Art. XV.—Abel Tasman and his Journal.

Transactions and Proceedings of the Royal Society of New Zealand, Volume 28, 1895, Page 117

Art. XV.—Abel Tasman and his Journal. By Dr. T. M. Hocken, F.L.S. [Read before the Otago Institute, 10th September, 1895.] Plate I. In fulfilment of a promise made during the last session of this Institute, I have now the pleasure of laying before you a translation, made by myself and my wife, from the original Dutch of that portion of Tasman's Journal relating to the discovery of New Zealand. It is the first time that this has been fully translated.* Translated from “Journaal van de Reis naar het onbekende Zuidland, in den Jare 1642, door Abel Jansz. Tasman, met de Schepen Heemskerck en de Zeehaen. Medegedeeld en met eenige Aanteekeningen voorzien, door Jacob Swart,” &c., &c. “Met eene Kaart. Te Amsterdam, bij de Wed. G. Hulst van Keulen, 1860.” Tasman's Journal was lost for over two hundred years. When it was found Swart published it in its entirety, as above, in 1860. A copy of this I possess, and from it my translation has been made. I shall also give

an account of the Journal generally, of the circumstances under which it was written, and of Tasman himself. During the latter part of the sixteenth and the earlier part of the seventeenth century the Dutch were pre-eminently the rulers of the sea. They had superseded the Spanish and the Portuguese, who so long had been in the van of maritime discovery and adventure. Their ships were better built, found, and commanded than had ever been the case before. Their navigation, laws, and rules were for the time of quite an advanced kind; and, with that quiet perseverance and sturdy courage which, under the name of Dutch phlegm, have always been characteristic of the nation, their merchants had secured and held the trade of the world. England's day was then but in high dawn; and, though now she is, and for long has been, the mistress of the seas, at that time she held but a second if not a third place. Early in the seventeenth century Holland penetrated into the Indian Archipelago, and amidst its numberless fertile islands developed amazingly the wealth of her trade. In 1610 she founded the capital of Batavia on the Island of Java, and, though surrounded by hostile native princes or chiefs, she maintained her position and security in this centre. The affairs of this Dutch East India Company were managed by a Governor-General and Council, who, by persistent courage and enterprise, maintained in those parts of the world that renown which their countrymen had won elsewhere. At no period in its history was the company so prosperous and flourishing as between the years 1630 and 1680. That half-century closed, it became involved in the quarrels and politics of the native Javanese States, and then commenced its commercial ruin. In 1636 Antony van Diemen was appointed Governor-General, retaining office for nearly ten years; and no Governor equalled him in energy and sagacity. It was during his rule that Tasman's voyage, of which we are now to speak, was undertaken. Tasman was born in 1602 or 1603, at Hoorn, in the north of Holland, a town on the borders of the Zuyder Zee, where so many bold sailors were bred, and where, it has been stated, descendants of his family still remain. But, indeed, we know little of Tasman's personal history beyond that contained in his Journal. In this he has truly bequeathed us his monument, though underneath it lies little more than a shadow. An old engraving of him is to be seen in the Christchurch Museum; and it would seem that some personal description is given by M. Dozy in “Bijdragen de Taal Land en Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch-Indie” (“Contributions to the Language, Country, and People of Dutch India”), 5th series, vol. ii., p. 308; but of this I know nothing. He died at Batavia in 1659. By direction of Van Diemen he was despatched in 1639,

and soon after his arrival in the settlement, under the command of Captain Matthys Kwast, who was instructed to proceed through the Western Pacific to the Philippines, and there to make search for the fabled Gold and Silver Islands. These are now known as the Bonin Islands, east of Japan. This was most probably Tasman's first voyage under the auspices of the company; at its close he sailed in the Indian seas until 1642, and then commenced his great voyage of discovery. Here it will be interesting to contrast the mode of present-day sailing with that whereby those who went down to the sea in ships in Tasman's time made their truly perilous voyages. Now navigation has been reduced to a fine art, as well as to a precise science—so fine and so precise that it may be generally affirmed that disaster at sea is the result of carelessness, often of gross carelessness. Those floating palaces which now cross the waste of waters in every direction are timed to reach their destination with the punctuality and almost the speed of a railway-train. A few days, or weeks at most, of safe and pleasant travel now represent the weary months of discomfort, dangers real and imaginary, and the scourges of scurvy and dysentery which were too often the lot of those who led the way. All this was first rendered possible by the invention of those instruments, the sextant and chronometer, which now daily tell the sailor his exact position on the trackless ocean. Add to these his accurate chart and nautical tables, and what evil can befall him, unless through great neglect or rare misfortune? When undertaking early voyages of discovery it was usual that two, three, or more vessels should form the fleet. This was a precaution in all ways wise, contributing as it did to mutual courage, safety, and companionship. The commanders and officers formed a committee, or council as they termed it, and whenever any difficulty or dilemma arose the members of this council were summoned by signal aboard the principal vessel of the expedition, and there decided what course was best to follow. These occasions seem to have been frequent, as we can well fancy. The vessels, with their high poop, high forecastle, and round bows must have looked picturesque enough. They were greatly foreshortened, too, for it was considered that a vessel whose length much exceeded its breadth was absolutely unsafe and not unlikely to capsize. Four or five knots an hour was good average sailing; much more frequently the distance traversed in a day did not exceed fifty or sixty miles. The tonnage of those early vessels varied much: some measured 300 or even 400 tons; but the perils of many a long voyage were encountered in little vessels of no more than 40, 60, or 120 tons burthen. The dietary scale in Tasman's

