1849 VOYAGE OF THE RATTLESNAKE 47 



Thank God we are now safely anchored in our old quarters, 

 and for the next three months shall enjoy a few of those com- 

 forts that make life worth the living. . . . 



The only place we have visited since my last budget to you 

 was Port Essington, a military post which has been an object 

 of much attention for some time past in connection with the 

 steam navigation between Sydney and India. It is about the 

 most useless, miserable, ill-managed hole in Her Majesty's do- 

 minions. Placed fifteen miles inland on the swampy banks of 

 an estuary out of reach of the sea breezes, it is the most insuffer- 

 ably hot and enervating place imaginable. The temperature of 

 the water alongside the ship was from 88 to 90, i.e. about that 

 of a moderately warm bath, so that you may fancy what it is 

 on land. Added to this, the commandant is a litigious old fool, 

 always at war with his officers, and endeavouring to make the 

 place as much of a hell morally as it is physically. Little more 

 than two years ago a detachment of sixty men came out to the 

 settlement. At the parade on the Sunday I was there ; there 

 were just ten men present. The rest were invalided, dead, or 

 sick. I have no hesitation in saying that half of this was the 

 result of ill-management. The climate in itself is not par- 

 ticularly unhealthy. We were all glad to get away from the 

 place. 



Another is to his sister, tinder date Sydney, March 14, 

 1849:— 



By the way, I may as well give you a short account of our 

 cruise. We started from here last May to survey what is called 

 the inner passage to India. You must know that the east coast 

 of Australia has running parallel to it at distances of from five 

 miles to seventy or eighty an almost continuous line of coral 

 reefs, the Great Barrier as it is called. Outside this line is the 

 great Pacific, inside is a space varying in width as above, and 

 cut up by little islands and detached reefs. Now to get to India 

 from Sydney, ships must go either inside or outside the Great 

 Barrier. The inside passage has been called the Inner Route in 

 consequence of its desirability for steamers, and our business 

 has been to mark out this Inner Route safely and clearly among 

 the labyrinth-like islands and reefs within the Barrier. And a 

 parlous dull business it was for those who, like myself, had no 

 necessary and constant occupation. Fancy for five mortal 

 months shifting from patch to patch of white sand in latitude 



