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.