time was something as follows: To each man—one good cheese for the whole voyage; three pounds of biscuit, a quartern of vinegar, and half a pound of butter per week; on Sunday, three-quarters of a pound of meat; on Monday and Wednesday, 60z. of salted cod; on Tuesday and Saturday, a quarter of a pound of stock-fish; on Thursday and Friday, three-quarters of a pound of bacon with grey peas; and at all times as much oatmeal as could be eaten. Those were not the days of coffee, tea, or teetotalism, but of strong rum and arrack, which were regularly distributed; and whoever was so lucky as first to descry land from the masthead had his ration doubled. The instruments and methods used for determining the position at sea—the latitude and longitude—were of the most primitive and, one might say, ineffective kind. Cartography was in its infancy, and the few charts that were placed in the sailor's hands were projected on principles so regardless of the proportions of the sphere as to be absolutely misleading and dangerous. The simple device of the log for measuring the rate of sailing through the water was introduced but twenty years prior to Tasman's time. Before that it was usual to estimate the amount by guess. The sun's altitude, and the relative position of the heavenly bodies, which are now calculated with such accuracy by means of the sextant, and which, with the chronometer, give the true position, were then ascertained by very crude instruments—the astrolabe, and, later, the cross-staff; specimens of which I exhibit. The astrolabe was made of a circular piece of metal, 7in. in diameter, divided into quadrants, one of which was divided into degrees, and suspended freely, as one might suspend a watch by its ring. A broad pointer or index, 1 ½in. wide, traversed the face of the instrument, and was divided through the exact middle of its length by a line termed “the line of confidence.” Close to each extremity of the index, and perpendicular to it, a small plate was fixed, with two small holes, one larger than the other, but both being exactly over the line of confidence. These were sights, and when the object viewed was seen in exact line through them—the sun or moon, or a star—the angle was read off. The cross-staff, which was probably used by Tasman, was a squared rod of wood, 3ft. in length, upon which were denoted angles or degrees, and having a sight at the eye-end. Upon this, by means of a slot, slid at right angles a second rod of wood, about 2ft. in length, having a sight at each terminal, and through these sights the object was viewed, the object-rod, if we may so call it, being adjusted upon the other, which was pointed plane to the horizon, and the angle read off. In this rough way was the sun's altitude taken, and probably a rough attempt was often made to take what

sailors call a lunar distance. An improvement was made on this cross-staff by adding one or two shorter transoms for reading smaller angles. On some of those odd frontispieces which embellish ancient atlases or geographies may be seen a sweet little cherub holding aloft an emblem of the cross apparently, but really this cross-staff. A hundred years after the introduction of the cross-staff came Dr. Hadley's quadrant (about 1731), which has developed into the perfect sextant of to-day. But with his tables of declinations, which were even then calculated, and this simple instrument, Tasman and his brethren succeeded in taking their latitudes with remarkable accuracy, as is evident by inspecting the coast-line of his Staten Land, which I have placed side by side with that of our New Zealand. But how he succeeded with his longitudes is quite a different matter. As we well know, longitudes can only be calculated perfectly by knowing the difference of time at two meridians, and this must be gained by the aid of accurate timekeepers. In Tasman's day, the very few clocks and watches in existence were but of little use in keeping the time. The problem of longitudes at sea was always considered of the utmost importance amongst maritime nations. Even at the beginning of this century it was thought that it would never be solved, owing to the difficulty or impossibility of ever constructing watches that would keep perfect time. As indicating this sentiment, the so-called Board of Longitude advertised, at the beginning of last century, in Queen Anne's reign, that they would give rewards of £10,000, £20,000, and £30,000 respectively to him who should discover a means of taking longitudes at sea to within sixty, forty, and thirty geographical miles. Precision within these limits was not thought of or expected. This liberal offer stimulated invention, and Dr. John Harrison, an ingenious mechanician, who for years devoted himself to making improvements in clocks and watches, succeeded in 1764 in gaining the prize of £20,000 with a watch—or chronometer, as we should now call it—which was twice carried on a voyage to the West Indies. The time kept was admirable, and insured an accuracy of longitude to within ten or twelve miles. One of Harrison's watches, which, by-the-by, cost from £80 to £100 apiece, was carried by Captain Cook on his first great voyage of discovery. Messrs. Wales and Bayly, who accompanied Cook's second expedition, state, in their astronomical observations of the voyage, published in 1777, that the longitude could then be computed to within the fifth or sixth of a degree—that is, to ten or twelve geographical miles. The earliest account I can discover of the use of timekeepers at sea is in 1663, when two watches were used together on the same vessel. The result was not satisfactory, as may be

learned from the manuscript in the Sloane collection of the British Museum. It is but within the last few years, comparatively speaking, that chronometers have been in universal use. The last antiquated marine instrument to which I shall refer as used in Tasman's time is the sand-glass. These were constructed of different sizes, so as to measure periods of four hours, one hour, and half an hour. The survival of them at sea is to be seen in the 28-second log-glass, used when the log is taken; and on the kitchen mantelpiece, for boiling eggs. Hour-glasses were used in the last century in churches, placed on the pulpit-ledge in view of the congregation, where they regulated the length of the sermon. Much improvement has been effected in this direction during the last few years, the regulation length of sermons now being about twenty minutes. The time at sea was roughly kept by the half-hour glass, which was always in sight of the steersman. When the last grains of sand had run out he reversed the glass, striking a bell at the same time as a mark of the time. This was repeated until the glass had been turned eight times, and the bell struck eight times. Thus four hours had elapsed, the watch was completed, and the new watch took charge of the ship. And so Tasman, in denoting time, speaks of so many glasses in such-and-such a watch: thus, three glasses in the morning watch would be three half-hours past 4 a.m.—that is, 5.30. These sandglasses were made with the greatest care and accuracy. The upper and lower sections were separated by a thin metallic plate, perforated with a fine pin-hole, through which the sand ran. The sand was carefully selected and dried—iron-sand, I think, being preferred, as being a rounder, more regular grain, and therefore affording the least friction. When the running of this sand through the pin-hole had been adjusted and timed the whole was hermetically closed by lashing, and was further protected by a wooden framework. Now, it is quite possible, and not unlikely, that, conjointly with dead-reckoning, Tasman took his longitude by the help of a four-hour glass of this description, set agoing at noon when about to leave port. Of course, there would be some error, due to the expansion or contraction of the glass, or to failure in turning at the exact moment when the last grains of sand had disappeared. Still, with all faults, this was the only method of securing any reasonable approach to a fixed meridional time. If Tasman did not adopt it, then his only other way of estimating his daily longitude was by means of dead-reckoning—that is, by reckoning the number of miles sailed over an east or west course in twenty-four hours. This rough method has been used by sailors for centuries, and is used at the present

