Survey the Coast to Point Cunningham.
Move the Ship.
Mosquitoes.
Southern View of King's Sound.
Singular vitreous Formation.
Move to the south of Point Cunningham.
Captain King's limit.
Termination of Cliffy Range.
Disaster Bay.
An Exploring Party leave in the boats.
The shore.
A freshwater lake.
Valentine Island.
Native Fire and Food.
A heavy squall.
The wild Oat.
Indications of a River.
Point Torment.
Gouty-stem Tree and Fruit.
Limits of its growth.
Another squall.
Water nearly fresh alongside.
The Fitzroy River.
Tide Bore and dangerous position of the Yawl.
Ascent of the Fitzroy.
Appearance of the adjacent land.
Return on foot.
Perilous situation and providential escape.
Survey the western shore.
Return to the Ship.
Sporting, Quail and Emus.
Natives.
Ship moved to Point Torment.
February 21, 1838.
We remained at this sheltered anchorage until the 21st, by which time the
coast, so far as Point Cunningham, had been carefully examined. We found
it everywhere indented with deep bays, in each of which good anchorage
was to be found. The water's edge was in almost every place fringed with
the closely twining mangrove trees, behind which the country gradually
rose to an average level of about 200 feet, being thickly covered with
the various sorts of Eucalypti, for which all the explored portions of
this continent are more or less remarkable.
In the afternoon of the 21st, we moved into a bay North-West of Point
Cunningham, and anchored in 8 fathoms (low-water) about a mile North-West
from that point; having passed over a bank of 5 or 6 fathoms, with 12 on
its outer, and 10 on its inner side, and lying 2 1/4 miles north from
Point Cunningham.
MOSQUITOES.
I spent the early part of this night on shore, a circumstance of which
the tormenting mosquitoes took every possible advantage; finally driving
me from their territory with every indignity, and in a state of mind
anything but placid. The poet doubtless spoke from experience when he
asserted:
--there was never yet philosopher
That could endure the toothache patiently.
And even could such a prodigy of patient endurance be found, I am sure it
would fail him when exposed to the ceaseless persecution of these
inexorable assailants.
February 22.
The greater part of to-day was spent in making a more minute examination
of the bay, the shoal discovered yesterday rendering a more careful
search necessary. From the summit of Point Cunningham, I had a fine view
of the opposite shore of the sound; very broken and rugged it appeared to
be. To the South-East and south I could see no land; a circumstance which
raised my hopes of finding in that direction the long and anxiously
expected river, which the geological formation of the country, and all
the recorded experience of discovery, alike warranted us in anticipating.
The point upon which I stood was a steep and cliffy rock facing the sea,
connected with the mainland by a low and narrow neck of land, but almost
insulated at high-water during the spring tides. A singular cliff,
projecting on its South-East side, is called by Captain King, Carlisle
Head; but we searched in vain for the fresh water, which that
distinguished navigator speaks of, as having been found there by him in
1819.
SINGULAR VITREOUS FORMATION.
We remarked here, certain vitreous formations, in all, except form,
identical with those already described as having been seen at Point Swan.
These were small balls lying loose on the sandy beach, at the bottom of
the cliff; they were highly glazed upon the surface, hollow inside, and
varying in size from a musket, to a tennis ball.*
(*Footnote. Vide Mr. Darwin on "superficial ferrugineous beds" Geology of
Volcanic Islands page 143.)
February 23.
We weighed early in the morning, and rounded Point Cunningham; anchoring
again at 10 o'clock A.M., 8 miles north of it, in 7 fathoms (low-water);
West by North, one mile from where we lay, a red cliffy head, called by
Captain King, in memory of the difficulties which ultimately compelled
him to leave this interesting coast, Foul Point, marks the limit of his
survey of this part of the northern shore of Australia, and terminates
the range of cliffs,* which, up to this point, forms nature's barrier
against the sea. Beyond it, the coast assumes a low and treacherous
character, and subsides into a deep bay, called by Captain King, not
without reason, Disaster Bay.
(*Footnote. The cliffs at Foul Point and Point Cunningham unite the
sandstone and argillaceous formation.)
From the masthead, from whence I hoped to get a wide view of the unknown
waters we were about to explore, I could just see Valentine Island,
bearing South-South-East about 17 miles. Its lofty extremities alone
being visible, it had the appearance of two islands.
