active in his duty, not over-ready to take
offence at his superior officers, nor yet humbling too much to
them; but in all things should make allowances for difference of
disposition and ways of thinking and should judge principally
from the intention. Above all things he should be strict in his
honour and integrity, for a man who forfeits either cannot be
independent or brave at all times; and he should not be afraid to
be singular, for, if he is, the ridicule of the vicious would
beat him out of his rectitude as well as out of his attention to
his duty. I do not speak this from my fear of him, but from my
anxiety to see him the shining character which I am sure he is
capable of being.”
In a similar strain is a letter to John Franklin (January
14th, 1812) regarding a lad named Wiles, the son of a Jamaica
friend, who had lately been put on the Bedford as a midshipman:
“I will thank you to let me know from time to time how he goes
on. Pray don’t let him be idle. Employ him in learning to knot
and splice under a quartermaster; in working under observation,
in writing his journal, and in such studies as may be useful to
him. Make it a point of honour with him to be quick in relieving
the deck, and strict in keeping his watch; and when there are any
courts martial endeavour either to take him with you or that he
may attend when it can be done. In fine, my dear John, endeavour
to make a good officer and a good man of him, and be sure I shall
always entertain a grateful sense of your attention to him.”
Active-minded himself, he encouraged study among those who
came in contact with him. It gave him pleasure to teach
mathematics to Madame D’Arifat’s sons at Wilhelm’s Plains. He
mastered French so as to speak it with grace and write with ease.
He worked at Malay because he thought it would be useful on
future voyages. From the early days, when he taught himself
navigation amidst the swamps of his native Lincolnshire, until
his last illness laid him low, he was ever an eager student.
Intelligent curiosity and a desire to know the best that the best
minds could teach were a basic part of his character. We find him
counselling Ann Chappell, at about the time when he became
engaged to her:* (* Flinders’ Papers.) “Learn music, learn the
French language, enlarge the subjects of thy pencil, study
geography and astronomy and even metaphysics, sooner than leave
thy mind unoccupied. Soar, my Annette, aspire to the heights of
science. Write a great deal, work with thy needle a great deal,
and read every book that comes in thy way, save trifling
novels.”
Flinders read widely, and always carried a good library with
him on his voyages. His acquaintance with the literature of
navigation was very extensive. Some of his books were lost in the
Porpoise wreck; the remainder he took with him in the Cumberland,
and, when he was imprisoned, his anxiety to secure his printed
volumes manifested the true book-lover’s hunger to have near him
those companions of his intellectual life. He derived great
pleasure from the French literature which he studied in
Mauritius. A letter to his wife dated March, 1803, when he was
upon the north coast of Australia in the Investigator, reveals
him relieving his mind, amid anxieties about the condition of the
ship, by reading Milton’s Paradise Lost. “The elevation and,
also, the fall of our first parents,” he comments, “told with
such majesty by him whose eyes lacked all of what he threw so
masterly o’er the great subject, dark before and intricate—these
with delight I perused, not knowing which to admire most, the
poet’s daring, the subject, or the success with which his bold
attempt was crowned.” He somewhat quaintly compares his wife with
Eve: “But in thee I have more faith than Adam had when he,
complying with Eve’s request of separation in their labours, said
‘Go, thou best, last gift of God, go in thy native innocence.’
But how much dearer art thou here than our first mother! Our
separation was not sought by thee, but thou borest it as a vine
whose twining arms when turned from round the limb lie prostrate,
broken, life scarcely left enough to keep the withered leaf from
falling off.” We should especially have welcomed notes from such
a pen on a few passages in Milton which must have stirred his
deepest interest, as for example the majestic comparison of
Satan’s flight:
“As when far off at sea a fleet descried Hangs in the clouds,
by equinoctial winds Close sailing from Bengala, or the isles Of
Ternate or Tidore, whence merchants bring Their spicy drugs; they
on the trading flood, Through the wide Ethiopian to the Cape, Ply
stemming nightly towards the pole: so seemed Far off the flying
Fiend.”
To these characteristics may be added a passage illustrating
the view of our navigator concerning the marriage state. It must
be confessed that when he wrote it (June 30th, 1807) his
experience was not extensive. He left England when he had been a
husband only a few weeks; but the passage is interesting as
conveying to his wife what his conception of the ideal relation
was: “There is a medium between petticoat government and tyranny
on the part of the husband, that with thee I think to be very
attainable; and which I consider to be the summit of happiness in
the marriage state. Thou wilt be to me not only a beloved wife,
but my most dear and most intimate friend, as I hope to be to
thee. If we find failings, we will look upon them with kindness
and compassion, and in each other’s merits we will take pride,
and delight to dwell upon them; thus we will realise, as far as
may be, the happiness of heaven upon the earth. I love not
greatness nor desire great riches, being confident they do not
contribute to happiness, but I desire to have enough for
ourselves and something to assist our friends in need. I think,
my love, this is also thy way of thinking.”
In the few concluding months of her husband’s life, Mrs.
Flinders had him beside her under circumstances that were
certainly far from easy. Their somewhat straitened means,
consequent upon the Admiralty’s niggard construction of
regulations, the prolonged severity of his employment, and the
last agonised weeks of illness, must have gone far to detract
from perfect felicity in domestic conditions. The six changes of
residence in four and a half years point to the same conclusion.
Nevertheless we find Mrs. Flinders writing to a friend in these
terms, wherein her own happiness is clearly mirrored: “I am well
persuaded that very few men know how to value the regard and
tender attentions of a wife who loves them. Men in general cannot
appreciate properly the delicate affection of a woman, and
therefore they do not know how to return it. To make the married
life as happy as this world will allow it to be, there are a
thousand little amenities to be rendered on both sides, and as
many little shades of comfort to be attended to. Many things must
be overlooked, for we are all such imperfect beings; and to bear
and forbear is essential to domestic peace. You will say that I
find it easy to talk on this subject, and that precept is harder
than practice. I allow it, my dear friend, in the practical part
I have only to return kind affection and attention for uniform
tenderness and regard. I have nothing unpleasant to call forth my
forbearance. Day after day, month after month passes, and I
neither experience an angry look nor a dissatisfied word. Our
domestic life is an unvaried line of peace and comfort; and O,
may Heaven continue it such, so long as it shall permit us to
dwell together on this earth.”
CHAPTER 29. THE NAVIGATOR.
Not only is Flinders to be regarded as a discoverer whose
researches completed the world’s knowledge of the last extensive
region of the habitable globe remaining in his time to be
revealed; not only as one whose work was marked by an unrivalled
exactitude and fineness of observation; but also as one who did
very much to advance the science of navigation in directions
calculated to make seafaring safer, more certain, with better
means and methods at disposal. Malte-Brun declared, when he died,
that “the geographical and nautical sciences have lost in the
person of Flinders one of their most brilliant ornaments,”* and
that criticism, coming from a foreign critic than whom there was
no better informed savant in Europe, was no mere piece of
obituary rhetoric. (* Annales des Voyages 23 268.)
In 1805 he wrote a paper on the Marine Barometer, based upon
observations made during his Australian voyages. The instrument
employed was one which had been used by Cook; Flinders always
kept it in his cabin. He was the first to discover, and this
essay was the first attempt to show, the connection between the
rise and fall of the barometer and the direction of the wind.
Careful observation showed him that where his facts were
collected the mercury of the barometer rose some time before a
change from landbreeze to seabreeze, and fell before the change
from seabreeze to landbreeze. Consequently a change of wind might
generally be predicted from the barometer. The importance of
these observations was at once recognised by men connected with
navigation. As the Edinburgh Review wrote, dealing with Flinders’
paper when presented before the Royal Society on March 27th,
1806:* “It is very easy for us, speculating in our closet upon
the theory of winds and their connection with the temperature, to
talk of drawing a general inference on this subject with
confidence. But when the philosopher chances to be a seaman on a
very dangerous coast, it will be admitted that the strength of
this confidence is put to a test somewhat more severe; and we
find nevertheless that Captain Flinders staked the safety of his
ship and the existence of himself and his crew on the truth of
the above proposition.” (* Edinburgh Review, January, 1807;
Flinders’ Paper, “Observations on the Marine Barometer,” was
published in the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society,
Part 2 1806.) Nowadays, indeed, the principal use of a barometer
to a navigator aboard ship is to enable him to anticipate changes
of wind.
Not less important were his experiments and writings upon
variations of the compass aboard ship. The fact that the needle
of a compass showed deviations on being moved from one part of a
ship to another had been observed by navigators in the eighteenth
century, but Flinders was the first to experiment systematically
to ascertain the cause and to invent a remedy.* (* For the
history of the matter see Alexander Smith’s Introduction to W.
Scoresby’s Journal of a Voyage to Australia for Magnetic
Research, 1859.)
He observed not only that the direction of the needle varied
according to the part of the ship where it was placed, but also
that a change in the direction of the ship’s head made a
difference. Further, he found that in northern latitudes (in the
English Channel, for instance) the north end of the needle was
attracted towards the bow of the ship; whilst in southern
latitudes, in Bass Strait, there was an attraction towards the
stern; and at the equator there was no deviation. He came to the
conclusion that these results were due to the presence of iron in
the ship. When he returned to England in 1810, he wrote a
memorandum on the subject to the Admiralty, and requested that
experiments might be made upon ships of the Navy, with the object
of verifying a law which he had deduced from a long series of
observations. His conclusion was that “the magnetism of the earth
and the attraction forward in the ship must act upon the needle
in the nature of a compound force, and that errors produced by
the attraction should be proportionate to the sines of the angles
between the ship’s head and the magnetic meridian.” Experiments
were made at Sheerness, Portsmouth, and Plymouth on five vessels.
He took a keen personal interest in them; and the result was his
invention of the Flinders’ bar, which is now used in every
properly equipped ship in the world. The purpose of the bar,
which is a vertical rod of soft iron, placed so that its upper
end is level with or slightly above the compass needle, is to
compensate for the effect of the vertical soft iron in the ship.*
(* See the excellent chapter on “Compasses” in Volume 2 of the
British Admiralty’s Manual of Seamanship.) Flinders’ work upon
this technical subject was important even in the days of wooden
ships. In this era of iron and steel ships it is regarded by
every sailor as of the utmost value.
In Flinders’ day the delicacy of the compass, its liability to
error, the nature of the magnetic force to which it responds, and
the necessity for care in its handling, were very little
appreciated. “Among the nautical instruments taken to sea there
are not any so ill-constructed, nor of which so little care is
taken afterwards, as the compass,” he did not hesitate to write.*
(* Manuscript, “Chapter in the History of Magnetism;” Flinders’
Papers; another copy was sent to the Admiralty.) Compasses were
supplied to the Admiralty by contract, and were not inspected.
They were stowed in storehouses without any regard to the
attraction to which the needles might be exposed. They might be
kept in store for a few years; and they were then sent on board
ships without any re-touching, “for no magnets were kept in the
dockyards, and probably no person there ever saw them used.” When
a compass was sent aboard a ship of the Navy, it was delivered
into the charge of the boatswain and put into his store or
sail-room. Perhaps it was put on a shelf with his knives and
forks and a few marline-spikes. Flinders urged that spare
compasses should be preserved carefully in officers’ cabins.
Magnets for re-touching were not kept in one ship in a hundred.
Under these circumstances, he asked, “can it be a subject of
surprise that the most experienced navigators are those who put
the least confidence in the compass, or that ships running three
or four days without an observation should be found in situations
very different from what was expected, and some of them lost? The
currents are easily blamed, and sometimes with reason. Ships
coming home from the Baltic and finding themselves upon the
shores of the Dutch coast, when they were thought to be on the
English side, lay it to the currents; but the same currents, as I
am informed, do not prevail when steering in the opposite
direction.” The last is a neat stroke of irony. Flinders strongly
recommended that the Admiralty should appoint an inspector of
compasses, that there should be at every dockyard an officer for
re-touching compasses, and that a magnet for re-touching should
be carried on each flagship. The recommendations may seem like a
counsel of elementary precautions to-day, but they involved an
important reform of method in 1810.
Flinders also wrote on the theory of the tides; a set of notes
on the magnetism of the earth exists in manuscript; a manuscript
of 106 pages, consisting of a treatise on spheric trigonometry,
is illustrated by beautifully drawn diagrams, and includes an
account of eight practical methods of calculating latitude and
five of calculating longitude. In Mauritius he read all he could
obtain about the history of the island, and wrote a set of notes
on Grant’s History.
He was eager to praise the work of previous navigators.
Laperouse was especially a hero of his, and he wrote in French
for the Societe d’Emulation of Ile-de-France an account of the
probable fate of that celebrated sailor. In an eloquent passage
in this essay, speaking of the wreck, he cried: “O, Laperouse, my
heart speaks to me of the agony that rent yours. Ah, your eyes
beheld the hapless companions of your dangers and your glory fall
one after another exhausted into the sea. Ah, your eyes saw the
fruit of vast and useful labours lost to the world. I think of
your sorrowing family. The picture is too painful for me to dwell
upon it; but at least when all human hope abandoned you,
then—the last blessing that God gives to the good—a ray of
consolation shone upon your eyes, and showed you that beyond
those furious waves which broke upon your vessels and swept away
from you your companions another refuge was opened to your
virtues by the angel of pity.”
Knowing the extreme difficulties attaching to navigation, even
when in the public interest he had to make a correction in the
work of others, he was anxious to cause no irritation. He sent to
the editor of the Naval Chronicle a correction in Horsburgh’s
Directions for Sailing to and from the East Indies, but requested
the editor to submit it first to the author of that work, and to
suppress publication if Horsburg so desired. He never expressed a
tinge of regret that he had chosen a field of professional
employment wherein promotion and reward were not liberally
bestowed. Entering the Navy under influential auspices, in a
period when active service provided plentiful scope for
advancement, he deliberately preferred the explorer’s hard lot.
The only prize money he ever won was 10 pounds after Lord Howe’s
victory in 1794. “I chose a branch,” he said in a letter to
Banks, “which though less rewarded by rank and fortune is yet
little less in celebrity. If adverse fortune does not oppose me,
I will succeed.” He succeeded beyond all he could have hoped.
The excellence of his charts was such that to this day the
Admiralty charts for those portions of the Australian coast where
he did original work bear upon them the honoured name of Matthew
Flinders; and amongst the seamen who habitually traverse these
coasts, no name, not even that of Cook, is so deeply esteemed as
his. Flinders is not a tradition; the navigators of our own time
count him a companion of the watch.
CHAPTER 30. THE NAMING OF AUSTRALIA.
The name Australia was given to the great southern continent
by Flinders. When and why he gave it that name will now be
shown.
