carefulness for the interests of all under his command, if I forbear to speak, I am silent because, while I recognise their existence, and perceive how much they exalt the character they adorn, I feel, too, that they have elevated it above, either the need, or the reach of any eulogy within my power to offer!
I felt pretty confident that the first rush of the tide upon its reflux would be violent, and had made preparation accordingly. In the first watch these anticipations were realized, and I was roused from a momentary doze by a loud roaring, which I at once recognized to be the voice of thunder, heralding the advancing tide.
TIDE-BORE.
The night was pitch dark, and though I instinctively turned my eyes towards the offing, I could see nothing, but as each anxious moment passed away, the fearful voice of the waters sounded nearer and nearer, and within less time than I have occupied in the narration, the full force of the rush of tide coming on like a wall, several feet high, and bringing our anchor away with it, was upon us. The cable thus slackened, the yawl sheered, and was thrown violently upon her broadside in the midst of it, and had it not been for the shores lashed to each mast, she must inevitably have capsized. The whaleboat fared better; being lighter she was the sooner afloat, and besides her buoyant bow was the better able to receive and resist the shock. When the tide slacked we returned to the deep water off Escape Point, and spent the remainder of the night in quiet, I would fain hope, so far as most of us were concerned, not without a thankful remembrance of Him, whose merciful providence had been so recently manifested in our behalf!
ASCENT OF THE FITZROY.
February 27.
Leaving Mr. Tarrant in charge of the yawl, I proceeded with Mr. Helpman to trace the river, immediately after daylight. Against the last of the ebb tide, and with the thermometer at 80 degrees, we contrived to reach a spot two miles beyond Point Escape before noon. From Point Escape upwards, there appeared to be, at low-water, no regular channel; the bed of the river assumed the aspect of an extensive flat of mud, intersected with small rivulets or streams that served to drain it. No signs of human habitation were seen along its banks, which divided by numerous small creeks, and thickly fringed with the unfailing mangrove, stretched away in level and drear monotony, only broken towards the west by land of inconsiderable elevation. The circling flight of the ever-wary curlew, and the shrill cry of the plover, now first disturbed in their accustomed territory, alone vouched for the presence of animal life in that vast solitude, the effect of which they heightened, rather than removed!
RETURN ON FOOT.
Finding the further ascent almost if not altogether impracticable at the present state of the tide, I ordered the boat back to Point Escape, and landed, accompanied by Mr. Helpman, and a seaman, intending to return on foot.
PERILOUS SITUATION.
The shore was a soft mud, in which the small mangroves had found a most congenial soil: while our journey every now and then, arrested by the intervention of one or other of the numerous little creeks of which I have before spoken, promised to prove a more fatiguing, if not more hazardous affair, than we had originally contemplated.
We managed at first, by ascending their banks for a short distance from the river, to jump across these opposing creeks, but as the tide rose, they filled and widened in proportion, and each moment increased the difficulties of our position, now heightened by the untoward discovery that William Ask, the seaman who had accompanied us, was unable to swim!
Time and tide, however, wait for no man, and the rapidly rising waters had flooded the whole of the low land which formed this bank of the river, so that we were compelled to wade, feeling with a stick for the edges of the creeks in our route, over each of which Mr. Helpman and myself had alternately to swim in order to pass the arms undamaged; and then Ask, making the best jump that he could muster for the occasion, was dragged ashore on the opposite side. At length we reached a creek, the breadth of which rendered this mode of proceeding no longer practicable, and we were compelled to stop, being fortunately very near the point where I had directed the boat to meet us. Our situation was now anything but pleasant, the water being already above our knees, and the tide having still several hours to rise; while the mangrove trees by which we were surrounded, were all too slender to afford the least support.
In this state of affairs, leaving Mr. Helpman with Ask--who had secured a piece of drift timber as a last resource--I made my way to the edge of the shore, only to find that the boat, unable to stem the current, had anchored some distance above us! Mr. Helpman and myself might have reached her by swimming; but even could I have easily reconciled myself to part with our arms and instruments, at any rate to abandon poor Ask in the dilemma into which I had brought him was not to be thought of. By repeated discharges of my gun I at last succeeded in attracting the attention of the boat's crew, who made an immediate and desperate effort to come to our assistance: while their strength lasted they just contrived to hold their own against the tide, then, drifting astern, were again compelled to anchor. The attempt was renewed, when an equally desperate struggle was followed by just as fruitless a result: the force of the stream was clearly more than they could overcome, and an intervening bank precluded any attempt to creep up to us along the shore.
Most anxiously did I watch the water as it changed its upward level almost with the rapidity of an inch a minute, being in doubt whether it would rise above our heads, ere it afforded a sufficient depth to carry the boat over the intervening bank, and bring us the only assistance that would afford a chance for our lives. I breathed a short, but most fervent prayer to Him, in whose hands are the issues of life and death, and turned back to cheer my comrades with the chance of rescue.
AND PROVIDENTIAL ESCAPE.
Nor shall I ever forget the expression of thankfulness and gratitude which lit up the face of poor Ask, as the whispers of hope were confirmed by the welcome advance of the whaleboat's bows through the almost submerged mangroves, just as the water had topped our shoulders; and, therefore, barely in time to confirm upon this locality its former title of Point Escape!
We now pulled down to this last-named point, and waited for the tide to fall, in order to obtain the necessary observations for determining its position: those for latitude, taken in the early part of the night, gave a result (worked on the spot) of 17 degrees 24½ minutes South; being an increase in latitude of 35 miles from the present position of the Beagle.
Having now but two days' provisions remaining, I determined on completing the survey of the western shore, south of Valentine Island, and then to return and report our discovery, knowing that Captain Wickham would do all in his power to prosecute it to the utmost.
RETURN TO THE SHIP.
March 3.
These plans were accordingly carried into effect, and we returned to the ship on the morning of the 3rd of March. We found all well on board, with the exception of poor Mr. Usborne, whom we were delighted to see so far recovered. One sentiment of satisfaction pervaded the whole ship's company, when informed of our success; and, as I had anticipated, Captain Wickham at once determined upon further exploring our new discovery in lighter boats, first placing the ship as near the mouth of it as practicable. During the squall, on the first night of our absence, the ship parted her cable, and was nearly on the rocks.
Our sportsmen had been actively and successfully employed during our absence, having shot a great number of quail; they had seen two emus, and Messrs. Bynoe and Dring had obtained several specimens of rare birds, all of which are now figured by Mr. Gould in his Birds of Australia. A few natives had also been seen, but they were too wary to permit any intercourse with them.
March 4.
This was Sunday, and no imperative necessity hindered our making it a day of rest. Various necessary observations occupied the greater part of Monday; and, on the day following, the ship was moved, under my guidance, to an anchorage, in 5 fathoms (low-water) 2½ miles west from Point Torment.
CHAPTER 1.7. THE FITZROY RIVER TO PORT GEORGE THE FOURTH, AND RETURN TO SWAN RIVER.