Now, had Sequeira been driven by the storm towards Endeavour Strait, as presumed by M. Barbié du Bocage, a glance at the map will show us that his course would have been south-east instead of east, and that not through an open sea in which no island could be seen, but one bestudded with islands. In fact, so definite is the whole account as given in detail by Barros, that, as we have shown, his course under the driving of the tempest may be palpably traced in accordance therewith on modern maps as due east to the north of the Moluccas, and through an open sea, and is clearly at variance with the inference of M. Barbié du Bocage, who seems not to have consulted Barros at all upon the subject. To what island, the reader will ask, was Sequeira driven? Let the modern map be consulted, and the course described will bring us to the island Tobi, otherwise known as Lord North’s Island. A course so clearly defined is in itself a very strong point in the question, even though we may have to show some discrepancies between the description of the island on which Sequeira was thrown and that which we have in recent times received of Lord North’s Island. Let the reader, however, in connexion with Barros’ description of the course, take the following remarkable statement, as quoted in the 6th volume of the Ethnography and Philology of the United States Exploring Expedition, by H. Hale, in which, under the article “Tobi, or Lord North’s Island,” at p. 78, the following account is given, and he will perhaps not dissent from the editor in thinking it possible that this was the island on which Sequeira was driven.
“Tobi, or Lord North’s Island, is situated in about lat. 3° 2´ N., and long. 131° 4´ E. It is a small low islet, about three miles in circumference, with a population of between three and four hundred souls. Our information concerning it is derived from an American, by name Horace Holden, who, with eleven companions, after suffering shipwreck, reached the island in a boat, and was taken captive by the natives. He was detained by them two years, from December 6th, 1832, to November 27th, 1834, when he made his escape and returned to America, where he published in a small volume [which is in the British Museum], an interesting narrative of his adventures and sufferings, with a description of the island and its inhabitants.
“The complexion of the natives, says Holden in his narrative, is a light copper colour, much lighter than that of the Malays or Pelew Islanders, which last, however, they resemble in the breadth of their faces, high cheek bones, and broad flattened noses. Here we observe what has been before remarked of the Polynesian tribes, that the lightest complexion is found among those who are nearest the equator.
“According to the native traditions a personage, by name Pita-Ka’t (or Peeter Kart),[6] of copper colour like themselves, ‘Came, many years ago, from the Island of Ternate, one of the Moluccas, and gave them their religion and such simple arts as they possessed. It is probably to him that we are to attribute some peculiarities in their mode of worship, such as their temple, with rude images to represent their divinity. The natives wear the Polynesian girdle of barb cloth.
“The houses of the natives are built with small trees and rods, and thatched with leaves. They have two stories, a ground floor and a loft, which is entered by a hole or scuttle through the horizontal partition or upper floor.
“For ornament they sometimes wear in their ears, which are always bored, a folded leaf, and around their necks a necklace made of the shell of the cocoa-nut and a small white sea shell.”
With reference to the cruelties detailed in Holden’s narrative, Mr. Hale goes on to say:
“It should be mentioned that the release of the four Americans who survived (two of whom got free a short time after their capture), was voluntary on the part of the natives, a fact which shows that the feelings of humanity were not altogether extinct in their hearts. Indeed, although the sufferings of the captives were very great, it did not appear that they were worse, relatively to the condition in which the natives themselves lived, than they would have been on any other island of the Pacific. Men who were actually dying of starvation, like the people of Tobi, could not be expected to exercise that kindness towards others which nature refused to them.”
We have quoted this somewhat long passage respecting Lord North’s Island, as having an incidental interest in connexion with M. Barbié du Bocage’s argument; but whatever may really have been the island on which Sequeira was driven, it seems clear that it could not have been in the direction of Endeavour Strait as inferred by that geographer.
Having thus shown the surmises which have been suggested by geographers of good repute with respect to the main question of the discovery of Australia in the early part of the sixteenth century, and explained, as he hopes satisfactorily, the errors into which they have fallen in their attempts at explanation, the editor will now lay before the reader his own reasons for concluding that Australia is the country which these maps describe.
The first question that will naturally arise is—how far does the country thus represented, correspond in latitude, longitude, and outline with the recognized surveys of Australia as delineated in modern maps? And if the discrepancies exposed by the comparison do not forbid the supposition that Australia is the country represented on the early maps, the inquiry will then suggest itself—how, with any satisfactory show of reason, may these discrepancies be accounted for? To both these questions, the editor believes that he can give acceptable answers.
And first as respects latitude. In all of these maps, the latitude of the north of Java, which is the first certain starting point, is correct. The south coast of Java, or “the lytil Java,” though separated from “Java la Grande,” or the “Londe of Java,” by a narrow channel, as shown in the maps here given, has no names which indicate any pretension to a survey. There is enough proximity between the two to suggest alike the possibility of a connection or of a separation of the two countries. In the absence of so many words, the maps show as plainly as possible that it was as yet an unsettled question. With this fact, therefore, before us, implying, as it does, both conscientiousness in the statements on the maps, and the confession of an imperfect survey of the whole of the coasts supposed to be laid down, we have no difficulty in giving credence to the pretension that the great southern land there represented was, with all its errors, a reality and not a fiction. In all fairness, therefore, we pass the question of junction between the little and the great Java, as a point virtually declared to be unsettled, and supposing the latter to be Australia, test our supposition by inquiring as to the correctness of the latitude in which the coast line terminates on the western side. Here again we find exact correctness. In the one (Rotz’s map), the line ceases altogether at 35°, the real south-western point of Australia, and in the other at the same point all description ceases, and a meaningless line