Our passage across was a long and tedious one, and when at last towards evening we sighted Perron’s Peninsula it was very evident that my boat would not do more than fetch the very northern point, but the other boat, which was a much better sailer, was nearly a mile to windward of us.  The weather had been for the last hour or two very threatening, and we had reached to within two miles of the shore when the wind suddenly shifted to the south-west and began to blow a terrific gale.  We had just time to down sail and take to the oars, and as every one of the crew saw that his life depended on it they gave way strenuously.  We were under the lee of the Peninsula and had it not been for this circumstance must undoubtedly have been lost.  That gale of wind was a terrible and magnificent sight.  I stood at the steer oar; the waves lifted the boat each time nearly broadside on, and it was all I could do to bring her head round in time to meet the next sea, but the men pulled steadily.  “Now men, give way for your lives,” I called out if they flagged, and renewed energy was instantly infused into all of them.  At times we could not hold our own against the wind and waves, and at the most favourable moments seemed merely to stand still.  I looked at the shore until my eyes ached; but no nearer did it appear to be than at first, and gradually grew less distinct as the daylight faded.  We could only see the other boat now and then; but although she was evidently in imminent peril they were much nearer in shore than we were.  The danger we underwent on this occasion was great; but the excitement of so wild and grand a scene was highly pleasurable, and when success at last crowned our exertions, and we went dancing wildly in through the surf and spray upon a rocky unknown shore, and found the other crew on the beach ready to help us in hauling up, I felt that there is a charm attached to scenes like these which can only be fully estimated by those who have experienced it.  Having in our turn assisted to haul up the other boat we lighted our fires and laid down for the night.

PERRON’S PENINSULA.

March 27.

This morning I found that all our hands were so fatigued by the exertions of the previous day that a few hours of comparative rest was absolutely necessary.  I therefore directed them to stroll about the beach for an hour or two and to collect oysters or shellfish.  The part of Perron’s Peninsula which we were on consists of abrupt cliffs of the height of about two hundred feet; at the base of these and between them and the sea there is a narrow strip of sandy land and dunes, and at their summit is a barren sandy tableland, gently sloping away to the southward and appearing to extend throughout the whole length of the peninsula.