On the 10th of June land was seen to the north. It was the bottom of the Gulf of the Louisiade, which had received the name of Cul-de-sac de l'Orangerie. The country was magnificent. On the sea shore, a low land covered with trees and shrubs, the balmy odours of which reached the ships, rose like an amphitheatre towards the mountains, whose summits were lost in the skies. However, it was impossible to visit this rich and fertile country, but, on the other hand, desirable to find to the east a passage to the south of New Guinea, which, by way of the Gulf of Carpentaria, would have led direct to the Moluccas. Did such a passage exist? Nothing was more problematic, for the notion was that land had been seen extending far to the westward. It was needful to hurry as fast as possible from the gulf where the ships had so incautiously involved themselves.

Louisiade Archipelago.
(Fac-simile of early engraving.)

But there is a wide difference between a wish and its fulfilment! The two vessels strove in vain up to the 21st of June to transport themselves to the west, from this coast, which was so full of rocks and breakers, and upon which the wind and currents bade fair to swallow them up. The fog and rain continued so closely with them, that the frigate could only proceed in company with the Etoile by a constant firing of guns. When the wind changed, they profited by it, and immediately proceeded to the open sea—but it soon veered again, and continued east-south-east, and thus they speedily lost the ground they had gained.

During this terrible cruise, the rations of bread and vegetables were obliged to be reduced, consumption of old leather was threatened with severe punishment, and the last goat on board was sacrificed.

It is difficult for the reader, tranquilly sitting in his chimney-corner, to imagine the anxiety of a voyage in these unknown seas,—threatened with the unexpected appearance of rocks and breakers, with contrary winds, unknown currents, and a fog which concealed all dangers. Cape Deliverance was only rounded on the 26th. It was now possible to start for the north-north-east.

Two days later, when they had made about sixty leagues northward, some islands were perceived ahead. Bougainville imagined they were a part of the Louisiade group, but they are more generally accepted as belonging to the Solomon Archipelago, which Carteret, who saw them the preceding year, as little imagined that he had reached, as the French navigator.

Several pirogues speedily surrounded the two ships. They were manned by natives, blacker than Africans, with long curling red hair. Armed with javelins, they uttered shrill cries, and showed dispositions far from peaceful. It was useless to attempt to reach them. The surge broke violently, and the coast was so narrow that it scarcely seemed as if there were one at all.

Surrounded on all sides by islands, and in a thick fog, Bougainville steered by instinct in a passage only four or five leagues in width, and with a sea so rough that the Etoile was forced to close her hatchways.

Upon the eastern coast a pretty bay was perceived, which promised good anchorage. Boats were told off to sound it. Whilst they were thus engaged, ten or more pirogues, upon which some hundred and fifty men armed with bucklers, lances, and bows, were embarked, advanced against them. The pirogues divided into two parties to surround the French boats. As soon as they were within sufficient reach, the natives showered a storm of arrows and javelins upon the boats. The first discharge failed to stop them. A second was necessary to disperse them. Two pirogues, the crews of which had jumped into the sea, were captured. Of great length and well made, these boats were decorated in front with a man's head carved, the eyes of which were formed of mother of pearl, the ears of tortoise-shell, and the lips painted red.