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and a breadth of 40 miles. The blue sky smiled above us, and the blue water beneath us
responded with its shimmering reflections. The atmosphere which we breathed was as pure as
the purest Italian, and ail felt that elasticity of spirits which springs from clear fine air passing
through the lungs. On our left rose boldly against the sky the picturesque summit of Station
Peak; in front of us the Mount Macedon range of blue mountains mellowed into the bluer sky;
whilst on our right the distant Alps, stretching away into GippsSand, completed a scene of
beauty which ! had then never seen surpassed, nor have ! yet, writing this as I do after a lapse
of many years, and after much travel.'
Now was the time of affirming friendships, of remembering the good, more than the bad of the
voyage; of wondering what lay ahead, what would happen tomorrow, next week, next month.
Some could hardly wait to leave their floating home. Not so with others. Wrote one lady diarist;
'Although glad to see dry land, I shall bid adieu to my snug little berth with regret - as long as I
am in the ship i feel in Old England. How then can 1 say farewell without a tear when the last
link be broken which binds me to the land I love?'
Slowly the Sea Queen laboured across the bay. Slowly the shore before Melbourne, other
ships, some houses, shacks and jetties, came into view. The main township was a few miles
inland. There was the thrill of arrival, of solemn achievement: great distances had been crossed
and much endured.
What would the future hold?
Boxes and cases would have been brought up from below, so that the passengers could put on
clean clothes that had not been spoiled by sea-water. The ship herself would have been scoured
and cleaned, with new sets of sails secured on the masts and the anchor tested and made ready
to drop.
When at last it was loosed and, plunging down, tied the ship to the floor of Hobson's Bay, the
hearts of emigrants ieapt, or sank, and their eyes turned again to the shore with more anxious or
eager surmise..
Mereweather wrote; Towards the gloaming of the evening we anchored in Hobson's Bay, at the
entrance of the Yarra Yarra (flowing, flowing or ever flowing) River. Stayed on board all that
night'
It depended on the weather, and the time of year, as to the passengers' immediate impressions,
while they tried to avoid obstructing the crew's activities.
'Scenery: mud and swamp, swamp and mud,' wrote Mrs Clacy. William Rayment: 'Clouds of
dust rising from Melbourne so thick as to impede the view of the background.' Both wrote in
1852, Rayment in summer.
Baron Menyansky wrote in 1848: The flat shore - the town marked out, and not yet built - the
temporary huts - the naked landscape without vegetation... I could never get rid of the idea I
conceived at first that the work of creation had stopped short in Australia, for everything seems
but half emerged from chaos, and life to be scarcely developed.'
But six years later John Fenwick would enthuse: 'No account of this bay that I have seen is
exaggerated - it is magnificent, both as to its scenery and capability - a fine fleet of large ships -
the elite of all nations were lying in it. The sides were beautifuily wooded and studded with
ornamental residences - in front lay Sandridge, the beach like a busy town - over its tops you
could see the steeples of Melbourne and rising again behind it the Dandenong Hills, upwards of
20 miles off. To the left lay Williamstown - the mouth of the Yarra, with a fine stone lighthouse.
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