time whenever a clouded sky interferes with a due observation of the sun. It is untrustworthy at the best, from causes which are very evident. A vessel may make much lee or lost way from some ocean current, which insensibly drifts her out of her course; and there are other sources of error. Hence we shall not be surprised to find that, whilst Tasman's latitudes are very correct, his longitudes are often considerably at fault, even so much as three or four degrees. As will be observed in this map of New Zealand, upon which I have projected his daily course, he is wrong on the average about 3° W.—that is, about 170 miles from the coast. This vast discrepancy will exhibit very clearly the imperfection of nautical methods two hundred and fifty years ago, and that Queen Anne's Board of Longitude might well be content with any means whereby the position at sea might be known within thirty or forty miles of the true one. Before the discovery of America — the so-called New World—the westernmost point of the then known world was the Island of Ferro, one of the Canaries, and it was therefore selected by old geographers as the prime meridian from which all other meridians were calculated. Afterwards, and somewhat before Tasman's time, the Peak of Teneriffe, also in the Canaries, was selected, probably because of its conspicuous height. It is from this meridian, then, that Tasman gives his longitudes. In the present day all nations agree as a matter of great convenience to calculate from Greenwich, with the exception of the French, who, whilst notating their parallels from Paris, nevertheless add the Greenwich equivalent. Whilst Tasman gives, in both his chart and Journal, his positions as deduced from the Peak of Teneriffe, they must really be computed from the Island of Mauritius, which, as we shall presently see, was his final point of departure after leaving Batavia. So that, to reduce his longitudes to those of Greenwich, we must subtract, say, 21° 2′ from them—made up of, say, 16 ½° for Teneriffe and 4 ½° error for Mauritius. We then have remaining what may be called “personal errors,” caused by inability to calculate his position exactly, and which, as has been seen, often amount to three or four degrees. Another explanation should here be made. The distances sailed are in Dutch miles, fifteen of which are equal to one degree. A Dutch mile is equal to about four English, so that if Tasman gives as his day's work twenty miles we should reckon that he had sailed eighty. In making this translation I have preferred to give Tasman's own unaltered details; those who desire to make the corrections can do so from the data I have given. In a paper read before this Institute last year I gave some account of Tasman's Journal, and showed that it had never

been edited and published in its entirety until so recently as the year 1860, when Heer Jacob Swart, of Amsterdam, gave it to the world in the original old Dutch, which not only differs greatly from modern Dutch but is apparently a dialect. From this edition this translation has been made, and I think it may be truly said that it is the first full translation hitherto made. It was with great pleasure I learnt a few weeks ago that the firm of Heinrich Müller, of Amsterdam, is now preparing to publish a limited number of copies of the full text in English. This will be as valuable as interesting. Then, as good things sometimes come together, I saw recently a few sheets of what apparently is to be the future New Zealand Reader for use in our primary schools. These sheets contained some parts of Tasman's Journal, evidently translated from the Swart edition. The portion relating to New Zealand ended, unfortunately, with the massacre in Murderers' Bay. I do not know who the translator is, but his work has been done in the most competent and accomplished way, and it is to be hoped that he will complete it. The translation is sometimes not quite literal, and that in parts which would not be obscured by a literal rendering. Nor do I understand the principle adopted in giving the longitudes: these are not Tasman's, even with the data for corrections above given, nor are they the true longitudes. The distances run are given in English miles. So, then, all the previous renderings of Tasman's Journal prior to that of Jacob Swart in 1860 have been incorrect in various particulars, the chief one being that of excessive abridgment. As regards the bibliography of these, I cannot do better than refer to my paper in the “Transactions of the New Zealand Institute” for 1894, pages 619, 620. In his edition Jacob Swart prefixes to the Journal a publication of all the documents relating to it. These are of considerable value and interest, and were discovered in the old foliants and letter-books of the company, presumably at the same time that the long-lost Journal was found and forwarded from Batavia to Amsterdam. They consist—first, of a letter from Governor Van Diemen and his Council to the Council of Seventeen at Amsterdam, apprising them of Tasman's departure on his important expedition; second, of a Letter of Instructions to Tasman and his chief officers; and, third, of other letters and papers giving an account of previous discoveries and directions, which it was no doubt thought important that Tasman should have with him. The Instructions are far too lengthy to lay before you here, but they testify most favourably to the wisdom and foresight of Governor Van Diemen and his Council in all matters relating to the geographical knowledge of the time, in fitting out the ships, in suggesting suitable measures in case of accident or failure, and generally in their

fullness of sagacious advice and command. Even to-day they would well serve as models to copy. The vessels of the expedition were two—the ship or yacht Heemskerck, and a smaller vessel, the flyboat Zeehaen, the former having a crew of sixty, the latter of fifty men. They were victualled for twelve months. Towards the better understanding of the Journal, I would here explain that Tasman begins and ends his day at midnight—that is, it is the same as our civil day. He reckons his course and the distance run from noon to noon, at which time he took his latitude and longitude. His watches were—the day or morning watch, from 4 to 8; the forenoon or noon watch, from 8 to 12 noon; the afternoon watch, from 12 to 4; the flatfoot, or, as we call them, the dog watches, from 4 to 6 and 6 to 8; the first watch, 8 to 12 midnight; and the second or hound watch, 12 midnight to 4 in the morning. It is curious that of all Teutonic-speaking sailors the English alone use the term “dog-watch” as signifying the hours between 4 and 8 p.m. Other Teutons use the equivalent hund-, hunde-, or honde-wacht, as signifying the second watch—that between midnight and 4 a.m.; and to express their dog-watches, between 4 and 8 p.m., they use plattfuss, plattfoden, or platvoet, meaning “flatfoot.” The neo-Latin or Italic speaking sailors had no such words as “dogwatch” or “flat-foot,” but spoke of the second watch, or of the watch from 4 to 6 or 6 to 8 in the evening. I do not know the underlying meaning of these words, but can fancy they contain the idea of the most restful part of a ship's day, when a dog would be sufficient guard, and when any work on deck would be done without running—all heel and toe, as the pedestrians have it—a flat foot. The vessels sailed from Batavia on the 14th August, 1642, with instructions to make in the first instance for the island Mauritius, where they were to take in fresh provisions and otherwise refit. At this time Mauritius belonged to the Dutch, and was a convenient recruiting-place for their vessels as they sailed to and fro between Holland and the Batavian settlement. Tasman commences thus: “Journal or description by me, Abel Jansz. Tasman, of a voyage made from the City of Batavia, in the East Indies, for making discoveries of the unknown South Land, in the year 1642, the 14th August. May God Almighty be pleased to give hereto His blessing. Amen.” Mauritius, a distance of about 3,000 miles, was reached, after a splendid run for those days, on the 5th September. This would give an average of about 120 miles a day sailed. Here a month's stay was made, during which the vessels were thoroughly refitted, and pigs, goats, wild-fowl, firewood, and fresh water were brought on

