morning broke dull and gloomy, with a light breeze from the eastward. There were altogether evident symptoms of a decided and immediate change in the weather. The survey of the south-eastern portion of the sound being now complete, the ship was taken over to the high rocky land lying north 20 miles from Point Torment. We crossed the flat extending four miles North-West from that point, in from two to three fathoms at low-water; the soundings afterwards varied from nine to eleven fathoms with a soft, muddy sand bottom. We anchored in seven fathoms low-water, one mile and a half South-South-West from the southern of two small rocky islets, lying 16 miles north from Point Torment and three from the rocky shore behind them; a sandbank, dry at low-water, extended from these islets to within half a mile of the ship.
CHANGE OF LANDSCAPE.
Our eyes were now relieved by a pleasing change of landscape; the land had wholly changed in character from that of which we had seen so much and grown so weary. It no longer stretched away in an illimitable and boundless plain, but rising abruptly from the water's edge, attained an elevation of 700 feet. The highest part of this range (afterwards named Compass Hill) bore North by West distant four and a quarter miles. We were all of course exceedingly anxious to visit this new land; but the weather, strange to say, put our patience to a trial of four days, during which it equalled in severity any we had experienced under Swan Point. It commenced with dark masses of clouds rising in the east, which were soon followed by a fresh breeze from the South-East with heavy rain, gradually freshening as it came round to the westward, blowing hardest between West-South-West and West-North-West. The barometer being out of order we were unable to observe how this unusual change would have affected that instrument; the thermometer, however, fell to 76 degrees, an alteration of temperature which, combined with the dampness of the atmosphere, exposed us to the novel sensation of cold. We noticed the time of high-water was about fifteen minutes earlier than at Point Torment, the flood-stream setting East-South-East and the ebb west. The former at a rate of two miles, and the latter one mile per hour.
March 21.
At length the wished for change arrived, and we again beheld this morning the deep pure blue of a southern sky. We were all eager to commence our exploration, and Mr. Usborne, ever anxious to be actively employed, was so far recovered that he induced the surgeon, though reluctantly, to allow him to again share in the duties of the survey. He was accordingly despatched to look for a berth for the ship further to the North-West, while Captain Wickham and myself went towards Compass Hill. We were accompanied by Mr. Bynoe, who, during our excursion, was fortunate enough to add several rare birds to his collection.
EXPLORATION OF THE BAY.
We landed in a small sandy bay at the western end of a growth of mangroves, fringing the shore behind the islands. The sandbank fronting them we found to extend to the bay we landed in; to the westward of it there was deep water close to the shore. Wood and water might easily be obtained in this bay, a circumstance that may give it value in the eyes of future navigators, as it did in ours.
Before ascending the hill we crossed a flat clothed with rich grass, out of which we flushed several Pheasant-cuckoos.* We found one of their nests on the ground containing four eggs, in size and colour they resembled the domestic pigeon. The nimble manner in which these birds hop along the branches of trees, with their long tails whisking behind, give them, at the first glance, more the appearance of monkeys than birds.
(*Footnote. Centropus Phasianellus.)
A NEW VINE.
We found here the gouty-stem tree of large size, bearing fruit; and also a vine, which, from all the information I have since been able to collect, appears to be quite a new specimen;* it bore a small but well-tasted black berry, similar in shape and general appearance to the grape sometimes seen climbing over the cottage doors in England. Each fruit contained three large seeds, in shape and size resembling the coffee berry. It was growing in a light sandy soil, and the temperature to which it was exposed varies from 76 to 110 degrees. It is a matter of great regret that I was not able to introduce this new species of vine into England; the seeds and specimens of it having been unfortunately destroyed by mice and insects. I was, however, more fortunate at Sydney and Swan River.
(*Footnote. From the description I gave of this vine to Sir W. Hooker he thought it quite new.)
COMPASS HILL.
We at length gained the top of Compass Hill, which we found to be a slight mound on a platform of coarse sandstone formation, with fragments of quartz; the sandstone was tinged with red, and appeared to be crumbling away; a straggling growth of white eucalypti covered the crest of this height, which rather spoilt the view we had promised ourselves; however, by climbing several of them, I managed to see all round.
West, six and a half miles, there was a snug cove fronted by a small island, from whence the coast appeared to take a more northerly direction. The extremes of a large sheet of water bore North by West and West by North, which we afterwards found to be connected with the above-mentioned cove. A succession of heights, similar to the one we were on, bounded our view between North and North-East. Twenty-one miles, in a South-East by East direction, were some detached, round hills, apparently the termination of the high land on which we stood; these appeared to rise out of a plain of such an extent, in a South-East and easterly direction, that I conceived it possible it may have extended to the rear of Collier Bay, which damped the interest we had previously looked forward to, in the exploration of that part of the coast, as it tended materially to weaken the probability of finding any large opening there. In crossing one of the valleys in our descent to the boats, Mr. Bynoe wounded a large kangaroo; we gave chase; but notwithstanding all our efforts, and at the expense of many a bruise, stumbling over the rugged ground, the prize, almost within our grasp, escaped, and, to add to our misfortune, one of the small compasses was found missing, the strap that suspended it having given way; from this accident the hill received its name.
PORT USBORNE.
On our return to the ship, we found Mr. Usborne had discovered good anchorage in the cove we had seen from the hill, which in commemoration of his providential recovery was called after him Port Usborne.
March 22.
It was a clear and beautiful morning, and the sun as it rose shed a glittering stream of light over the placid waters of the bay, now slightly rippled by an easterly air. All were early and busily engaged in moving the ship into Port Usborne. On our way we crossed the inner edge of a bank seen from Compass Hill, in three fathoms: Helpman's south islet bore at the time east three and a half miles; after crossing this bank, the least water we had was ten fathoms; this depth we found in passing on the eastern side of the small, low island fronting Port Usborne. A solitary overspreading tree, and a white patch on its eastern extremity renders this island conspicuous, and is of this importance, that it guides a stranger to the only safe anchorage among the islands on the eastern shore of King's Sound. As a further guide to Port Usborne it is situated at the southern extremity of all these islands, and where the coast suddenly trends away to the eastward.
We were delighted to find ourselves in an anchorage almost surrounded by land, and although the rugged sandstone ridges, with their dark, mysterious, and densely-wooded valleys, did not give the shore a very inviting appearance, still the very wildness of the scenery contrasted pleasingly in our remembrance with the monotonous level of the country about Point Torment, and on the banks of the Fitzroy. Our present position had also its practical advantages, being well adapted for carrying on the essential duties of the survey, for which service the boats were prepared in the course of the afternoon.
This snug little port we found to be three-quarters of a mile broad and one deep, and varying in depth from seven to fifteen fathoms: it faces west, the entrance points lying nearly north and south of each other, and affords an abundant supply of wood and water. We saw no traces of inhabitants; not even the curling smoke that had so often indicated their presence, greeted the eye; all was silent, and the feelings of utter loneliness were only dispelled by the mournful screams of the curlew, and occasional howl of the wild dog, as the deepening shadows of night closed in.
March 23.
The boats were manned early, and we left the ship with the best wishes of the anxious group who watched our departure, and speculated