In the first place a common error must be set right. It is
sometimes said that the Spanish navigator, Pedro Fernandez de
Quiros, named one of the islands of the New Hebrides group, in
1606, Australia del Espiritu Santo. This is not the case. The
narrative of his voyage described “all this region of the south
as far as the Pole which from this time shall be called
Austrialia del Espiritu Santo,” from “His Majesty’s title of
Austria.” The word Austrialia is a punning name. Quiros’
sovereign, Philip III, was a Habsburg; and Quiros, in compliment
to him, devised the name Austrialia as combining the meaning
“Austrian land,” as well as “southern land.”* (* See Markham,
Voyages of Quiros, Hakluyt Society Volume 1 page 30.)
In 1756 the word “Australasia” was coined. Charles de Brosses,
in his Histoire des Navigations aux Terres Australes, wanted a
word to signify a new division of the globe. The maps marked off
Europe, Asia, Africa and America, but the vast region to the
south of Asia required a name likewise. De Brosses simply added
“Austral” to “Asia,” and printed “Australasia” upon his map.
The earliest use of the word Australia that I have been able
to find, occurs in the index to the Dutch Generale Beschrijvinge
van Indien (General Description of the Indies) published at
Batavia in 1638. The work consists mainly of accounts of voyages
by Dutch vessels to the East Indies. Among them is a history of
the “Australische Navigatien” of Jacob le Maire and Willem
Cornelisz Schouten, made in 1615 to 1617. They sailed through the
Straits of Magellan, crossed the Pacific, touched at the Solomon
Islands, and thence made their way round by the north of New
Guinea to Java. The word Australia does not occur anywhere in the
black-letter text of the narrative, and the word Australische in
the phrase “Australische Navigatien,” simply means southern.
There are references in the book to “Terra Australis,” but Le
Maire and Schouten knew not Australia. Nor does the narrative
make any allusion to the continent which we know by that name.
The Terra Australis of these Dutch navigators was land of the
southern hemisphere in general. But, curiously, the indexer of
the Generale Beschrijvinge made four entries, in which he
employed the word Australia. Thus, his entry “Australia Incognita
Ondeckt” (Australia Incognita Discovered) referred to passages in
Le Maire and Schouten’s voyage relating to the southern lands
they had seen. But it did not refer to the Australia of modern
geography. It is very strange that the Dutch indexer in Batavia
should have hit upon the word and employed it when he did not
find it in the text of the book itself.
The use of Australia in an English book of 1693 is also
extremely curious. In 1676 Gabriel de Foigny, under the assumed
name of Jacques Sadeur, published at Vannes a quaint little
duodecimo volume, purporting to give a description of an unknown
southern land. He called his book La Terre Australe connue; c’est
a dire, la description de ce pays inconnu jusqu’ici. It was a
“voyage imaginaire,” a pure piece of fancy. In 1693 it was
translated into English, and published in London, by John Dunton,
under the title A New Discovery of Terra Incognita, or the
Southern World, by James Sadeur, a Frenchman, who being cast
there by a shipwreck, lived 35 years in that country and gives a
particular description of the manners, customs, religion, laws,
studies and wars of those southern people, and of some animals
peculiar to that place; with several other rarities. In the
original French the word Australia does not occur. But in the
English translation Foigny’s phrase “continent de la Terre
Australe,” is rendered “Australia.” Foigny’s ingenious piece of
fiction drew its “local colour” from the South American region,
not from any supposed land in the neighbourhood of the Australian
continent. The instance is all the more interesting from the
possibility that the book may have given a hint to Swift in the
writing of Gulliver’s Travels.* (* See the Cambridge History of
English Literature 9 106; where, however, the English translation
is erroneously cited as Journey of Jacques Sadour to
Australia.)
In 1770 and 1771 Alexander Dalrymple published An Historical
Collection of Voyages and Discoveries in the South Pacific Ocean.
In the preface to that work he used the word Australia as
“comprehending the discoveries at a distance from America to the
eastward.”* (* Page 15 of the 1780 edition of Dalrymple.) He did
not intend it to include the present Australia at all. De Brosses
had used the three names Magellanica, Polynesia and Australasia,
which Dalrymple accepted; but he thought there was room for a
fourth for the area east of South America. The part of the
Australian continent known when Dalrymple published his
book—only the west and northern coasts—was included within the
division which De Brosses called Australasia.
Here we have three instances of the use of the word Australia
in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, but without
reference to the continent which now bears that name.
In 1793, G. Shaw and J.E. Smith published in London a Zoology
and Botany of New Holland. Here the word Australia was used in
its modern sense, as applied to the southern continent. The
authors wrote of “the vast island, or rather continent, of
Australia, Australasia, or New Holland, which has so lately
attracted the particular attention of European navigators and
naturalists.”
The word was not therefore of Flinders’ devising. But it may
be taken to be certain that he was unacquainted with the previous
employment of it by the Dutch indexer, by Foigny’s English
translator, or by Shaw and Smith. It is doubtful whether he had
observed the previous use of it by Dalrymple. Undoubtedly he had
read that author’s book. He may have had the volumes in his cabin
library. But he was so exact and scrupulous a man that we can say
with confidence that, had he remembered the occurrence of the
word in Dalrymple, he would have mentioned the fact. The point is
not material, however, because, as already observed, Dalrymple
did not apply “Australia” to this continent, but to a different
region. The essential point is that “Australia was reinvented by
Flinders.”* (* Morris, Dictionary of Austral English page
10.)
Flinders felt the need of a single word that would be a good
name for the island which had been demonstrated by his own
researches to be one great continent. It will be remembered that
he had investigated the whole extent of the southern coasts, had
penetrated to the extremities of the two great gulfs found there,
had proved that they did not open into a passage cutting Terra
Australis in two, and had thoroughly examined the Gulf of
Carpentaria, finding no inlet southward there. The country was
clearly one immense whole. But what was it to be called? Terra
Australis, Southern Land, was too long, was cumbrous, was Latin.
That would not be a convenient name for a country that was to
play any part in the world. The Dutch had named the part which
they found New Holland. But they knew nothing of the east. Cook
called the part which he had discovered New South Wales. But Cook
knew nothing of the west. Neither the Dutch nor Cook knew
anything of the south, a large part of which Flinders himself had
discovered.
We find him for the first time using the word “Australia” in a
letter written to his brother Samuel on August 25th, 1804.* (*
Flinders’ Papers.) He was then living at Wilhelm’s Plains: “I
call the whole island Australia, or Terra Australis. New Holland
is properly that portion of it from 135 degrees of longitude
westward; and eastward is New South Wales, according to the
Governor’s patent.”
Flinders’ first public use of the word was not in English, but
in French. In the essay on the probable fate of Laperouse,
written for the Societe d’Emulation in Ile-de-France (1807), he
again stated the need for a word in terms which I translate as
follows: “The examination of the eastern part was commenced in
1770 by Captain Cook, and has since been completed by English
navigators.* (* By himself; but in this paper he modestly said
nothing of his own researches.) The first (i.e., the west) is New
Holland properly so called, and the second bears the name of New
South Wales. I have considered it convenient to unite the two
parts under a common designation which will do justice to the
discovery rights of Holland and England, and I have with that
object in view had recourse to the name Austral-land or
Australia. But it remains to be seen whether the name will be
adopted by European geographers.”* (* “Il reste a savoir si ce
nom sera adopte par des geographes europeens.” The paper was
printed in the Annales des Voyages by Malte-Brun (Paris, 1810).
Flinders kept a copy, and his manuscript is now in the Melbourne
Public Library. It is an exquisite piece of calligraphy, perhaps
the most beautifully written of all his manuscripts.)
After 1804 Flinders repeatedly used the word Australia in his
correspondence. Before that date he had invariably written of
“New Holland.” But in a letter to Banks (December 31st, 1804) he
referred to “my general chart of Australia;”* (* Historical
Records 5 531.) in March, 1806, he wrote of “the north-west coast
of Australia;”* (* Ibid 6 50.) in July, 1806, writing to the King
he underlined the word in the phrase “my discoveries in
Australia;”* (* Ibid 6 107.) in July, 1807, he spoke of “the
north coast of Australia;”* (* Ibid 6 274.) in February, 1809, of
“the south coast of Australia;”* (* Ibid 7 52.) and the same
phrase was employed in January, 1810.* (* Ibid 7 275.) It is
therefore apparent that before his return to England he had
determined to use the name systematically and to make its
employment general as far as he could. We do not find it
occurring in any other correspondence of the period.
When he reached England in 1810 and commenced to work upon his
book, he wished to use the name Australia, and brought the
subject forward at a meeting at Sir Joseph Banks’ house. But
Banks was not favourable, and Arrowsmith, the chart-publisher,
“did not like the change” because his firm had always used the
name New Holland in their charts. A Major Rennell was present at
one of the meetings, when Flinders thought he had converted Sir
Joseph. But afterwards he found Banks disinclined to sanction the
name, and wrote to Major Rennell asking whether he remembered the
conversation. The Major replied (August 15th, 1812):* (*
Flinders’ Papers.) “I certainly think that it was as you say,
that Australia was the proper name for the continent in question;
and for the reason you mention. I suppose I must have been of
that opinion at the time, for I certainly think so now. It wants
a collective name.”
Two days after the receipt of Major Rennell’s letter Flinders
wrote to Banks, reminding him that he was the first person
consulted about the name Australia, and that he had understood
that it was generally approved. Bligh had not objected to it.
When part of the manuscript of the Voyage was submitted to Mr.
Robert Peel, Under-Secretary for the Colonies (afterwards Sir
Robert Peel and Prime Minister of England), and to Lord
Liverpool, the principal Secretary of State, there had been some
discussion respecting the inclusion of the Gulf of Carpentaria as
part of New South Wales, and it was accordingly erased. But no
objection was raised to the name Australia. Flinders fought hard
for his word, but did not succeed completely. Captain Burney
suggested that Terra Australis was a name “more familiar to the
public.” Banks on August 19th withdrew his objection to “the
propriety of calling New Holland and New South Wales by the
collective name of Terra Australis,” and accordingly as A Voyage
to Terra Australis his book ultimately went forth. The work being
published under the aegis of the Admiralty, he had to conform to
the opinion of those who were less sensible of the need for an
innovation than he was, and it was only in a modest footnote that
he used the name he preferred. The passage in the book wherein he
discussed the question may be quoted, together with his
footnote:
“The vast regions to which this voyage was principally
directed comprehend, in the western part, the early discoveries
of the Dutch, under the name of New Holland; and in the east the
coasts explored by British navigators, and named New South Wales.
It has not, however, been unusual to apply the first appellation
to both regions; but to continue this would be almost as great an
injustice to the British nation, whose seamen have had so large a
share in the discovery as it would be to the Dutch were New South
Wales to be so extended. This appears to have been felt by a
neighbouring, and even rival, nation; whose writers commonly
speak of these countries under the general term of Terres
Australes. In fact, the original name, used by the Dutch
themselves until some time after Tasman’s second voyage in 1644,
was Terra Australis, or ‘Great South Land;’ and, when it was
displaced by ‘New Holland,’ the new term was applied only to the
parts lying westward of a meridian line passing through Arnhem’s
Land on the north, and near the isles of St. Francis and St.
Peter on the south; all to the eastward, including the shores of
the Gulf of Carpentaria, still remained as Terra Australis. This
appears from a chart published by Thevenot in 1663; which, he
says ‘was originally taken from that done in inlaid work upon the
pavement of the new Stadt-House at Amsterdam.’ The same thing is
to be inferred from the notes of Burgomaster Witsen in 1705 of
which there will be occasion to speak in the sequel.
“It is necessary, however, to geographical precision, that so
soon as New Holland and New South Wales were known to form one
land, there should be a general name applicable to the whole; and
this essential point having been ascertained in the present
voyage, with a degree of certainty sufficient to authorise the
measure, I have, with the concurrence of opinions entitled to
deference, ventured upon the adoption of the original Terra
Australis; and of this term I shall hereafter make use when
speaking of New Holland and New South Wales in a collective
sense; and when using it in the most extensive signification, the
adjacent isles, including that of Van Diemen, must be understood
to be comprehended.
“There is no probability that any other detached body of land,
of nearly equal extent, will ever be found in a more southern
latitude; the name Terra Australis will, therefore, remain
descriptive of the geographical importance of this country, and
its situation on the globe, it has antiquity to recommend it;
and, having no reference to either of the two claiming nations,
appears to be less objectionable than any other which could have
been selected.”
Then comes the footnote in which the name Australia is
suggested:
“Had I permitted myself any innovation upon the original term,
it would have been to convert it into Australia; as being more
agreeable to the ear, and an assimilation to the names of the
other great portions of the earth.”
The name came into general use after the publication of
Flinders’ book, though it was not always adopted in official
documents. Governor Macquarie, of New South Wales, in a despatch
in April, 1817, expressed the hope that the name would be
authoritatively sanctioned.* (* See M. Phillips, A Colonial
Autocracy, London 1909 page 2 note.) As already noted, the
officials of 1849 drew a distinction between New Holland, the
mainland, and Australia, which included the island of Tasmania;
and so Sir Charles Fitzroy, Governor of New South Wales, was
styled “Governor-General of Australia,” in a commission dated
1851. The proudest of all places wherein this name is used is in
the forefront of the majestic instrument cited as 63 and 64
Vict., cap. 12—”An Act to constitute the Commonwealth of
Australia.”
APPENDICES.
APPENDIX A.
BAUDIN’S ACCOUNT OF ENCOUNTER BAY.
[In a long letter of about 30,000 words, written to the French
Minister of Marine from Port Jackson in 1802, Captain Baudin
described his explorations in Australian waters up to that date.
The manuscript is in the Archives Nationales, Paris, BB4, 995,
Marine. It has never been published. In this appendix, which
relates to Chapter 14 of the book, I translate the portion of the
letter concerning the meeting of the Investigator and Le
Geographe in Encounter Bay, with a few notes.]
“On the 18th,* (* Note 1: That is, the 18th Germinal in the
French revolutionary calendar; April 8th by the Gregorian
calendar.) continuing to follow the coast and the various coves
upon it, we sighted towards the north-east a long chain of high
mountains, which appeared to terminate at the border of the sea.
The weariness we had for a long time experienced at seeing coasts
which for the most part were arid, and offered not the slightest
resource, was dissipated by the expectation of coming upon a more
promising country. A little later, a still more agreeable object
of distraction presented itself to our view. A square-sailed ship
was perceived ahead. Nobody on board had any doubt that it was Le
Naturaliste. As she was tacking south and we were tacking north,
we approached each other. But what was our astonishment when the
other vessel hoisted a white flag on the mainmast. It was beyond
doubt a signal of recognition, to which we responded. A little
later, that signal was hauled down, and an English ensign and
pennant were substituted.* (* Note 2: Flinders says: “Our colours
being hoisted, she showed a French ensign, and afterwards an
English jack forward, as we did a white flag.”) We replied by
hoisting our colours; and we continued to advance towards each
other. The manoeuvre of the English ship indicating that she
desired to speak to us, we stood towards her.* (* Note 3:
Flinders’ own explanation of his manoeuvring is: “We veered round
as Le Geographe was passing so as to keep our broadside to her
lest the flag of truce should be a deception.”) When we got
within hail, a voice enquired what ship we were. I replied simply
that we were French. “Is that Captain Baudin?” “Yes, it is he.”