board. Thus fortified at all points, they left Mauritius on the 8th October, “for which,” says Tasman, “the Lord be praised and thanked.” The course was now south and southeast. On the 27th a considerable quantity of weed was seen, which indicated proximity to land. A council was held, and it was determined to keep a man constantly at the topmast-head on the look-out, and whoever first discovered land, rocks, or shoals should be rewarded with three reals and an extra pot of arrack or rum. Nothing further, however, was seen for nearly a month, and until the 24th November, when Tasman made his first discovery, that of Van Diemen's Land, so called by him after his patron the Batavian Governor. The distance thus run from Mauritius was nearly 6,000 miles, the average daily run being about 140 miles. He named many of the bays and headlands—names retained to this day, such as Frederick Henry and Storm Bay, Maria Island, &c. He explored here until the 4th December, and saw at a distance some of the inhabitants, smoke rising in the woods, steps cut into the trees with flint axes, whereby the natives climbed up them to search for birds' nests; specimens of gum, and so on. Before leaving Van Diemen's Land, on the 5th December, a fort was erected in Frederick Henry Bay, with a flag flying on it. The vessels were again at sea on the 5th December. A council was called, when it was agreed that the course held should still be one due east, and that it should be kept for twenty-six degrees of further longitude; if no further land was fallen in with, a northerly course should be shaped for home. Eight days later, on the 13th December, Staten Land, or New Zealand, was discovered. As the distance run from Van Diemen's Land was about 1,000 miles, it is evident that the average sailing-rate of 125 miles a day had been still maintained. It will save interruption in Tasman's narrative, and render it more intelligible, if at this point I preface a few further words of explanation. The land—“the great high land,” as Tasman calls it—he would first see between Hokitika and Okarito; and it is not too fanciful to say that that great mountain which two hundred and fifty years later was called by his name was one of the first sights he saw on the wild west coast. Somewhat further north he describes that low point known to us as Captain Cook's Cape Foul-wind, with its outlying steep rocks or cliffs, the Steeples. Westport is not far from this point. “North of this,” as Tasman says, “the land makes a great bight”: this is the Karamea Bight. Then came the “furthermost point, which stood out so boldly that we had no doubt it was the extreme point.” This is now Captain Cook's Cape Farewell, with

the long spit of sand running from it, upon which is a lighthouse. Next in order is that bay of tragic interest called by Tasman “Murderers',” but now known as Golden Bay, in which is the Township of Collingwood. The scene of tragedy lies close to Parapara, where at this moment a new and far different interest has arisen in the fact that a great and peaceful trade is expected to spring up in connection with the masses of hæmatite which lie around the shore. Thankfully escaping from this dreadful spot, Tasman tacked about in what he called “Zeehaen's Bay,” but which in truth was the north-west portion of Cook Strait. As we shall presently see, Tasman himself suspected that there was a passage through. Proceeding north, Cape Egmont was seen, and was named Cabo Pieter Boreels, after one of the Dutch East Indian Council. No reference is made to the mountain. The high mountain seen on the 27th in lat. 38°, and taken at first for an island, would probably be Mount Karioi, bounded as it is to the north by Whaingaroa Harbour, and south by Kawhia and Aotea Harbours. The Three Kings Islands were Tasman's point of departure from New Zealand. This name was given from the fact that the vessels anchored there on the 5th January, the eve of the Epiphany. You may remember the incidents connected with this religious festival which commemorated the meeting of the three Magi or Wise Men of the East with the infant Christ. Their names were Kaspar, Melchior, and Balthasar. The fable says that their bones were removed to the cathedral at Cologne, where they still rest, and where, as in Tasman's time, they are still venerated by all faithful observers of old Christian legends. I may here remark that in all probability the interesting process of name-giving did not take place until after Tasman's return to Batavia. The best description of the Three Kings known to me is that given by Mr. Cheeseman, the curator of the Auckland Museum, in the volumes for 1887 and 1890 of the New Zealand Transactions. Mr. Cheeseman made many additions to our natural-history knowledge of these islands, and he also recognised that part of the Great King upon which Tasman's crew attempted to land when searching for water and vegetables. It is much to be regretted that Swart does not reproduce Tasman's sketches. In a provoking way he says that these are to be found in “Valentijn.” Valentijn's abridged copy of the Journal was published in 1726, and to this rare work the reader is referred. It is to be hoped that this omission will be rectified in Müller's forthcoming edition. Tasman's intercourse with the natives was but of a few hours' duration; yet it was sufficiently long to enable him to give a good personal description. It is, therefore, curious to find that he makes no reference to the adornment of the tattoo.

Does this indicate its non-existence two hundred and fifty years ago? It is advisable to repeat here that Tasman's miles, which are Dutch, must be multiplied by four to reduce them to English measurement. Other explanatory comments will be found in the previous half of this paper. The Journal. December 12th [1642].—Good weather, and the wind south-south-west and south-west, with a sharp breeze. At noon found the latitude 42° 38′, and longitude 185° 17′. Course held east, and sailed thirty-eight miles. The swell of the sea continued from the south-west, so that here no great land is to be expected to the south. Var. 7° north-easterly. 13th.—Found latitude 42° 10′, longitude 188° 28′. Course held east by north, and sailed thirty-six miles. The wind south-south-west, with a topsails' breeze. Towards noon we saw a great, high, bold land, and had it south-east from us about fifteen miles; we gave our course south-east, straight for it. About noon we fired a shot and hung out the white flag, whereupon the officers of the Zeehaen came aboard us, when it was resolved, all agreeing, to make for the said land as soon as possible, as the resolutions of this date further show. In the evening we thought it advisable to order our steersmen, as long as it remained calm, to hold the south-east course, but with increase of the breeze should go due east, so as to keep from going ashore, and to prevent any accident as far as possible. In our judgment, we should not attempt to land on this side, because of the great open sea which here with great rough billows and surf comes rolling in, unless there were some sheltered bays on this side. In the first watch, four glasses having run out [10 a.m.], we stood our course due east. Var., 7° 30′ north-easterly. 14th.—At noon found our latitude 42° 10′, and longitude 189° 3′; course held east, and sailed twelve miles. We were about two miles from the land. It was a very high, double land, but from the thick clouds we could not see the tops of the mountains. We shaped our course northerly, and so close that we could see the surf breaking on shore. In the afternoon, about two miles from shore, we sounded in 55 fathoms, sticky, sandy ground. It was calm. Towards evening we saw a low point, about three miles from us northeast by north. We drifted quietly towards it. In the middle of the afternoon we sounded in 25 fathoms, sticky, sandy ground. We sailed along quietly the whole night, the current setting in from the west-north-west. We neared the land till within 28 fathoms, good anchor-ground; it still being

