Tuesday, January 7th

At four o'clock they began to heave at the anchor with every variety of song. About six they got under weigh with some little trouble and stood down the bay. We went about two miles and then left them, they giving us three cheers as we left the ship, and we returning it. I felt quite melancholy as I saw her stand away. She seemed the last link between us and home, broken, taken away, and leaving us in loneliness. In the afternoon a tedious meeting of land purchasers choosing a new council. The Bishop addressed the Colonists with feeling. He left Lyttelton in the evening in his yacht, promising to return in three weeks. Today men occupied in setting up a tarpaulin shed for the trunks, and cleaning up our stock of mouldy shoes and boots. Robert making a table. FitzGerald's cow died in the night.