The English captain then saluted me graciously, saying “I am very
glad to meet you.” I replied to the same effect, without knowing
to whom I was speaking; but, seeing that arrangements were being
made for someone to come on board, I brought the ship to.
“Mr. Flinders, who commanded the English vessel, presented
himself. As soon as I learnt his name, I no longer doubted that
he, like ourselves, was occupied with the exploration of the
south coast of New Holland; and, in spite of the reserve that he
showed upon that first visit, I could easily perceive that he had
already completed a part of it. Having invited him to come into
my cabin, and finding ourselves alone there, the conversation
became freer.* (* Note 4: “Nous trouvant seul, la conversation
devint plus libre.” Flinders says that Brown accompanied him, and
went into the cabin with him. “No person was present at our
conversations except Mr. Brown.”)
“He informed me that he had left Europe about eight months
after us, and that he was bound for Port Jackson, having
previously refreshed at the Cape of Good Hope.
“I had no hesitation about giving him information concerning
what we had been doing upon the coast until that moment. I
pointed out to him defects which I had observed in the chart
which he had published* of the strait separating New Holland from
Van Diemen’s Land, etc., etc. (* Note 5: “la carte qu’il nous a
donne des detroits.” From this it appears that Baudin knew
Flinders as the author of the chart, even while pointing out its
defects. Flinders had the impression that Baudin did not know him
till he was about to leave Le Geographe at the end of the second
interview.)
“Mr. Flinders observed to me that he was not unaware that the
chart required to be checked, inasmuch as the sketch from which
it was prepared had been drawn from uncertain information, and
that the means employed when the discovery was made did not
conduce to securing exact results.* (* Note 6: Flinders: “On my
pointing out a note upon the chart, explaining that the north
side of the strait was seen only in an open boat by Mr. Bass, who
had no good means of fixing either latitude or longitude, he
appeared surprised, not having before paid attention to it.”)
Finally, becoming less circumspect than he had hitherto been, he
told me that he had commenced his work at Cape Leeuwin, and had
followed the coast to the place where we were met. He suggested
that our ships should pass the night near together, and that
early on the following morning he should come on board again, and
give me some particulars which would be useful to me. I accepted
his proposition with pleasure, and we tacked about at a short
distance from each other during the night. It was seven o’clock
in the evening when he returned to his ship.* (* Note 7:
Flinders: “I told him that some other and more particular charts
of the strait and its neighbourhood had since been published; and
that if he would keep company until next morning I would bring
him a copy with a small memoir belonging to them. This was agreed
to.”)
“On the 19th* (* Note 8: April 9th.) Mr. Flinders came on
board at six o’clock in the morning. We breakfasted together,* (*
Note 9: Flinders does not mention this incident.) and talked
about our respective work. He appeared to me to have been happier
than we had been with respect to the discoveries he had made. He
told me about a large island, about a dozen or fifteen leagues
away, which had been visited by him. According to his account, he
stayed there six weeks to prepare a chart of it;* (* Note 10: A
mistake; Flinders was at Kangaroo Island only six days.) and with
the aid of a corvette* (* Note 11: Peron also had the erroneous
impression that the Investigator had been accompanied by a
corvette, which foundered in Spencer’s Gulf, and so wrote in his
Voyage de Decouvertes. Baudin must have confused what Flinders
told him about the drowning of Thistle and the boat’s crew, with
an idea of his own that this boat was a consort of the
Investigator as Le Naturaliste was of Le Geographe.) had explored
two deep gulfs, the direction of which he sketched for me, as
well as of his Kangaroo Island, which he had so named in
consequence of the great quantity of those quadrupeds found
there. The island, though not far from the continent, did not
appear to him to be inhabited.
“An accident like that which had unfortunately happened to us
on the coast of Van Diemen’s Land had overtaken Mr. Flinders.* (*
Note 12: Baudin was referring to a boat party of his own,
consisting of Boullanger, one of his hydrographers, a lieutenant
and eight sailors. They had gone out in a boat to chart a portion
of the coast which Le Geographe could not reach. They did not
return, and Baudin supposed them to have been lost. But they were
in fact picked up by the sealing brig Snow-Harrington from
Sydney, which afterwards sighted Le Naturaliste, and handed the
men over to her.) He had lost a boat and eight men. His ship was
also short of stores, and he was not without uneasiness as to
what would happen.
“Before we separated the Captain asked me if I had any
knowledge of an island which was said to exist to the north of
the Bass Strait islands. I replied that I had not, inasmuch as,
having followed the coast fairly closely after leaving the
Promontory as far as Westernport, I had not met with any land
placed in the position which he indicated.* (* Note 13: What
Flinders asked Baudin was whether he had any “knowledge
concerning a large island said to lie in the western entrance of
Bass Strait. But he had not seen it and seemed to doubt much of
its existence.” The reference was to King Island. Baudin marked
on his chart, in consequence of this enquiry, an island “believed
to exist,” guessing at its situation and placing it wrongly;
though he subsequently stayed at King Island himself.) He
appeared to be well pleased with my response, doubtless in the
hope of being the first to discover it. Perhaps Le Naturaliste,
in searching for us in the Strait, will have discovered it.* (*
Note 14: This sentence is interesting, as showing that Baudin
wrote this part of his letter to the Minister at the time, not at
Port Jackson weeks later. If the sentence had been written later,
he would not have said that Le Naturaliste would perhaps sight
the island. He by then knew that she did not.) At the moment of
his departure, Mr. Flinders presented me with several new charts,
published by Arrowsmith, and a printed memoir by himself, dealing
with discoveries in the strait, the north coast of Van Diemen’s
Land, the east coast, etc., etc. He also invited me to sail, like
himself, for Port Jackson, the resources of which he perhaps
exalted too highly, if I had to remain long in these seas. At
eight o’clock we* separated. (* Note 15: Flinders: “I returned
with Mr. Brown on board the Investigator at half-past-eight in
the morning, and we then separated from Le Geographe; Captain
Baudin’s course being directed to the north-west and ours to the
southward.”) He sailed south and we went to the west.”
APPENDIX B. PERON’S REPORT ON PORT JACKSON.
[The following is a fairly literal translation of Peron’s
report on Port Jackson, furnished to General Decaen at
Ile-de-France.]
Port N.-O., 20th Frimaire, Year 12.* (* Note 16: i.e., Port
North-West (Port Louis), December 11, 1802.)
Citizen Captain-General,
Fifteen years ago England transported, at great expense, a
numerous population to the eastern coast of New Holland. At that
time this vast continent was still almost entirely unknown. These
southern lands and the numerous archipelagoes of the Pacific were
invaded by the English, who had solemnly proclaimed themselves
sovereign over the whole dominion extending from Cape York to the
southern extremity of New Holland, that is to say, from 10
degrees 37 minutes south, to 43 degrees 39 minutes south
latitude. In longitude their possessions had been fixed as
reaching from 105 degrees west of Greenwich to the middle of the
Pacific Ocean, including all the archipelagos with which it is
strewn.* (* Note 17: This is a literal translation of Peron’s
statement, which is obviously confused and wrong. 105 degrees
west longitude is east of Easter Island, as well as being an
“exact boundary” in the Pacific, which, Peron goes on to say, did
not exist. The probability is that he gives here a muddled
reproduction of the boundaries actually fixed by Phillip’s
commission—”westward as far as the 135th degree of east
longitude…including all the islands adjacent in the Pacific
Ocean.” [Mr. Jose’s note.])
Note especially in this respect that in the formal deed of
annexation no exact boundary was fixed on the Pacific Ocean side.
This omission seems to have been the result of astute policy; the
English Government thus prepared itself an excuse for claiming,
at the right time and place, all the islands which in the future
may be, or actually are, occupied by the Spaniards—who thus find
themselves England’s next-door neighbours.
So general a project of encroachment alarmed, as it must, all
the nations of Europe. The sacrifices made by England to maintain
this colony redoubled their suspicions. The Spanish expedition of
Admiral Malaspina* had not fulfilled the expectations of its
Government. (* Note 18: Two Spanish ships, commanded by Don
Alexandro Malaspina, visited Sydney in April, 1793. They had left
Cadiz on an exploring and scientific expedition in July, 1789.)
Europe was still ignorant of the nature of the English
settlement; its object was unknown; its rapid growth was not even
suspected.
Always vigilant in regard to whatever may humiliate the
eternal rival of our nation, the First Consul, soon after the
revolution of the 18th Brumaire,* (* Note 19: It was on the 18th
Brumaire (November 9th, 1799) that Bonaparte overthrew the
Directory by a coup-d’etat, and became First Consul of the French
Republic.) decided upon our expedition.* (* Note 20: Peron’s
statement is quite wrong. The matter of despatching an expedition
to Australia had been considered and proposed to the Government
by the professors of the Museum two years before the coup-d’etat
of Brumaire: before therefore Bonaparte had anything to do with
the Government. Their letter to the Minister, making this
proposal, is dated 12th Thermidor, year 6—that is, July 31st,
1797. Bonaparte was then a young general commanding the army of
Italy. The project was taken up by the Institute of France, and
Bonaparte, as First Consul, sanctioned the expedition in May,
1800. There is no evidence that he ever gave a thought to the
matter until it was brought before him by the Institute.) His
real object was such that it was indispensable to conceal it from
the Governments of Europe, and especially from the Cabinet of St.
James’s. We must have their unanimous consent; and that we might
obtain this, it was necessary that, strangers in appearance to
all political designs, we should occupy ourselves only with
natural history collections. Such a large expenditure had been
incurred to augment the collections of the Museum of the Republic
that the object of our voyage could not but appear to all the
world as a natural consequence of the previous action of our
Government. It was far from being the case, however, that our
true purpose had to be confined to that class of work; and if
sufficient time permitted it would be very easy for me, citizen
Captain-General, to demonstrate to you that all our natural
history researches, extolled with so much ostentation by the
Government, were merely a pretext for its enterprise, and were
intended to assure for it the most general and complete success.
So that our expedition, so much criticised by fault-finders, so
much neglected by the former administrators of this colony, was
in its principle, in its purpose, in its organization, one of
those brilliant and important conceptions which ought to make our
present Government for ever illustrious. Why was it that, after
having done so much for the success of these designs, the
execution of them was confided to a man utterly unfitted in all
possible respects to conduct them to their proper issue?
You have asked me, General, to communicate to you such
information as I have been able to procure upon the colony of
Port Jackson. A work of that kind would be as long as it would be
important; and, prepared as I conceive it ought to be, and as I
hope it will be when presented to the French Government, it would
fix our attention to some useful purpose upon that growing snare
of a redoubtable power. Unfortunately, duty has made demands upon
me until to-day, and now that I find myself a little freer our
departure is about to take place. Moreover, all the information
we have collected upon the regions in question is deposited in
the chest which has to be forwarded, sealed, to the Government,
and without access to this the notes that I should desire to
furnish to you cannot be completed. Nevertheless, in order to
contribute as far as possible to your enlightenment on the
subject, I take the liberty of furnishing you with some
particulars of the new establishment. In asking you to excuse, on
account of the circumstances, faults both of style and of
presentation, I venture to assure you, General, that you can rely
upon my jealous exactitude in fulfilling as far as was in my
power the intention of the Government of my country. I have
neglected no means of procuring all the information that as far
as I could foresee would be of interest. I was received in the
house of the Governor with much consideration. He and his
secretary spoke our language well. The commandant of the troops
of New South Wales, Mr. Paterson, a member of the Royal Society
of London, a very distinguished savant, always treated me with
particular regard. I was received in his house, as one might say,
as a son. I have through him known all the officials of the
colony. The surgeon, a distinguished man, Mr. Thompson, honoured
me with his friendship. Mr. Grimes, the surveyor of the colony,
Mr. Palmer the commissary-general of the Government, Mr. Marsden,
a clergyman of Parramatta, and a cultivator as wealthy as he is
discerning, were all capable of furnishing me with valuable
information. My functions on board permitted me to hazard the
asking of a large number of questions which would have been
indiscreet on the part of another, particularly on the part of
soldiers. I have, in a word, known at Port Jackson all the
principal people of the colony, in all vocations, and each of
them has furnished, unsuspectingly, information as valuable as it
is new. Finally, I made with Mr. Paterson very long excursions
into the interior of the country. I saw most of the best farms,
and I assure you that I have gathered everywhere interesting
ideas upon things, which I have taken care to make exact as
possible.
FIRST: PRESENT ESTABLISHMENTS OF THE ENGLISH.
Whilst in Europe they are spoken of as the colony of Botany
Bay, as a matter of fact there is no establishment there. Botany
Bay is a humid, marshy, rather sterile place, not healthy, and
the anchorage for vessels is neither good nor sure.
Port Jackson, thirteen leagues from Botany Bay, is
unquestionably one of the finest ports in the world. It was in
these terms that Governor Phillip spoke of it, and certainly he
did not exaggerate when he added that a thousand ships of the
line could easily manoeuvre within it. The town of Sydney has
been founded in the heart of this superb harbour. It is already
considerable in extent, and, like its population, is growing
rapidly. Here reside the Governor and all the principal
Government officers. The environs of Sydney are sandy and not
very fertile; in almost all of them there is a scarcity of water
during the hot summer months.
Parramatta is the largest town founded by the English. It is
in the interior of the country, about six leagues from Sydney,
from which it can be reached by a small river called the
Parramatta River. Small vessels can proceed close to the town;
larger ones have to discharge some distance away. A very fine
road leads overland from Sydney to Parramatta. Some very good
houses have been built here and there along the road. Already
people who have made considerable fortunes are to be found there.
The land around Parramatta is of much better quality than that at
Sydney. The country has been cleared to a considerable extent;
and grazing in particular presents important advantages.
Toongabbie, further inland, three or four leagues from
Parramatta, is still more fertile. Its pastures are excellent. It
is there that the flocks belonging to the Government have been
established.
Hawkesbury, more than 60 miles from Sydney, is in the vicinity
of the Blue Mountains. It is the richest and most fruitful of the
English establishments. It may be regarded as the granary of the
colony, being capable by itself of supplying nearly all the wants
of the settlement. The depth of soil in some parts is as much as
80 feet; and it is truly prodigious in point of fertility. These
incalculable advantages are due to the alluvial deposits of the
Hawkesbury River, which descends in cascades from the summits of
the Blue Mountains, and precipitates itself upon the plain loaded
with a thick mud of a quality eminently suitable for promoting
vegetable growth. Unfortunately with benefits such as are
conferred by the Nile it unites its inconveniences. It is subject
to frightful floods, which overwhelm everything. Houses, crops,
and flocks—everything is destroyed unless men and animals save
themselves by very rapid flight. These unexpected floods are
sometimes so prodigious that the water has been known to rise 60
and even 80 feet above the normal level. But what gives a great
importance to the town of Hawkesbury is the facility with which
large ships can reach it by the river of which I have just
spoken. This part of New Holland will be a source of rapid and
very large fortunes.