calm, and not to go nearer the land we anchored in the dog-watch [4 to 8 a.m.] with a stream-anchor, and waited for the land-wind. 15th.—In the morning, a light land-breeze. We weighed anchor, and did our best to get off the land a little to sea. Course north-west by north. We then had the northerly low point of the day before north-north-east and north-east by north from us. This land consists of high, double mountains, not lower than Formoza Island. At noon found latitude 41° 40′ and longitude 189° 49′. Course held north-north-east, and sailed eight miles. The point of the previous day lay south-east from us. Two and a half miles from this point stretches north a large reef. Here, above water, on this reef some high, steep cliffs, like steeples or sails. Past this point, moreover, a mile to west, there was no bottom. From here also we saw the high land stretch north-north-east from us. We set our course due north, with fine, dry weather and slack water. From this aforesaid low point, with the cliffs, to the north-east the land makes a great bight, and stretches first due east and then again due northerly. This aforenamed point lies under the southern latitude of 41° 50′. The wind west. Here it was easy to see that in this country to the water it seemed a barren land. Besides, we saw no men nor any smoke in the least, and we also saw that they could have no boats there, as we could see no signs of them. In the evening, var. 8° north-easterly. 16th.—Six glasses before the day [2.30 a.m.] we sounded at 60 fathoms, good anchor-ground. At that time the northerly point in sight lay north-east by east from us three miles, and the nearest land from us lay south-east a mile and a half. We drifted in the calm, with good weather and still water. At noon got latitude 40° 58′, and longitude 189° 54′; course held north-north-east, and sailed eleven miles. Drifted through the calm all afternoon. In the evening, at sunset, var. 9° 23′ north-easterly. Got the wind south-west, with increasing breeze. We took the bearing of the furthermost point from us we could see, which was east by north from us. It stood out so boldly that we had no doubt it was the extreme point. We called our council, with the second mates, whereupon we resolved to go north-east and east-north-east to the end of the first watch [8 to 12 p.m.], and then, weather and wind not changing, to sail near the wind, as is further to be seen by the resolution of this date. At night, at the sixth glass [11 p.m. (?)], the weather became calm, so that we remained by the east-north-east course, although in the fifth glass of the dog-watch [second watch, 2.30 a.m.] the point of the previous evening lay south-east of us. From the sharpness

of the wind we could sail no higher than east-north-east a trifle east. In the first watch [8–12 p.m.] we had one, and in the dog-watch [second watch, 12–4 a.m.] another, sounding in 60 fathoms: fine grey sand. In the second glass of the morning watch [4–8 a.m., say 5 o'clock] we got a breeze from the south-east, and we then tacked again for the shore. 17th.—In the morning at sunrise we were about a mile from the land. We saw in different places smoke rising where fire had been made by the inhabitants. The wind, south from the land, went round to the eastward. At noon we worked out the latitude 40° 32′, longitude 190° 47′. We held a course north-east by east, and sailed twelve miles. In the afternoon, wind west, course east by south along a low sand-hill shore, with fine, dry weather. Soundings, 30 fathoms, black sand; so that by night we might easily sound along the ground to this shore. So we ran towards this sand-point up to 17 fathoms, where, because of the calm, we anchored at sundown. We then had the northernmost of the dry sand point west by north from us, also high land stretching east by south, and the point of the reef south-east from us. Within this narrow point of sand we saw a large, open bay, quite four to three miles wide. East of this narrow sand-point there is a sand-bank which stretches quite a mile east-south-east, 6ft., 7ft., and 8ft. to 9ft. deep. In the evening, 9° north-easterly [variation]. 18th.—In the morning weighed anchor, with calm weather. At noon, latitude worked out 40° 49′, longitude 191° 41′. Course held east-south-east, and sailed eleven miles. In the morning, before weighing anchor, we had resolved with the officers of the Zeehaen that we should endeavour to land and find a convenient harbour, and when near shore should send the shallop in advance, as is further amplified in the resolution of this date. In the afternoon our shipmaster, Ide Tiercxsz, and pilot-major, Francoys Jacobsz, with the shallop, besides the Zeehaen's boat with the supercargo Gilsemans and one of their second mates, went on before to seek for an anchorage and watering-place. At sunset, it being calm, we anchored in 15 fathoms, good holding-ground. In the evening, about an hour after sundown, we saw several lights on the land, and four boats along the shore, of which two came towards us, and the other two—our own—returned on board. They reported that they had found not less than 13 fathoms water, and that they had been about half a mile from the shore at the setting of the sun (which sank behind the high land). About one glass after they had returned on board the people in the two prows began to call to us, and that with a coarse, rough voice, but we could not understand in the

least what they said. However, we called to them again in answer, whereupon they cried again several times, but came no nearer than a stoneshot. They also repeatedly blew on an instrument which was like a Moorish trumpet. We let one of our sailors (the one who could play on the trumpet) play some pieces in answer. Those on the Zeehaen made their second mate do the same. (He had formerly been a trumpeter on shore, and had been made at Mauritius a second mate by the Council of the Port and Shipping). After this had been repeated on both sides several times, and as the evening shade was falling more and more, those in the boats finally cleared and went away. We ordered our people (for security, and to be well on guard) to keep entire quarterly watch (as is usual at sea), and that the munitions of war, such as muskets, pikes, and cutlasses, should be got ready. We let off some pieces on the top deck and reloaded, so that all accidents might be forestalled and we might defend ourselves in case these people might attempt anything. Var., 9° north-easterly. 19th.—This morning early a boat of these people, having thirteen men, came about a cast away from our ship. They called out several times, which we could not understand, the speech having no resemblance to the vocabulary given to us by their Highnesses the Governor-General and Council of India. But this is not to be wondered at, as it was the language of the Salomon Island. These people were (so far as we could see) of ordinary height, but coarse of voice and strong, their colour between brown and yellow. They had black hair, fast bound right up on the crown of their heads, in manner and fashion of the Japanese on their heads, but with a long, thick tuft of hair in which was stuck a large, thick white feather. Their boats were two long narrow prows fastened together, over which were placed some boards or other seats, so that those above can see through the water under the canoes; their paddles were a full fathom long, and sharp at the end. With these boats they could obtain great speed. Their clothing (so it appeared) was some of mats, others of cotton, whilst most were naked to the waist. We pointed out to them many times that they should come on board, showing white linen and some knives from those given us in our cargo. But instead of coming nearer they returned at last to shore. Meanwhile the officers of the Zeehaen came on board us (by order of the previous evening), and a council was held, when it was resolved to go as near shore as we could, as there was good anchorage, and these people (as it seemed) sought our friendship. Soon after taking this resolution we saw another seven boats come from the shore, whereof one (high in front, and pointed), manned with seventeen men, pulled behind the

