About three o’clock, we reimbarked, in order to return with the first of the ebb, and named the river the Thames, it having some resemblance to our own river of that name. In our return, the inhabitants of the village where we had been ashore, seeing us take another channel, came off to us in their canoes, and trafficked with us in the most friendly manner, till they had disposed of the few trifles they had. The tide of ebb just carried us out of the narrow part of the river, into the channel that run up from the sea before it was dark; and we pulled hard to reach the ship, but meeting the flood, and a strong breeze at N. N. W. with showers of rain, we were obliged to desist; and about midnight, we run under the land, and came to a grappling, where we took such rest as our situation would admit. At break of day, we set forward again, and it was past seven o’clock before we reached the ship. We were all extremely tired, but thought ourselves happy to be on board; for before nine it blew so hard that the boat could not have rowed ahead, and must therefore either have gone ashore, or taken shelter under it.
About three o’clock, having the tide of ebb, we took up our anchor, made sail, and plied down the river till eight in the evening, when we came to an anchor again: early in the morning, we made sail with the first ebb, and kept plying till the flood obliged us once more to come to an anchor. As we had now only a light breeze, I went in the pinnace, accompanied by Dr. Solander, to the western shore, but I saw nothing worthy of notice.
When I left the ship, many canoes were about it; Mr. Banks therefore chose to stay on board and traffic with the natives; they bartered their clothes and arms, chiefly for paper, and behaved with great friendship and honesty. But while some of them were below with Mr. Banks, a young man who was upon the deck stole a half minute glass which was in the binnacle, and was detected just as he was carrying it off. Mr. Hicks, who was commanding-officer on board, took it into his head to punish him, by giving him twelve lashes with a cat-o’nine-tails; and accordingly ordered him to be taken to the gangway, and tied up to the shrouds. When the other Indians who were on board saw him seized, they attempted to rescue him; and being resisted called for their arms, which were handed up from the canoes, and the people of one of them attempted to come up the ship’s side. The tumult was heard by Mr. Banks, who, with Tupia, came hastily upon the deck to see what had happened. The Indians immediately ran to Tupia, who, finding Mr. Hicks inexorable, could only assure them, that nothing was intended against the life of their companion; but that it was necessary he should suffer some punishment for his offence; which being explained to them, they seemed to be satisfied. The punishment was then inflicted, and as soon as the criminal was unbound, an old man among the spectators, who was supposed to be his father, gave him a hearty beating, and sent him down into his canoe. All the canoes then dropped a-stern, and the people said that they were afraid to come any more near the ship: after much persuasion, however, they ventured back again, but their cheerful confidence was at an end, and their stay was short; they promised indeed, at their departure, to return with some fish, but we saw no more of them.
On the 23d, the wind being contrary, we kept plying down the river, and at seven in the evening, got without the N. W. point of the islands lying on the west side of it. The weather being bad, night coming on, and having land on every side of us, I thought it most advisable to tack, and stretch in under the point, where we anchored in nineteen fathom. At five in the morning of the 24th, we weighed, and made sail to the N. W. under our courses and double reefed topsails, the wind being at S. W. by W. and W. S. W. a strong gale and squally. As the gale would not permit us to come near the land, we had but a slight and distant view of it from the time when we got under sail till noon, during a run of twelve leagues, but we never once lost sight of it. At this time, our latitude by observation was 36° 15ʹ 20ʺ, we were not above two miles from a point of land on the main, and three leagues and an half from a very high island, which bore N. E. by E.: in this situation we had twenty-six fathom water: the farthest point on the main that we could see bore N. W. but we could perceive several small islands lying to the north of that direction. The point of land of which we were now a-breast, and which I called Point Rodney, is the N. W. extremity of the river Thames; for under that name I comprehend the deep bay, which terminates in the fresh water stream, and the N. E. extremity is the promontory which we passed when we entered it, and which I called Cape Colville, in honour of the Right Honourable Lord Colville.
