Sail for India—Dangers of Torres Straits—Copang—Arrival at Calcutta—My son appointed to the 50th Regiment

THE period of my leave of absence was now drawing to a close. We received accounts from India of the campaign on the Sutlej and of the additional glory acquired by my gallant regiment in the battles of Moodkee, Ferozeshah, Aliwal, and Sobraon, and of all my dear friends who suffered or fell in those engagements. This made me more than ever anxious to be back with my regiment. In July of this year (1848) Captain Waddy and I made up our minds to take advantage of the first opportunity to secure our passages to India; soon afterwards we heard that the ship Mary Ann would sail for Calcutta in a few days with horses, and Captain Waddy engaged to make the necessary inquiries to secure our passages. In the meantime, after consulting with my wife and my son Acland (now in his sixteenth year), I determined to apply by memorial to the Commander-in-Chief at the Horse Guards for an ensigncy for my son. Captain Waddy secured our passages, and got himself appointed to take charge of the horses, with, of course, a number of grooms under him; by this he got free passages for himself and wife, and I believe the same allowance in money which any other person so employed would have received.

I took leave of my dear wife and children on the 6th August. I slept that night at the house of my cousin, Colonel James Gordon, who was then commanding the Royal Engineers in Sydney, and embarked next day on the Mary Ann. We sailed for our destination, steering for the inward passage through Torres Straits. The weather was moderate and clear for the first ten days, and by this time we had passed Cape York and got well into the straits. The mainland at a distance and numerous small and large islands and rocks were constantly in sight, many of them very near. The wind was now fair, the captain and two men were constantly stationed on the fore top-sail yard, the former calling out to the men at the wheel “Port, starboard” or “Breakers ahead” or “Rocks on the lee bow” or “Port, starboard, steady!” and these were the constant warnings, almost every minute, daily. The lead was also kept going and the soundings reported, and at times a perfect silence ordered.

For days the navigation was most intricate. On one occasion we saw the masts of a schooner over a point of land; we steered round for her, and came to anchor near her. The captain asked me if I would accompany him in his boat to board her; I did so, and was a little surprised, after exchanging salutations, to find myself addressed by name by the captain, who said, “I hope Master Acland is quite well now.” He told me he was from Sydney, and that my two dear boys were lodging with him when they were taken ill. This of course made me glad to meet him, to renew my thanks for his kindness to them. He was employed in the straits with his schooner, fishing for bÊche-de-mer (or sea slugs) for the Chinese market. We left that anchorage the next morning, and after some hours’ pleasant sailing got so near the mainland that we could see numbers of natives, who made signs to us, and we returned their salutation.

After this the weather got thick, with constant light rain for two or three days, and our progress became more perilous, and at times alarmingly dangerous. We could not see a hundred yards before us, and the captain had to depend entirely on his charts. On one of these trying days we reached a small island some hours before dark, and our captain prepared to bring up and anchor under the lee of it, but on getting there he could not find soundings. We then tried to get round as far as the wind would permit, but still found no bottom. He was obliged to give up all hope of coming to anchor, and could only carry on his course in the direction of the next island on his chart. He was visibly anxious, and so were we all, heavy rain still continuing and the night being unusually dark. It was indeed a black and dreadful night, and one of the most alarming I ever passed. We all kept on deck, no one went to bed, and I must confess I was afraid of going below, for I thought that if the worst happened we had a better chance of saving ourselves in the boats from the deck than if we remained below. At about two next morning the captain thought he had run a sufficient distance to be pretty near the island for which he was steering, and he therefore brought the ship to the wind, intending to lie off till daylight. This was still an anxious time, for we had yet to wait some hours. At last the day dawned, and he found himself within a few miles of the island, at the very spot he believed himself to be in, and with the appearance of better weather, the rain and fog having cleared away.