Zeehaen, and a second (wherein were thirteen stout men) came up not half a cast from our ship, who called to each other several times. We showed them (as before) white linen, &c., yet they remained still. The master of the Zeehaen sent his quartermaster with his boat and six sailors back to the ship, to direct the mate, in case these people should come alongside, not to allow too many on board, but to be prudent, and well on his guard. Just as the Zeehaen's boat put off, the natives in the nearest prow to us called out and signalled with their paddles to those who were behind the Zeehaen, but what their meaning was we could not understand. Just as the Zeehaen's boat pushed off again, that one lying between the two ships began to pull furiously towards it, and when about half-way from us struck the Zeehaen's boat furiously with their stems, making it lurch greatly at the same time; whereupon the foremost man in this villainous prow thrust the quartermaster, Cornelis Joppen, several times fiercely in the neck with a long, blunt pike, so that he fell overboard. Whereupon the others of them attacked the boat's crew with short, thick pieces of wood (which we at first took to be blunt parangs) [a kind of chopping-knife used by the Malays for cutting wood, &c.] and with their paddles, and overcame the boat, in which fray three of the Zeehaen's people were killed and a fourth mortally wounded through hard blows. The quartermaster and two sailors swam towards our ship, and we sent our shallop to them and picked them up alive. After this outrageous and detestable affair the murderers let the boat drift. They had one of the dead dragged into their prow, and another drowned. We, and those on the Zeehaen, seeing this, shot briskly with muskets and cannon, but, however, probably did not hit any, as both returned to shore out of shot. We fired many shots from our fore-upper-deck and bow guns near and amongst their boats, but did not strike. Our master, Ide Tercxsen Holman, rowed with our shallop, well manned and armed, to bring back the Zeehaen's boat (which, luckily, these cursed men had let drift), and presently returned on board with it, finding in it one of the dead and one mortally wounded. We weighed anchor and got under sail, as we judged we could not establish any friendship with this people, nor could get water or refreshments. Our anchors weighed, and being under sail, we saw twenty-two prows alongshore, whereof eleven, swarming with men, came off to us. We kept quiet until some of the first were within shot, when with our pieces we fired one or two shots from the gunners' room, but without effect. The Zeehaen fired too, and hit, in the largest prow, one who stood with a white flag in his hand, so that he fell down. We also heard the grape-shot

strike in and against the prow, but what further happened is unknown to us, as after getting this shot they returned speedily to land, two of them setting up sails fashioned like tinganghs [a Malay boat: our “dingy” is derived from this]. They remained quiet alongshore without visiting us again. About noon the master, Gerrit Jansz, and Sr. Gilsemans again came on board us. We sent also for their chief mate, when we called the council, and resolved as follows: That the detestable deed of these natives that morning on four of the Zeehaen's men should teach us to hold the inhabitants of this land as enemies; that we shall therefore keep easterly along the shore, following the coast-line, to see if we can find a convenient spot to obtain water and refreshments, as is further mentioned in the resolutions. At this place of murderers (to which, moreover, we have given the name of Murderers' Bay) we lay anchored in south latitude 40° 50′, longitude 191° 30′. We steered our course from here east-north-east. At noon reckoned latitude 40° 57′, longitude 191° 41′. Held a southerly course, and sailed two miles. In the afternoon the wind was from west-north-west. We then steered, on the advice of our steersmen, and our approbation, north-east by north. At night we went on, as the weather was fine; but about an hour after midnight we had soundings in 25 to 26 fathoms; hard, sandy ground. Soon after the wind was north-west. Had soundings in 15 fathoms. We immediately steered our course west, in the contrary direction from that by which we had entered, awaiting the day. Var., 9° 30′ north-easterly. This is the second land sailed about and discovered by us. We have given it the name of Statenlandt, in honour of their High Mightinesses the States-General. Thus it is possible that this land is part of the great Statelandt, but it is uncertain. This same land seems to be a very fine country, and we trust that it is part of the great coast of the unknown Zuytlandt (South Land). We have given this course the name of Abel Tasman course, because he is the first to navigate it. [In this place, in Tasman's Journal, are found the drawings of the plates which Valentijn has given us on pp. 49, &c., under No. 6F, No. 5E, No. 5Eb, and No. 7G. The plate No. 6F is not so complete as that of the manuscript journal. The reader, of course, knows that the name of Staten-land has since been changed to that of New Zealand, and it consists of two large islands, which are separated by a strait or passage now named Cook Strait. It was in the opening to the westerly entrance of this strait that Tasman lay anchored with his two ships when the New - Zealanders, without the slightest warning, fell upon his shallops, wherefore in the account he named that part Murderers' Bay. That portion

of the sea found between the islands of Van Diemen's Land and New Zealand was named by him Tasman's Track, a name which remains to this day, and serves to remind us all of that brave man who was the first to sail round New Holland, and to accomplish the voyage between New Holland and New Zealand.—Jacob Swart.] 20th.—This morning we saw land lying all around us, so that we have sailed perhaps thirty miles into a bay. We had at first thought that the land where we anchored was an island, not doubting that we should find a passage into the great South Sea. But to our great disappointment it proved otherwise. The wind being westerly, we endeavoured to get back through the same passage by which we had before sailed in. At noon found ourselves in south latitude 40° 51′, and longitude 192° 55′. We held our course east-half-north and sailed fourteen miles. In the afternoon it was calm; the sea ran strong into the bay, so that we could not advance, but drifted back with the tide. At noon we turned northwards and saw a round, high island* Stephen Island. about eight miles from us west by north, which we had sailed by the previous day. This little island lies about six miles east of the place where we were anchored. In the same latitude in this bay, into which we had sailed so far by mistake, the land seemed everywhere fine and good: on the sea-coast low, barren land; moderately high inland. Sailing along the coast there is anchorage from 60 to 50 fathoms to 15 fathoms, becoming dry about a mile and a half to two miles from the shore. At 3 in the afternoon got light breezes from the south-east, but, as the sea ran very rough, we made but little or no progress. In the night we drifted along calmly; in the second watch [12–4 a.m.] the wind was west, going round to the northwards. 21st.—At night in the dog-watch [12–4] had a westerly wind with a strong breeze. Steered to the north, in the hope that the land, which the day before was north-west from us, should there fall away to the north, but it extended to the north-west. After the cook had dished we tacked and turned again from the land. It began to blow stronger, so we ran south-west over towards the south shore. At noon found latitude 40° 31′ and longitude 192° 55′. Held a northerly course, and sailed five miles. It was foggy, so that we could see no land. Late in the afternoon again saw the south coast, and had the island, which the day before was about six miles west from us, about four miles south-west by south. We sailed towards it, bringing it to bear north-north-west from us, and anchored by some cliffs in 33 fathoms, sandy ground, mixed with shells. Here it is full of islands and rocks. We struck our sail-yards,