Here, then, a really most interesting--nay, a most exciting--portion of
the duties of the survey were to commence in earnest; and it was reserved
for us to take up the thread of discovery reluctantly abandoned by our
enterprising and scientific predecessor, at the moment when the prize was
almost within his grasp.
EXPLORING PARTY IN BOATS.
It was forthwith determined, that Captain Wickham and Mr. Fitzmaurice
should collect the necessary materials for completing the survey, and
preparing the chart of the bay in the immediate neighbourhood of the
ship; while to myself the whale boat and yawl were to be entrusted; nor
can I describe with what delight, all minor annoyances forgotten, I
prepared to enter upon the exciting task of exploring waters unfurrowed
by any preceding keel; and shores, on which the advancing step of
civilization had not yet thrown the shadows of her advent, nor the voice
of that Christianity, which walks by her side through the uttermost parts
of the earth, summoned the wilderness and the desert to hail the
approaching hour, in the fulness of which all the earth shall be blessed!
Soon after dark we were visited by a squall from the eastward, longer in
duration, and heavier than any we had before experienced. From our
exposed situation--no land intervening for 30 miles--it raised a good
deal of sea: the wind remained fresh at the east during the greater part
of the night.
February 24.
The morning broke, dark, gloomy, and threatening; but, as the day
advanced, it gradually assumed its usual bright and brilliant character;
and at seven A.M. we started, Mr. Helpman having the whaleboat, while Mr.
Tarrant accompanied me in the yawl. We crossed Disaster Bay in four and
five fathoms, steering in the direction of Valentine Island, and inside a
long sandy spit, partly dry at low-water, and extending two-thirds of the
way across.
FRESHWATER LAKE.
While waiting for the tide to rise, in order to cross this natural
breakwater, we landed, and struggled for a good mile through a mixture of
deep mud and sand, drifted, at the coastline, into hills of from
twenty-five to thirty feet high, and bound together by a long coarse
grass; immediately beyond which we came upon a small lake of fresh water,
where all the luxuriant growth of tropical vegetation was starting into
life, and presenting an almost miraculous contrast to the barren
sterility, that stamped an aspect of changeless desolation upon the rest
of this inhospitable shore. Indeed, so far as our experience extended,
upon the coasts, and within the interior of this in many respects
extraordinary continent, the want of water appears to be the chief
drawback to the fertility otherwise to be anticipated from its
geographical position: at the same time, it is quite impossible to blind
oneself to the fact, that further researches on the one hand, and the
application of the great discoveries in hydraulics, of which recent years
have been so fruitful, on the other, may, and probably will, spread the
vernal bloom of cultivation over wastes, now condemned to prolonged and
arbitrary periods of drought.
This spot, which long arrested my attention, and upon which I gazed with
the selfish feeling of delight inspired by the thought that thereon never
before had rested the curious eye of any restless and indefatigable
wanderer from the west, is distant about 500 yards North-North-West, from
a solitary patch of low red cliffs, the first of this formation that
present themselves south of Foul Point.
VALENTINE ISLAND.
Extensive flats fronting the coast to the southward, almost connect it at
low-water with Valentine Island, which we reached at two P.M., just on
the top of high-water, and shortly afterwards grounded the boats in a
small bay to the westward. The greatest extent of Valentine Island is
three-quarters of a mile in an East by South direction: either extremity
is formed by high cliffs, a low valley intervening.
NATIVE FIRE AND FOOD.
On landing we found a fire still burning, near the beach, and beside it a
bundle of the bark of the papyrus tree, in which were carefully packed a
quantity of ground nuts, they were each about three-quarters of an inch
long, and in shape not unlike a kidney potato;* it seemed clear, judging
from the native value of the commodities thus rashly abandoned, that our
arrival had rather taken by surprise these untutored children of the
wilderness: we saw nothing of them till we had reembarked, when (four or
five only in number) they returned to the beach; and we could perceive
that our foot tracks, upon which they appeared to hold an animated
debate, had, to say the least, mightily puzzled them. I ascended the
highest point of the island in the afternoon, and from thence looked over
several miles of densely wooded country, but offering no appearance of
land to the eastward of South-South-East. We gazed with indescribable
delight upon the wide expanse of open water which lay before us in that
direction, and already anticipated the discovery of some vast inlet,
terminating in the mouth of a magnificent river, upon the exploration of
which our imagination was already busily engaged; nor for the moment did
the thought, or rather the recollection of the fact, that Captain King
had seen land (by refraction) in that quarter, serve to damp our ardour.
