Christmas on the Briny.
THE
INNOCENTS
ABROAD.
. . OR . .
A Holiday Trip to the Abrolhos
Islands.
By W. B. CHRISTIE.
1909.
Constantine and Gardner,
Printers.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE.
The editor of the “Geraldton Guardian”has to acknowledge with thanksthe author’s courtesy in supplyinghim with the following interesting accountof a trip to the AbrolhosIslands for publication in that paper.It has been suggested that their re-publicationin booklet form might domuch to advertise these islands as aholiday resort, and Mr. Christie courteouslygave his permission, hence thisunpretentious booklet.
“What shall we do with ourselvesduring the holidays?” was a questionput by one to another amongst a dozenor so of the new and old residentsof Geraldton a few weeks ago.
“What about the Abrolhos?” someonesuggested. The idea caught on,and Mr. George Baston volunteered theuse of has fishing boat the “While-away”to take a party of us for acruise round the islands. The offerwas accepted. The provisioning arrangementswere left in the hands ofMr. Baston.
We were all to be aboard by midnighton Thursday, 24th December,but an hour before that time most ofthe party had staggered down singlyor in groups of two or three to theEsplanade jetty, where the “While-away”was moored. Some were accompaniedby friends to see the partysafely off.
[Pg 6]At twelve o’clock the cry of “AMerry Christmas” was reciprocatedfrom shore to deck, and ere we hadtime to “blow the froth off,” the orderwas given to cast off the shorelines, and a few minutes later we weregliding slowly and silently through themaze of boats, which lay at theirmoorings, out into the expanse of stillwaters of Champion Bay, on whoseface the gentle land breeze left scarcea ripple; out on to the mighty deep,on whose bosom some two or three ofour party were to distinguish themselvesas only landsmen can when they“go down to the sea in ships.”
We ought to have been in bed, butwere so interested in the navigation ofthe Bay that our rugs were unrolledon the deck, and from the recumbentlounge of the hard boards we watchedthe leading lights of the Bluff as theycame into line, and, the helm being putdown, we stood out through the channelin the Five Fathom bank, underthe fitful and intermittent glare of therevolving light of Point Moore, whichshot its rays far across the boundingbillows of the ocean. But they didn’tbound much; they simply rose and fellin long heavy undulations, and as ourgood boat climbed to the top of one,[Pg 7]and gently slithered down, half sideways,into the trough beyond, someof our party crept softly to the side,and taking an apparent interest in thesparkling ripples as they danced past,remarked, “Ough-h-h,” while anotherretorted “Ach-h-h”—remarks whichwere quite irrelevant to the general topicof conversation—about the memorablerevolt of the shipwrecked crew ofthe Batavia on Pelsart Island, underthe bloodthi