March 5. The wind prevented our continuing our course for New Zealand. We gave the ship all the sail she could possibly carry, and headed for Sydney. Our convict shipmates seemed very sad, and had grown thin and pale. They had the sympathy of all the crew.
March 11. At noon we passed the head of Port Jackson and took a pilot. Shortly after, dropped anchor in Farm Cove, abreast Fort McQuire, after an absence of three months. All hands well and hearty, including those frozen aloft on the 21st of January. We found the country looking quite green and beautiful, and the air deliciously sweet.
The authorities were notified of the three stowaways we had on board. When the sergeant of the 56th regiment, and others in authority, came on board and looked over the crew, the sergeant claimed the youngest one, who had been a drummer-boy in his regiment. He was court-martialed, and sentenced to receive one hundred and five lashes. It was stated that he received ninety- three; five of them applied after the breath had left his body. As the lad was a young London prig, he was nicknamed Oliver Twist. He was slenderly built, very intelligent looking, seemingly of good morals, and was becoming a favorite with all on board. He used to tell me about the old Jew Fagins in London, and about his mother and sister, and what he was going to do when he got back home. We all regretted his sad fate. May he rest in peace.
The Peacock arrived here on the 22d of February in a sinking condition, her cut-water, as well as her rudder and part of her bulwarks, having been carried away.