for a storm threatened from the north-west and west-north-west. 22nd.—Wind north-west by north, and blowing so hard that there was no appearance of going on under sail, and it was difficult enough for the anchor to hold. We made our ship snug. We here lay in south latitude 40° 50′ and longitude 192° 37′. Course held south-west by south, and sailed six miles. At night we got the wind so hard from the north-west that we struck the topmasts and let go another anchor. The Zeehaen did the same. 23rd.—Still dark, foggy, drizzling weather, the wind north-west to west-north-west, and that with such a storm that to our great regret we could not advance. 24th.—Still hard, unsteady weather; the wind still north-west, and stormy. In the morning had a calm interval. Hoisted a white flag and got the officers of the Zeehaen on board us, and it was proposed that, as the flood came from the south-east, there might probably be a passage through, and whether it would not be best, wind and weather permitting, to search for this, and to see if we could not get fresh water there: as may further be seen by the resolutions drawn up thereupon. 25th.—In the morning we reset our topmast and yards, but it still looked so gloomy that we dare not lift anchor. Towards the evening it became calmer, so that a portion of our cable was shortened. 26th.—In the morning, two hours before day, we got the wind east-north-east, a light breeze. We weighed anchor, got under sail, and steered towards the north, intending to sail northward by this land. With the day it began to rain, and the wind went round to the south-east, and then south to south-west with a stiff breeze. Had soundings in 60 fathoms. We set our course by the wind to the west. At noon, latitude 40° 13′, longitude 192° 7′. Held a north-north-west course, and sailed ten miles. Var., 8° 40′. At night lay-to with easy sail. 27th.—In the morning made sail at daybreak, and steered north; the wind south-west, with a strong breeze. At noon found latitude 38° 38′, and longitude 190° 15′. Course held north-west, and sailed twenty-six miles. Set our course at noon north-east. At night lay-to, with little sail. Var., 8° 20′. 28th.—In the morning made sail at daybreak; set our course to the east, so as to get sight of the land which we had previously seen in 40°; it stretched still further to the north, and then to the east. At noon we saw, east by north from us, a high mountain. We took it at first to be an island, but afterwards saw it was part of the mainland. We were

about five miles from shore. We threw the lead in 50 fathoms, fine sand mixed with clay. This high mountain [Mount Karioi?] lies in south latitude 38°. This coast stretches, so far as I could see, south and north. It became calm, with a light air from north-north-east; we tacked to the north-west. At noon anchored, latitude 38° 2′ and longitude 192° 23′. Course held north-east by east, and sailed sixteen miles. Towards evening the wind came north-east and north-east by east, and began to blow harder and harder, so that at the end of the first watch [8–12 p.m.] we had to take in our topsails. Var., 8° 30′. 29th.—In the morning, at daybreak, we took off our bonnet-sails [small sails beneath the foresail], so that we had to take in our foretopsails. At noon we computed the latitude to be 37° 17′ and longitude 191°, and we ran over to the westward. Course held north-west, and sailed sixteen miles. 30th.—In the morning the weather was something more moderate. We set our topsails, rigged our bonnet-sails. Had the Zeehaen to lee of us. Wind west-north-west, with a topsails breeze. At noon found the latitude 37° and longitude 191° 55′. Course held north-east, and sailed seven miles. Towards evening again saw the land north-east and north-north-east from us. We therefore ran north and north-east. Var., 8° 40′ north-easterly. [Tasman here gives two sketches of the Staten-land (New Zealand)—first, as it appeared in 38° 30′ south latitude, and second, in 36° south latitude.—Jacob Swart.] 31st.—At noon we tacked about to the north, and the wind west-north-west, a slack breeze. Noon, found latitude 36° 45′, and longitude 191° 46′. Course held north-west, and sailed seven miles. In the evening we were about three miles from the shore. Four glasses of the first watch [10 p.m.], again tacked to the north. In the night sounded in 80 fathoms. This coast here stretches south-east and north-west. The land is in some places high, and in others sandhills. Var., 8°. January 1st [1643].—In the morning drifted in the calm along this coast, which here stretches north-west and south-east. It is an even coast, without shoals or sandbanks. At noon had latitude 36° 12′, and longitude 191° 7′. Course held north-west, and sailed ten miles. About noon the wind came south-south-east and south-east. We steered our course west-north-west to be further off shore, and here a heavy surf was running. Var., 8° 30′ north-easterly. 2nd.—Calm weather. In the middle of the afternoon a breeze came from the east. We steered north-north-west at the end of the first watch [12 p.m.], course north-west, so as not to come too near shore, and to avoid any accident, as in

the evening we had the land north-north-west from us. At noon, latitude 35° 55′, and longitude 190° 47′. Course held north-west to west, and sailed seven miles. Var., 9°. 3rd.—In the morning saw the land about six miles from us east by north, and were astonished to find ourselves so far from shore. At noon found latitude 35° 20′, longitude 190° 17′. Course held north-west to north, and sailed eleven miles. At noon got the wind south-south-east, and steered our course east-north-east, so as to run again towards the shore. In the evening we had the land north and east-south-east from us. 4th.—In the morning we were near a cape, and had an island north-west by north from us, whereupon we hoisted the white flag for the officers of the Zeehaen to come aboard us, and resolved with each other to stand for the said island and see if we could not get there fresh water, vegetables, &c. At noon found latitude 34° 35′, longitude 191° 9′. Course held north-east, and sailed fifteen miles; the wind south-east. Towards noon we sailed calmly. We found ourselves here in a very strong current, setting us to the west. There was also a heavy sea drawing from the north-east, which gave us not a little hope that there might be a passage here. We had this point east-north-east from us lying in south latitude 34° 30′. The land here fell away to the east. In the evening the pilot-major, with the secretary of the Zeehaen, went close by the island, and could not observe that what we wanted was to be had there. Agreed with the officers of the Zeehaen that if we got a good wind in the night it would be best to go on. Var., 8° 40′ north-easterly. [Here is found in the manuscript the chart and representation of No. 8H and No. 9J, but without the ships, which Valentijn added here to give a little adornment.—Jacob Swart.] 5th.—This morning still drifted in the calm, but about 9 o'clock had a light breeze from the south-east. We agreed with our friends of the Zeehaen to steer for the island. About noon we sent our shallop with the pilot-major, and the Zeehaen's boat with Gilsemans, the supercargo, to inspect the island, and see if water was to be had there. In the evening they returned on board and reported that they had gone close to land, being always on the watch that none of the natives should fall upon them, and had entered a small, safe bay, where fine fresh water was found, which fell from steep hills in great abundance; but, from the surf on the shore, it was dangerous and troublesome to water there; so they rowed further round the island, seeking if they could find any other convenient place. On this land in various places, and on the highest hills, were about thirty to thirty-five

