We Are Now (January 21) In Great Hopes Of Sighting Land In Three Or Four
Days, And Are Really Beginning To Feel Near The End Of Our Voyage:
Not
that I can realise this to myself; it seems as though I had always been
on board the
Ship, and was always going to be, and as if all my past
life had not been mine, but had belonged to somebody else, or as though
someone had taken mine and left me his by mistake. I expect, however,
that when the land actually comes in sight we shall have little
difficulty in realising the fact that the voyage has come to a close.
The weather has been much warmer since we have been off the coast of
Australia, even though Australia is some 100 north of our present
position. I have not, however, yet seen the thermometer higher than
since we passed the Cape. Now we are due south of the south point of
Van Diemen's Land, and consequently nearer land than we have been for
some time. We are making for the Snares, two high islets about sixty
miles south of Stewart's Island, the southernmost of the New Zealand
group. We sail immediately to the north of them, and then turn up
suddenly. The route we have to take passes between the Snares and the
Traps - two rather ominous-sounding names, but I believe more terrible in
name than in any other particular.
January 22. - Yesterday at midday I was sitting writing in my cabin, when
I heard the joyful cry of "Land!" and, rushing on deck, saw the swelling
and beautiful outline of the high land in Stewart's Island. We had
passed close by the Snares in the morning, but the weather was too thick
for us to see them, though the birds flocked therefrom in myriads. We
then passed between the Traps, which the captain saw distinctly, one on
each side of him, from the main topgallant yard. Land continued in
sight till sunset, but since then it has disappeared. To-day (Sunday)
we are speeding up the coast; the anchors are ready, and to-morrow by
early daylight we trust to drop them in the harbour of Lyttelton. We
have reason, from certain newspapers, to believe that the mails leave on
the 23rd of the month, in which case I shall have no time or means to
add a single syllable.
January 26. - Alas for the vanity of human speculation! After writing
the last paragraph the wind fell light, then sprung up foul, and so we
were slowly driven to the E.N.E. On Monday night it blew hard, and we
had close-reefed topsails. Tuesday morning at five it was lovely, and
the reefs were all shaken out; a light air sprang up, and the ship, at
10 o'clock, had come up to her course, when suddenly, without the
smallest warning, a gale came down upon us from the S.W. like a wall.
The men were luckily very smart in taking in canvas, but at one time the
captain thought he should have had to cut away the mizzenmast.
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