Narrative of a Voyage Round the World (Wilson)/Chapter 3
CHAPTER III.
The weather was serene and apparently settled; and the eastern breeze blew steadily, by the influence of which we were propelled neither slowly nor unpleasantly over the undulating bosom of the emerald sea. We were also cheered by the indications of continued moderate weather, confirmed by the placid aspect of departing day.
The night came on, and every thing around us still wore a favourable appearance, and our spirits were buoyed up by the pleasing hope, that the issue of our enterprise might be prosperous.
The long-boat, in the centre, led the way; the skiff being stationed on one quarter, and the jolly-boat on the other. As before mentioned, we had a few candles; but they were reserved for use, in the event of the weather being hazy; and, while the sky was clear, we directed our course by the stars.
During the night, we proceeded at the rate of four miles an hour; nothing occurred to cause us any alarm, nor, from the appearance of early morn, did we apprehend any sudden change. The weather continued fine throughout the day, the sea smooth, the wind fair, and the boats kept close company. At noon, having ascertained our latitude and longitude, we kept on our course for New Year's Isle.
Now came "Saturday night at sea," a night commonly supposed to be dedicated by the sons of the waves to reminiscences of "sweethearts and wives," and to "the flowing bowl." This, however, is more in song than in reality;—at least, it has, in a great measure, like many other old customs, passed away; and, with all due regard to Dibdin's memory, it may be fairly doubted, whether the time be very fit to drink and sing "while the foaming billows roll." Be that as it may, we could only celebrate it in sober silence.
Since our departure from the islands, we had seen little to enliven our lonely way. A few "boobies" occasionally made their appearance; two of which, having this evening lighted on the boat, ware caught, and soon snapped up, without much ceremony of cooking. We passed a great number of sea-snakes, whose movements, especially during the night, were exceedingly beautiful.
"Within the shadow of the boat,
I watched their rich attire;
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black.
They coiled, they swam, and every track
Was a flash of golden fire."
No untoward event occurred during the night, and we kept advancing, guided by the stars, which did not withdraw their shining until the sun shed his beams on the slumbering sea. The day advanced, the weather continued propitious, and we indulged a hope that fickle fortune was inclined to make some amends for her late conduct towards us.
From the scanty state of our wardrobe, we were unable to make that alteration in dress, usual (especially among well behaved sea-faring men) on Sunday; yet each individual contrived to make some difference in his appearance, from a feeling of respect to the day.
In the forenoon, conformably to usual custom, we joined in the performance of Divine service; but in the present instance we did not adhere to the prescribed forms, having judged it preferable to select such Psalms, and other portions of Scripture, as were more immediately applicable to persons in our situation; and it may readily be believed that our devotion was fervent and sincere. Indeed, our lives depended on so frail a tenure, that there was no difficulty in abstracting our thoughts from all worldly affairs; and the contemplation of the sea and sky tended to inspire us with a faint conception of that Almighty Power by whose fiat they sprang into existence!—It was by no means an uninteresting scene, to behold three small boats, in the wide ocean, crowded with human beings, apparently at the dubious mercy of the winds and waves, offering up their prayers and supplications to Him, "who is the confidence of the ends of all the earth, and of them that are afar off upon the sea."
At noon, the latitude, by observation, was 10° 41' south, and longitude 137° 56' east. We continued our course, still favoured by pleasant weather, and the billow-smoothing breeze. On Monday afternoon we were visited by an immense shoal of dolphins, which accompanied us for some time, whose swift and varied evolutions tended to relieve the dull and dreary scene, although their appearance boded no good to us. The mighty leviathans were also this evening disporting in their boundless domain; and we beheld their unwieldy and terrific gambols with fear and trembling, but fortunately we escaped unscathed.
The weather, which had hitherto been so propitious, now began to assume a threatening aspect; as the night advanced, the wind became baffling, slight showers of rain fell, and the darkness was so intense, that we lost sight of the other boats, although they were at no great distance from us. We hoisted a light, hoping that they might thereby be enabled to keep company, and held on our way.
We passed the night in some anxiety, and when daylight appeared, none of the boats were in sight; our consternation at this accident was extreme, being aware that no person in the absent boats knew the position of Melville Island. At first we proceeded on, thinking, that, as they sailed far better than we, they might be before us; but having soon changed our opinion, we shortened sail, and in about an hour, after many a strained eye had been wistfully scrutinizing every part of the horizon, we had the satisfaction of perceiving both boats bearing E.S.E.
