The day after we passed the depot, on our return, we began to experience the effects of the rains that had fallen in the mountains.  The Morumbidgee rose upon us six feet in one night, and poured along its turbid waters with proportionate violence.  For seventeen days we pulled against them with determined perseverance, but human efforts, under privations such as ours, tend to weaken themselves, and thus it was that the men began to exhibit the effects of severe and unremitting toil.  Our daily journeys were short, and the head we made against the stream but trifling.  The men lost the proper and muscular jerk with which they once made the waters foam and the oars bend.  Their whole bodies swung with an awkward and laboured motion.  Their arms appeared to be nerveless; their faces became haggard, their persons emaciated, their spirits wholly sunk; nature was so completely overcome, that from mere exhaustion they frequently fell asleep during their painful and almost ceaseless exertions.  It grieved me to the heart to see them in such a state at the close of so perilous a service, and I began to reproach Robert Harris that he did not move down the river to meet us; but, in fact, he was not to blame.  I became captious, and found fault where there was no occasion, and lost the equilibrium of my temper in contemplating the condition of my companions.  No murmur, however, escaped them, nor did a complaint reach me, that was intended to indicate that they had done all they could do.  I frequently heard them in their tent, when they thought I had dropped asleep, complaining of severe pains and of great exhaustion.  “I must tell the captain, to-morrow,” some of them would say, “that I can pull no more.”  To-morrow came, and they pulled on, as if reluctant to yield to circumstances.  Macnamee at length lost his senses.  We first observed this from his incoherent conversation, but eventually from manner.  He related the most extraordinary tales, and fidgeted about eternally while in the boat.  I felt it necessary, therefore, to relieve him from the oars.

Amidst these distresses, M’Leay preserved his good humour, and endeavoured to lighten the task, and to cheer the men as much as possible.  His presence at this time was a source of great comfort to me.  The uniform kindness with which he had treated his companions, gave him an influence over them now, and it was exerted with the happiest effect.

Despatch two men to Pondebadgery.

On the 8th and 9th of April we had heavy rain, but there was no respite for us.  Our provisions were nearly consumed, and would have been wholly exhausted, if we had not been so fortunate as to kill several swans.  On the 11th, we gained our camp opposite to Hamilton’s Plains, after a day of severe exertion.  Our tents were pitched upon the old ground, and the marks of our cattle were around us.  In the evening, the men went out with their guns, and M’Leay and I walked to the rear of the camp,