f
barrels of gunpowder, two swivels, and several muskets and pistols, with
ball and flints. A few sheep were also rescued. When they were being
driven on to the reef under the supervision of young John Franklin, they
trampled over some of Westall's drawings. Their hoof-marks are visible on
one of the originals, preserved in the Royal Colonial Institute Library,
to this day.
As soon as the colony on the reef had been regularly established, a
council of officers considered the steps most desirable to be taken to
secure relief. It was resolved that Flinders should take the largest of
the Porpoise's two six-oar cutters, with an officer and crew, and make
his way to Port Jackson, where the aid of a ship might be obtained. The
enterprise was hazardous at that season of the year. The voyage would in
all probability have to be undertaken in the teeth of strong southerly
winds, and the safe arrival of the cutter, even under the direction of so
skilful a seaman as Flinders, was the subject of dubious speculation. But
something had to be done, and that promptly; and Flinders unhesitatingly
undertook the attempt. He gave directions for the government of the reef
during his absence, and ordered that two decked boats should be built by
the carpenters from wreckage, so that in the event of his failure the
whole company might be conveyed to Sydney.
By the 25th August the cutter had been prepared for her long voyage, and
on the following day she was launched and appropriately named the Hope.
It was a Friday morning, and some of the sailors had a superstitious
dread of sailing on a day supposed to be unlucky. But the weather was
fine and the wind light. Flinders laughed at those who talked of luck.
With Captain Park of the Cato as his assistant officer, and a double set
of rowers, fourteen persons in all, he set out at once. He carried three
weeks' provisions. "All hands gave them 3 chears, which was returned by
the boat's crew," says Seaman Smith. At the moment when the Hope rowed
away a sailor sprang to the flagstaff whence the signal of distress had
been flying since the morning when help from the Bridgewater had been
hoped for, and hauled down the blue ensign, which was at once rehoisted
with the union in the upper canton. "This symbolic expression of contempt
for the Bridgewater and of confidence in the success of our voyage, I did
not see without lively emotion," Flinders relates.
Leaving the Hope to continue her brave course,
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