It will be recollected that, on my departure from Port Famine, in the Adelaide, in the month of March, to survey portions of the southern side of the Strait, I left instructions with Captain Stokes to proceed in the execution of his orders as soon as the Beagle was ready. The details of those orders it is unnecessary to repeat here, as they were performed to my entire satisfaction; it will be merely requisite, as briefly as possible, to follow him through a most arduous and distressing service. It is the sequel that embitters the record.
"On the 18th of March, I sailed from Port Famine, and next day reached Port Gallant.
"On the 23d, we anchored in the little cove called Borja Bay, which, though very confined, and rather difficult of access, suited our purpose extremely well. (See Sailing Directions). While there we measured the height of one of the principal hills in the neighbourhood, and found it 1,800 feet.
"Bad weather detained us until the 26th, when we passed Cape Quod, and reached Stuart Bay. Many places were left unexamined, because my object was to hasten westward before the year was farther advanced.
"(27th.) We left Stuart Bay, and continued our progress to the westward, with westerly winds, thick weather, and rain.
The shores of the Straits were seldom visible to us, from a thick mist with which they were clouded: it is, however, a bold coast on each side, otherwise the Strait would be utterly unnavigable in such weather. Near Cape Notch the mountains spire up into peaks of great height, singularly serrated, and connected by barren ridges. About their bases there are generally some green patches of jungle; but, upon the whole, nothing can be more sterile and repulsive than the view. This afternoon we passed Playa Parda, and in the evening anchored in Marian Cove.
"In the course of the next day the wind freshened to a strong and squally gale from the W.N.W., with much rain; the weather was so thick that we could scarcely make out the coast. In this kind of weather, the lower parts of the shore are screened from view by mist, and the upper ones are seen looming through it in lofty masses, in a manner which would lead a stranger to believe that the ship was completely environed with islands.
"In the evening we anchored in the little cove called Half Port Bay, and next morning resumed our daily struggle against wind, tide, and weather.
"We crossed the mouth of a deep sound on the north shore,[[103]] where no tide or current was remarked: the delineation of the coast about this point is particularly defective in the old charts; fortunately, however, for the navigator, he has here to deal with shores where the omission of a whole island, or even the addition of a few that do not exist, is of less consequence to his safety than the exact limit of one sand-bank in other parts of the world. This night we anchored in Upright Bay, which, though affording excellent shelter from the prevailing winds, is bad with a southerly one; as, from the steepness of the bottom requiring a vessel to anchor close to the shore, sufficient scope is not left for veering cable.
"Sheltered by the high land under which we were anchored,