On joining, we learned that they had not seen our light, and that they had also for some time lost sight of each other; we rejoiced at our meeting, and resumed our course, as near as the wind, which had now shifted to the north-west, would permit. At noon our latitude was 11° 2' south, and longitude 134° 12' east; which we communicated to the other boats, and apprized them also of the latitude and longitude of the British settlement at Melville Island, lest accident, or unavoidable occurrence, might again separate us. The wind continued light and variable, chiefly from the north-west;—an uncommon quarter to blow from at this place and season of the year. During the night the boats were in close company; and a sharp look out was kept to prevent our being taken unawares by any sudden change of the weather; as, from appearances, we anticipated that some alteration would soon take place.
On Thursday, at noon, we found ourselves considerably to the southward, the latitude being 11° 14'. Not being acquainted with the coast, and having nothing but a general chart to direct us, we intended to pass to the northward of New-Year's Isle. As the afternoon advanced, the weather assumed a more gloomy aspect, and we perceived, with deep anxiety, the indications of an approaching storm.
About seven, P.M., not being able to lie higher than south-west, and to avoid a dense and dark-looking cloud, which was brooding over the deep in that direction, we wore, and stood on the other tack;—hardly was this manoeuvre effected, when the wind, in a sudden squall, shifted, and blew furiously from the southward; the rain poured down in torrents, accompanied with loud and long-continued peals of thunder; and vivid streams of lightning flashed fearfully on our eyes. We were now enabled to shape our course, and, the wind being unaccompanied with a heavy sea, we advanced with much rapidity in the midst of this elemental war.
About midnight we discovered land, concluded to be New Year's Isle. We passed to the northward, and proceeded on in company;—the lightning showing us to each other. In about an hour, we perceived another island, which puzzled us not a little; we kept away, to give it a good berth, and then resumed our course, thinking all safe, when a friendly flash of lightning showed us a rock right a-head, to which we were fast approaching; and on which, in a few minutes, the boats must inevitably have been dashed to pieces!—we had just time and room to avoid this unexpected and unknown danger[1]. Admonished by this narrow escape, we thought it prudent to stand to the northward, under easy sail, until daylight; when we directed our course for Buckle's Isle, which we expected to reach about noon.
The sea was now becoming formidable, the wind augmenting in strength, and all appearances indicated that our dangers were increasing. We continued advancing together till noon, when we fortunately obtained the sun's meridian altitude, which shewed our latitude to be 10° 59'; but, much to our astonishment and vexation, there was no appearance of land[2]. Just as we finished the observation, the skiff suddenly hove-to, and the chief mate hailed us to do the same: but this was impossible, as we were compelled to run before the wind, even if it had been to certain destruction.
The jolly-boat came on with us, and those on board her expressed an earnest desire to be received into the long boat. We did not at all relish this proposal; and they were rather harshly reproached with having lost courage, and admonished to be of good cheer. We 
On ??? by A. Picken.Sketch by Leut. Weston
Dance of the Aborigines of Raffles Bay
The wind and sea were gradually acquiring strength; and those in the jolly-boat renewed their pressing solicitations to be taken on board the long-boat. We were greatly annoyed at this, more particularly as they seemed to be "dodging" about us, in order to seize an opportunity of jumping on board, regardless of consequences; but we succeeded in getting to windward of them, when they waved their hands, and bade us farewell!
We then hailed and informed them that, should the weather become worse, we would consider whether we could receive them on board before dark. At this time, the sun broke through the clouds, and we seized the opportunity of ascertaining the apparent time. Some thought they saw land bearing S.S.W., but I believe it was only a heavy low cloud. As the night drew on, the weather grew more tempestuous.
We now deliberated whether we ought, or ought not, under existing circumstances, to take the jolly-boat's crew on board. She was a fine boat, and had behaved, and was behaving, remarkably well; while the long-boat was already too deeply laden, and required the constant labour of two hands to keep her free. However, we unanimously agreed, although with much increased hazard of our own lives, to admit them on boards as they had evidently yielded to despair, and consequently could not exert their energies in case of emergency.
