Revised Jun 22 2021
Monday, April 21st. While busily employed in the school this forenoon, a piercing and electrifying shout apprised me that a ship was in sight; but it was a long time before any one came from the hill to inform me what she looked like, she being discovered from the south side of the island. About three o'clock it was ascertained that she was a large merchant ship standing in for the land. At four she rounded St. Paul's rock; and then we perceived she had a pennant flying. On this being made known, some one exclaimed, "That is the ship come to convey us to Norfolk Island, and the pennant denotes she has a naval officer on board." It was the Morayshire, Captain Mathers. Having learned from the Dido, but little more than a week since, that the ship for removing us was not to be here before the latter end of July, I could not believe this was the vessel, until the ship's boat landed, bringing the commander of the ship, and Lieutenant Gregorie of the Juno, appointed to superintend the embarcation of all those who were disposed to accept Her Majesty's most gracious offer; to wit, Norfolk Island and all that appertains thereto, for themselves and families. Such an unqualified offer of so beautiful a spot as Norfolk Island is easier to imagine than realize; but it is a bona fide reality to us.
Saturday, May 3d. Fine weather. Breakfast eaten with heavy hearts. My family being among those appointed to embark first, previously to doing so Mrs. Nobbs and myself went into the graveyard, where are deposited the remains of our first-born. Scarcely a word was spoken by either one of us, but tears fell freely. Why? Not because we lamented the lot of a saint in Christ, but because we were about to leave the grave and head-stone, those frail memorials, which had become unspeakably dear to us, never to behold them more. The reflections caused our tears, and not an ungrateful repining that our son was with the Lord. Vale, Reuben, till this corruptible shall have put on incorruption!