When it made its way, and perseveringly insisted upon engaging a certain
share of my attention, its presence only added an additional motive to my
previous determination to set the question at rest by personal
examination, and in the interim, to look immediately before sunrise (when
the atmosphere within the tropics is always clear) for the very sight I
should have been most disappointed to have beheld. During the afternoon I
shot over the island, and enjoyed some very fair sport; especially with
the pheasant-cuckoo,** and quail, large and small, which were numerous:
several birds not unlike the so-called crow of the Swan River colonists
were seen. We found no fresh water, but in addition to the abundance of
game, the presence of the natives, proves the island to be not wholly
destitute of this first requisite of life. The thermometer at 3 P.M., was
100 degrees in the shade, while the unnatural calm that reigned around
gave the experienced seaman plain warning of some disturbance at hand.
(*Footnote. This esculent appeared to resemble the warran, or yam, used
for food by the native inhabitants north of Swan River.)
(**Footnote. Centropus phasianellus. Gould.)
A HEAVY SQUALL.
Just before sunset these anxious anticipations proved correct: a mass of
broad edged white clouds rose rapidly in the east, and spread over the
till then unbroken blue of the vast vault above; among or rather behind
the interstices of these clouds, the lightning quivered and flashed
fearfully and fitfully, gleaming with a terrible distinctness in the
fading light of expiring day! Anon, darker and more ominous clouds
succeeded to the first, and quickly uniting seemed to span all heaven
with a frowning arch, that came rapidly onwards upon the wings of the
now-rising tempest. It was some time ere its approach either attracted
the attention or disturbed the boisterous mirth of the boats' crews, who,
with the enviable philosophy of their class, were gaily laughing over the
incidents of the day. I had just secured a good latitude by Canopus, when
the squall burst upon us from East-South-East, it blew very hard indeed
for about an hour, veering round to, and terminating at, North-East, and
then all was calm again; partaking of the general characteristics of
previous visitations of the same kind, to which we have been subject
since our arrival upon this coast, it lasted for a much less time, as
hitherto their average duration had been about three hours. It brought
the thermometer down to 80 degrees. All was quiet by midnight, and
undisturbed by the past we finished the night in peace. Daybreak found us
at the eastern end of the island, from which point we observed a low
strip of land bearing east about 16 miles distant; a fact which
re-establishes Captain King's authority, against Mr. Earle's
contradiction.* This confirmation of that distinguished and able
navigator, in some degree reconciled me to the unpropitious discovery,
that the shores of this great sheet of water were visibly beginning to
contract.
(*Footnote. Vide Earle's Eastern Seas page 451.)
WILD OAT.
During our walk we noticed the wild oat in great abundance. This valuable
species of corn is then indigenous to this part of the world. Ere long,
perhaps, the time will arrive when upon the coast, where now in native
negligence it springs and dies, it may spread the white and glistening
garment of cultivation--testify the existence--and promote the comfort of
social life. The same seed was found near Hanover Bay, by Lieutenants
Grey and Lushington, and throve exceedingly well in the soft and
luxurious climate of the ever-verdant Mauritius. Leaving some presents in
a conspicuous situation for the present rightful possessors of the
island, whose temporary shelter we had obtained, we hastened back to the
boats, and stood away to the eastward for the low land seen from the
island, and crossed various narrow sandy ridges, nearly dry at low-water,
and generally trending North and South, showing the direction of the
stream by which they were formed, and at distances of 5, 7, 9, and 12
miles, in an East by South direction from Valentine Island; the soundings
between them averaged from 7 to 9 fathoms. A favouring breeze from the
south helped us halfway across to the point, from whence I hoped and
believed we should hereafter date the first great event of the voyage;
and then dying away, compelled us to take to the oars, with the
thermometer at 110 degrees in the shade.
INDICATIONS OF A RIVER.
As we proceeded, several circumstances concurred to satisfy me that we
were at length really approaching the mouth of a considerable river;
large trees drifted past us with the ebbing tide, while each cast of the
lead proved that we were gradually, though nearing the land, deepening
the water.
POINT TORMENT.
