J827.J [ 251 ] 



TERRA INCOGNITA. 

 No. I. 



THE nineteenth year is now rolling away since the bright July morning 

 when I looked on the " Land's-End," fading from the view, as we dashed 

 along before a fresh north-eastern breeze one of a hundred ships con- 

 voyed by the Polyphemus, and destined for various ports. 



By a series of events my father had been ruined : several attempts to 

 re-establish himself proved abortive, and he eventually came to seek his 

 fortune in London. The first thing that presented itself he accepted an 

 employment of small consequence, and of smaller emolument, in the dis- 

 tant colony of New South Wales. Nineteen years ago, the name of Botany 

 Bay was enough to frighten an honest man; but with the " mens conscia 

 recti" my father embarked with my mother and their three infant sons. 

 Sixty female convicts occupied the ship between decks ; and an officer of 

 the New South Wales corps, with his family, held one part, and we the 

 other,, of the great cabin. Spithead was the rendezvous for ships that were 

 to sail with the West India convoy ; and there we waited with our consort, 

 till a signal from the Polyphemus loosened the canvas of more than a 

 hundred sail. 



We had flitted by the picturesque and beautiful coast of my own native 

 county ; and it was the next day after that on which we sailed, I think, 

 that we saw the Land's-End; and thoughtfully I gazed, a.s it lessened in 

 the distance. Many a time, during the day, I mounted on a gtm, and 

 strained my eyes for the- long grey streak in the horizon, which many 

 saw then that will never see it again. Land's-End has lived in my mind's 

 eye, though I have never seen it since ; and the emotion connected with 

 seeing it for the last time, must have been strong in a child of seven years* 

 old, to remember it as I do now. They talked of it, I suppose ; and 

 some more sentimental sailor may have warbled, as he stood at the wheel, 

 and gazed around him (the M - had no poop), " Adieu ! my native 

 land, adieu !" 



The following day we had quite lost sight of land, and the whole fleet 

 was standing steadily on, on a wind, led by the convoy when, about 

 mid-day, she suddenly made signal for the headmost ships to lay-to ; and, 



the rear'' 



going about, cracked on all the sail she could carry towards 

 where a French privateer was just about to make free with some of her 

 charge. W"e had been sailing abreast of the commodore ; and I remember 

 watching the whole proceeding with great interest, as we lay-to with the 

 rest, till she should return. The Frenchman shewed the white feather, and 

 ran with alacrity. Defence being the object of our protector, of course the 

 pursuit was not kept up ; but all the fleet again got under weigh, and the 

 Polyphemus returning steadily, in a few hours was in her place a-head 

 like a hen followed by a brood of chickens. 



A fleet of merchantmen, convoyed by a man of war, necessarily sails no 

 faster than the slowest ship in it can go ; so that frequently, as it was with 

 us, the commodore and other fast sailers will be under topsails, while the 

 lumberers are carrying every stitch. 



The Bay of Biscay brought on that pleasant sensation, which fresh- 

 water sailors generally feel at the first breeze after the commencement of a 

 voyage. Arriving at Madeira, we stood off and on, in the Funchal Roads., 

 ior the greater part of a day, sending on shore for refreshments ; and then 



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