persons, men of tall stature, so far as they could see, with staves or clubs, who called to them in gruff, loud voices which they could not understand. In walking they took great steps and strides. In rowing round they saw a few more people on the hills, whereupon they resolved (as may well be believed) to be well on their guard, and to hold their boats and small weapons in readiness. On this island they reckoned there would not be more people than had shown themselves, for on rowing round our people saw no dwellings, nor cultivated land except that near the fresh water. Here, on both sides of the waterfall, there were everywhere square enclosures after the manner of our country, green and pleasant. But what kind of vegetables they could not tell from the distance. It was quite possible their dwelling-places were round here on account of the fresh water. In this aforesaid bay there were two prows lying, hauled upon shore—one navigable, the other broken. They saw no other boats any where. Our people then returned. We immediately endeavoured to get under the land, and about evening anchored a short pedereroe [a piece for firing stones and gravel] shot from shore in good ground. We at once made preparations for taking in water next day. The island lies in south latitude 34° 25′, and longitude 190° 40′. 6th.—At early morning we sent both boats—to wit, ours and the Zeehaen's—to the watering-place with casks to get water. Each one mounted with two pedereroes, six musketeers. The rowers had pikes and side - weapons. With one shallop were Pilot-major Francoys Jacobsz, and the master, Gerrit Jansz. As they rowed towards the land they saw, standing in different places on the heights, big men, each with a long stick like a pike, who seemed to be watching us, and, as our people passed by, called loudly to them. But when they had got about half-way to the watering-place, between a safe point and another great high crag or little islet, the current ran so strongly against the wind that the boats could scarcely stem it; whereupon the pilot-major and Gerrit Jansz, master of the Zeehaen, with the other officers, held counsel, resolving not to imperil the boats and men, as they had a long voyage before them, and the ships could not afford their loss; and so they returned on board, the more so as a heavy surf was rolling on the land near where the watering-place was, and, the breeze beginning to increase, they would have found it difficult to reach land. We signalled from our ship by hoist-the flag and firing a cannon that they should come back; but they were then near us, and seen to approach. The pilot-major, with our boats, came on board, reporting that, from the wind and the innumerable hard rocks all around, without any sandy ground, it was too dangerous, and they would be subject to the peril of being attacked by the natives, and of having

the water-casks injured and broken to pieces. We immediately ordered the officers of the Zeehaen and the second mates to come aboard us, when we summoned the council, and resolved to lift the anchors, and with an easterly course to run to latitude 22°. Following the foregoing resolution, that we should keep due north to south latitude 17°, and then should steer a due-west course, and run straight in right on the Coques [Cocos] and Hoorense [Horne] Islands, and there obtain water and refreshments; or, if we should earlier come upon any other island, that we should endeavour to do the same there: as is specified in the resolution of this date, lately referred to. Near noon we got under sail, having the island at noon about three miles from us due south. In the evening, at sunset, it was six to seven miles south-south-west from us, the rocks and the island lying south-west and north-east from each other. At night, pretty calm, wind east-south-east. Held our course by the wind north-north-east, the sea running from the north-east. Such, then, is the entire and literal translation of that part of Tasman's Journal which relates to his discovery of New Zealand. Time forbids that I should give more than the briefest account of his continued voyage, which is full of interest. Steering north-east, he discovered in succession Pylstaart, now Tropic-bird Island, where are found those birds (Phaethon rubricauda), which occasionally make for the very north of New Zealand, and whose tail-feathers are so highly prized by the Maoris as an ornament for the hair; then three islands of the Tongan Group—Tongatabu, Ana-moka, and Eoa—which he called Amsterdam, Rotterdam, and Middelburg. The stay in this group was lengthy and grateful, and made some amends for the inhospitable reception in New Zealand. Here fruit, water, and provisions were procured in abundance from the friendly natives. On the 6th of February Prince Willem's Islands—the Fijis—were discovered. The general course then maintained was west-north-west. Several islands were passed, and the coast of New Guinea reached on the 14th April. For more than a month he sailed along the northern coast, and gives an exceedingly interesting description of the country and natives. Well-recognised points and islands were then fallen in with, and on the 15th June, 1643, the vessels dropped anchor at Batavia, after an absence of two years save two months. “God be praised and thanked for a safe voyage. Amen!” is Tasman's last entry. His Journal is written in a plain, quaint, intelligible style, and abundantly shows that the writer was a bold and accomplished seaman as well as a fortunate discoverer.

In 1644 he was again despatched to examine the north coast of New Holland, and to explore what is known to-day as Torres Straits. The papers connected with this important exploration have never, so far, been discovered. But the painstaking research made of late years into various departments of long-forgotten history may yet succeed in giving us another and Tasman's last Journal. Proud of the discoveries of their countrymen, which were enriched so specially by those of Tasman, the Dutch sought to perpetuate them in imperishable marble. In 1648 they erected at Amsterdam their magnificent Stadhuis or Town Hall. Part of the embellishments consisted of a map of the world, projected as a planisphere and deeply cut into the stone floor. Each of the hemispheres was 22ft. in diameter, and they contained all that had been discovered of New Holland, Van Diemen's Land, and New Zealand. But the traffic of thousands of feet finally effaced this curious map, and when, in 1773, Sir Joseph Banks visited Amsterdam no trace of it remained, nor had the oldest inhabitant any personal knowledge of it. Fortunately, M. Thevenot copied the most material portion, and this appears in his “Divers Voyages Curieuses,” Paris, 1663. It is also found in an old British Museum map, and in outline in Janssen's “Atlas,” 1650. The labour of preparing this account of Tasman and his work is amply rewarded in laying it before an audience which on so many previous occasions has granted me a patient hearing. If it should reach the hands of those whose business it is to traverse our west coast, I hope they may be interested in comparing the details of their own log with those of an old seaman of two hundred and fifty years ago. [Since this paper was written I have corresponded with Messrs. Frederik Müller and Co., of Amsterdam, who are preparing for publication the édition de luxe of Tasman's Journal above referred to. They say, “The papers of the Dutch East India Company are now in the Hague State archives. A journal of the 1644 voyage was never found, only the binding wherein it had been bound once was found by the old Mr. Frederik Müller in the State archives some twenty-five or thirty years ago.”—T. M. H.]