Then he employed his men on shore very busily in making nails and bolts, rigging and sails; some he sent to collect limpets from the rocks, while others salted down hogsheads of seal-flesh at Penguin Island, with salt collected from sea-water left in shallow pans and evaporated in the sun.
On the 6th of August they sailed for the straits again, but a storm drove him away among certain islands never before discovered. These must have been the Falkland Islands, barren hills and rocky shores covered with seaweed and wild birds.
On the 18th they again passed the Cape of Virgins at the entrance to the straits, and sailed easily through till they came to the "sea reach." Here they stayed fourteen days, suffering from the cold and want of food; for the seal-flesh had become uneatable. Then they sailed into the Pacific on the 13th of September, but were driven back by a furious storm and lost one of their cables, so that Davis now had only one anchor left. It was so deep close to shore that sometimes he could moor his ship to the trees. When for the third time he was about to enter the Pacific, some of his men showed signs of mutiny, so Davis wrote out a speech and requested the master to repeat it to the crew. In this speech these words occur: "Because I see in reason that the limits of our time are now drawing to an end, I do in Christian charity exhort you, first, to forgive me in whatsoever I have been grievous to you; secondly, that you will rather pray for our General (Cavendish) than use hard speeches of him ... lastly, let us forgive one another, and be reconciled as children in love and charity. So shall we, in leaving this life, live with our glorious Redeemer, or, abiding in this life, find favour with God." The men were pacified for a time, and agreed to continue the voyage; but, as before, a gale sprang up and seas broke over the Desire and the black pinnace, till the latter got under the lee of the larger ship.
"Captain Davis, sir, we have taken many grievous seas aboard; I can't hardly tell what shift to make next," shouted the captain of the pinnace.
Davis shouted back, "Trust in God—keep under our lee, friend."
Next day the black pinnace suddenly broached to and went down with all hands.
"The 10th of October," writes Janes in his diary, "being very near the shore, the weather dark, the storm furious, and most of our men having given over to travail, we yielded ourselves to death without further hope of succour. Our captain sitting in the gallery, very pensive, I came and brought him some rosa solis (hot grog) to comfort him; for he was so cold, he was scarce able to move a joint. After he had drunk and was comforted in heart, he began, for the ease of his conscience, to make a large repetition of his fore-passed time, and with many grievous sighs he ended in these words: 'Oh most gracious God, with whose power the mightiest things among men are matters of no moment, I most humbly beseech Thee that the intolerable burden of my sins may, through the blood of Jesus Christ, be taken from me: end our days with speed, or show us some merciful sign of Thy love and our preservation.'" Hardly had the captain's prayer been uttered, than the sun shone out from a rift in the clouds, as if a very token of help. Davis jumped up, took a meridian altitude, and shaped a course for the straits. Every man felt relieved and even cheery at the sudden change in the weather. Next day they sighted the tall headland at the west end of the straits.
"I doubt, captain, whether we can weather Cape Pillar after all," said the master.
"There is no remedy, man," replied Davis; "either we must double it, or before noon we must die; therefore loose your sails and let us put it to God's mercy."
So the Desire was close-hauled and steered for the entrance; but when she was half a mile from the point, the vessel was so near the shore that the backwash, or counter-surf, jumped up against the ship's side. The wind and sea were raging beyond measure, and the black rock frowned above them.