our anchor, as the buoy had been staved and sunk about an hour before we were thus set adrift.  I did not think it adviseable to risk another anchor, and therefore immediately crossed over for the island of Chiloe, in a boisterous gale with thick rainy weather, surrounded on all hands with seeming shoals, and in a manner bewildered in an unknown navigation.  When within a mile of Chiloe, we ranged along shore to the southward,[257] in hope of discovering the town of Chacao.  We passed two commodious bays, which had no appearance of any town, and came to a point of land marked by a high pyramidal rock.  After getting round this point, we found ourselves entirely out of the tideway, and quite sheltered from all other inconveniences, and came therefore to anchor opposite a cross on the north side of the harbour, having just sufficient day-light to enable us to get into this place of shelter.

[Footnote 257:  The direction was more probably to the eastward—­E.]

Next morning, I sent the second lieutenant, in the pinnace well manned and armed, to look out for the two towns; and sent at the same time Mr Hately in the launch, to endeavour to find a watering-place.  He soon returned, accompanied by an Indian, who had shewn him a very convenient place where we could at once procure both wood and water, even under the command of our guns from the ship, and free from all danger of being surprised.  I accordingly sent back the launch with casks to be filled, and several people to cut wood, all well armed, together with an officer of marines and ten men to keep guard.  The Indians gave us hopes of a sufficient supply of provisions; but came in the evening to our people who were on shore, to acquaint them that the natives were forbidden to bring any thing to us.  As the pinnace had not yet returned, this information gave me much concern, fearing that the enemy had taken her, and had by that means learnt what we were.  On the 3d December, about seven in the evening, a Spanish officer came to us, in a boat rowed by eight Indians, being sent by the governor of Chiloe to enquire what we were.  Meaning to pass upon him for a French captain well known in these seas, I ordered none of my people to appear on deck but such as could speak French or Spanish, and hoisted French colours.  When the officer came on board, I told him my ship was the St Rose, homeward-bound, that my name was Janis le Breton, and that I entreated the governor to spare me what provisions he could conveniently afford, that being my only business on the coast.  The officer heard me with much civility, seeming to give implicit credit to all I said; even staid on board all night, and went away next morning, to all appearance well satisfied.