Page:Historical records of Port Phillip.djvu/118

This page needs to be proofread.
EARLY RECORDS OF PORT PHILLIP.

106 EARLY EECOEDS OF PORT PHILLIP. Remarks on board the Ocean, transport, Port Phillip HarlDOur, January 1804. Friday^ 27. Wind N. East. a.m. — The wind moderate. At past 1 p.m. a fresh breeze. At 2 weighd anchor and went to the Harbours mouth. At 3 ancliord — all on board. Saturday, 28. At 8 the wind at S.East, unable to sail. All remain oii board the Ocean. We observd a very large fire near the camp. Sunday, 29. a.m. — At 10 Capt. Merthew, Mr. Humphrys, and self, went on shore for a walk. Eeturnd at 4 j).m. to dinner. We heard from the camp that many of the natives were about it, and that one was in the camp. Monday, 30. a.m. — At past 4 weighd anchor, and made all sail out of the harbour of Port Phillip.^ At 3 p.m. I dind with the Governor. At 6, the wind being still against us, we were in sight of land about Port Phillip. At 7 the Lady Nehon, brig, in company. Tuesday, 31. a.m. — The wind contry. ; made very little progress during the night. At 9 the Lad.y Nelson, brig, in company. At 7^ the wind still unfavourable, S.E. b. E. Made little progress ; but the wind a very fresh breeze. Distance from Port Phillip to the River Derwent per sea 420 miles. Ship Ocean, transport, from Port Phillip towards the River Derwent, Capt. Merthew. Owners, Mr. Hurriss, of Newcastle. Jan. 30, 1804. February. Monday, 30. _ Wind S. b. W., S.S.E. a.m.— At 3 hove short. At 4 weighd, mth variable light airs. ^ past 5 came round when on the bar with the heavy swell and the ripplings, occasioned by the ebe tide running so fast out of the harbour. Tkd. ship to the westward. 8, Cape Shank bore S. 68° E. Harb. mouth N. 52. E. Noon, Cape ' " Nothing could offei* a more imposing picture of reposing solitude than the wilds of Port Phillip on our first arrival. Here Contemplation, with lier musing sister Melan- choly, might find an undisturbed retreat. Often at the calm hour of evening I have ■wandered through the woods — " ' Where the rude axe with heaved stroke, Was never heard the nymphs to daimt, Or fright them from their halloAved haunts.' " The last hymn of the feathered choristers to tlie setting sun, and the soft murmurs of the breeze, faintly broke the death-like silence that reigned around ; while the lightly trodden path of the solitary savage, or the dead ashes of his fire, alone pointed out the existence of human beings. In the course of a very few weeks the scene was greatly altered ; lanes were cut in the woods for the passage of the timber carriages ; the huts of the woodmen were erected beneath the sheltering branches of the lofty trees ; the " busy hum" of their voices, and the sound of their axes, reverberating through the woods, denoted the exertions of social industry, and the labours of civilization. At other times, sitting on the carriage of a gun, in front of the Camp, I have contemplated with suc- ceeding emotions of pity, laughter, and astonishment, the scene before me. When I viewed so many of my fellow men sunk, some of them from a rank in life equal or superior to my own, and by their crimes degraded to a level with the basest of man- kind ; when I saw tliem naked, wading to their shoulders in water to unlade the boats, while a burning sun struck its meridian rays upon their uncovered heads, or yoked to and sweating under a timber carriage, the wheels of which were sunk up to the axle in sand, I only considered their hapless lot, and the remembrance of their vices was for a moment absorbed in the greatness of their punishment." — [^Tuckaj, ii. 185.] ^ Correctly copied.