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1891 - BROKEN PIPES
Such winds we had never seen in all our days in the brine. Even the old
salts were in awe of the storm though they tried to calm us younger men. The ocean by day was white with the spray whipping across the rolling waves, l
ike feathers of fine vapour in a vortex of confusion the scud flew across
the current of air. Williwaws spun across the surface in an overwhelming
display. Undying in our ears, the noise was a deafening furry that frightened
us with a whistle and whine through the rope, the bashing of the blocks,
the trill through the weave of the halyards, the creaking strain of planks
and timber, and the crashing boom of tumbling wave. It was a full
chorus of the ocean's every breath, and one to be wary of.
We stood in fear of our lives clutching the safety of the parts of the brig
that seemed to offer some protection and support, for one could be thrown
from one side to the next with no warning at all. We all knew our ship
and good a sea boat was hard to find, but we knew her limits too and
that she could hardly take no more in this tempestuous sea. The old
seamen said it would be a luck not to be flapdragoned by the turmoil
of water that drove as mountains around us and turned our sea boat
into little more than a cork in a torrent whirling out of control
. With a reasoning we cant tell or understand,
we did remain upright amid this boisterous
confusion of water,
and we managed some kind
of unerring heading.
But some how we kept onward with as little sail as we could on the masts,
but as much as we dared to steer her by. Great waves would come sliding
over the side from time to time, running across the deck then spilling back
through the scupper-holes into the ocean again. The deck cargo and fixtures rattled thumped and banged with each breach of the gunnel, and if not
tided down with a proper fastening, would have been ripped free in
seconds. The worst of it was the alarm of the sudden hull lurches that
awkwardly flattened her to the bulkheads at the most unexpected times.
While the near broaches left the taste of a fast beating heart high in
ones mouth. For this deluge came from all sides and above all at once.
Visibility was poor, as a grey line of mist cut the horizon but a few
miles ahead, reducing our clear vision ahead to hardly a few leagues.
If it had not been for the watch of the first mate we could easily have
been caught between the cruel rock and the hardface. For there was land
off our starboard bow. Was it heaven or hell; an island in the midst of this?
For shelter we could in the lee, but to steer untrue by more or less a few
points was the certainty of a ship wrecked on the rocks.
Nothing is more close than the fact of those vertical black rocks laughing
through the suspended mists of spray,and the course of the
ship. For wecould so easily have been castaways
amid the deathly action of the sea and the
enormity of those cliffs if we had not, by the
grace of god, not been able to steer
the course through thepass in the jaggered rocks
and tossing breaking rollers.
This inhalation and exhalation of the ocean at the land's edge in a tempest
of swell that threatened to toss us all to hell was an awesome sight. Death at
sea is a terrible thing for any man young or old. It was hesitant probing
as we eased a course through the great crashing swells that broke on the
reefs around the gut between the islands jeopardized our ship. But in
a sudden surge and tremendous explosion of spray uncontrolled we
were shot through the fine gap between the reefs and out into the open bay beyond.
Once through this group of rocky islets and we had gained their protection
from the violence of the ocean, the rollers moderated and the foamy
surface abated to a pale grey with only the tale of thick slicks of scud.
Little more than a whisper of the shout outside became the seas. To hold
our course and not sail past the shelter of the island was a demanding task
for the best of captain and crew, for to beat back up to anchor in a storm
like this could be nigh impossible.
The further we sailed into the safe harbour, the more the storm concealed its furry. We finally dropped anchored at Port Ross, though we all preferred
the old charted name of Sahara's Bosom 
. It reminded us all of the
family we had or the friendship we kept and the
warm loving bosoms we had left back in
Melbourne and now all longed for.
It is a strange thing, for once at sea you
yearn for the warm bosom of a loved one
and a strong embrace; but once close
to this loved one the yearn for the sea and smell of salt it calls you back.
We revealed in the relative safe haven of this place and the sight of land uninhabited and, murky though it was.
Without delay a party was made ready and sent ashore in the ship's dinghy
to explore and find fresh water as our supply barrels had been smashed and
salted in the storm. With the swirl of wind eddy, the odd williwaw blasting
away farther out to sea and unpredictable unseen gusts blowing down
from the hills a dinghy was hard to steer a true course to the rocks of the
bay. Then once we did, dry ground was strange to the feet, for it moved
with a regular roll and a pitch as if an ocean itself, it worried us not for
we knew the feeling well from the countless other voyages on the swells
of the sea we had all endured. The trees of this forest we found ourselves
in, were no less than a twisted mass great of branched trunks 
. Cork
screwed by some extraordinary natural force of growth we stood there
for some time, breathing the ambience of this eerie place, imagining the
countless storms that had thundered onto the island forcing these trees
to grow as they did. 
Once the barrels were landed and filled, we decided to explore the lie of
the land some what as we had finished the task in less time that we
supposed, and there was little to do till the furry outside abated. Ahead
there was the resemblance of a track, and we could
tell this was used by the wild pigs that
were free here by the marks in the
mud and their rooting up of the earth.
We started up through the muddy line,
brushing aside the scrub that
over hung the track in places.
There was some ground that lay clear of the larger trunks to our left and
by some effort we were able to cross the ridge dividing it from ourselves.
We deduced that it may have been the remains of some activity on the
island some years before 
. But now a resurgence of new plants left the
area, over grown with a thick covering two to three feet high as the
plants fought a vigourous battle to cover the ground that had once
been cleared. It may have been for some kind of farming venture as
it seems they had attempted a settlement here years before. But there
were sealers to who had cut the trees for fires of warmth in the
months of their stays and this area of clearing could well have
been from them.
We were hardly across the divide when it seemed the time for a pipe
of tobacco was about right. There were five of us, and we all smoked
pipes so it seemed that one would have a vestal and it was true
that we did. We had some good pipe tobacco too, but as we
each brought out our pipes from our kits, there wasn't a good
one among them. All broken they were. Broken on the
shanks and the only way we could have a
smoke was to suck on the broken
ends with half a bowl full. The smoke
is much hotter with less than half a stem,
but it was welcome in our lungs
in the cold grey of the wintry day.
From the hill we could see the Barque far out in the bay and a fine sight she looked at anchor in the shelter of this bosom. We could also see the waves
and spay from the ocean proper that we had been in not a few hours before whipping across the peaks of another smaller island off to the north. After
the pipe, there seemed little use for the broken stumps of clay we had
used, for the ship had more than enough to supply all of us with Ben -
Wintry cutty pipes along with good tobacco, so we tossed the useless
clay ends into a heap on the fire we had lit and covered the lot with a
few loose stones and rocks until we were certain the last flicker of life
was dead. It almost resembled a small monument by the time we had
succeeded in quelshing the flames such was our concern to leave no
chance of the fire spreading to the undergrowth of the thick bush.
There was a loud clang, clang clanging of the ship's bell as signal for us to
return, for we had become quite preoccupied with our wanderings that
we had forgot the time, and it was now nigh time to return before the
evening light failed completely and we were stuck here for the nigh
t amid the brush for the night. So off
we set back down the hill in a slippery
race of the shore and the boat.