Castle Hill is a new establishment in the interior of New
Holland, distant 21 miles from Parramatta, from which it is
reached by a superb road, which traverses thick forests.
Allotments of land are crowded round this place, and the
clearances are so considerable that for more than a league all
round the town we could see the forest grants being burnt
off.
Richmond Hill, towards the Hawkesbury, is a more considerable
place than the last mentioned, and is in a fertile situation.
So, General, it will be seen that this colony, which people in
Europe still believe to be relegated to the muddy marshes of
Botany Bay, is daily absorbing more and more of the interior of
the continent. Cities are being erected, which, at present in
their infancy, present evidences of future grandeur. Spacious and
well-constructed roads facilitate communication with all parts,
whilst important rivers render access by water still more
convenient and less expensive.
But the English Government is no longer confining its
operations to the eastern coast of New Holland. Westernport, on
the extreme south, beyond Wilson’s Promontory, is already
engaging its attention. At the time of our departure a new
establishment there was in contemplation. The Government is
balancing the expediency of founding a new colony there or at
Port Phillip, to the north.* (* Note 21: “Le Port Phillip dans le
nord de ce dernier.” Peron’s information was correct. King had in
May, 1802, made a recommendation to the British Government that a
settlement should be founded at Port Phillip. The reasons, also,
are stated accurately by him.) In any case, it is indubitable,
from what I have heard the Governor say—it is indubitable, I
say, that such a step will soon be taken. Indeed, whatever
advantage Port Jackson may possess, it suffers from a grave
disadvantage in the narrowness of its entry. Two frigates could
by themselves blockade the most numerous fleet within.
Westernport would in certain eventualities offer an advantageous
position. Moreover, the navigation of Bass Strait is very
dangerous. The winds there are terrible. Before negotiating the
strait, ships from Europe, fatigued by a long voyage, require
succour and shelter. The new establishment will be able to
accommodate them. A third reason, and no doubt the most
important, is that the English in spite of all their efforts, in
spite of the devotion of several of their citizens, in spite of
the sacrifices made by the Government, have not yet been able to
traverse the redoubtable barrier of the Blue Mountains and to
penetrate into the west of New Holland. An establishment on the
part of the coast that I have just mentioned would guarantee them
success in their efforts in that direction. At all events it is
indubitable that the establishment to which I have referred will
be immediately founded, if indeed such is not already the case,
as appears very probable from the letter which the Governor wrote
to our commandant in that regard a few days after our departure
from Port Jackson.
So then, the English, already masters of the eastern coast of
New Holland, now wish to occupy the immense extent of the west
and south-west coasts which contain very fine harbours, namely,
that which they call Westernport, Port Phillip, Port Flinders* (*
Note 22: Peron probably meant the present Port Augusta in
Spencer’s Gulf; but the name Port Flinders was his own.) at the
head of one of the great gulfs of the south-west, Port Esperance,
discovered by Dentrecasteaux, King George’s Sound, etc.
But still more, General, their ambition, always aspiring, is
not confined to New Holland itself, vast as it may be. Van
Diemen’s Land, and especially the magnificent Dentrecasteaux
Channel, have excited their cupidity. Another establishment has
probably been founded there since our departure from Port
Jackson. Take a glance at the detailed chart of that part of Van
Diemen’s Land. Look at the cluster of bays and harbours to be
found there, and judge for yourself whether it is likely that
that ambitious nation will permit any other power to occupy them.
Therefore, numerous preparations had been made for the occupation
of that important point. The authorities were only awaiting a
frigate, the Porpoise,* (* Note 23: Peron spells the name as it
sounded to him, La Poraperse.) to transport colonists and
provisions. That establishment is probably in existence to-day.*
(* Note 24: Again, Peron’s information was correct. A settlement
on the Derwent, close to Dentrecasteaux Channel, was ordered to
be founded in March, 1803, and the Porpoise, with the Lady Nelson
as tender, was employed to carry colonists and supplies thither.)
Several reasons will have determined it; First: The indispensable
necessity, for the English, of keeping away from their
establishments in that part of the world rivals and neighbours as
redoubtable as the French; Second: The desire of removing from
occupation by any other nation those impregnable ports whence
their important trade with New Zealand might be destroyed and
their principal establishment itself be eventually shaken; Third:
The fertility of the soil in that part of Van Diemen’s Land, and
above all the hope of discovering in the vast granite plateaux,
which seems here to enclose the world, mines of precious metals
or some new substance unknown to the stupid aboriginals of the
country.
I will not refer in detail to the Furneaux and Hunter’s
Islands, to King Island and Maria Island. Everywhere the British
flag is flown with pride. Everywhere profitable fisheries are
established. Seals of various species, to be found upon these
islands, open up a new source of wealth and power to the English
nation.
But New Zealand is especially advantageous to them in that
regard. There is the principal seat of the wealth of their new
colony. Thence a large number of ships sail annually for Europe
laden with whale oil. Never, as the English themselves
acknowledge, was a fishery so lucrative and so easy. The number
of vessels engaged in it is increasing rapidly. Four years ago
there were but four or five. Last year there were seventeen.* (*
Note 25: It will be remembered that Bass intended to engage in
the New Zealand fishery. Cf. chapter 9.) I shall have occasion to
return to this subject.
Let us sum up what has been said concerning the English
establishments in this part of the world. Masters of the east
coast of New Holland, we see them rapidly penetrating the
interior of the country, clearing pressed forward on all sides,
towns multiplying. Everywhere there is hope of abundance of great
agricultural wealth. The south coast is menaced by coming
encroachments, which, perhaps, are by now effected. All the ports
of the south-west will be occupied successively, and much sooner
than is commonly thought. Van Diemen’s Land and all the
neighbouring islands either are to be occupied or already are so.
New Zealand offers to them, together with excellent harbours, an
extraordinarily abundant and lucrative fishery. In a word,
everything in these vast regions presents a picture of unequalled
activity, unlimited foresight, swollen ambition, and a policy as
deep as it is vigilant.
Well then—come forward now to the middle of these vast seas,
so long unknown; we shall see everywhere the same picture
reproduced, with the same effects. Cast a glance over that great
southern ocean. Traverse all those archipelagos which, like so
many stepping-stones, are scattered between New Holland and the
west coast of America. It is by their means that England hopes to
be able to stretch her dominion as far as Peru. Norfolk Island
has for a long time been occupied. The cedar that it produces,
coupled with the great fertility of the soil, render it an
important possession. It contains already between 1500 and 1800
colonists. No settlement has as yet been founded in any of the
other islands, but researches are being pursued in all parts. The
English land upon all the islands and establish an active
commerce, by means of barter, with the natives. The Sandwich
Islands, Friendly Islands, Loyalty Islands,* (* Note 26: New
Caledonian Group.) Navigator Islands,* (* Note 27: Samoan Group.)
Marquesas and Mendore Islands all furnish excellent salt
provisions. Ships, employed in trade, frequently arrive at Port
Jackson; and it increases every day, proof positive of the
advantage that is derived from it.
The Government is particularly occupied with endeavouring to
discover upon some one of these archipelagos a strong military
post, a species of arsenal, nearer to the coasts of Peru and
Chili.* (* Note 28: This statement was entirely false.) It is
towards these two points that the English Government appears to
be especially turning its eyes. They are quite aware of the
feebleness of the Spaniards in South America. They are above all
aware that the unconquered Chilians are constantly making
unexpected attacks, that like so many Bedouins they appear
unawares with a numerous cavalry upon places where the Spaniards
are most feeble, committing robberies and outrages in all
directions before sufficient forces have been collected to
repulse them. Then they retire with a promptitude which does not
permit of their being followed to their savage fastnesses, which
are unknown to the Spaniards themselves—retreats whence they
very soon reappear, to commit fresh massacres. (See the Voyage of
Laperouse). The English, to whom nothing that occurs in those
important regions is unknown, are equally aware that it is simply
a deficiency in arms and ammunition which prevents the
redoubtable Chilians from pushing much farther their attacks
against the Spaniards. It is to the furnishing of these means
that the English Government are at the present moment confining
their enterprise. A very active contraband trade is calculated to
enable them to carry out their perfidious ends, whilst at the
same time providing a profitable market for the produce of their
manufacturers. Another manner in which they torment the Spaniards
of Peru is by despatching a swarm of pirates to these seas.
During the last war very rich prizes were captured by simple
whaling vessels, and you can judge what attacks of this kind will
be like when they are directed and sustained by the English
Government itself.
Their hopes in regard to the Spanish possessions are
heightened, and their projects are encouraged, by the general
direction of the winds in these seas. A happy experience has at
length taught the English that the prevailing wind, that which
blows strongest and most constantly, is the west wind. Determined
by these considerations (would you believe it, General?) the
English nowadays, instead of returning to Europe from Port
Jackson by traversing Bass Strait and doubling the Cape of Good
Hope, turn their prows eastwards, abandon themselves to their
favourite wind, traverse rapidly the great expanse of the South
Seas, double Cape Horn, and so do not reach England until they
have made the circuit of the globe! Consequently those voyages
round the world, which were formerly considered so hazardous, and
with which are associated so many illustrious names, have become
quite familiar to English sailors. Even their fishing vessels
accomplish the navigation of the globe just as safely as they
would make a voyage from Europe to the Antilles. That
circumstance is not so unimportant as may at first appear. The
very idea of having circumnavigated the globe exalts the
enthusiasm of English sailors. What navigation would not seem to
them ordinary after voyages which carry with them great and
terrible associations? Anyhow—and this is a most unfortunate
circumstance for the Spaniards—it is indubitable that the fact
of the constancy of the west wind must facilitate extraordinarily
projects of attack and invasion on the part of the English, and
everything sustains the belief that they will count for much in
the general plan of the establishment in New Holland. Therefore
the English Government appears day by day to take more interest
in the colony. It redoubles sacrifices of all kinds. It
endeavours in every way to increase the population as much as
possible. Hardly a month passes but there arrives some ship
freighted by it, laden with provisions, goods, and above all with
men and women, some transported people, who have to serve
practically as slaves, others free immigrants, cultivators, to
whom concessions will be granted. Perhaps at first you will be
astonished to learn that honest men voluntarily transport
themselves with their families to the extremity of the world, to
live in a country which is still savage, and which was
originally, and is still actually, occupied by brigands who have
been thrust from the breast of society. But your astonishment
will cease when you learn under what conditions such individuals
consent to exile themselves to these shores, and what advantages
they are not slow in deriving from a sacrifice which must always
be painful.
In the first place, before their departure from Europe, a
sufficient sum is allowed to each individual to provide for the
necessities of a long voyage. On board the vessel which
transports them to Sydney a price is fixed for the sustenance of
the immigrant and his family, if he has any. Upon his landing at
Port Jackson concessions are granted to him in proportion to the
number of individuals comprised in his family. A number of
convicts (that is the name they give the transported persons), in
proportion to the extent of the concessions granted, are placed
at his disposal. A house is constructed for him; he is provided
with all necessary furniture and household utensils, and all the
clothes he needs; they grant him all the seed he needs to sow his
land, all the tools he needs to till it, and one or more pairs of
all domestic animals and several kinds of poultry. Besides, they
feed him, his family, and his assigned servants during eighteen
months. He is completely sustained during that period; and for
the next twelve months half rations are allowed to him. At the
end of that time the produce of his land is, with reason,
expected to be sufficient for his requirements, and the
Government leave him to his own resources.
During five years he remains free of all contribution,
accumulating the produce of land all the more prolific because it
is virgin. At the end of that time a slight repayment is required
by the Government. This gradually and slightly increases as time
goes on. But mark here, General, the profound wisdom of the
English Government, that enlightened policy which guides all
their enterprises and assures them success. If the new immigrant
during these five years has shown himself to be a diligent and
intelligent cultivator; if his clearings have been well extended
and his stock is managed with prudence; if the produce of his
land has increased rapidly—then, so far from finding himself a
debtor to the Government, his holding is declared to be his own,
and, as a recompense, fresh concessions are made to him,
additional servants are assigned to him, his immunity from
contributions is prolonged, and additional assistance of all
sorts is extended to him. It is to these extensive and
well-considered sacrifices that it is necessary to attribute the
fine farms that daily increase in number in the midst of what was
recently wild and uncultivated forest. Activity, intelligence and
application conduce here more rapidly than elsewhere to fortune;
and already several of the earlier immigrants have become very
wealthy proprietors. Emulation of the noblest kind is stimulated
everywhere. Experiments of all kinds are made and multiplied. The
Government encourages them, and generously recompenses those who
have succeeded.
What still further proves the particular interest which the
English Government takes in the colony is the enormous expense
incurred in procuring commodities for the new colonists. Nearly
everything is furnished by the Government. Vast depots are filled
with clothes and fabrics of all kinds and qualities, from the
commonest to the finest. The simplest furniture and household
goods are to be found alongside the most elegant. Thus the
inhabitants are able to buy, at prices below those ruling in
England,* everything necessary to not only the bare wants of
life, but also its comforts and pleasures. (* Note 29: This
statement is surprising, but probably true of part of the period
when Peron was in Sydney. There was then a glut of goods, as Bass
found to his cost. He had to sell commodities brought out in the
Venus at 50 per cent below their proper values.)
Anxious to maintain the settlement on a firm and unshakeable
basis, it is to agriculture, the source of the true wealth of
nations, that the English Government endeavours to direct the
tastes of the inhabitants of the new colony. Different kinds of
cattle have been imported, and all thrive remarkably well. The
better kinds, so far from losing quality, gain in size and
weight. But the improvement in sheep is especially astonishing.
Never was there a country so favourable to these animals as the
part of New Holland now occupied by the British. Whether it be
the effect of the climate or, as I think, the peculiar quality of
the herbage (almost wholly aromatic), certain it is that the
flocks of sheep have multiplied enormously. It is true that the
finest breeds have been imported by the Government. At first, the
choicest kinds of English and Irish sheep were naturalised. Then
breeds from Bengal and the Cape of Good Hope were introduced.
Finally, the good fortune which seems to have conspired with the
enterprise of our rivals furnished them with several pairs of
merinos from Spain, which the Spanish Government at great expense
were sending to the Viceroy of Peru, upon a ship which was
captured upon the coast of that country by an English vessel out
of Port Jackson, and which were brought thither, much to the
satisfaction of the Governor, who neglected nothing to derive the
fullest possible advantage from a present valuable to the colony.