We were indeed thankful, and soon forgot our troubles, for in two hours more we were seated at a good breakfast, as merry as ever, and our ship again on her course, running away from our island, with the sun shining once more brightly on us. In another week we arrived off Booby Island, the northern extremity of Torres Straits, thankful indeed for having got safely through that perilous voyage. The captain and Captain Waddy went on shore to the little island, taking with them, according to custom, a cask of water, a cask of salt beef, and a bag of biscuits; these were deposited in a cave in the rock called the “Post Office.” It had been customary for years, for most vessels passing through the straits in safety, to leave some provisions at Booby Island, as a certain store and supply for shipwrecked sufferers, and, with humane feeling, this depot is always respected by visitors. It is named the “Post Office,” as there is a large seaman’s box there for letters, and also a book to insert the names of any vessels passing through, and the particulars of any losses or disasters occurring in the straits. Other ships passing take up these letters for delivery, according to their destination. Our people left letters at Booby Island, but one from me to my dear wife never reached her. She was more fortunate eighteen months later in receiving a letter left by our son Acland on his way to India.

I hope I shall never again go through Torres Straits, for it is not only a dangerous passage, but one which keeps one in constant alarm for three weeks or more. Some of the rocks seen in the direct course are not larger than a man’s head over the water, others increasing to various sizes, and from the glare and rays of the sun, which are right ahead, they are not seen till one is within a few yards of them.

I have myself heard of several ships being wrecked going through the straits, and of one case where the whole of the passengers and crew fell into the hands of the natives, and were barbarously murdered and eaten, with the exception of one little boy, the son of a Captain and Mrs. D’Oyley—both of whom the unhappy child saw sacrificed with the others. He was rescued many months afterwards by Captain Lewis, of the colonial schooner Isabella, sent in search of the survivors by the Governor of New South Wales when news arrived in Sydney that the ship had never reached India, her destination. After many weeks’ search amongst the islands, Captain Lewis got positive information from other natives that the ship was wrecked, and all on board, with the exception of one child, were murdered. He then made presents to these people, and got some of them to accompany him to the island where the massacre took place; there, through the efforts of his new friends and allies, he was kindly received, and after many more presents the boy was delivered up to him. He was also allowed to collect and carry away all the bones he could find of the unfortunate victims. These he brought to Sydney, where they were all buried together and a handsome monument placed over them. Captain Lewis was allowed to take the survivor, little D’Oyley, home to England, to his nearest known relative; this he did at considerable inconvenience and expense. He soon discovered the grandfather, and delivered the boy to him, but instead of being handsomely rewarded for his services, he received nothing beyond expressions of many thanks, and as Captain Lewis was a poor man, depending entirely on his profession, all who knew him and this sad story were indignant, the more so as the boy’s grandfather was known to be a man of considerable property.

Our detention at Booby Island was not long. We soon entered the Indian Ocean, and were steering for Copang, the capital of the Dutch island of Timor, and in three days we were safely anchored there. Our object was to fill watercasks for our horses, the consumption of water being great. Copang is an extensive, straggling, clean town, with a small fort and garrison of Dutch troops and a governor. For watering ships it is most convenient, the anchorage being within a few hundred yards of the shore, and the pure fresh water is carried in pipes to within a few yards of the beach and boats. We visited the governor and officers in the fort, who received us most kindly, and gave us coffee and cigars. We also spent many hours daily in a large shop or store, where all kinds of supplies could be purchased, and where the fat jolly Dutchman who kept it constantly treated us to coffee.

In a few days our tanks were full and all ready for sea, so we steered for the Bay of Bengal. The weather continued fine, and nothing remarkable occurred till our arrival off the Sand Heads. Then we received a pilot for Calcutta from one of the beautiful pilot-brigs which are constantly cruising off and on there. All was now excitement, getting scraps of news and preparing for the end of our long journey. We arrived about the middle of October, after a voyage of three months. I had the satisfaction of receiving a packet of letters from my friend John Allan, inviting me to come at once to his house, and with the gratifying news that my boy Acland was appointed to an ensigncy in my own regiment, also that the 50th was then on its march from the upper Provinces, and actually under orders for England. All these unexpected changes were in consequence of the end of our war with the Sikhs. I landed the same evening, and was hospitably received by Mr. and Mrs. Allan.