We made known to them our determination, but previously to receiving them, (trusting to the rain,) we thought it prudent to pump off a cask of fresh water, which, with several other things, we threw overboard, to lighten the boat. They were then cautioned to come on board, carefully, one by one, in case of doing irreparable injury to our frail bulwark: this they agreed to do, but, unmindful of their promise, as soon as it was in their power, they all jumped in together. This imprudent action might have been attended with fatal consequences, if several of us, who had little dependence on their promises, had not taken the precaution to place ourselves on the larboard side, and thereby balanced the boat. Few were the greetings between us and the new-comers, who were placed in different parts of the boat to preserve her trim.
The jolly-boat, thus abandoned, skimmed away, like a sea-fowl, over the waves; while the long boat, over-pressed by her additional burden, could scarcely swim. To add to our uneasiness, night was coming on, the wind increasing to a heavy gale, accompanied by a deluge of rain, and the sea ran mountains high.
It now behoved us to be most attentive to the steerage; as the neglect of a moment might prove our ruin. We kept W. by S. for Melville Island, but our hopes of reaching it were very slender. By great vigilance, we managed to elude the encroachments of the waves, till about nine, P. M., when a heavy sea, whose death-denoting sound still lingers in my ears, rolled over the larboard quarter, and filled the boat! For a moment we were paralysed, believing that we were going down, without the most distant hope of any one of us being saved. Finding, however, that the boat still floated, we took heart, baled away, and threw every article of no essential importance overboard.
The sea had upset the compass, extinguished the light, and rendered it impossible for us to obtain another; yet we managed, (although the task was difficult) to keep the boat right before the wind. Just as we had got her baled out, she was again filled by another wave. We now determined to hazard the dangerous experiment of taking in the mainsail; this being effected, and the reefed-jib set, we could do no more than quietly submit to the will of Him, who "rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm."
It was fortunate that we acted thus, as not even a spray broke over us afterwards. Often did we expect to be overwhelmed by the following sea, whose dismaying roar seemed a summons to eternity; but our gallant boat behaved beyond all expectation well,—bearing us in safety over the curling summits of the highest waves.
The strength of the wind, and the turbulence of the sea, diminished considerably on the approach of morn, which, although ushered in with clouds and rain, was, to our eyes, exceedingly grateful. Uncertainty of the fate of our companions in the skiff excited feelings of intense and painful anxiety; but knowing the skiff to be a fine boat, not overladen, and well managed, we entertained the hope that she had successfully resisted the united force of winds and waves, and that our fellow-sufferers would, in a very short time, reach Melville Island. Consoled, in some degree, by this idea, we hoisted our reefed-mainsail, and pursued our dreary way.
As daylight became perfect, low land was descried bearing to the southward; and apprehensions were entertained that we should not be able to gain our intended port, as it was more than probable that the boat had been driven to the westward; and at noon, we ascertained that such fears were well grounded;—being three miles to the northward, and several to the westward, of Cape Van Dieman. To think of beating back (although the distance was so short,) would have been absurd: we, therefore, without hesitation, directed our course to Timor.
It required great caution, and unremitted care, to keep our trembling boat right before the wind, which, although its fury was much abated, yet blew with sufficient vehemence, and accompanied with a turbulent swell. The heavy showers of rain that fell at short intervals, and the foamy spray, combined to keep us constantly and thoroughly wet. Next day, at noon, we found that we had advanced upwards of one hundred and fifty miles during the last twenty-four hours. The wind still blew in our favour, but stronger than we wished, and in sudden squalls, which, intermingled with thunder, lightning, and rain, kept us constantly on the alert, as we pursued our precarious path across the Timor Sea.
On the first of June, about six, P.M., we discovered land. To say that this event caused universal joy, would convey but a faint idea of the feelings that pervaded every bosom. Next morning, at daylight, we found ourselves within a few miles of the projecting land to the eastward of "the bay of the Pearl bank," when, directing our course to the westward, and keeping within a short distance of the shore, we made all the sail we could, hoping to reach Coupang before dark; but this expectation, notwithstanding the wind blew fresh and fair, was not realized: and, as the day declined, fearing that we might be driven past the Island during the night, we thought it prudent to take shelter, until the morning, in a small bay which appeared suitable to that purpose; and to which we accordingly steered, until the sight and sound of broken water compelled us to alter our course.
