August 29th.

During our stay of thirteen days at this anchorage the wind has usually been strong from East to East-South-East, with dull, gloomy, squally weather, and occasionally showers of drizzling rain.  Today, however, the rain was so heavy that we caught seven tons in the awning.  To this haziness, which by obscuring distant objects was unfavourable for surveying purposes, we owed our long detention here.  As our intercourse with the shore was limited to the two brief visits formerly mentioned, I made no addition to the collection, with the exception of a solitary Helix, nor was anything of zoological interest brought off by the natives, except a string of heads of a species of hornbill (Buceros plicatus) and feathers of a cassowary, a scarlet lory, and a few other birds.  No fish were caught at the anchorage, probably on account of the nature of the bottom—­a tenacious, greenish, muddy clay—­and the strength of the current which prevented our lines from resting on the bottom.  Observations made with the lead alongside at the time of high and low-water indicated by the shore showed in thirteen days’ observations a rise and fall of only from two to six feet.  Neither during the ebb nor the floodtide was there any appreciable difference in the direction of the current at our anchorage which set constantly to the westward between West and West-South-West, at the rate of from one to one and a half knots an hour.  This current may reasonably be conjectured to come from the northward and sweep round the South-East cape of New Guinea (distant from this anchorage about fifty miles) thus making it appear probable that a clear passage exists between the South-East extreme of New Guinea and the western termination of the Louisiade Archipelago:  indeed so far as Lieutenant Yule’s observations were carried in this direction no reefs were seen to impede his progress to the north-east.

LEAVE THE BRUMER ISLANDS.

September 4th.

Five days ago we sailed from the Brumer Islands, and continued running lines of soundings off and on the coast, the inshore details being left as usual to the Bramble.  On one occasion, while within a few miles of the shore, the water suddenly shoaled to twelve, ten, and six fathoms, rock or coral, although half an hour before no bottom could be got with a hundred fathoms of line—­apparently an indication of a submarine barrier, more or less continuous, running at a variable distance from the shore, and following the general trend of the coast.  The appearance of the land seen lately is very fine:  the coast being backed by ranges of high mountains presenting a very diversified outline; one of them, named upon the chart Cloudy Mount, attains an elevation of 4,477 feet.  Yesterday and today great numbers of a storm petrel (Thalassidroma leucogastra) have been following in our wake.

ANCHOR OFF DUFAURE ISLAND.

This afternoon, while off the eastern end of the bay called by Bougainville the Cul de sac de l’Orangerie, the Bramble was signalled to lead in towards the land off which we anchored at 9 P.M. in 30 fathoms.