Towards night the ship again stood
out to gain sea-room, and a gloom was visible in every countenance. The
captain himself shared in the general anxiety, and probably repented
of his peremptory orders. Another weary and watchful night succeeded,
during which the wind subsided, and the weather became serene.
On the following day, the ship having drifted near the land, anchored
in fourteen fathoms water, to the northward of the long peninsula or
promontory which forms the north side of the entrance, and is called
Cape Disappointment. The pinnace was then manned, and two of the
partners, Mr. David Stuart and Mr. M'Kay, set off in the hope of
learning something of the fate of the whaleboat. The surf, however,
broke with such violence along the shore that they could find no landing
place. Several of the natives appeared on the beach and made signs to
them to row round the cape, but they thought it most prudent to return
to the ship.
The wind now springing up, the Tonquin got under way, and stood in to
seek the channel; but was again deterred by the frightful aspect of
the breakers, from venturing within a league. Here she hove to; and
Mr. Mumford, the second mate, was despatched with four hands, in the
pinnace, to sound across the channel until he should find four fathoms
depth.
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