xx Australia

Ports of call! Far at the world then, strange fascinating lands beckon us. Bit us rebel and their exotic spenders.

Come with us as we head for ports of call! As we rise and fall on the bosom of the Pacific, feeling the trade winds soft caress, convoyed by the ghostly memories of old clipper ships that blazed the trail we now follow.

Part of the coastline of Australia, the last discovered continent lies before us. It'sling beneath mountains that rise majestically in the distance, like blue-clad satinels of nature, barring the way to the vast beyond. Basking in the bright sunlight, Sydney, mother city of Australia, like a jewel set in a sapphire sea beckons us from the cool refreshing waters of Fort Jackson.

No smoky, grimy port is this, but rippling silk that holds the hues of heaven. We go past sandy beaches until beyond the harbor, we see the richly colored sandstone buildings of Sydney rising gracefully against the cloudless sky.

And from the terraces of the Botanic Gardens, the incense of Magnolia Blooms made faint by distance pervades the air as we come to rest in Sydney Harbor, Port Jackson. It was in 1768 when that entrapped explorer Captain Cook, having visited New Zealand, turned the rounded bowels of the Endeavour toward uncharted waters, and anchoring in an unknown

bay, headed the first civilized party to land and plant a flag on the east coast of Australia. They too, it's my lads. I want to come within hailing distance of those natives, aren't sure. Is there any danger of those blacks using commoons to cut us off from the ship, Captain Cook?

I don't think so, Mr. Banks. I doubt me if they've ever heard a gun fired. I want him to stop him quickly if they tried any such tactics. What are you gazing so intently at Isaac?