Fortune too seemed now resolved to favour us, the deep channel most
opportunely lying along the eastern shore, which we reached soon after
noon, and landed on the only beach of sand hereabouts left uncovered at
high-water. Here, for better security against the squalls we had
experienced for the last two nights, we hauled up the boats. A name was
soon found for our new territory, upon which we with rueful unanimity
conferred that of Point Torment, from the incessant and vindictive
attacks of swarms of mosquitoes, by whom it had evidently been resolved
to give the newcomers a warm welcome. The greater part of Point Torment
is deeply intersected with deep narrow creeks, and is almost entirely
flooded at high-water: it extends low and swampy for nearly three miles
in breadth, and then rises gradually, the slope being well wooded with
the white Eucalypti. Here also I remarked the gouty-stem tree, figured by
Captain Grey, and described by Captain King, as of the Nat. Ord.
Capparides, and thought to be a Capparis; it also bears a resemblance to
the Adansonia described in Captain Tuckey's Congo. This was but a small
specimen in fruit, of which the following brief description may convey a
tolerably clear idea. In shape it something resembled the coconut, with a
gourd-like outside, of a brown and yellow colour. Its length was five
inches, and diameter three. The shell was exceedingly thin, and when
opened it was found to be full of seeds, imbedded in a whitish pulp, and
of a not ungrateful taste.
This place, latitude 17 degrees 5 minutes South, may be considered the
limit of its growth in that direction, and the Victoria River, of which I
shall have occasion to speak hereafter, in latitude 14 degrees 55
minutes, the northern boundary of its indigenous empire.
We saw no traces of inhabitants, not even the thin rising smoke, which so
often greeted our eyes near the coast we had recently surveyed. I climbed
the highest tree we could find, and from the elevation it afforded looked
southwards over a wide prospect of nothing but mangroves and mudbanks;
still interesting from the fact that upon them the wondering gaze of the
curious European had never yet been bent!
THE MOSQUITOES.
Procuring the necessary observations completed the duties of the day;
but, alas! the sleep all could have enjoyed so much after our work, was
rendered impossible by the swarms of mosquitoes, who at sunset relieved
those of their tribe upon whom the day duty had devolved, and commenced a
most unsparing attack upon us: all devices to escape them were tried in
vain, and some of the men were really half mad with the insufferable
annoyance: at last, about eight o'clock, when all patience seemed
exhausted, a welcome peal of thunder, and bright flashes of lightning
announced the expected and much desired squall. It served to blow away
some of our persecutors; but our rest was of very short duration, and I
was at length compelled to order the people to take to the boats, fairly
driven from the shore by our diminutive but invincible assailants. The
tide set past the boats at the rate of four knots per hour, and it fell
33 feet, being 6 feet more than we had as yet found it. The only rock
seen here was a block, visible at low-water; it was a conglomerate, and
the most southerly formation of the kind we met with.
THE FLOOD-TIDE.
February 26.
The daylight found us all anxiously speculating upon the probable results
to be accomplished before the darkness once more closed in upon us, but
the morning being perfectly calm, we were compelled to wait till the
flood-tide made: this soon took us past an island four miles from the
eastern shore, seen the evening before, and which now proved to be a
narrow strip, covered with the never-failing mangrove; and having two
smaller islands, nearly identical in character, lying two miles south of
it. We passed them at noon, and saw the land to the westward, our
position being then 20 miles south of Point Torment. The water had
shoaled in several places during the passage to less than a fathom
(low-water); but the tide hemmed in by the contraction of this great
inlet (the left shore of which gradually trending to the eastward, here
approached to within six miles of the opposite coast) still hurried us on
with a rapidity agreeable enough but not quite free from danger, towards
what appeared to be the mouth of a large river. If our exultation had
been great in the morning, when such success as this was only half
anticipated, what was it at that exciting moment when the eventful hour
which should give us the triumph of such a discovery as that we now
fairly anticipated, seemed within our grasp? I cannot answer for others,
but for myself I had never known a sensation of greater delight. Doubt,
disappointment, difficulty, and danger; all, all were unheeded or
forgotten in the one proud thought that for us was reserved an enterprise
the ultimate results of which might in some future year affect the
interests of a great portion of the world! Presently, as if to recall to
their routine of duty, these upward-springing thoughts, the boats were
found to be rapidly carried by the stream towards an extensive flat,
which appeared to extend right across the opening towards which all eyes
had been turned with so much eagerness, and over which the tide was
boiling and whirling with great force. To attempt to cross would have
been madness; there was nothing, therefore, to be done but patiently
await the rising of the tide.
ESCAPE POINT.
