The writer has navigated in both of these places, and can testify to the compass being sometimes unreliable to a certain extent; so much so that in the Gulf of St. Lawrence a steamer of which the writer was chief officer was sailing on what was considered a perfectly safe course, but ran ashore in the darkness, and became a total wreck.
But other views are now beginning to be adopted. It is scarcely possible to navigate a vessel with safety, so close to the shore as to influence her compass to any appreciable amount; but it is possible that a vessel may sail over magnetic rocks, well below the surface, but quite near enough to render her compass unsteady and erratic.
On the 24th November, their compass was again steady, as before. They were steering a course to gain the 40th parallel, when in the afternoon they saw land about 40 miles off. They had discovered Tasmania.
After a run of 47 days, mostly in stormy weather, Tasman’s longitude was only 90 miles too far west; that is, by his reckoning the longitude when land was seen was 142° 24' East. He was 40 miles off the land, which made his real longitude 144° 25' East. It is, of course, impossible to know whether this result was due to professional skill or merely an accidental coincidence.
Fearing that the coast of this new land might have hidden dangers, they stood out to sea until morning. Next day it was calm, and the succeeding day they were blown off the land by a northerly gale; and it was not until four days after, on 1st of December, that they anchored their storm-tossed ships in what is known as Blackman Bay; whereupon Tasman piously exclaims: “We ought to lift up thankful hearts to Almighty God."
Next day the boats were sent on shore, and they returned at night with an unsatisfactory report. Water, of which they were in great need, was scarce. The country was thinly wooded, and smoke was seen in various directions. No inhabitants were seen.
The day following the Dutch flag was hoisted on shore, and the country named Van Diemen's Land, in honour of the Governor of Java.
The first landing of Columbus on the shores of the New World was dramatic and imposing. He fell on his knees and kissed the earth, while his followers, lately mutinous and dejected, now gave themselves up to the most unbounded transports of joy. Our prosaic Dutchmen were of a different calibre. The Teutonic mind of Tasman was of sterner material. It may be interesting to hear him tell, in his methodical way, how he took possession of this land:—
Afternoon.—We went with the said boats, together with the pilot, Major Francois Jacobz—the skipper, Gerrit Janz—Isack