We then proceeded towards a sandy beach, where we purposed to run the boat on shore: on approaching it, however, the surf appeared so very heavy, that had we persisted in our intention, the boat would have been probably dashed to pieces; or, had we succeeded in getting her safely on shore, to launch her again would have been impossible. Influenced by these considerations, we gave up the idea; and being now in two fathoms water, we lowered the sails, and hove out a grappling, which, assisted by the rebounding swells kept the boat from drifting. By this time, the day had closed, and the aspect of the sky led us to expect moderate weather.
This part of the coast, from the numerous fires observed on the hills near us, appeared to be well inhabited; but not knowing how we might have been treated, had we been in the power of the fierce and lawless natives, we were rather pleased than otherwise, that such a powerful barrier intervened.
We now joined cheerfully, and partook of our frugal fare; and then, thanks being offered to our Almighty Preserver, we disposed ourselves in the best way we could to rest, and, undisturbed by fears of foundering, enjoyed a night's refreshing repose.
At daylight, we got under weigh; but we had not proceeded far when the rain fell in torrents, accompanied by a very dense fog, which prevented our seeing to any distance. About nine, P.M., we had approached very near to the land, which was considered the south-west point of Timor; off which we perceived a reef extending about a mile. By hauling up, we were able to clear the breakers; but, being just on the verge of them, we got into a very turbulent and confused sea, which, in a short time, we cleared. As the land now trended to the northward, we altered our course accordingly; and the weather having cleared up, we saw Pule Bottee, and the neighbouring islands; by which we felt assured that we were in the straits of Semao.
Strong gusts of wind came occasionally off the Timor shore; one of which, from want of due precaution on our part, carried away the mast. The yard being soon converted into a mast, and an oar into a yard, the sail was fitted thereto, and we resumed our course, which was now, we hoped, drawing near a fortunate termination.
Shortly after this, we perceived a brig, which appeared to be working out of the bay. Various were the conjectures as to what she was, and whither bound; some thinking her an American, some an Arab, and others a Dutchman. After a little discussion, we edged away for her, exhibiting our ensign as conspicuously as we could. Some time elapsed before she took any notice of us, and we began to think that it was not her intention to do so; but, at length, she stood towards us and displayed her colours, which, with much emotion, we discovered to be those of our native land.
As we drew near the vessel, we observed the crew gazing on us with looks of sympathy; and, among the number, to my astonishment, I perceived my friend Mr. Radford, whom I imagined to be at Melville Island. On recognizing me, which he did with difficulty, he evinced the kindly feeling of his heart, by shedding tears, on beholding the change which hardships and misfortunes had made in my appearance. Captain Young and myself went on board, and were kindly received, while refreshments were liberally distributed among those in the boats. The vessel proved to be the colonial brig Amity, from Coupang, where Mr. Radford had been purchasing provisions for the British settlement at Baffles Bay, whither she was now bound.
We were informed that Melville Island had been abandoned. This intelligence caused us much uneasiness, on account of our fellow-sufferers in the skiff, who, we hoped, had reached that settlement; and although we were relieved, in some degree, by hearing that plenty of vegetables had been left; yet, from the treacherous and hostile character of the natives, we were under great apprehensions as to the safety of our companions. We also learned, that there were several vessels at Coupang (American, Arab, and Dutch), chiefly employed on the coast; and that, ere long, we might have an opportunity of proceeding either to Sourabaya or to Batavia.
I had little inclination, however, to revisit Java, where I had nearly fallen a victim to the fatal disease that occasionally rages there; moreover, I had had an opportunity, subsequent to a former shipwreck, of visiting, not only several interesting islands in the Indian Archipelago, but also the greater part of British India, both within and beyond the Ganges; I therefore determined to embrace the opportunity, now afforded me, of visiting the north coast of New Holland.
I came the more readily to this determination, from knowing that I should be very comfortably situated with Mr. Radford, who was in charge of the Commissariat at Port Baffles; yet I could not avoid being a good deal affected on parting with my shipwrecked companions,—participation in misfortune tending strongly to cement social union. Several of them, including the carpenter, expressed a wish to accompany me, and the master of the brig consented to take them. Captain Young being anxious to reach England, thought it prudent, on his part, to proceed by way of Batavia.
We thus separated, after an affectionate farewell,—those in the long boat for Coupang, and we in the brig for Raffles' Bay. The master of the brig having previously relieved our anxiety by promising to keep along the south coast of Timor, in search of the skiff; and then, if unsuccessful, to touch at Melville Island, where some information respecting her might be obtained.