His endeavours have not been in vain. This species, like the
others, has improved much, and there is reason to believe that in
a few years Port Jackson will be able to supply valuable and
abundant material for the manufacturers of England. What is most
astonishing is that the Indian sheep, which naturally produce
short, coarse hair instead of wool, in the course of three or
four generations in this country produce a wool that can hardly
be distinguished from that furnished by English breeds, or even
Spanish. I have seen at the Governor’s house an assortment of
these different kinds of wool, which were to be sent to Lord
Sydney, and I assure you that it would be difficult to find finer
samples. In my excursions with Mr. Paterson, Mr. Marsden and Mr.
Cox, I have seen their flocks, and really one could not but
admire in that regard the incalculable influence of the industry
of man, so long as it is encouraged and stimulated by enlightened
and just administrators.
Another source of production which appears to offer great
advantages to the English is that of hemp. In this country it is
as fine in quality as it is abundant, and several persons whose
testimony is beyond suspicion have assured me that New Holland,
before many years have passed, will herself be able to furnish to
the British Navy all the hemp that it requires, thus freeing
England from the considerable tribute that she pays at present in
that regard to the north of Europe.
The climate also appears to be favourable to the cultivation
of the vine. Its latitude, little different from that of the Cape
of Good Hope, combined with its temperature, lead the Government
to hope for great advantages from the introduction of this plant
to the continent of New Holland. Furthermore, French vignerons
have been introduced at great expense to promote this object. It
is true that their first attempts have not been very happy, but
the lack of success is due entirely to the obstinacy of the
English Governor, who, in spite of the representations of these
men, compelled them to make their first plantations upon the side
of a small, pleasant terrace forming a kind of semi-circle round
Government House at Parramatta. This was, unfortunately, exposed
to the north-west winds, burning winds like the mistral of Italy
and Provence, the khamsin of Egypt, etc. The French vignerons
whom I had occasion to see at Parramatta, in company with the
Lieutenant-Governor, Mr. Paterson, assured me that they had found
a piece of country very favourable to their new plantations, and
that they hoped for the greatest success from their fresh
efforts. Choice plants had been imported from Madeira and the
Cape.
In all the English establishments on these coasts traces of
grand designs for the future are evident. The mass of the people,
being originally composed of the unfortunate and of wrong-doers,
might have propagated immorality and corruption, if the
Government had not taken in good time means to prevent such a sad
result. A house was founded in the early days of the settlement
for the reception of young girls whose parents were too poor and
too constrained in their circumstances at the commencement of
their sojourn there to be able to devote much care to them; while
if parents, when emancipated, so conduct themselves that their
example or their course of life is likely to have an evil effect
on their offspring, the children are taken from them and placed
in the home to which I have referred. There they pursue regular
studies; they are taught useful arts appropriate to their sex;
they are instructed in reading, writing, arithmetic, sewing, etc.
Their teachers are chosen with much care, and the wife of the
Governor himself is charged with the supervision of that
honourable establishment, a supervision in which she is assisted
by the wife of the commandant of the troops. Each or both of them
visit every day their young family, as they themselves call it.
They neglect nothing to ensure the maintenance of good conduct,
the soundness of the education and the quality of the provisions.
I have several times accompanied these admirable ladies to the
establishment, and have on every occasion been moved by their
anxious solicitude and their touching care.
When these young girls arrive at marriageable age they are not
abandoned by the Government. The following is the sagacious and
commendable manner in which their establishment in life is
provided for. Among the free persons who come to Port Jackson are
many men who are not yet married. The same is the case with some
of those who by good conduct have earned their freedom. When one
of those young men wishes to take a worthy wife, he presents
himself to the Governor’s wife, who, after having obtained
information concerning his character, permits him to visit her
young flock. If he fixes his choice upon someone, he informs the
Governor’s wife, who, after consulting the tastes and
inclinations of the young person, accords or refuses her consent.
When a marriage is arranged, the Government endows the young girl
by means of concessions, assigned servants, etc.; and these
unions have already become the nursery of a considerable number
of good and happy homes. It is undoubtedly an admirable policy,
and one which has amply rewarded the English Government for the
sacrifices made to support it.
The defence of the country has not up to the present been very
formidable, and has not needed to be, on account of the ignorance
which prevails in Europe respecting the nature of this colony.
The English Government is at the present moment directing men’s
minds towards agriculture. It has not, however, neglected to
provide what the physical condition of the land and the nature of
its establishment demand. Two classes of men are much to be
feared at present: first, the criminals, condemned for the most
part to a long servitude, harshly treated, compelled to the
roughest and most fatiguing labour. That infamous class, the vile
refuse of civilised society, always ready to commit new crimes,
needs to be ceaselessly restrained by force and violence. The
English Government therefore maintains a strong police. It is so
efficient that in the midst of that infamous canaille the most
perfect security reigns everywhere, and—what may appear
paradoxical to those who do not know the details of the
administration of the colony—fewer robberies are committed than
in a European town of equal population. As to murder, I have
never heard tell of a crime of the kind being committed there,
nor, indeed, did I hear of one occurring since the foundation of
the colony. Nevertheless, the first consideration entails the
maintenance of a very considerable force; and with equal
foresight and steadiness the Government has taken precautions
against the efforts of these bandits. A second class of society,
more formidable still (also much more respectable, but having
most to complain about, and the most interesting class for us),
is composed of legions of the unfortunate Irish, whom the desire
of freeing their country from the British yoke caused to arm in
concert with us against the English Government. Overwhelmed by
force, they were treated with pitiless rigour. Nearly all those
who took up arms in our favour were mercilessly transported, and
mixed with thieves and assassins. The first families of Ireland
count their friends and relations upon these coasts of New
Holland. Persecuted by that most implacable of all kinds of
hatred, the hatred born of national animosity and differing
convictions, they are cruelly treated, and all the more so
because they are feared. Abandoned to themselves, it is felt,
they can do nothing, and the Government gains several interesting
advantages from their residence in this country. First, a
population as numerous as it is valiant is fixed upon these
shores. Secondly, nearly all being condemned to a servitude more
or less long, they provide many strong arms for the laborious
work of clearing. Thirdly, the mixing of so many brave men with
criminals seems to obliterate the character of the settlement and
to provide, by the retention of a crowd of honest men, some sort
of a defence against the opprobrium cast upon it. Fourthly, the
Government has relieved itself in Europe of a number of enraged
and daring enemies. At the same time, one must admit, this policy
has its defects. The Irish, ruled by a sceptre of iron, are quiet
to-day. But if ever the Government of our country, alarmed by the
rapidly increasing strength of this colony, should formulate the
project of taking or destroying it, at the mere mention of the
French name every Irish arm would be raised. We had a very
striking example when we first arrived at Port Jackson. Upon the
appearance of the French flag in the harbour the alarm in the
country was general. We were again at war with England. They
regarded our second ship,* (* Note 30: Le Naturaliste.) which had
been separated from us and compelled to seek shelter at Port
Jackson, as a French ship of war. At the name the Irish commenced
to flock together. Everywhere they raised their bowed foreheads,
bent under an iron rule; and, if their mistake had not been so
rapidly dispelled, a general rising would have taken place
amongst them. One or two were put to death on that occasion, and
several were deported to Norfolk Island. In any case, that
formidable portion of the population will always compel the
English to maintain many troops upon this continent, until, at
all events, time and inter-marriage shall have cicatrized the
recent wounds of the poor Irish and softened their
resentment.
The Government, however, appears to feel that considerably
larger forces are required than are now available. At the time of
our departure the regiment forming the garrison at Port Jackson
did not number more than 800. But some were being continually
removed to India, and to replace them 5000 men were expected. The
news of the war must have led to the changing of these
dispositions, because the troops, which were to have been
transported on warships, were drawn from Europe, and probably the
English Government will have been careful not to despatch so
considerable a force to New Holland in the critical situation in
which it now finds itself. Moreover, General, do not believe that
so many troops are indispensable to the security of the coasts of
New Holland, but rather consider the advantages that the English
nation is likely to draw from its establishments in that part of
the world. The climate of India, inimical to newcomers from
Europe, is still more so to these British regiments, drawn from
the frosty counties of the north of England and from the icy
realms of Scotland. A considerable loss of men results from their
almost immediate transportation to the burning plains of India.
Forced to look after a population which has little affinity with
its immense possessions in both hemispheres, England has always
set an example of great sacrifices for all that can tend to the
conservation of the health of its people. The new colony of Port
Jackson will serve in the future as a depot for troops destined
for India. Actually the whole of the territory occupied up to the
present is extremely salubrious. Not a single malady endemic to
the country has yet been experienced. The whole population enjoys
the best of health. The children especially are handsome and
vigorous, though the temperature at certain times is very high.
We ourselves experienced towards the close of our visit very hot
weather, though we were there in the months of Fructidor,
Vendemiaire and Brumaire* (* Note 31: From Fructidor to Brumaire
would be from September 22nd to December 20th.) nearly
corresponding to our European spring. The temperature of New
Holland, rather more than a mean between those of England and
India, ought to be valuable in preparing for the latter country
that large body of soldiers which the Government despatches every
year to Bengal, the Coromandel coast, Malabar, etc., etc.
Consequently the loss of men will be much less, and you will
easily realise the advantage that will accrue to a power like
England, when it contemplates the invasion, with a mediocre
population, of archipelagos, islands, and even continents.
NOTE: This portion of New Holland appears to owe its
salubriousness:—
(1) To a situation resembling that of the Cape of Good Hope
(Port Jackson is in about latitude 34 degrees).
(2) To the nature of the soil, which is very dry, especially
round Sydney;
(3) To the nature of the vegetation, which is not vigorous
enough to maintain a noxious stagnation in the lower strata of
the atmosphere;
(4) To the great, or rather enormous, quantity of aromatic
plants which constitute the principal part of the vegetation,
including even the largest species;
(5) To the vicinity of the Blue Mountains, the elevation of
which contributes largely to maintain a certain salutary
freshness in the atmosphere;
(6) To the remarkable constancy of the light fresh breezes
which blow from the south-east towards the middle of the day.
I have not yet finished the account of the important
advantages that England draws from this colony. If time were not
so pressing and if I had at my disposal the abundant material
consigned to our Government, I could write more. I venture to sum
up those considerations to which I have referred, in a form which
will be useful for determining your opinion upon this important
and rising colony.
(1) By means of it England founds an empire which will extend
over the continent of New Holland, Van Diemen’s Land, all the
islands of Bass Strait, New Zealand, and the numerous
archipelagos of the Pacific Ocean.
(2) She thereby becomes the mistress of a large number of
superb ports, several of which can be compared with advantage to
the most fortunately situated harbours in other parts of the
world.
(3) She thereby excludes her rivals, and, so to speak, blocks
all the nations of Europe from entry to the Pacific.
(4) Having become the neighbour of Peru and Chili, she casts
towards those countries hopes increasingly assured and
greedy.
(5) Her privateers and her fleets in time of war will be able
to devastate the coasts of South America; and, if in the last war
she attempted no such enterprise, the reason appears to be that
her astute policy made her fear to do too much to open the eyes
of Spain, and even of all Europe.
(6) In time of peace, by means of an active contraband trade,
she prepares redoubtable enemies for the Spaniards; she furnishes
arms and ammunition of all kinds to that horde of untamed people
who have not yet been subjugated to the European yoke.
(7) By the same means she enables the products of her
manufacturers to inundate South America, which is shabbily and
above all expensively supplied by Spain.
(8) If amongst the numerous archipelagos that are visited
constantly some formidable military position is found, England
will occupy it and, becoming a nearer neighbour to the rich
Spanish possessions, will menace them more closely, more
certainly, and above all more impatiently. Mr. Flinders, in an
expedition of discovery which is calculated to last five years,
and who doubtless at the present moment is traversing the region
under discussion, appears to have that object particularly in
view.* (* Note 32: “M. Flinders, dans une expedition de
decouverte qui doit durer cinq ans, et qui sans doute parcourt en
ce moment le theatre qui nous occupe, paroit avoir plus
particulierement cette objet en vue.” The passage is peculiarly
interesting. At the time when Peron was writing, early in
December, 1803, Flinders was, as a matter of fact, sailing
towards Ile-de-France in the Cumberland.)
(9) The extraordinarily lucrative whale fishery of New Zealand
is EXCLUSIVELY* (* Note 33: Underlined in original.) assured to
them. No European nation can henceforth, according to the general
opinion, compete with them for that object.
(10) The fishery, no less lucrative, of the enormous seals
which cover the shores of several of the islands of Bass Strait,
and from which is drawn an oil infinitely superior to whale oil,
guarantees them yet another source of greatness and of wealth.
Note: the seals in question, distinguished by the English under
the name of sea elephants, are sometimes 25 or 30 feet long. They
attain the bulk of a large cask: and the enormous mass of the
animal seems, so to say, to be composed of solid, or rather
coagulated, oil. The quantity extracted from one seal is
prodigious. I have collected many particulars on this
subject.
(11) A third fishery, even more lucrative and important, is
that of the skins of various varieties of seal which inhabit most
of the islands of Bass Strait, all the Furneaux Islands, all the
islands off the eastern coast of Van Diemen’s Land, and all those
on the south-west coast of New Holland, and which probably will
be found upon the archipelagos of the eastern portion of this
vast continent. The skins of these various species of seal are
much desired in China. The sale of a shipload of these goods in
that country is as rapid as it is lucrative. The ships engaged in
the business are laden on their return to Europe with that
precious merchandise of China which gold alone can extract from
the clutch of its rapacious possessors. Accordingly, one of the
most important objects of the mission of Lord Macartney* to
China, (* Note 34: Lord Macartney’s embassy to China, 1792 to
1794, was, says the Cambridge Modern History (2 718), “productive
only of a somewhat better acquaintance between the two Powers and
an increased knowledge on the part of British sailors of the
navigation of Chinese waters.”) that of developing in that
country a demand for some of the economic and manufacturing
products of England, so as to relieve that country of the
necessity of sending out such a mass of specie—that interesting
object which all the ostentatious display of the commercial
wealth of Europe had not been able to attain, and all the astute
diplomacy of Lord Macartney had failed to achieve—the English
have recently accomplished. Masters of the trade in these kinds
of skin, they are about to become masters of the China trade. The
coin accumulated in the coffers of the Government or of private
people will no longer be sunk in the provinces of China. That
advantage is incontestably one of the greatest that they have
derived from their establishment at Port Jackson.
(12) This augmentation of distant possessions is likely to
occasion a fresh development in the British Navy. The practice of
voyaging round the world should exalt the enthusiasm of their
sailors, whilst it increases their number and efficiency. I may
add here that to attain the last-mentioned end the English
Government compels each ship which sails for these regions, and
above all for New Zealand, to carry a certain number of young men
below 19 years of age, who return from these voyages only after
having obtained a very valuable endowment of experience.
