chap, x THROUGH ALBANY PASS 131 
There was not a ripple on the water as we went 
through Albany Pass. We had just sat down to 
dinner, but I slipped away on deck to see what I 
could see. We could, however, only just distinguish 
the high ant-hills in the entrance, looking in the dusk 
like monuments, with Mr. Jardine’s house perched up on 
the cliff, and the flag that ran up as we went by. It 
was close to this place that the ill-fated Quetta struck 
on a hidden rock and went down. All those who were 
saved were rescued by Mr. Jardine’s boats excepting 
three. The men in these boats never rested day or 
night in their labours, and I afterwards heard here at 
Thursday Island how unceasingly they had worked. 
We are to anchor not far from here, for it is a 
dangerous coast to travel by night, and our captain, 
who had commanded the Quetta at the time she 
was wrecked, and who was one of the few saved, was 
naturally cautious. The Jumna has now anchored 
eight miles off Thursday Island, and the boats are 
coming alongside ; the purser is asking for letters, and 
the steward, in anticipation of his “ tip,” has twice 
officiously pressed his services upon me ; my port- 
manteaus must be strapped, good-byes must again be 
said, and my letter must abruptly come to an end. 
Thursday Island. 
How glad I am that I did not allow myself to be 
guided by the impressions of others ! “ Do not go to 
Thursday Island, there is nothing to be seen or done 
there,” I was told, but feminine perversity, as you would 
call it, just made me long all the more to go and see 
for myself. I would not choose it, perhaps, for a home 
for the rest of my life, but for the time being, to a 
stranger it offers many attractions. Why do we never 
hear of the beauty of its surroundings ? 