The nearest land, a mangrove point bearing South-South-East one mile, we
afterwards named Escape Point, in grateful memory of the providential
escapes we experienced in its vicinity. Where the boats were anchored we
had nearly five feet at low-water, and the tide ran past them at the rate
of five miles an hour. As soon as possible we again started, in a south
by west direction, and proceeded for about five miles, when the boats
were anchored, near the western shore, which we proposed to visit at
low-water. From the yawl's masthead I traced the shore all round, except
to the south-east, where I could see an opening about a mile wide. The
western land was slightly elevated, perhaps to 70 feet, and clothed with
rather large trees, while to the eastward the land appeared very low. As
the tide ebbed, we found, to our disappointment and mortification, that
the flat over which we reckoned to secure a passage to the mainland,
never became quite dry (the tide here falling only 18 feet) while from
its soft and treacherous character, it was impossible to cross it on
foot.
MOUTH OF THE FITZROY.
All doubt about our being in the mouth of a river was put an end to by
finding that, during the last of the ebb, the water was nearly fresh.
This discovery was hailed by us all with a pleasure which persons only
familiar with the well-watered and verdant fields of England cannot fully
comprehend.
Our success afforded me a welcome opportunity of testifying to Captain
Fitzroy my grateful recollection of his personal kindness; and I
determined, with Captain Wickham's permission, to call this new river
after his name, thus perpetuating, by the most durable of monuments, the
services and the career of one, in whom, with rare and enviable
prodigality, are mingled the daring of the seaman, the accomplishments of
the student, and the graces of the Christian--of whose calm fortitude in
the hour of impending danger, or whose habitual carefulness for the
interests of all under his command, if I forbear to speak, I am silent
because, while I recognise their existence, and perceive how much they
exalt the character they adorn, I feel, too, that they have elevated it
above, either the need, or the reach of any eulogy within my power to
offer!
I felt pretty confident that the first rush of the tide upon its reflux
would be violent, and had made preparation accordingly. In the first
watch these anticipations were realized, and I was roused from a
momentary doze by a loud roaring, which I at once recognized to be the
voice of thunder, heralding the advancing tide.
TIDE-BORE.
The night was pitch dark, and though I instinctively turned my eyes
towards the offing, I could see nothing, but as each anxious moment
passed away, the fearful voice of the waters sounded nearer and nearer,
and within less time than I have occupied in the narration, the full
force of the rush of tide coming on like a wall, several feet high, and
bringing our anchor away with it, was upon us. The cable thus slackened,
the yawl sheered, and was thrown violently upon her broadside in the
midst of it, and had it not been for the shores lashed to each mast, she
must inevitably have capsized. The whaleboat fared better; being lighter
she was the sooner afloat, and besides her buoyant bow was the better
able to receive and resist the shock. When the tide slacked we returned
to the deep water off Escape Point, and spent the remainder of the night
in quiet, I would fain hope, so far as most of us were concerned, not
without a thankful remembrance of Him, whose merciful providence had been
so recently manifested in our behalf!
ASCENT OF THE FITZROY.
February 27.
Leaving Mr. Tarrant in charge of the yawl, I proceeded with Mr. Helpman
to trace the river, immediately after daylight. Against the last of the
ebb tide, and with the thermometer at 80 degrees, we contrived to reach a
spot two miles beyond Point Escape before noon. From Point Escape
upwards, there appeared to be, at low-water, no regular channel; the bed
of the river assumed the aspect of an extensive flat of mud, intersected
with small rivulets or streams that served to drain it. No signs of human
habitation were seen along its banks, which divided by numerous small
creeks, and thickly fringed with the unfailing mangrove, stretched away
in level and drear monotony, only broken towards the west by land of
inconsiderable elevation. The circling flight of the ever-wary curlew,
and the shrill cry of the plover, now first disturbed in their accustomed
territory, alone vouched for the presence of animal life in that vast
solitude, the effect of which they heightened, rather than removed!
RETURN ON FOOT.
Finding the further ascent almost if not altogether impracticable at the
present state of the tide, I ordered the boat back to Point Escape, and
landed, accompanied by Mr. Helpman, and a seaman, intending to return on
foot.
PERILOUS SITUATION.
The shore was a soft mud, in which the small mangroves had found a most
congenial soil: while our journey every now and then, arrested by the
intervention of one or other of the numerous little creeks of which I
have before spoken, promised to prove a more fatiguing, if not more
hazardous affair, than we had originally contemplated.