(13) The temperature and salubriousness of the country will
enable it to look after a very large number of soldiers who used
to be incapacitated every year by the burning heat of Asia.
(14) The abundance of the flocks, and the superiority of their
wool, will furnish an immense quantity of excellent material to
the national manufactures, already superior to those of the rest
of Europe.
(15) The cultivation of hemp and vines gives cause to the
English to hope that before very long they will be freed from the
large tribute which they now pay for the first-named to all the
Powers of the north of Europe, and for the second to Portugal,
France and Spain.
(16) I will not discuss with you some substances indigenous to
the country which are already in use, whether in medicine, or in
the arts—of eucalyptus gum, for example, which is at once
astringent and tonic to a very high degree, and is likely soon to
become one of our most energetic drugs. Nor will I say much about
the resin furnished by the tree which the English mis-name
gourmier,* (* Note 35: Peron’s word.) a resin which by reason of
its hardness may become of very great value in the arts. It will
be sufficient to say, General, that I possess a native axe
obtained from the aboriginals of King George’s Sound. It is
nothing better than a chip of very hard granite fastened to the
end of a piece of wood, which serves as a handle, by means of the
resin to which I have referred. I have shown it to several
persons. It will rapidly split a wooden plank and one can strike
with all one’s force, without in the least degree injuring the
resin. Though the edge of the stone has several times been
chipped, the resin always remained intact. I will say little of
the fine and abundant timber furnished by what is called the
casuarina tree, and by what the English improperly call the pear.
This pear is what the botanists term Xylomelum, and by reason of
its extremely beautiful and deep grain, and the fine polish which
it is susceptible of receiving, it appears to be superior to some
of the best known woods. I will not refer at length to the famous
flax of New Zealand, which may become the subject of a large
trade when its preparation is made easier; nor to cotton, which
is being naturalised; nor to coffee, of which I myself have seen
the first plantations, etc., etc. All these commodities are
secondary in importance in comparison with others to which I have
referred; yet, considered together, they will add greatly to the
importance of this new colony. Similarly, I will pass over the
diverse products which are sure to be furnished by the prolific
archipelagos, and of which several are likely to become of great
value and to fetch high prices for use in the arts and in
medicine. For example, the cargo of the last vessel that arrived
in Port Jackson from the Navigator Islands, during our stay,
consisted partly of cordage of different degrees of thickness,
made from a plant peculiar to those islands, the nature of which
is such that, we were assured, it is almost indestructible by
water and the humidity of the atmosphere; whilst its toughness
makes it superior to ordinary cordage.
(17) The English hope for much from mineral discoveries. Those
parts of the country lying nearest to the sea, which are of a
sandstone or slaty formation, appear to contain only deposits of
excellent coal; but the entire range of the Blue Mountains has
not yet been explored for minerals. The colony had not up to the
time of our visit a mineralogist in its service, but the Governor
hoped soon to obtain the services of one, to commence making
investigations; and the nature of the country, combined with its
extent, affords ground for strong hope in that regard.
(18) There are, finally, other advantages, apparently less
interesting, but which do not fail to exert an influence upon the
character and prestige of a nation. I refer to the conspicuous
glory which geographical discoveries necessarily following upon
such an establishment as this bring upon a nation’s name; to all
that which accrues to a people from the discovery and collection
of so many new and valuable things; to the distinguished services
which new countries call forth and which confer so much
distinction upon those who watch over their birth.
Time does not permit me to pursue the enquiry. I wish only to
add here one fresh proof of the importance which England attaches
to this new colony. When we left Port Jackson, the authorities
were awaiting the arrival of five or six large vessels laden with
the goods of English persons formerly domiciled at the Cape of
Good Hope, whom the surrender of that possession to the Dutch had
compelled to leave.* (* Note 36: The Cape was surrendered to
Holland in 1803, but British rule was restored there in 1806.)
That very great accession of population ought sufficiently to
indicate to you how great are the projects of the British
Ministry in that region.
Before concluding I should have liked to point out the
impossibility, for France, of retarding the rapid progress of the
establishment at Port Jackson, or of entering into competition
with its settlers in the trade in sealskins, the whale fishery,
etc. But it would take rather too long to discuss that matter. I
think I ought to confine myself to telling you that my opinion,
and that of all those among us who have more particularly
occupied themselves with enquiring into the organization of that
colony, is that it should be destroyed as soon as possible.* (*
Note 37: Mon sentiment et celui de tous ceux d’entre nous qui se
sont plus particulierement occupes de l’organisation de cette
colonie seroit de la detruire le plus tot possible.”) To-day we
could destroy it easily; we shall not be able to do so in 25
years’ time.
I have the honour to be, with respectful devotion,
Your very humble servant,
PERON.
P.S. M. Freycinet, the young officer, has especially concerned
himself with examining all the points upon the coast of the
environs of Port Jackson which are favourable to the landing of
troops. He has collected particular information concerning the
entrance to the port; and, if ever the Government should think of
putting into execution the project of destroying this freshly-set
trap of a great Power,* that distinguished officer would be of
valuable assistance in such an operation. (* Note 38: “Le projet
de detruire ce piege naissant d’une grande puissance.” )
APPENDIX C. NAMES GIVEN BY FLINDERS TO IMPORTANT AUSTRALIAN COASTAL FEATURES.
Among the Flinders Papers is a list of names given by Flinders
to points on the Australian coast, with his reasons for doing so.
The list is incomplete, but has served as the basis of the
following catalogue, for help in the enlargement of which I am
greatly indebted to Mr. Walter Jeffery:—
TOM THUMB VOYAGE, WITH BASS:
Hat Hill, named by Flinders from Cook’s suggestion that it
“looked like the crown of a hat.” Red Point. Martin’s Isles,
after the boy who accompanied them. Providential Cove (native
name, Wattamowlee).
VOYAGE OF THE FRANCIS:
Green Cape. Cape Barren Island. Clarke Island, Hamilton’s
Rocks, after members of the crew of the Sydney Cove. Kent’s
Group, after the Captain of the Supply. Armstrong’s Channel,
after the Master of the Supply. Preservation Island.
VOYAGE OF THE NORFOLK:
Chappell Islands, after Miss Ann Chappell. Settlement Island,
Babel Islands (from the noises made by the sea-birds), and other
names in the Furneaux Group. Double Sandy Point. Low Head. Table
Cape. Circular Head. Hunter Islands, after Governor Hunter.
Three-Hummock Island. Barren Island. Cape Grim. Trefoil Island.
Albatross Island. Mount Heemskirk and Mount Zeehan, after
Tasman’s ships. Point Hibbs, after the Master of the Norfolk.
Rocky Point. Mount de Witt. Point St. Vincent, after the First
Lord of the Admiralty. Norfolk Bay and Mount. Cape Pillar. After
the voyage was over, Hunter, apparently at Flinders’ suggestion,
named Cape Portland, Bass Strait, Port Dalrymple and Waterhouse
Island.
VOYAGE OF THE NORFOLK TO QUEENSLAND:
Shoal Bay. Sugarloaf Point. Pumice-stone River. Point
Skirmish. Moreton Island. Curlew Inlet.
VOYAGE OF THE INVESTIGATOR (Western Australia):
Cape Leeuwin, “the most projecting part of Leeuwin’s Land.”
Mount Manypeak. Haul-off Rock. Cape Knob. Mount Barren. Lucky
Bay, discovered when the ship was in an awkward position. Goose
Island. Twin Peaks Islands. Cape Pasley, after Admiral Pasley.
Point Malcolm, after Captain Pulteney Malcolm. Point Culver.
Point Dover.
VOYAGE OF THE INVESTIGATOR (South Australia):
Nuyts’ Reefs and Cape. Fowler’s Bay and Point, after the First
Lieutenant of the Investigator. Point Sinclair, after a
midshipman on the Investigator. Point Bell, after the surgeon of
the Investigator. Purdie’s Islands, after the Assistant-surgeon
of the Investigator. St. Francis Islands, adapted from the name
given by Nuyts. Lound’s Island, Lacy’s Island, Evans’ Island,
Franklin’s Island (in Nuyts’ Archipelago), after midshipmen on
the Investigator. Petrel Bay. Denial Bay, “as well in allusion to
St. Peter as to the deceptive hope we had found of penetrating by
it some distance into the interior country.” Smoky Bay, from the
number of smoke columns rising from the shore. Point Brown, after
the Botanist of the Investigator. Streaky Bay, “much seaweed
floating about.” Cape Bauer, after the Botanical Draftsman of the
Investigator. Point Westall, after the painter. Olive Island,
after the ship’s clerk. Cape Radstock, after Admiral Lord
Radstock. Waldegrave Isles. Topgallant Isles. Anxious Bay, “from
the night we passed in it.” Investigator Group. Pearson’s Island,
after Flinders’ brother-in-law. Ward’s Island, after his mother’s
maiden name. Flinders’ Island, after Lieutenant S.W. Flinders.
Cape (now Point) Drummond, after Captain Adam Drummond, R.N.
Point Sir Isaac, Coffin’s Bay, after Vice-Admiral Sir Isaac
Coffin. Mount Greenly, Greenly Isles, after the lady to whom Sir
Isaac Coffin was engaged. Point Whidbey, Whidbey’s Islands, after
“My worthy friend the Master-attendant at Sheerness.” Avoid Bay
and Point, “from its being exposed to the dangerous southern
winds.” Liguanea Island, after an estate in Jamaica. Cape Wiles,
after the Botanist on the Providence. Williams’ Isle. Sleaford
Bay, from Sleaford in Lincolnshire. Thistle Island, after the
Master of the Investigator. Neptune Isles, “for they seemed
inaccessible to men.” Thorny Passage, from the dangerous rocks.
Cape Catastrophe, where the accident occurred. Taylor’s Island,
after a midshipman drowned in the accident. Wedge Island, “from
its shape.” Gambier Isles, after Admiral Lord Gambier. Memory
Cove, in memory of the accident. Cape Donington, after Flinders’
birthplace. Port Lincoln, after the chief town in Flinders’
native county. Boston Island, Bay and Point, Bicker Island,
Surfleet Point, Stamford Hill, Spalding Cove, Grantham Island,
Kirton Point, Point Bolingbroke, Louth Bay and Isle, Sleaford
Mere, Lusby Isle, Langton Isle, Kirkby Isle, Winceby Isle, Sibsey
Isle, Tumby Isle, Stickney Isle, Hareby Isle. All Lincolnshire
names, after places familiar to Flinders. Dalby Isle, after the
Rev. M. Tyler’s parish. Marum Isle, after the residence of Mr.
Stephenson, Sir Joseph Banks’ agent. Spilsby Island, after the
town where the Franklins lived. Partney Isles, after the place
where Miss Chappell lived, and where Flinders was married.
Revesby Isle, after Revesby Abbey, Banks’ Lincolnshire seat.
Northside Hill. Elbow Hill, from its shape. Barn Hill, from the
form of its top. Mount Young, after Admiral Young. Point Lowly.
Mount Brown, after the botanist. Mount Arden, Flinders’
great-grandmother’s name. Point Riley, after an Admiralty
official. Point Pearce, after an Admiralty official. Corny Point,
“a remarkable point.” Hardwicke Bay, after Lord Hardwicke.
Spencer’s Gulf and Cape, after Earl Spencer. Althorp Isles, after
Lord Spencer’s eldest son. Kangaroo Island and Head. Point
Marsden, after the Second Secretary to the Admiralty. Nepean Bay,
after Sir Evan Nepean, Secretary to the Admiralty. Mount Lofty,
from its height. St. Vincent’s Gulf, after Admiral Lord St.
Vincent. Cape Jervis, Lord St. Vincent’s family name. Troubridge
Hill, after Admiral Troubridge. Investigator Strait. Yorke’s
Peninsula, after the Honourable C.P. Yorke. Prospect Hill.
Pelican Lagoon. Backstairs Passage. Antechamber Bay. Cape
Willoughby. Pages Islets. Encounter Bay.
VOYAGE OF THE INVESTIGATOR (Victoria):
Point Franklin. Indented Head (Port Phillip). Station Peak
(Port Phillip).
VOYAGE OF THE INVESTIGATOR (Queensland):
Tacking Point. Mount Larcom, after Captain Larcom, R.N.
Gatcombe Head. Port Curtis, after Admiral Sir Roger Curtis.
Facing Island, the eastern boundary of Port Curtis, facing the
sea. Port Bowen, after Captain James Bowen, R.N., Naval
Commandant at Madeira when the Investigator put in there. Cape
Clinton, after Colonel Clinton of the 85th Regiment, Commandant
at Madeira. Entrance Island. Westwater Head. Eastwater Hill.
Mount Westall, after William Westall the artist. Townshend
Island—Cook had so named the Cape which is its prominent
feature. Leicester Island. Aken’s Island, after the Master of the
Investigator. Strongtide Passage. Double Mount. Mount Funnel,
from its form. Upper Head. Percy Isles, after the Northumberland
family. Eastern Fields, coral banks near Torres Strait. Pandora’s
Entrance, after the Pandora. Half-way Island, convenient
anchorage for ships going through Tortes Strait. Good Island,
after Peter Good, the botanist.
VOYAGE OF THE INVESTIGATOR (in the Gulf of Carpentaria):
Duyfken Point, after the first vessel which entered the Gulf
of Carpentaria. Pera Head, after the second vessel that sailed
along this coast in 1623. Sweers Island, after a member of the
Batavia Council in Tasman’s time. Inspection Hill. Lord William
Bentinck’s Island (now Bentinck Island), after the Governor of
Madras. Allen’s Island, after the “Miner”—i.e., Geologist—of
the Investigator. Horseshoe Island. Investigator Road. Pisonia
Isle, from the soft white wood of the Pisonia tree found upon it.
Bountiful Island. Wellesley Island, Mornington Isle—After the
Marquess Wellesley, Governor-General of India, whose earlier
title was Lord Mornington.
VOYAGE OF THE INVESTIGATOR (Northern Territory):
Vanderlin Island, the Dutch “Cape Vanderlin.” Sir Edward
Pellew Group, Cape Pellew, after Admiral Pellew. Craggy Isles.
West Island. North Island. Centre Island. Observation Island.
Cabbage-Tree Cove. Maria Island, the Dutch “Cape Maria.”
Bickerton Island, after Admiral Sir Richard Bickerton. Cape
Barrow, after Sir John Barrow. Connexion Island. North Point
Island. Chasm Island, “the upper parts are intersected by many
deep chasms.” North-West Bay. Winchelsea Island, after the Earl
of Winchelsea. Finch’s Island, after the Winchelsea family name.
Pandanus Hill, from the clump of trees upon it. Burney Island,
after Captain James Burney, R.N. Nicol Island, after “His
Majesty’s bookseller.” Woodah Island, “it having some resemblance
to the whaddie, or woodah, a wooden sword used by the natives of
Port Jackson.” Bustard Isles—They “harboured several bustards.”