It is impossible for any person, not having undergone the same confinement, to imagine the pleasure derived from being able to stretch the limbs, even on a brig's deck;—I had not, however, enjoyed that pleasure long, when my ears were annoyed by the grating, clanking sound of the pumps, and I learned that the vessel made a great deal of water. This news was far from agreeable, and I almost wished myself again in the boat.
We continued working out until the evening, when, not being able to stem the current, and bad weather coming on, the master thought it advisable to bear up for Coupang, in order to get the vessel repaired;—our carpenter, a man skilful in his business having engaged to put her in a state more fit for sea than she was in at present. I was much pleased by this arrangement, which gave me an opportunity of seeing Coupang, and also of meeting those from whom I was so suddenly separated, I went early to bed, and slept soundly until morning, when, rising renovated, I found the brig at anchor in Coupang Bay.
The return of the vessel excited much surprise, and it was Supposed that some accident must have happened. I think I may say, however, that the event was regarded with satisfaction by my friend Captain Young, who, I learned, had been invited and entertained on board the "Merkus" (a brig, under Dutch colours,) commanded by a countryman of our own. We went together, to pay our respects to the Resident, who received us politely, and assured us of his protection and assistance.
We then went to visit the Secretary to Government, with whom Captain Young entered into satisfactory arrangements for supplying the sailors with lodging and provisions, until they could be forwarded to Batavia or elsewhere. We found a group assembled at the Secretary's office, consisting of the masters of the ships in port, and several of the mercantile inhabitants, who seemed anxious to hear the particulars of our ship-wreck. The master of an American ship, in return, favoured us with a very interesting account of his having navigated these seas for many years, without having met with any accident.
In taking a stroll through the streets, we met several of the sailors, quite forgetful of their providential escape, cruizing about, and kicking up a dust with the inhabitants, who had supplied them too liberally with ardent spirits, and who now suffered their aggressions with considerate forbearance.
In the evening, a small sail, apparently a boat, was perceived making her appearance from the Straits. A boat from the "Amity" was immediately manned, and, hoping she might be the skiff, we pulled quickly towards her, but, on drawing near, we were mortified by discovering that it was a small Malay proa.
Early next morning, being on the look-out, we discerned a small sail just emerging from the Straits. A boat from the "Amity," and another from the "Merkus," (emulous of each other,) pulled heartily towards her, and, ere long, we had the heartfelt satisfaction of recognizing our companions in the skiff; and Mr. Underwood, the chief mate, gave us the following account of their proceedings since the time of our separation.
On the day we parted company[3], about noon, a sea broke into the boat, and the man who was steering, having, on a former occasion, been swamped, became apprehensive of experiencing a similar accident, and immediately, and without orders, put the helm down. When they saw us proceeding on, they bore up and endeavoured to follow; but, in a short time, as the sea ran high, they considered it more safe to lie-to, which they accordingly did.
As the weather became worse, they had recourse to the following expedient: the masts, being unrigged and unstepped, were, together with the yard and oars, securely lashed, and thrown overboard, the end of the rope, by which they were bound, being made fast to the bow of the boat, which then rode pretty easy; the spars serving, in some degree, as a breakwater;—and thus they remained upwards of thirty hours.
On the weather moderating, they made sail, and stood towards the land, which was soon discovered. Observing several fires to the south-eastward, they endeavoured to work up for that part of the land, supposing the settlement to be there; but after beating about nearly a day, without having gained any ground, they gave up the attempt as fruitless, and after much discussion, the majority agreed to direct their course to Timor[4].
Thus did we all (twenty-seven in the long-boat, and twelve in the skiff) reach this friendly port, after having sailed upwards of 1300 miles over a dangerous, and occasionally very turbulent sea; and although there was no want of skill and presence of mind on the part of those who directed, nor of willing alacrity on the part of those who obeyed; yet it must be evident, that all human means, under such circumstances, would be exerted in vain, unless under the protection of a superintending Providence, to whose merciful interference our preservation can alone be attributed.
