Had I been a native of New Guinea I should have accounted for the unfortunate circumstance by the interference of some evil spirit who had purposely and with malicious intent caused an unfavourable wind. Not, however, believing that I was the plaything of devils, I determined to make an effort by way of a dead beat to windward. The boat would not sail close to the wind. The tides here are terribly strong, running at the rate of five to six knots an hour. So that whatever progress we made in six hours we lost in the next six.
However it is a long lane that has no turning, so, after beating about for three days, a distance of only 20 miles, we made the north-west passage of the island.
Our troubles were by no means at an end. The night was pitch dark, so we were obliged to stand off and on until the rising of the moon, which did not appear until nearly midnight. It then shone brightly, and the island of Wari, a few hundred yards distant, stood out in bold relief, with Bell Rock on our right, so called from its likeness to a bell. It is a perpendicular rock, several hundred feet high, most precipitous, bare of cultivation, with the sea ceaselessly dashing against its serried side. The passage between Bell Rock and the island is a very narrow and intricate one, and most dangerous to navigate.
There is a large coral reef on either side, also several sunken rocks. I placed one of the natives, a boy belonging to Wari, who knew the locality, in the bows of the boat to act as pilot, and keep a sharp look-out. With the silvery moon lighting up our path, and a strong breeze from the south-east, we made the attempt, anxiously peering over the side with the unpleasant expectation of striking on a reef. Presently the boy who was keeping a look-out forward sang out, "'Bout ship," the helm was put hard down, and the next moment we were on the reef.
Oars were at once got out, but it was of no avail. Our vessel would not budge an inch. I sent a couple of natives to the island. They had to cross the reef, and by dint of swimming and wading reached the beach.
Numerous fires were blazing in the distance surrounded by numbers of the islanders. The boys were instructed to bring as many natives as they could muster, as I hoped by our united efforts we should be enabled to get the vessel off. About a dozen natives appeared on the scene, who evidently did not relish turning out at such an unearthly hour. We all worked with a will, and after a number of spasmodic efforts we got clear of the reef, only to get on another one a few minutes later. I suspended the certificate of the pilot for the next 12 months, and I am afraid to write the language which, on the occasion, seemed to me appropriate. There was nothing else for it but to drop the anchor on the reef and wait patiently until the morning. The sun rose in full splendour, showing us distinctly our unfortunate position. Here we were, within a mile or so of our anchorage, imprisoned between the reefs like a rat in a trap.
The wind had by this time increased, and the sea had got up. Our little craft was in considerable danger, as with a heavy wind and her sides beating against the hard coral, she stood a very good chance of breaking up, or having a hole knocked in her bottom. The wind blowing straight in our teeth, I determined to get the anchor on board, crowd all canvas, turn tail, and run, trusting by this means to get free of the reef.
I could then go to leeward of the island, and rounding the north-east end, pick up my anchorage in the passage which is on the south east or weather side.
This was a roundabout way, but the only possible one. The anchorage is sheltered by a large coral reef which extends a long distance to windward.
Our anchor was safely stowed on board, all the sails set (a strong south-easter blowing astern), and the vessel gave a heave and got clear of the reef.