Mount Grindall, Point Grindall, after Vice-Admiral Grindall.
Morgan’s Isle, after a seaman who died there. Bluemud Bay, “in
most parts of the bay is a blue mud of so fine a quality that I
judge it might be useful in the manufacture of earthenware.”
Point Blane, after Sir Gilbert Blane of the Naval Medical Board.
Cape Shield, after Commissioner Shield. Cape Grey, after General
Grey, Commandant at Capetown. Point Middle. Mount Alexander.
Point Alexander. Round Hill Island. Caledon Bay, after the
Governor of the Cape of Good Hope. Cape Arnhem, extremity of
Arnhem’s Land. Mount Saunders. Mount Dundas, Melville
Isles—After Dundas, Viscount Melville, a colleague of the
younger Pitt. Mount Bonner. Drimmie Head. Cape Wilberforce, after
W. Wilberforce, M.P., the slave-emancipator, who was a friend of
Flinders. Melville Bay, after Viscount Melville. Harbour Rock.
Point Dundas. Bromby Islands, after the Reverend F. Bromby, of
Hull, a cousin of Mrs. Flinders. Malay Road. Pombasso’s Island,
after the chief of the Malay praus. Cotton’s Island, after
Captain Cotton of the East India Company’s Directorate. English
Company Islands, after the East India Company. Wigram Island.
Truant Island, “from its lying away from the rest.” Inglis
Island. Bosanquet Island. Astell Island. Mallison Island. Point
Arrowsmith, after the map-publisher. Cape Newbald, Newbald
Island—After Henrietta Newbald, nee Flinders, who introduced him
to Pasley. Arnhem Bay. Wessell Islands, name found on a Dutch
chart. Point Dale. Wreck Reef.
BIBLIOGRAPHY.
A. MANUSCRIPT SOURCES.
1. The Flinders Papers, in the Melbourne Public Library,
consisting of a letter-book of Flinders (August 31, 1807, to May
31, 1814); manuscript narrative of the voyage of the Francis;
miscellaneous notes and memoranda by friends and relatives, a
short manuscript memoir, and a large quantity of transcripts of
journals, family letters, etc. This material is not at present
numbered, and allusions to it in the text of the book are
therefore made by the general reference, “Flinders Papers.”
2. Decaen Papers, in the Municipal Library of Caen, Normandy.
General Decaen’s manuscripts fill 149 volumes. The documents
relating to Flinders, including a translation of portions of the
Cumberland’s log, are principally in volumes 10, 84, 92, and 105.
Peron’s important report upon the British colony at Port Jackson
is also in this collection, which includes many original letters
of Flinders.
3. Archives Nationales, Paris, Marine BB4, 996 to 999,
contains a quantity of manuscripts relative to Baudin’s
expeditions, including reports and letters by him, and many
miscellaneous papers.
4. The Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris, nouveaux acquisitions,
France, contains many documents relative to Baudin’s expedition,
including the diary of the commander.
5. The Archives du Museum d’Histoire Naturelle de Paris
contain reports and documents concerning the scientific work of
Baudin’s expedition.
6. The Depot de la Marine, service hydrographique, Paris,
cartons 6, 22, and 23, contains many reports upon the Australian
coast made to Captain Baudin by his officers.
7. The Library of the Royal Colonial Institute, London,
contains Westall’s original drawings executed on the Investigator
voyage. Photographed copies are in the Mitchell Library,
Sydney.
8. The Mitchell Library, Sydney, contains Smith’s manuscript
journal of the Investigator voyage, and many Flinders and
Franklin papers, as cited in the text.
B. PRINTED DOCUMENTS.
Most of the Flinders material contained in the Record Office,
London, and the British Museum, is printed in Volumes 3, 4, 5, 6,
and 7 of the Historical Records of New South Wales, edited by
F.M. Bladen (Sydney, 1893 to 1901). Copies of other letters and
documents, mainly from the same source, are in course of
publication by the Commonwealth Government, under the direction
of the Commonwealth Library Committee, edited by Dr. F.
Watson.
C. WORKS BY FLINDERS.
FLINDERS, MATTHEW, A Voyage to Terra Australis, 2 volumes,
London, 1814. The principal authority for the voyages of the
navigator.
FLINDERS, M., Observations on the Coasts of Van Diemen’s Land,
etc., London, 1801.
FLINDERS, M., Papers on the Marine Barometer and on Variations
of the Mariner’s Compass, printed in the Philosophical
Transactions of the Royal Society, London, 1806 and 1807.
FLINDERS, MATTHEW, Reise nach dem Austral-Lande, in der
Absicht die Entdeckung desselben zu vollenden unter nommen in den
Jaksen, 1801, 1802 and 1803. Aus dem Englischen, von F. Gotze.
Weimar, 1816. A German translation of the Voyage to Terra
Australis. An accompanying map is of great interest, as it essays
for the first time to indicate by colours the portions of the
Australian coast discovered by the English, the Dutch and the
French. The map errs with regard to Kangaroo Island, in
attributing the discovery of the north to the French and the
south to the English. The reverse was the case.
MATTHEW FLINDERS, Ontdekkings-reis naar het Groote Zuidland
anders Nieuw Holland; besigtiging van het zelve in 1801, 1802 en
1803; noodlottige schipbreak, en gevangenschap van 6 1/2 jaar by
de Franschen op Mauritius. Uit het Engelsch. 4 volumes, Haarlem,
1815 and 1816. A Dutch translation of the Voyage to Terra
Australis.
D. OTHER PRINTED BOOKS.
BARROW, SIR JOHN, articles in Quarterly Review, 1810 and 1817,
strongly condemning the work of Peron and Freycinet (see below),
and championing the cause of Flinders. Barrow had access to
material in possession of the Admiralty, sent to England from
Mauritius by Flinders.
BECKE, L., and JEFFERY, W., Naval Pioneers of Australia,
London, 1899. Very useful.
DALRYMPLE, ALEXANDER, Collection of Voyages and Discoveries in
the South Pacific Ocean, 2 volumes, London, 1770.
EDINBURGH REVIEW, 1807, reviews with commendation Flinders’
“Observations upon the Marine Barometer.”
GRANT, Narrative of a Voyage of Discovery, London, 1803.
LABILLIERE, F.P., Early History of the Colony of Victoria, 2
volumes, London, 1878 to 1879. Prints extracts from Flinders’
manuscript journals relating to Port Phillip.
LAUGHTON, SIR J.K., article on Flinders in Dictionary of
National Biography.
MAIDEN, J.H., Sir Joseph Banks, the Father of Australia,
Sydney, 1909.
FOWLER, T.W., “The Work of Captain Matthew Flinders in Port
Phillip,” Victorian Geographical Journal, 1912. Good
topographical account.
MALTE-BRUN, Annales des Voyages, 1810 and 1814. Interesting
references to Flinders; biographical sketch in Volume 23,
268.
Naval Chronicle, Volume 32 (1814), contains a biography of
Flinders, with portrait.
PATERSON, G., History of New South Wales, Newcastle-on-Tyne,
1811. Contains account of the early discoveries of Bass and
Flinders.
PERON and FREYCINET, Voyage de decouvertes aux Terres
Australes, Paris, 1807 to 1817. Second edition, with additions by
Freycinet, 1824. Very important, but the historical statements
have to be checked by reference to Baudin’s manuscript diary and
letters (see reference to manuscripts above).
SCORESBY, W., Journal of a Voyage to Australia for Magnetic
Research, 2 volumes, London, 1859. The introduction by A. Smith
deals with Flinders’ discoveries regarding variations of the
compass.
SCOTT, ERNEST, Terre Napoleon, London, 1910. Deals generally
with French explorations in Australia and particularly with the
work of Baudin and Flinders. See also the bibliography to that
book.
SCOTT, ERNEST, English and French Navigators on the Victorian
Coast, with maps, etc., in the Victorian Historical Magazine,
1912.
SCOTT, ERNEST, “Baudin’s Voyage of Exploration to Australia,”
in English Historical Review, April, 1913.
SMITH, E., Life of Sir Joseph Banks, London, 1911.
South Australian Geographical Society’s Proceedings, 1912.
Prints from Baudin’s letter to Minister of Marine his account of
the meeting with Flinders in Encounter Bay, and Decaen’s
statement of his reasons for detaining Flinders.
PICARD, ERNEST (editor), Memoires et Journaux du General
Decaen, 2 volumes, Paris, 1911.
PITOT, ALBERT, Esquisses historiques de l’Ile de France, 1715
to 1810, Port Louis, Mauritius, 1899.
PRENTOUT, HENRI, L’Ile de France sous Decaen, Paris. 1901.
Very important.
Victorian Geographical Journal, Volume 28 (1910 and 1911)
prints a biographical sketch of Flinders from a manuscript found
in a copy of A Voyage to Terra Australis in Donington vicarage in
1903. It is printed with an Introduction (by G. Gordon McCrae)
wherein it is stated to be “hitherto unpublished.” But it is
simply the Naval Chronicle sketch, with a few paragraphs added,
and it is from the same pen as the manuscript sketch mentioned
above.
WALCKENAER, C.A., biography of Flinders in the Biographie
Universelle, Volume 14; excellent.
WALKER, J. BACKHOUSE, Early Tasmania, Hobart, 1902. Gives an
admirable account of Flinders’ explorations in Tasmania.
INDEX.
Aboriginals, references to.
Admiralty’s treatment of Flinders.
Aken, John. Sails in Cumberland. At Ile-de-France. Departure
of.
Albatross Island.
Allen, John, miner, joins Investigator.
Althorp Isles.
Amiens, treaty of.
Arnhem Bay.
Arthur’s Seat, Port Phillip.
Australasia, name of.
Australia, discovery of. Name of. Geography of, before
Flinders. Theories concerning. French expedition to. South Coast
discovery. Influence of Flinders on discovery. Circumnavigation
of.
“Australians,” Flinders’ use of word.
Babel Isles.
Backstairs Passage.
Banks, Cape.
Banks’ Group.
Banks, Sir Joseph, promotes breadfruit expedition. His
friendship for Flinders. His interest in Australian development.
Dedication of Flinders’ Observations to. His letters concerning
Mrs. Flinders’ proposed voyage on Investigator. Disapproves of
Flinders’ conduct towards Decaen. His dislike to word
Australia.
Barmouth Creek.
Barois, Colonel.
Barometer, marine, Flinders’ paper on use of.
Barrow, Sir John, his article on Flinders’ case.
Bass, Elizabeth, her marriage to George Bass. Letters from her
husband.
Bass, George, family of. Medical training of. Sails in
Reliance. Character of. Friendship with Flinders. Discovery of
Bass Strait. Exploration of Blue Mountains. Discovery of coal.
Plans discovery voyage. Whaleboat crew. Discovery of Twofold Bay.
Discovery of Wilson’s Promontory. Adventure with escaped
convicts. Discovery of Western Port. French admiration for.
Report on Derwent. Fate of. Indifference to fame. Marriage of.
Purchase of Venus. Voyage to Tahiti. New Zealand fishing project.
South American projects. Reports concerning his end. Letters to
his mother. Flinders’ last letter to. See also Flinders.
Bass Strait, discovery of. Governor Hunter on. Naming of.
Importance of discovery. Flinders’ chart of.
Baudin des Ardennes, Lieutenant Charles, wounded, and visited
by Flinders.
Baudin, Captain Nicolas, his expedition to Australia.
Instructions to. His career. Reaches Ile-de-France. Sails for
Southern Tasmania. At Waterhouse Island. In Encounter Bay. At
Kangaroo Island. At Port Jackson. Rumours of intended French
settlement. Letter to Governor King. Report on Port Jackson. His
account of the Encounter Bay meeting.
Bauer, Cape.
Bauer, Ferdinand, botanical draftsman, joins Investigator.
Baye du Cap.
Beautemps-Beaupre.
Bell, Point.
Bellerophon, H.M.S. Flinders appointed to. Battle off
Brest.
Bennelong Point.
Bergeret, Captain.
Blaxland, Gregory, his exploration of Blue Mountains.
Bligh, Captain William, voyage under Captain Cook. Command of
the Bounty. Mutiny of the Bounty. Character of. Second breadfruit
expedition. Expedition reaches Tahiti, Voyage from Pacific to
West Indies. Introduces Flinders to Duke of Clarence. Asks for
dedication of Flinders’ book.
Blue Mountains, exploration of.
Blue Mud Bay.
Bolger, Commandant.
Bongaree, aboriginal, accompanies Flinders on Queensland
voyage. On Investigator.
Boston, Point.
Botany Bay.
Bougainville.
Boullanger, hydrographer on Le Geographe.
Bounty, H.M.S., voyage to Tahiti. Mutiny of.
Bowling Green, Cape.
Breadfruit.
Bridgewater. Behaviour at Wreck Reef. Wreck of.
Bridgewater, Cape.
Brisbane River.
Brouwer, Henrick, his new route to Java.
Brown, Point.
Brown, Robert, botanist. Joins Investigator. His
Prodromus.
Burney, Captain, and name Australia.
Cape of Good Hope, Flinders at. Importance of to Australia.
Voyage of Reliance to from Sydney.
Carpentaria, Gulf of.
Catastrophe, Cape.
Cato. Wreck of.
Cattle Point.
Chappell, Ann, see Flinders, Mrs. Ann.
Chappell Isles.
Chappell, Mount.
Clarence River.
Clarke’s Island.
Coal, discovery of in New South Wales.
Coalcliff.
Coffin’s Bay.
Compass, variations of, Flinders’ experiments.
Convicts. Escaped. Isaac Nichols. Irish, Peron on. On
Investigator.
Cook, Captain James, his voyage. His belief in a strait
between New Holland and Van Diemen’s land. Pension to his
widow.
Coral reefs, Flinders on.
Crossley, J.
Cumberland, schooner, voyage to Ile-de-France. At Kupang.
Arrival at Ile-de-France. Enters Port Louis. End of.
Dalrymple, Alexander, naval hydrographer. His use of word
Australia.
Dalrymple, Port.
Dampier, William.
Dance, Commodore Nathaniel.
D’Arifat, Madame.
Darwin, on coral reefs.
Decaen, General Charles. Career of. Napoleon’s opinion of.
Sent to India. Arrival at Pondicherry. Sails for Ile-de-France.
Arrival at Port Louis. Character of. Examination of Flinders.
Interrogates Flinders. Invites Flinders to dinner. Flinders’
refusal. Accuses Flinders of impertinence. His intentions. Report
to French Government. Motives for detaining Flinders. Anger
against Flinders. Despatch arrives in France. Flinders’ opinion
of. Receives order for Flinders’ release. Refuses to liberate
Flinders. His reasons. Release of Flinders.