On taking a retrospective view of the occurrences attending our journey, it was evident that every thing had happened for the best; although, at the time, we formed a very different conclusion. Had we reached Booby Island, we could not have had such a good opportunity of repairing our boat, neither could we have ascertained the position of several hitherto unsurveyed islands. Had we not encountered a gale of wind, we might have reached Melville Island, where we could only have met with disappointment and disasters. The rain, also, that fell so unremittingly and in such abundance, although it tended to render us very uncomfortable; yet, on the whole, was in our favour, not only by diminishing thirst, but also by keeping the atmosphere comparatively cool, and preventing us from being scorched by the burning rays of a tropical sun.
Throughout the passage, rigid discipline and strict impartiality being observed, no insubordination nor the slightest disturbance occurred among the crew; whose behaviour was highly creditable to themselves, and well worthy of imitation by others, who may hereafter be placed in the same trying situation. We lived very sparingly, from motives of prudential caution, yet we did not experience any very great privations. Besides having a little biscuit daily, we had either a bit of cheese, or a morsel of salt beef; and although we had to eat the latter raw, it did not prove unpalatable, when we reflected on the horrible means, to which others, similarly circumstanced, had been compelled to resort,—the dread of which being constantly in our minds, made us exceedingly frugal; so that, on our arrival, we had sufficient provisions to support life for nearly a month longer.
We had, as before mentioned, a little brandy in the boat, which, being issued daily after dinner, in the proportion of one third of a wine-glassful to each individual, lasted till the day before we made the land, and, small as the quantity was, it added comfort to our scanty fare. From our having pumped off a cask of water to lighten the boat, before receiving the jolly-boat's crew on board, it behoved us to be, and we were, exceedingly cautious in the expenditure of this important article; but the rain generally affording a supply, we suffered little or no inconvenience from thirst.
Perhaps it may not be out of place now to mention, that the ship was wrecked on a very small patch of coral, detached, and lying about two cables' length to the south-west of a reef whose position is accurately laid down, by Captain Flinders, in south latitude 10° 2', and east longitude 143° 21'.
It is a very common, but highly reprehensible practice, when a ship is lost on a reef or sand-bank, to account for the accident by affirming, either that the danger has not been previously known; or that its position is inaccurately laid down on the chart; or that the ship has been drifted out of her proper course by unknown currents. That vessels are frequently lost, through one or other of these causes, there can be no doubt, yet it is no less true, that many others owe their destruction to ignorance or inadvertence.
Although our disaster might, in like manner, be easily ascribed either to currents, erroneous charts, or recent-formed coral reefs, yet it must be confessed, that we were not entirely free from blame.—1st. We gave a reef on the larboard hand too wide a berth, and, in consequence, the fair channel being very narrow, we (assisted partly by the tide,) approached too near the reef on the starboard, off which the ship was lost.—2dly, We ought to have passed to the northward of the reef, where there was not only much more sea-room; but where, by our being between the sun and the reef, its limits and detached patches, (from the beautiful green appearance, contrasted, when viewed in such an aspect, with the dark blue of the deep water,) would have been much more easily and accurately discerned. This error was committed by our wish to avoid going round about, so that we might reach Halfway Island before the sun got too far a-head.—3dly, In such an intricate navigation, we ought not to have carried such a press of sail; for, if the ship had not been going with such velocity, it must be evident, she would not have struck with so much force, and, consequently, there might have been some chance of getting her again afloat, before she became irreparably injured.
These errors being thus stated as a warning to others; I cannot conclude without mentioning, that no person could have paid more devoted and unremitted attention, in every respect, to his duty than Captain Young, who is a good practical seaman, and a very superior navigator. He was ably assisted by his chief mate, Mr. Underwood, a young man possessing every requisite to form that inestimable character—a thorough-bred seaman;—But any encomium of mine may be deemed superfluous—a more correct estimate of both their characters being easily formed from the fact, that the strictest discipline, order, and regularity, were preserved after the shipwreck; and, in consequence of this, and of their other well-directed exertions, assisted by Divine Providence, all hands reached a distant friendly port, in safety.
- ↑ By Captain King's chart, I perceive the first land we made was Maccleuer's, and the second, Oxley's Isle. The rock from which we had such a hair-breadth escape, is also laid down, about two miles to the north of the latter Island.
- ↑ Buckle's Isle, as we afterwards learned, does not exist.
- ↑ Vide page 41.
- ↑ They fortunately had a chart of this island in "Milburn's Oriental Commerce," which book had been, accidentally, thrown into their boat, when we left the "Governor Ready."