and with this the depth began to decrease. The opening trended deeply in to the N.W., and bore the character of a river, with a good port at its embouchure; the heads of which were rocky and apparently bold, but the light colour of the water between them, indicated that its entrance was shoal, and would prove both intricate and dangerous to pass. Sooner however than was expected, the water shoaled to three fathoms; and, before it was possible to avoid it, the vessel struck: the helm was put up, but she continued to beat on a hard sandy bottom as her head paid off. Some time elapsed, for it was blowing strong, before the main-sheet could be hauled in to ‘gybe’ the sail; during which the cutter was running along the shoal or bar in ten feet water, which was not sufficient to float her; for she struck the ground violently every time that the swell passed by. Upon the main-boom being got over, and the vessel’s heel touching the ground at the same instant, her head flew up in the wind, and she was very nearly thrown back upon the bank. This was, however, fortunately prevented; – in a few seconds she reached deeper water, and we providentially escaped a danger which had so nearly proved fatal to the vessel and our lives; for had the cutter remained aground on the bank during the night, the sea was so heavy that there would not have been the least vestige of her the following morning. To commemorate this occurrence, I have distinguished the opening with the name of Escape River.”
The evening closed in with every appearance of bad weather, and the Mermaid was obliged to bring up in a very exposed situation, without any protection, either from the wind or sea. On the 25th, at 4 a.m., the ring of the anchor broke, and she drifted a cable’s length to leeward before another could be dropped. At day-light the wind blew so hard as to render the recovery of the broken anchor impossible; and in the course of the same day the arm of a second broke, owing to its being ill shaped and badly wrought.
“On another occasion,” observes Lieutenant King, “this misfortune might have caused the loss of the vessel; but, fortunately, a few hours’ day-light, and a clear run before us, enabled us to proceed, and before sunset we passed Booby Island. A remarkable coincidence of our losses upon the two voyages has now occurred: last year, at the N.W. Cape, we lost two anchors just as we were commencing the survey, and now, on rounding the N E. Cape, to commence our examination of the north coast, we have encountered a similar loss, leaving us, in both instances, only one bower anchor to carry on the survey.”
Eleven weeks had now elapsed since the Mermaid left Port Jackson; “during which time,” says her commander,