Cape Colville lies in latitude 36° 26ʹ, longitude 184° 27ʹ; it rises directly from the sea, to a considerable height, and is remarkable for a lofty rock, which stands to the pitch of the point, and may be distinguished at a very great distance. From the south point of this cape, the river runs in a direct line S. by E., and is no where less than three leagues broad for the distance of fourteen leagues above the cape, and there it is contracted to a narrow stream, but continues the same course through a low flat country, or broad valley, which lies parallel with the sea coast, and the end of which we could not see. On the east side of the broad part of this river, the land is tolerably high and hilly; on the west side, it is rather low, but the whole is covered with verdure and wood, and has the appearance of great fertility, though there were but a few small spots which had been cultivated. At the entrance of the narrow part of the river, the land is covered with mangroves and other shrubs; but farther, there are immense woods of perhaps the finest timber in the world, of which some account has already been given: in several places, the wood extends to the very edge of the water, and where it is at a little distance, the intermediate space is marshy, like some parts of the banks of the Thames in England: it is probable that the river contains plenty of fish, for we saw poles stuck up in many places to set nets for catching them, but of what kinds I do not know. The greatest depth of water that we found in this river was six-and-twenty fathom, which gradually decreased to one fathom and an half: in the mouth of the fresh-water stream, it is from four to three fathom, but there are large flats and sand banks lying before it. A ship of moderate draught may, notwithstanding, go a long way up this river with a flowing tide, for it rises perpendicularly near ten feet, and at the full and change of the moon, it is high water about nine o’clock.
Six leagues within Cape Colville, under the eastern shore, are several small islands, which, together with the main, seem to form good harbours; and opposite to these islands, under the western shore, lie other islands, by which it is also probable that good harbours may be formed: but if there are no harbours about this river, there is good anchoring in every part of it where the depth of water is sufficient, for it is defended from the sea by a chain of islands of different extent, which lie cross the mouth of it, and which I have, for that reason, called Barrier Islands: they stretch N. W. and S. E. ten leagues. The south end of the chain lies N. E. between two and three leagues from Cape Colville; and the north end lies N. E. four leagues and an half from Point Rodney. Point Rodney lies W. N. W. nine leagues from Cape Colville, in latitude 36° 15ʹ S. longitude 184° 53ʹ W.
The natives residing about this river do not appear to be numerous, considering the great extent of the country. But they are strong, well-made, and active people, and all of them paint their bodies with red oker and oil from head to foot, which we had not seen before. Their canoes were large and well built, and adorned with carving, in as good a taste as any that we had seen upon the coast.
We continued to stand along the shore till night, with the main land on one side, and islands on the other, and then anchored in a bay, with fourteen fathom, and a sandy bottom. We had no sooner come to an anchor, than we tried our lines, and in a short time caught near one hundred fish, which the people called Sea-bream; they weighed from six to eight pounds a-piece, and consequently would supply the whole ship’s company with food for two days. From the success of our lines here, we called the place Bream Bay: the two points that form it lie north and south, five leagues from each other; it is every where of a good breadth, and between three and four leagues deep: at the bottom of it there appears to be a river of fresh water. The north head of the bay, called Bream Head, is high land, and remarkable for several pointed rocks, which stand in a range upon the top of it: it may also be known by some small islands which lie before it, called the Hen and Chickens, one of which is high, and terminates in two peaks. It lies in latitude 35° 46ʹ S., and at the distance of seventeen leagues and an half from Cape Colville, in the direction of N. 41 W.
The land between Point Rodney and Bream Head, an extent of ten leagues, is low, and wooded in tufts, with white sand banks between the sea and the firm lands. We saw no inhabitants, but many fires in the night; and where there are fires, there are always people.
At day-break, on the 25th, we left the bay, and steered along shore to the northward: we found the variation of the compass to be 12° 42ʹ E. At noon, our latitude was 35° 36ʹ S., Bream Head bore south, distant ten miles; and we saw some small islands, to which I gave the name of the Poor Knights, at N. E. by N. distant three leagues; the northernmost land in sight bore N. N. W.: we were in this place at the distance of two miles from the shore, and had twenty-six fathom water.