Also an extract from my GG Grandfather's diary or day book where he took notes about the days events for every day of his voyage from Scotland to Australia in 1852. Walter Wilson 1823-1903.
July 8, 1852Still in Plymouth Sound. We are making final arrangements for the voyage. Weather quite warm and sultry as we anticipate meeting with in Australia. Sick at heart wishing to depart, and feel it tiresome in being detained so long. The passengers in good working order for voyage, as regards to berths, Messes, etc. We expect to sail soon. Have addressed letters to my
father in Hawick and to my
mother in Penrith – to Mr Lewis - Bookseller, John Brydon - Merchant, and Andrew Inglis - Mason.
As the last I will write within sight of my dear Native Land – hence, I take this favourable opportunity of saying a farewell to home and friends, under circumstance so extremely peculiar that I am forced to mark this as an era in my existence rarely met or encountered in the lot of one out of a thousand of my fellow creatures. If I have acted rashly or injudiciously in any point, I pray god I may be forgiven now, and not carry with me to the land of my intended sojourn, as unrepentant and an unforgiven soul.
9 o’clock, evening. I ask God’s blessing upon our voyage – while the crew weigh anchor to set sail. May our vessel speed, and the wind waft us thither in safety.
My friend and cabin mate, Thomas Wood, from Galashiels, and self, having finished a letter to James Scott, to be sent by the owners of the vessel on going ashore – go on deck to join in the cheers given by the passengers at our departure. One cheer more, and we are off upon our deep sea track.
Little regret seems to hang about the hearts of the company, as all and sundry join with their lungs to commemorate the event a loud huzzas that threaten to rend the vessel. Scarcely a breath of air floats to fill the canvas, and the ship slowly ventures over the barrier of the bay out into the open sea – the calm and placid waters all but asleep under the gaze of a myriad brilliant stars, coquetting upon the brow of every waving ripple that wits upon the advancing steps of our noble barque.
All aboard in good health – except one lady who being announced to be unwell, the company voluntarily left the poop deck, while nearly all turned in to rest for the night, at 12 o’clock p.m.
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There are 3 months worth of entries in this diary...
Brett
