Jackey was now head and leading man in every sense of the word, and away we went in a westerly direction, for about, say, five or six miles; Jackey telling us to look out behind and all about for the blacks.  After proceeding some four miles of the distance, we came to a creek where we stopped for a few minutes; Jackey was evidently tired, not recovered, and could not walk fast, and although we went off at first at a good pace, Jackey was getting lame, and had been obliged to sit down three times on the journey.  About two miles beyond this creek Jackey got up into a tree, and returned saying he could see the mountain near which the camp was, but that it was a long way off, that we could not get there to-night, but that we must camp in the bush, and get there to-morrow.  It here became necessary to pause.  The ship was left with two hands only in her, anchored in shallow water, and the Captain said promptly that he could not proceed farther without great risk of losing the ship, either from its coming on to blow, or that natives may attack her in their canoes; (here I may say what has been omitted, namely, that in the early part of the morning we saw and examined a canoe close to where we first landed, and found part of a cloak in it, which Jackey immediately pronounced as belonging to the white men at the camp) and it was determined, well considering all circumstances, to return to the ship, which we did, coming out on the beach under mangroves, at the very spot we told Jackey to come out at on our leaving.  We arrived at the ship at twelve minutes before four P.M.  During our absence the men in the boat had seen on the beach from fifty to one hundred natives.  We saw none.  The day has been very hot, and we are in a fix, surrounded by reefs, and some little anxiety is existing as to how we shall get out again.  We have determined to proceed to Weymouth Bay, and in so doing I have taken everything into consideration.  We have eight men to attend to at Weymouth Bay.  In all probability the three men here are dead, for when Jackey left them, Costigan was nearly dead, and Luff was very ill.  The cloak taken from the canoe shows that the blacks have found their camp, and had we gone on there, which would have taken a day or two at least more, we should only have found, I verily believe, as Jackey says, “bones belonging to whitefellows.”  After getting on board, Jackey went to sleep, thoroughly done up.  He fell asleep also in coming off in the boat.

Thursday, December 28.

This has been a day of anxiety.  We left a little after daylight, not without feelings of disappointment and dissatisfaction at not having been successful in rescuing the men, who it was possible might be yet alive.  We were surrounded by reefs, a light breeze, and fair depth of water—­called out by the leadsman, 2, 2 1/2, 2, 3 fathoms, until after some time we got into deeper water, and passed out of the Bay in safety.  Not a fire had been seen on the shore all night, nor was there a native to be seen