We managed at first, by ascending their banks for a short distance from
the river, to jump across these opposing creeks, but as the tide rose,
they filled and widened in proportion, and each moment increased the
difficulties of our position, now heightened by the untoward discovery
that William Ask, the seaman who had accompanied us, was unable to swim!
Time and tide, however, wait for no man, and the rapidly rising waters
had flooded the whole of the low land which formed this bank of the
river, so that we were compelled to wade, feeling with a stick for the
edges of the creeks in our route, over each of which Mr. Helpman and
myself had alternately to swim in order to pass the arms undamaged; and
then Ask, making the best jump that he could muster for the occasion, was
dragged ashore on the opposite side. At length we reached a creek, the
breadth of which rendered this mode of proceeding no longer practicable,
and we were compelled to stop, being fortunately very near the point
where I had directed the boat to meet us. Our situation was now anything
but pleasant, the water being already above our knees, and the tide
having still several hours to rise; while the mangrove trees by which we
were surrounded, were all too slender to afford the least support.
In this state of affairs, leaving Mr. Helpman with Ask--who had secured a
piece of drift timber as a last resource--I made my way to the edge of
the shore, only to find that the boat, unable to stem the current, had
anchored some distance above us! Mr. Helpman and myself might have
reached her by swimming; but even could I have easily reconciled myself
to part with our arms and instruments, at any rate to abandon poor Ask in
the dilemma into which I had brought him was not to be thought of. By
repeated discharges of my gun I at last succeeded in attracting the
attention of the boat's crew, who made an immediate and desperate effort
to come to our assistance: while their strength lasted they just
contrived to hold their own against the tide, then, drifting astern, were
again compelled to anchor. The attempt was renewed, when an equally
desperate struggle was followed by just as fruitless a result: the force
of the stream was clearly more than they could overcome, and an
intervening bank precluded any attempt to creep up to us along the shore.
Most anxiously did I watch the water as it changed its upward level
almost with the rapidity of an inch a minute, being in doubt whether it
would rise above our heads, ere it afforded a sufficient depth to carry
the boat over the intervening bank, and bring us the only assistance that
would afford a chance for our lives. I breathed a short, but most fervent
prayer to Him, in whose hands are the issues of life and death, and
turned back to cheer my comrades with the chance of rescue.
AND PROVIDENTIAL ESCAPE.
Nor shall I ever forget the expression of thankfulness and gratitude
which lit up the face of poor Ask, as the whispers of hope were confirmed
by the welcome advance of the whaleboat's bows through the almost
submerged mangroves, just as the water had topped our shoulders; and,
therefore, barely in time to confirm upon this locality its former title
of Point Escape!
We now pulled down to this last-named point, and waited for the tide to
fall, in order to obtain the necessary observations for determining its
position: those for latitude, taken in the early part of the night, gave
a result (worked on the spot) of 17 degrees 24 1/2 minutes South; being
an increase in latitude of 35 miles from the present position of the
Beagle.
Having now but two days' provisions remaining, I determined on completing
the survey of the western shore, south of Valentine Island, and then to
return and report our discovery, knowing that Captain Wickham would do
all in his power to prosecute it to the utmost.
RETURN TO THE SHIP.
March 3.
These plans were accordingly carried into effect, and we returned to the
ship on the morning of the 3rd of March. We found all well on board, with
the exception of poor Mr. Usborne, whom we were delighted to see so far
recovered. One sentiment of satisfaction pervaded the whole ship's
company, when informed of our success; and, as I had anticipated, Captain
Wickham at once determined upon further exploring our new discovery in
lighter boats, first placing the ship as near the mouth of it as
practicable. During the squall, on the first night of our absence, the
ship parted her cable, and was nearly on the rocks.
Our sportsmen had been actively and successfully employed during our
absence, having shot a great number of quail; they had seen two emus, and
Messrs. Bynoe and Dring had obtained several
specimens of rare birds, all of which are now figured by Mr. Gould in his
Birds of Australia. A few natives had also been seen, but they were too
wary to permit any intercourse with them.
March 4.
This was Sunday, and no imperative necessity hindered our making it a day
of rest. Various necessary observations occupied the greater part of
Monday; and, on the day following, the ship was moved, under my guidance,
to an anchorage, in 5 fathoms (low-water) 2 1/2 miles west from Point
Torment.