Having considered all things, I decided to attempt to reach Port Darwin by boat, in the hope of finding Europeans living there.At first, I thought of going overland, but in discussing my plans with "Captain Davis," he told me that I would have to cross swamps, fords, creeks, and rivers, some of which were alive with alligators.He advised me to go by water, and also told me to be careful not to be drawn into a certain large bay I should come across, because of the alligators that swarmed on its shores.The bay that he warned me against was, I think, Van Dieman's Gulf.He told me to keep straight across the bay, and then pass between Melville Island and the main.He fitted me out with a good stock of provisions, including a quantity of beche-de-mer, cabbage-palm, fruit, &c.I arranged my buffalo skin over my provisions as a protection, turtle-back fashion.Our preparations completed, Yamba and I and the dog pushed out into the unknown sea in our frail canoe, which was only about fifteen feet long and fourteen inches wide.Of course, we kept close in-shore all the time, and made pretty good progress until we passed Apsley Strait, avoiding the huge Van Dieman's Gulf, with its alligator-infested rivers and creeks.We must have been close to Port Darwin when, with little or no warning, a terrific storm arose, and quickly carried us out to sea in a south-westerly direction.In a moment our frail little craft was partially swamped, and Yamba and I were compelled to jump overboard and hang on to the gunwale on either side to prevent it from being overwhelmed altogether.This was about a fortnight after I left Captain Davis.We knew that if we were swamped, all our belongings, including my poor Bruno, my live geese, water, and other provisions, would be lost in the raging sea.The night that followed was perhaps one of the most appalling experiences that ever befell me; but I had by this time become so inured to terrible trials that I merely took it as a matter of course.
Imagine for yourself the scene.The giant waves are rolling mountains high; the darkness of night is gathering round us fast, and I and my heroic wife are immersed in the tremendous sea, hanging on for dear life to a little dug-out canoe only fourteen inches wide.Although we were soon thoroughly exhausted with our immersion in the water, we dared not climb aboard.Will it be believed that ALL NIGHT LONG we were compelled to remain in the sea, clinging to the canoe, half drowned, and tossed about like the insignificant atoms we were in the midst of the stupendous waves, which were literally ablaze with phosphorescent light? Often as those terrible hours crawled by, I would have let go my hold and given up altogether were it not for Yamba's cheery and encouraging voice, which I heard above the terrific roar of the storm, pointing out to me how much we had been through already, and how many fearful dangers we had safely encountered together.It seemed to me like the end of everything.I thought of a certain poem relating to a man in a desperate situation, written, I believe, by an American, whose name I could not remember.It described the heart-breaking efforts made by a slave to obtain his freedom.How bloodhounds were put upon his track; how he is at last cornered in a swamp, and as he looks helplessly up at the stars he asks himself, "Is it life, or is it death?" As I hung on to the little dug-out, chilled to the very marrow, and more than half drowned by the enormous seas, I recalled the whole poem and applied the slave's remarks to myself."Can it be possible," I said, "after all the struggles I have made against varying fortune, that I am to meet death now?" I was in absolute despair.Towards the early hours of the morning Yamba advised me to get into the canoe for a spell, but she herself remained hanging on to the gunwale, trying to keep the head of the little canoe before the immense waves that were still running.I was very cold and stiff, and found it difficult to climb aboard.As the morning advanced, the sea began to abate somewhat, and presently Yamba joined me in the canoe.We were, however, unable to shape our course for any set quarter, since by this time we were out of sight of land altogether, and had not even the slightest idea as to our position.
All that day we drifted aimlessly about, and then, towards evening, a perfect calm settled on the sea.When we were somewhat rested we paddled on in a direction where we concluded land must lie (we steered south-east for the main); and in the course of a few hours we had the satisfaction of seeing a little rocky island, which we promptly made for and landed upon.Here we obtained food in plenty in the form of birds; but drinking-water was not to be found anywhere, so we had to fall back on the small stock we always carried in skins.Judging from the appearance of the rocks, and the smell that pervaded the place, I imagined that this must be a guano island.I now knew that we were near Port Darwin, BUT AS AFACT WE HAD PASSED IT IN THE GREAT STORM, WHILE WE WERE FIGHTINGFOR OUR LIVES.We slept on the island that night, and felt very much better next morning when we started out on our voyage once more, visiting every bay and inlet.Hope, too, began to reassert itself, and I thought that after all we might be able to reach Port Darwin in spite of the distance we must have been driven out of our course.Several islands studded the sea through which we were now steadily threading our way, and that evening we landed on one of these and camped for the night.Next day we were off again, and as the weather continued beautifully fine we made splendid progress.
