The south-west point of the bay I named Young Nick's Head, after Nicholas Young, the boy who first saw the land; at noon, it bore N.W. by W. distant about three or four leagues, and we were then about three miles from the shore. The main-land extended from N.E. by N; to south, and I proposed to follow the direction of the coast to the southward as far as the latitude of 40 or 41; and then, if I met with no encouragement to proceed farther, to return to the northward.
In the afternoon we lay becalmed, which the people on shore perceiving, several canoes put off, and came within less than a quarter of a mile of the vessel; but could not be persuaded to come nearer, though Tupia exerted all the powers of his lungs and his eloquence upon the occasion, shouting, and promising that they should not be hurt. Another canoe was now seen coming from Poverty Bay, with only four people on board, one of whom we well remembered to have seen in our first interview upon the rock. This canoe, without stopping or taking the least notice of the others, came directly alongside of the ship, and with very little persuasion, we got the Indians on board. Their example was soon followed by the rest, and we had about us seven canoes, and about fifty men. We made them all presents with a liberal hand; notwithstanding which, they were so desirous to have more of our commodities, that they sold us every thing they had, even the clothes from their backs, and the paddles from their boats. There were but two weapons among them, these were the instruments of green talc, which were shaped somewhat like a pointed battledore, with a short handle and sharp edges; they were called Patoo-Patoo, and were well contrived for close-fighting, as they would certainly split the thickest scull at a single blow.
When these people had recovered from the first impressions of fear, which, notwithstanding their resolution in coming on board, had manifestly thrown them into some confusion, we enquired after our poor boys. The man who first came on board immediately answered, that they were unhurt and at home; adding, that he had been induced to venture on board by the account which they had given him of the kindness with which they had been treated, and the wonders that were contained in the ship.
While they were on board they shewed every sign of friendship, and invited us very cordially to go back to our old bay, or to a small cove which they pointed out, that was not quite so far off; but I chose rather to prosecute my discoveries than go back, having reason to hope that I should find a better harbour than any I had yet seen.
About an hour before sun-set, the canoes put off from the ship with the few paddles they had reserved, which were scarcely sufficient to set them on shore; but by some means or other three of their people were left behind: As soon as we discovered it, we hailed them; but not one of them would return to take them on board: This greatly surprised us; but we were surprised still more to observe that the deserted Indians did not seem at all uneasy at their situation, but entertained us with dancing and singing after their manner, eat their suppers, and went quietly to bed.
A light breeze springing up soon after it was dark, we steered along the shore under an easy sail till midnight, and then brought-to, soon after which it fell calm; we were now some leagues distant from the place where the canoes had left us, and at day-break, when the Indians perceived it, they were seized with consternation and terror, and lamented their situation in loud complaints, with gestures of despair and many tears. Tupia, with great difficulty, pacified them; and about seven o'clock in the morning, a light breeze springing up, we continued to stand south-west along the shore. Fortunately for our poor Indians, two canoes came off about this time, and made towards the ship: They stopped, however, at a little distance, and seemed unwilling to trust themselves nearer. Our Indians were greatly agitated in this state of uncertainty, and urged their fellows to come alongside of the ship, both by their voice and gestures, with the utmost eagerness and impatience. Tupia interpreted what they said, and we were much surprised to find, that, among other arguments, they assured the people in the canoes, we did not eat men. We now began seriously to believe that this horrid custom prevailed among them; for what the boys had said, we considered as a mere hyperbolical expression of their fear.[51] One of the canoes, at length, ventured to come under the ship's side; and an old man came on board, who seemed to be a chief from the finery of his garment, and the superiority of his weapon, which was a Patoo-Patoo, made of bone, that, as he said, had belonged to a whale. He staid on board but a short time, and when he went away, he took with him our guests, very much to the satisfaction both of them and us.
[Footnote 51: It is remarked in the account of Tasman's voyage, that the people of this island had very hoarse, rough, strong voices.--E.]
At the time when we sailed, we were abreast of a point, from which the land trends S.S.W. and which, on account of its figure, I called Cape Table. This point lies seven leagues to the southward of Poverty Bay, in latitude 39° 7' S. and longitude 181° 36' W.; it is of a considerable height, makes in a sharp angle, and appears to be quite flat at the top.
In steering along the shore to the southward of the Cape, at the distance of two or three miles, our soundings were from twenty to thirty fathom, having a chain of rocks between us and the shore, which appeared at different heights above the water.
At noon, Cape Table bore N. 20 E. distant about four leagues, and a small island, which was the southernmost land in sight, bore S. 70 W. at the distance of about three miles. This island, which the natives call Teahowray, I named the Island of Portland, from its very great resemblance to Portland in the English Channel: It lies about a mile from a point on the main; but there appears to be a ridge of rocks, extending nearly, if not quite, from one to the other. N. 57 E. two miles from the south point of Portland, lies a sunken rock, upon which the sea breaks with great violence. We passed between this rock and the land, having from seventeen to twenty fathom.