was to sail in her to England with his
charts and papers as rapidly as possible.

The Cumberland was a wretchedly small vessel in which to traverse fifteen
thousand miles of ocean. She was "something less than a Gravesend passage
boat" and hardly better suited for the effort than a canal barge. But,
given anything made of wood that would float and steer, inconvenience and
difficulty never baffled Matthew Flinders when there was service to
perform. She was the first vessel that had been built in Australia.
Moore, the Government boat-builder, had put her together for colonial
service, and she was reputed to be strong, tight, and well behaved in a
sea; but of course she was never designed for long ocean voyages.
However, she was the only boat available; and though Flinders regretted
that the meagre accommodation she afforded would prevent him from working
at his charts while making the passage, he was too eager to accomplish
his purpose to hesitate about accepting the means. "Fortuna audaces
juvat" might at any time have been his motto; fortune helpeth them that
dare. An unavoidable delay of thirteen days caused some anxiety. "Every
day seemed a week," until he could get on his way towards the reef. But,
at length, on September 21st, the Cumberland in company with the Rolla
and Francis sailed out of Port Jackson. The crew consisted of a boatswain
and ten men.

On Friday, October 7th, exactly six weeks after the Hope had left Wreck
Reef, the ensign on the flagstaff was sighted from the mast-head of the
Rolla. At about the same time a seaman who was out with Lieutenant
Fowler, in a new boat that had been constructed from the wreckage, saw a
white object in the distance against the blue of the sky. At first he
took it for a sea-bird; but, looking at it more steadfastly, he suddenly
jumped up, exclaiming, "damn my blood, what's that?" It was, in truth,
the top-gallant sail of the Rolla. Everybody looked at it; a sail indeed
it was; Flinders had not failed them, and rescue was imminent. A shout of
delight went up, and the boat scurried back to the reef to announce the
news.

At about two o'clock in the afternoon, Flinders anchored under the lee of
the bank. The shell of the Porpoise still lay on her beam side high up on
the reef, but, her carronades having been landed, the happy people
welcomed their deliverers with a salute of eleven guns. "Every heart was
overjoyed at this unexpected delivery," as seaman Smith's narrative