"Throughout our run along the coast this day, we skirted a number of rocky islets, rocks, and breakers, lying off shore at the distance of three or four miles. Some of the islets were elevated several feet above the surface of the sea; others were
a-wash, and there were breakers that showed themselves only occasionally. Along this line the surf beat very heavily, and, outside, a long rolling sea prevailed, in which the ship was very uneasy.
"This line of dangers is not altogether continuous; for there is an opening about two miles wide, abreast of Parallel Peak, to the southward of which is a bight, where possibly a harbour may exist; but, considering the prevalence of heavy westerly gales and thick weather, if there be one, few vessels would venture to run for it; and this line must, I should think, be considered as a barrier that they ought not pass. As seal are found on the rocks, vessels engaged in that trade might not, perhaps, be deterred by these dangers, but every other would give all this extent of coast a wide berth. We ran past the breakers at the distance of about a mile, having rocky soundings, from thirty to twenty-three fathoms.
"The termination of the coast line northward was a high, rugged island, with a small peak at the north end. The extremity of the main land was rather a high bluff cape, whence the coast extends southward, with craggy, mountainous peaks and ridges, as far as Parallel Peak. At sunset, the N.W. end of Campana bore north (magnetic), distant three leagues, and from the mast-head I could see very distinctly the belt of rocks and breakers extending uninterruptedly to the northward, as far as the end of Campana.
"We hauled off for the night, and had light variable airs, or calms, until 2 A.M. of the 12th, when a breeze from the northward sprung up, and freshened so rapidly, that by noon we were again reduced to a close-reefed main-topsail and foresail. The gale was accompanied, as usual, by incessant rain and thick weather, and a heavy confused sea kept our decks always flooded.
"The effect of this wet and miserable weather, of which we had had so much since leaving Port Famine, was too manifest by the state of the sick list, on which were now many patients with catarrhal, pulmonary, and rheumatic complaints. The gale continued undiminished until the morning of the 13th,
when, having moderated, we bore up and steered N.E. to close the land. At noon a good meridional altitude gave our latitude 48° 30′ south, and about the same time we saw the land bearing N.E.b.E., which we soon made out to be Parallel Peak. After allowing amply for heave of sea, and lee-way, we were considerably southward of our reckoning, which indicates a southerly current; but under such circumstances of wind and weather its exact direction, or strength, could not be ascertained.
"We proceeded along the land, taking angles and bearings for the survey, and at sunset the N.W. end of Campana bore from us north (magnetic), distant five leagues. Being now off the N.W. end of the island of Campana, which forms the south-western headland of the Gulf of Peñas, I considered that, before I proceeded to examine its inlets, I ought to look for the Harbour of Santa Barbara, which has been placed on the old charts in this neighbourhood. Accordingly we lay-to during the night, and at 4 A.M. bore up to close the land; at daylight the extremes of it were seen indistinctly through a very cloudy and hazy atmosphere, from N. 39° E. to S. 53° E. About noon the weather cleared off, and we got the meridian altitude of the sun, which gave our latitude 48° 09′ south.[[108]] We directed the course for our Dundee Rock, and when abreast of it, steered N.E. (compass) for an opening in the low part of the coast ahead, backed by very high mountains, which we found was the entrance of Port Santa Barbara. The coast to the southward was lined with rocky islets, rocks, and breakers, extending a league to seaward, and there were others to the northward. We were in a channel half a mile wide, through which we continued our course, sounding from fifteen to eleven fathoms, and in the evening anchored near the entrance of the harbour.
"As our present situation was completely exposed to westerly winds, I went to examine a deep bight in the southern shore, which proved to be a good harbour, perfectly sheltered from all winds, with a depth of three and a half fathoms over a fine sandy bottom. In the afternoon we weighed anchor and warped into a berth in the inner harbour, where we moored in three fathoms. I found lying, just above high-water mark, half buried in sand, the beam of a large vessel.[[109]] We immediately conjectured that it had formed part of the ill-fated Wager, one of Lord Anson's squadron (of whose loss the tale is so well told in the narratives of Byron and Bulkeley): the dimensions seemed to correspond with her size, and the conjecture was strengthened by the circumstance that one of the knees that attached it to the ship's side had been cut, which occurred in her case, when her decks were scuttled to get at the provisions; all the bolts were much corroded; but the wood, with the exception of the outside being worm-eaten, was perfectly sound. Our carpenter pronounced it to be English oak.