Narrative of a Survey of the Intertropical and Western Coasts of Australia — Vol. 2 / Performed between the years 1818 and 1822

by Philip Parker King

February 6.

At eight o'clock the next morning, having steered through the night North-East by East, we were in ninety fathoms, sand, broken shells, and large stones.

February 8.

On the morning of the 8th the land was seen in the South-East and soon afterwards the brig passed round Cape Leveque at the distance of a mile and a half. On our way towards Point Swan we saw from the masthead a line of strong tide-ripplings, extending from the point in a North-West by West direction; within which we at first attempted to pass but, finding that they were connected to the point, hauled up to steer through them where they seemed to be the least dangerous. As we approached the noise was terrific and, although we were not more than two minutes amongst the breakers, yet the shocks of the sea were so violent as to make me fear for the safety of our masts. A smaller vessel would perhaps have been swamped; for although the sea was in other parts quite smooth and the wind light, yet the water broke over the bows and strained the brig considerably.

We then steered between Point Swan and two rocky islands lying five miles from the shore over a space which, at our last visit, appeared to be occupied by an extensive reef, but we were then probably deceived by tide-ripplings.

It was my intention to have brought up under the lee of the point, where Dampier describes his having anchored in twenty-nine fathoms clear sandy ground; but upon rounding the projection, the wind suddenly fell and, after a light squall from South-West we had a dead calm; the depth was thirty fathoms coral bottom and therefore not safe to anchor upon; this was unfortunate for the sudden defection of the wind prevented our hauling into the bay out of the tide, which was evidently running with considerable rapidity and drifting us, without our having the means of preventing it, towards a cluster of small rocks and islands through which we could not discover any outlet, and which were so crowded that in the dangerous predicament in which we found ourselves placed they bore a truly awful and terrific appearance. At this time I was at my usual post, the masthead, directing the steerage of the vessel; but as the brig was drifting forward by a rapid sluice of tide towards some low rocks, about a quarter of a mile off, that were not more than two feet above the water's edge, and upon which it appeared almost inevitable that we must strike, I descended to the deck, under the certain conviction that we could not escape the dangers that were strewed across our path unless a breeze should spring up, of which there was not the slightest appearance or probability.

Happily however the stream of the tide swept us past the rocks without accident and, after carrying us about half a mile farther, changed its direction to south-east and drifted us towards a narrow strait separating two rocky islands, in the centre of which was a large insulated rock that seemed to divide the stream. The boat was now hoisted out and sent ahead to tow, but we could not succeed in getting the vessel's head round. As she approached the strait the channel became much narrower, and several islands were passed at not more than thirty yards from her course. The voices of natives were now heard and soon afterwards some were seen on either side of the strait, hallooing and waving their arms; we were so near to one party that they might have thrown their spears on board; they had a dog with them which Mr. Cunningham remarked to be black. By this time we were flying past the shore with such velocity that it made us quite giddy; and our situation was too awful to give us time to observe the motions of the Indians; for we were entering the narrowest part of the strait, and the next moment were close to the rock which it appeared to be almost impossible to avoid; and it was more than probable that the stream it divided would carry us broadside upon it, when the consequences would have been truly dreadful; the current, or sluice, was setting past the rock at the rate of eight or nine knots, and the water being confined by its intervention fell at least six or seven feet; at the moment, however, when we were upon the point of being dashed to pieces, a sudden breeze providentially sprung up and, filling our sails, impelled the vessel forward for three or four yards: this was enough, but only just sufficient, for the rudder was not more than six yards from the rock. No sooner had we passed this frightful danger than the breeze fell again and was succeeded by a dead calm; the tide however continued to carry us on with a gradually decreasing strength until one o'clock, when we felt very little effect from it.

From the spot we had now reached the coast from Cape Leveque appeared to trend to the southward but was not visible beyond the bearing of South-West; there was however some land more to the southward that had the appearance of being an island; it was afterwards found to be a projection, forming the east head of a bay, and was subsequently called after my friend Mr. Cunningham, to whose indefatigable zeal the scientific world is considerably indebted for the very extensive and valuable botanical collection that has been formed upon this voyage.

We had a dead calm until high-water during which, as the brig continued to drive with the tide to the southward in from twenty to twenty-four fathoms, over a rocky bottom, I was undetermined what course to pursue in order to preserve the situation which we had so unexpectedly reached, and to prevent the ebb-tide from carrying us back through the strait: the bare idea of this impending danger reconciled me to determine upon sacrificing an anchor, for, from the nature of the bottom, it seemed next to impossible that we could recover it, if once dropped. Just, however, as the tide was beginning to turn, a breeze sprang up from the westward and at once put an end to our fears and anxieties; all sail was made towards Point Cunningham beyond which no land was visible; but the tide being adverse and the evening near at hand, we anchored in the bight to the north-west of the Point which bore South 32 1/2 degrees East seven miles and a half.

February 9.