fathoms, coral bottom, and therefore not safe to anchor upon: this was unfortunate, for the sudden defection of the wind prevented our hauling into the bay out of the tide, which was evidently running with considerable rapidity, and drifting us, without our having the means of preventing it, towards a cluster of small rocks and islands, through which we could not discover any outlet, and which were so crowded, that in the dangerous predicament in which we found ourselves placed, they bore a truly awful and terrific appearance. At this time, I was at my usual post, the mast-head, directing the steerage of the vessel; but, as the brig was drifting forward by a rapid sluice of tide towards some low rocks, about a quarter of a mile off, that were not more than two feet above the water’s edge, and upon which it appeared almost inevitable that we must strike, I descended to the deck, under the certain conviction that we could not escape the dangers strewed across our path, unless a breeze should spring up, of which there was not the slightest appearance or probability. Happily, however, the stream of the tide swept us past the rocks without accident, and, after carrying us about half a mile farther, changed its direction to S.E., drifting us towards a narrow strait, separating two rocky islands, in the centre of which was a large insulated rock that seemed to divide the stream. The boat was now hoisted out and sent a-head to tow, but we could not succeed in getting the vessel’s head round. As she approached the strait, the channel became much narrower, and several islands were passed, at not more than thirty yards from her course. The voices of natives were now heard, and soon afterwards some were seen on either side of the strait; we were so near to one party, that they might have thrown their spears on board. By this time, we were flying past the shore with such velocity, that it made us quite giddy; and our situation was too awful to give us time to observe the motions of the Indians: for we were entering the narrowest part of the strait, and the next moment were close to the rock, which it appeared to be almost impossible to avoid. It was more than probable that the stream it divided would carry us broadside upon it, when the consequences would have been truly dreadful. The current, or sluice, was setting past the rock at the rate of eight or nine knots, and the water being confined by its intervention, fell at least six or seven feet; at the moment, however, when we were upon the point of being dashed to pieces, a sudden breeze providentially sprung up, and, filling our sails, impelled the vessel forward three or four yards; – this was enough, but only just sufficient, for the rudder was not more than six yards from the rock. No sooner had we passed this frightful danger than the breeze fell again, and was succeeded, by a dead calm; the tide, however, continued to carry us on with a gradually decreasing strength, until one o’clock, when. we felt very little effect from it.
The Bathurst returned to Port Jackson on the 25th April, 1822; sailed for England, Sept. 25th; and, after touching