Decres, French Minister of Marine.
Dentrecasteaux.
Derwent, estuary of the.
Dirk Hartog Island.
Donington, birthplace of Flinders. Flinders’ monument at. Free
school. The Flinders’ house.
Donington, Cape.
Dunienville, Major.
Dutch navigators, discoveries in Australia.
East India Company, its interest in Australia. Interest in
Investigator voyage.
Elder, John, Flinders’ servant. Sails in Cumberland. At
Ile-de-France.
Encounter Bay. Flinders and Baudin in.
Everard, Cape.
Fitzroy, Sir Charles.
Fleurieu, Comte de, prepares instructions for French discovery
voyages.
Flinders, John, naval career.
Flinders, Matthew, surgeon, father of the navigator. Marriage
into Franklin family. Death of.
Flinders, Matthew, genealogy. School days. Study of Robinson
Crusoe. Anecdotes of childhood. Desire to go to sea. Advice of
Uncle. Study of navigation. Introduction to Admiral Pasley.
Anecdote of visit to Pasley. On the Scipio. On the Bellerophon.
On the Dictator. Midshipman on Providence. Description of
Teneriffe. Description of Dutch at the Cape. In Torres Strait.
Return to Europe. Aide-de-camp on Bellerophon. First experience
of war. Anecdote of battle. His journal of the engagement.
Estimate of French seamen. Appointed to Reliance. Careful record
of observations. Arrival at Port Jackson. Friendship with Bass.
Exploration of George’s River. Voyages in Tom Thumb. Adventure
with aboriginals. Voyage on Francis. Discovery of Kent Group.
Biological notes. On the sooty petrel. Description of wombat.
Voyage to Norfolk Island. Exploration projects. Voyage of
Norfolk. Character as an author. Discovery of Bass Strait.
Circumnavigation of Tasmania. Description of Tasmanian mountains.
Banks’ friendship for. On Queensland coast. Adventures with
Queensland aboriginals. Return to England. Marriage of. His
Observations. Naming of Mount Chappell. Letters to his wife.
Suggests new discovery voyage. Instructions for voyage. Passport
from French Government. Correspondence concerning Mrs. Flinders’
proposed voyage in Investigator. Reports sandbank at the Roar.
Management of crew. On Australian coast. Method of research.
Coastal names given by. On the character of John Thistle.
Exploration of Spencer’s Gulf. Discovery of Kangaroo Island.
Discovery of St. Vincent’s Gulf. In Encounter Bay. In Port
Phillip. At King Island. Description of Port Phillip entrance.
Influence on Australian discovery. Departure from Port Phillip.
Arrival at Port Jackson. On Francois Peron. Circumnavigation of
Australia. On coral reefs. Forced to return to Port Jackson.
Death of father. Last letter to Bass. Sails in Porpoise.
Observations on Sydney. Wrecked on Porpoise. Sails for Port
Jackson in Hope. Arrives at Port Jackson. Arrival at Wreck Reef.
Arrival at Kupang. Decides to sail for Ile-de-France. Sights
Ile-de-France. Appears before Decaen. Seizure of his papers.
Detained. Interrogated by Decaen. Invited to dinner by Decaen.
His refusal. Accused of impertinence. Carries despatches for
Governor King. Letters to Decaen. Obtains books and papers.
Prolongation of captivity. Occupations in Garden Prison. Opinion
of Decaen. Solicits examination by French officers. Refuses to
surrender his sword. Removal to Wilhelm’s Plains. Life at
Wilhelm’s Plains. Works on his Voyage. Paper on marine barometer.
Treatment by Admiralty. Release ordered. Decaen refuses release.
Knowledge of weakness of Ile-de-France. Allegations as to taking
soundings. Possibilities of escape. Released. Arrival in England.
Receipt for books, papers, etc. Interest in French prisoners of
war. Honoured in London. Evidence before House of Commons
Committee. Works at his Voyage and charts. Illness of. Death of.
Place of burial. Characteristics. Visit to wounded French
officer. Advice to young officers. As a navigator. Naming of
Australia.
Flinders, Mrs. Ann, marriage to Matthew Flinders. Flinders’
letters to. Proposed voyage in Investigator. On Admiralty’s
treatment of Flinders. Meets Flinders on his return. Pension
voted by Australian colonies.
Flinders, S.W., joins Investigator. On Wreck Reef.
Flinders’ bar, invention of.
Flinders’ Entrance.
Flinders family. Connection with Tennysons.
Flinders’ Island.
Foigny, Gabriel de, his La Terre Australe connue.
Forfait, French Marine Minister, instructions to Baudin.
Fowler, Robert, joins Investigator. On Rolla.
Fowler’s Bay.
Francis, schooner, voyage of. Sails with Cumberland.
Franklin, Sir John, connection with Flinders’ family. On the
Polyphemus. Influenced by Flinders. Joins Investigator. At wreck
of Porpoise. On Rolla. On Flinders’ return to England.
Franklin’s Isles.
French Island.
French Revolution.
Freycinet, Lieutenant Louis de, at Sydney. On military
situation at Port Jackson. His hydrographical work. Charge of
plagiarism against. Publication of his charts.
Furneaux, commander of Adventure.
Furneaux Land.
Gambier Isles.
Gambier, Mount.
Garden Prison, see Maison Despeaux.
Geographe, Le.
George’s River, exploration of.
Glasshouse Bay.
Glasshouse Mountains.
Good, Peter, gardener, joins Investigator.
Grant, Captain, in command of Lady Nelson. Governor King on.
Sails for Australia.
Harrington, brig, and the American contraband trade.
Hartog, Dirk, his metal plate.
Hawkesbury River, the.
Heemskirk, Mount.
Hervey Bay.
Hicks, Point.
Hindmarsh, Sir John, his naval career.
Hohenlinden, battle of.
Hope, cutter.
Howe, Lord, battle off Brest.
Hunter, Captain John, appointed Governor of New South Wales.
Interest in Australian colonisation. Discourteous treatment of by
Portuguese Viceroy. Encourages Bass and Flinders. On Bass
Strait.
Ile-de-France. Flinders at. Interior of. Military situation
of. Regulations concerning visiting ships. Blockade of. Captured
by British.
Investigator. Reasons for expedition. Formerly the Xenophon.
Refitting of. Leakiness. Selection of crew. Sailing delayed.
Sailing of. On South Coast. In Encounter Bay. In Port Phillip.
Arrival at Port Jackson. Circumnavigation of Australia. Decrepit
condition of. Taken to England. End of.
Investigator Strait.
Jervis Bay.
Julia Percy Island.
Jussieu, French botanist, recommends Baudin to command
discovery voyage.
Kangaroo Island, discovery of. Wild life on. Baudin at.
Kent, Lieutenant William.
Kent’s Group.
Keppel Bay.
King, Governor, P.G. and Bass’s South American project. His
hospitality to French expedition. Receives news of Porpoise
wreck. Entrusts despatches to Flinders. Protest against Flinders’
imprisonment.
King George’s Sound.
King Island. Discovery of. French at.
Kupang.
Lacepede.
Lacy, midshipman.
Lady Nelson.
Laperouse.
Launceston.
Lawson, Lieutenant. his share in crossing Blue Mountains.
Leeuwin, Cape.
Linois, Rear-Admiral.
Little Bay.
Liverpool, Lord.
Lofty, Mount.
Louis XVI, his interest in discovery voyages.
Louth Bay.
Louth Isle.
Lucky Bay.
Macquarie, Fort.
Macquarie, Governor, his use of word Australia.
Maison Despeaux (Garden Prison).
Malaspina, Admiral.
Malte-Brun. Championship of Flinders.
Maria Island.
Marsden, Reverend Samuel.
Martin’s Isles.
Mauritius, see Ile-de-France.
Melville Bay.
Memory Cove.
Monistrol, Colonel.
Moreau, General.
Moreton Bay.
Mornington.
Mornington Island.
Murray, Lieutenant John, discovers Port Phillip. Accompanies
Flinders.
Mutton birds.
Napoleon, authorises French discovery voyage. His opinion of
General Decaen. Sends Decaen to India. Hears of the Flinders
case. Orders release of Flinders. His comment on oaths of
allegiance.
Naturaliste, Le.
Navy, the British, promotion in. Entrance to.
Nelson.
Nelson, Cape.
Nepean, Evan, Secretary of the Admiralty.
Nepean Peninsula.
Nichols, Isaac, case of.
Norfolk, sloop. Flinders’ description of. Importance of
voyage. Voyage to Queensland coast.
Northumberland, Cape.
Nuyts, Pieter.
Observations on the Coast of Van Diemen’s Land, publication
of.
Otto, L.G.
Otway, Cape.
Palmer, Captain of Bridgewater.
Pandora’s Entrance.
Papuans, fight with in Torres Strait.
Park, Mungo, and the Investigator.
Parramatta.
Partney Isle.
Pasley, Admiral Sir Thomas, Flinders’ introduction to. His
interest in Flinders’ career. Command of Bellerophon. Wounded in
battle off Brest. Character of.
Pasley, Cape, naming of.
Paterson, Lieutenant-Colonel.
Peel, Sir Robert.
Pellew, Rear-Admiral, his interest in Flinders’ case.
Pellew Group.
Pelsart, Francis, on the Australian Coast.
Percy Isles.
Peron, Francois, at Sydney. His report on British settlement.
Plays the spy on British designs. Flinders on. Scientific work
of. Effect of his report on Decaen. Malte-Brun on. Death of.
Petrie, Professor W.M. Flinders, grandson of Matthew
Flinders.
Phillip Island.
Pinkerton, Modern Geography.
Pitot, Thomas.
Pitt, Mount.
Plagiarism, allegation against the French. Freycinet on.
Pondicherry.
Porpoise, Flinders sails in. Wreck of.
Port Bowen.
Port Curtis.
Port Hacking.
Port Jackson, see Sydney.
Port Lincoln. Discovery and survey of.
Port Louis.
Port Phillip. Flinders in. Discovery of. Attempted settlement
of.
Portland Bay.
Portlock, Lieutenant N., Commander of Assistant.
Portsea.
Preservation Island.
Providence, H.M.S.
Providential Cove, see Wattamolla.
Quarterly Review, article on Flinders’ case.
Queensland coasts. Flinders’ voyages on.
Quiros, voyage of.
Red Point.
Reliance, H.M.S.
Revesby Isle.
Robbins, Acting-Lieutenant.
Robinson Crusoe, influence of on Flinders.
Rowley, Commodore.
St. Alouarn.
St. Vincent’s Gulf. Discovery of.
Schanck, Cape.
Schanck, Captain John, designs Lady Nelson.
Seal-fisheries.
Shaw and Smith, their use of the word Australia.
Shinglar, Reverend John, schoolmaster of Flinders.
Ships not elsewhere indexed: Adventure. Advice, brig.
Agincourt. Albion. Alert. Aquilon. Assistant. Audacious. Barwell.
Batavia. Bedford. Belier, brig. Belle Poule, La. Berceau, Le.
Blenheim. Blonde, La. Brunswick. Buffalo. Caesar. Cape Chatham.
Captivity. See also Bellerophon. Casuarina. Cerberus. Circe,
frigate. Cygnet. Defence. Dictator. Duyfhen [Duyfken], yacht.
Eendragt. Eliza, sloop. Elligood. Endeavour. Eole. Esperance.
Ganges. Glatton. Glory. Greyhound, frigate. Harbinger, brig.
Harriet, cartel. Heemskirk. Heir Apparent. Hercules. Hunter.
Java. Latona. Leviathan. Lowestoft, frigate. Marengo, French
frigate. Marlborough. Matilda, whaler. Minerva, frigate.
Nautilus. Niger. Olympia. Orient, L’. Orion. Otter. Pandora.
Phaeton. Phoenix. Piemontaise, La, privateer. Polyphemus. Pompey.
Queen. Queen Charlotte. Recherche. Resolution. Resource.
Revolutionnaire. Rolla. Royal Sovereign. Russell. Scipio.
Seahorse. Semillante, La. Serpente, Le. See Le Geographe. Sirius.
Southampton. Supply, tender. Temiraire. Terpsichore. Terrible.
Theseus. Thetis. Thunderer. Trajan. Tremendous. Vengeur. Vesuve,
Le. See Le Naturaliste. Vianen. Warren Hastings. Warrior.
Xenophon. See Investigator. Zealand. Zeehan.
Shoalhaven.
Sibsey Isle.
Sleaford Bay.
Smith, Samuel, journal of.
Spanish-American colonies. Contraband trade with. Alleged
British designs on.
Spencer, Earl, First Lord of the Admiralty, supports Flinders’
exploration project. Grants passport to French discovery voyage.
Visited by Flinders.
Spencer’s Gulf. Exploration of.
Spilsby Isle.
Stamford Hill.
Station Peak.
Stickney Isle.
Streaky Bay.
Surfleet Point.
Swan Harbour.
Swans, black.
Sydney, growth of. Arrival of Investigator at, Baudin’s
expedition at. Peron’s report on. Military forces at. Flinders’
observations on.
Sydney Cove, wreck of.
Tahiti. Bass’s voyages to.
Tamar, discovery of.
Tasman, voyage of.
Tasmania, circumnavigation of.
Taylor’s Isle.
Teneriffe, Flinders’ description of.
Tennysons, connection with Flinders’ family.
Termination Island.
Terra Australis.
Thistle, John, drowning of. Character.
Thistle Island.
Tides, theory of, Flinders’ writings on.
Tom Thumb, measurements of. Second boat of same name.
Torres, voyage of.
Torres Strait.
Trafalgar, battle of.
Transportation system, Peron on.
Twofold Bay, discovery of. Adventure with aboriginal in.
Vancouver, voyage of. His discoveries on Australian coast.
Van Diemen, Cape.
Venus, brig, Bass’s purchase of. Voyages to Tahiti. Voyages to
South America. Seizure of.
Venus Bay.
Vlaming, his metal plate.
Waterhouse, Captain Henry.
Waterhouse, Elizabeth, see Bass, Elizabeth.
Waterhouse Island.
Wattamolla (Watta-Mowlee).
Wellesley, the Marquess, Governor-General of India. His
interest in Flinders’ case.
Wellesley Isles.
Wentworth, W.C., his share in crossing Blue Mountains.
Westall, Point.
Westall, William, artist, joins Investigator.
Westernport, discovery of. Le Naturaliste in.
Whaleboat, Bass’, measurements of.
Wilhelm’s Plains, Flinders’ residence at.
William IV inspects Flinders’ charts. On proposed pension to
Mrs. Flinders.
Williams, mate of Bridgewater.
Williamson, acting commissary.
Wilson’s Promontory.
Winceby Isle.
Wombat, Flinders’ description of.
Wool-growing.
Wreck Reef.
Yorke’s Peninsula.
You-yang Range.
Zeehan, Mount.