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South of Cape Otway, on the ship's starboard side, lay King island. It was here, in 1835, that
the Neva, transporting female convicts and their children from Cork in Ireland to Sydney, struck
a reef - only 15 of the 241 on board survived. And it was here that the Cataraqui struck in
1845, with the loss of 399 lives.
The Sea Queen had fair weather. John Mereweather wrote: '3 July: A wonderfully bright day, of
uncommon brilliancy, but no wind. The emigrants are looking serious, and speculating as to
whether the water and provisions will hold out. For we are only victualled for 14 days, and
already, the ship not having made half her passage, we have entered upon the ninth day. We
were told that the voyage would probably last no longer than a week.
'5 July: A fair wind sprung up during the night, which took us abreast of Cape Otway, which lies
about 80 miles from the entrance of Port Phillip. In the afternoon the Captain caught a shark, six
feet long, with my hook. After he was hooked he was partially lifted out of the water; a running
noose was then run down the line, over his head and under his fins. He was then hoisted by this
on to the deck.1
Cape Otway was the turning-point: it lay to port. A lighthouse had been erected there in 1848.
At night, when passengers and crew saw its flash, they cheered. During the day when they saw
the Cape, they were silent: huge cliffs rose out of the ocean, surf breaking at their base with a
roar. On their summits and beyond, stretching inland, were forests of sombre trees. No
habitations or fields were to be seen.
But once past Cape Otway the Sea Queen was only a few days' sail from Port Phillip Bay and
her passengers' final destination, Melbourne.
'6 July: A calm day and a foul wind. The land seems to be flying from us as we advance. Our
water and provisions will be entirely out tomorrow or next day. We caught two barracootas,
long fish, lean, and hungry-looking, and full of bones. They are, however, very eatable. The sea
here is fuil of them. A captain of a trading vessel between Port Phillip and Van Diemen's Land
had so great a renown for catching these fish, and giving his passengers nothing else to eat, that
he was called "Barracoota Jack."
'Sunday, 7 July: A fair wind having sprung up during the night, we found ourselves off Port
Phillip Head at early morning. At the entrance of the magnificent sheet of water called Port
Phillip stand two points, Point Lonsdale and Point Nepean. Between these two points a strong
tide runs, with great force, through a narrow channel two miles wide. As we entered, the wind
blew from the
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south, and we had the tide against us, so that the water was turbulent and much agitated, and
numerous were the vortices through which the ship ploughed her way.'
This narrow strip of water that led to Port Phillip was called the Rip. Diarist John Fenwick
described the approach as seen from his ship.
The land tapers down to the Entrance, where it is very low... The first appearance of the shore
was not so very inviting... It was sandy, rocky and barren-looking, although there was
somewhat of green and furzy-looking hills. The lighthouse and fine white cottages of the signal-
station perched on the heights looked very pretty. After getting through the Heads, we appeared
again as it were in the open sea.1
Away to their left, beyond the Bellarine Peninsula, lay Geelong. Across the bay was Melbourne.
Wrote Mereweather: 'Pleasing was the sail up this beautiful bay, which has a length of 45 miles
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