Having rowed out of
the inlet, we landed at six P.M. in a little bay just outside of
the last night's sleeping-place, pitching the tents on a fine
shingly beach, which was the kind of ground we usually looked out
for towards the conclusion of the day, as affording the softest
bed, consistently with dryness, that nature supplies in this
country. Of such a convenience the men were not sorry to avail
themselves, having rowed above thirty miles since the morning.
The boats were launched at daylight on the 8th, and we soon came
to a much more promising opening on the same shore, about a mile
wide at the entrance, and leading directly to the westward. After
rowing four miles in that direction, we arrived at the mouth of a
bay from three to five miles wide, out of which there did not
appear the least chance of discovering an outlet. As nothing,
however, but rowing round the bay would satisfactorily determine
this, we were proceeding to do so, when we observed in the
northern corner something like a low point overlapping the high
land at the back. Towards this spot we steered, as the readiest
way of completing the circuit of the bay, and half a mile short of
it landed to breakfast.
In the mean time I sent Mr. Ross to one hill, and ascended another
myself, expecting to save the time and trouble of rowing into the
nook.
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