THE GEORGE SEYMOUR
Published in The Lyttelton Times, 11 Jan 1851


The Sir George Seymour, weighed anchor at Plymouth, about 11 o’clock, A.M. , on
Sunday, Sept. 8 1850. She was the last, by several hours, to leave the shores of
Old England. Her companions were all out of sight, and two out of the three were
not seen again, till she met them in this harbour. Like the rest, she made an 
excellent run out of channel, and by the 13th was abreast of Cape Finisterre. On 
Sunday, the 15th, the passengers assembled, for the first time, for Divine 
worship, which was celebrated on the poop. All hands aft to rig the church, was 
a new sound to landsmen, but what church could be grander than that which had 
the sky for its roof, the ocean for its floor, and god himself for its architect.
Great was the thankfulness of most, who, after a week of sickness and discomfort,
were thus assembled together for the first time, to adore and praise him, who 
sitteth above the water floods. From that day forward, the morning and evening 
services of the church were celebrated, with occasional exceptions, throughout 
the voyage, and the Holy Communion was thrice administered, first, on Sunday 
Sept. 22nd, again, on Sunday, Oct. 20th, and lastly on Advent Sunday.

The weather, during the first part of the voyage, was very delightful. On 
Wednesday, the 18th, we had a beautiful view of Porto Santo, one of the Madeira 
group, Madeira itself being afterwards seen more dimly in the distance. On the 
same morning we were startled by an alarm of fire in the afterhold, which, 
though it was speedily extinguished, was sufficient to cause a thrill of horror 
in the minds of most, succeeded by a feeling of thankfulness for being delivered









from so great a peril. It was broad daylight, land was in sight, though at a 
distance, but, even if the lives of all had been spared, which could hardly have
been expected, to have lost all, and landed on a foreign soil, had been a sad 
disaster. On the Friday following, we had a clear view, though at a very great 
distance, ( as much as 90 miles,) of the far famed peaks of Teneriffe Palma, 
with its bold and rugged outline, and its many smoke wreaths, the signs of its 
industry and commence, divided with the lofty and majestic Peak, which stands as
it were the mother of the group amongst her graceful offsprings, the interest of
that lovely morning. Ferro, the southernmost of the Canaries, was in sight the 
following day. On the 26th we passed St. Antonio, the westernmost of the Cape 
Verds, and from that time, we saw no land for eleven weeks, that which we next 
saw being a part of the beautiful coast of this our southern Britain. On the 4th
of October, and incident occurred, which we must not pass over. A sail came in 
sight, which proved to be the Randolph. Nothing could have happened more 
fortunately, since it gave an opportunity to our friend Mr. Davy, to pass the 
rest of the voyage in his own ship. He had narrowly escaped missing his passage 
altogether, having arrived at Plymouth too late to embark on board the Randolph, 
and was with difficulty permitted to take his passage with us. An opportunity was
now afforded, most unexpectedly, of putting him in possession of his own cabin, 
in his own ship. There was not one, it may safely be said, who was not sorry to 
lose him from amongst us, still we could not but congratulate him on the now 
probable recovery of his cabin and his outfit. The expectation was realized, a 
boat was lowered from the Randolph and the chief officer, and two clergymen, and
some other passengers, came on board to visit us, and after a short stay, 
returned in company with our friend, who has thus succeeded in accomplishing a 
feat, more often talked of than performed, namely, that of sailing in two ships,
an honour supposed to reserved only for the most distinguished personages. We 
sailed in company with our friends of the Randolph, for the two following days, 
and did not finally part with them till the Thursday following, Oct. 10.









On Saturday, Oct. 12, at about 10 p.m., we crossed the line, within five weeks of
the day on which we left England. On the day following, the bodies of two infants,
who had died the night before were committed to the deep, and here we must not 
omit to express our thankfulness that no death of any adult, and so little of 
anything like serious illness of accident occurred throughout the voyage.

From the line to the Cape, we make a splendid run. On the 23rd, in about the 
latitude of Rio Janeiro, we reached the westernmost point of our course, about 33
west longitude, and then first began to turn our faces in the direction of our new
home. On Nov. 1st, we crossed the meridian of Greenwich, by the 5th we were 
abreast of the Cape. Though we experienced some rough weather about this time, and
occasionally afterwards, yet all, we believe, whose first voyage this was, are 
agreeably disappointed in having escaped, in this respect, so much better than 
they had anticipated, and it must be a cold heart indeed, which would not feel 
thankful for the speedy and favourable voyage, which was granted to us. But little
remains to be told. We passed about halfway between St. Paul’s and Desolation 
Island, on the 20th of November, making gradually southward, till on the 7th of 
December, we were nearly in the parallel 49°.

On Wednesday, the 11th, about 4 o’clock in the morning, we sighted Stewart’s 
Island, earlier, it appears than either the Charlotte Jane or the Randolph though
on the same day with them, and 94 days from the time of leaving Plymouth. We are
surely not presumptuous in viewing it as a signal proof of the divine blessing 
upon our undertaking, that three ships, starting at the same time, but not 
intentionally keeping together, and running indeed in very different tracks, and 
passing over so immense a space of ocean, and not coming in sight of one another 
(with the exception of the time above entioned, when a special object was answered
by the meeting) for the space of three months, should, at the end of that time, 
come in sight of the promised land on the same day. So nearly did three out of the









four vessels which composed the ever to be remembered first Canterbury fleet 
arrive together, that the one of the three which came into the harbour last was 
the first to see the land, and that also was the one which had started last. Few 
will ever forget the joyous excitement and flow of spirits which prevailed on that
beautiful day when we first beheld the noble harbours and magnificent mountain 
peaks of the Southern Island of New Zealand, and on the following day, when we ran
in so close, and almost longed to land on the lovely sea beach backed by the low 
cliffs, and again on the Sunday following when the snowy peaks of our own mountain
range first became visible, and afterwards shone so grandly in the glorious sunset
of that evening. Monday and Tuesday were brilliant days, and it is impossible to 
describe the pleasure we derived as we passed along the eastern and northern coast
of Banks’s Peninsula, descrying continually fresh beauties, recognizing spots 
known before by name, and comparing the veritable land itself with the maps with 
which we had been so long familiar. And when at length Godley Head came into 
sight, and the harbour of Port Victoria opened before us, and when at length we 
entered, and sailed as it were into the bosom of its encircling hills, who was 
there that did not feel at the time that he could have gone through the fatigues 
of the whole voyage if it were only to enjoy the keen and pure gratification, and 
the life long memories of those few last days. The Sir George Seymour came to 
anchor about 10 o’clock on Tuesday, Dec. 17, 1850, being 100 days almost to the 
very hour from the time she left Plymouth.

Converted to electronic form by Corey Woodw@rd


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