and supposed the Canadians, being expert boatmen on lakes and rivers, were competent to the service, especially when directed and aided by Fox and Martin.  Fox seems to have lost all firmness of spirit on the occasion, and to have regarded the service with a misgiving heart.  He came to the partners for sympathy, knowing their differences with the captain, and the tears were in his eyes as he represented his case.  “I am sent off,” said he, “without seamen to man my boat, in boisterous weather, and on the most dangerous part of the northwest coast.  My uncle was lost a few years ago on this same bar, and I am now going to lay my bones alongside of his.”  The partners sympathized in his apprehensions, and remonstrated with the captain.  The latter, however, was not to be moved.  He had been displeased with Mr. Fox in the earlier part of the voyage, considering him indolent and inactive; and probably thought his present repugnance arose from a want of true nautical spirit.  The interference of the partners in the business of the ship, also, was not calculated to have a favorable effect on a stickler for authority like himself, especially in his actual state of feeling towards them.

At one o’clock, P.M., therefore, Fox and his comrades set off in the whaleboat, which is represented as small in size, and crazy in condition.  All eyes were strained after the little bark as it pulled for shore, rising and sinking with the huge rolling waves, until it entered, a mere speck, among the foaming breakers, and was soon lost to view.  Evening set in, night succeeded and passed away, and morning returned, but without the return of the boat.

As the wind had moderated, the ship stood near to the land, so as to command a view of the river’s mouth.  Nothing was to be seen but a wild chaos of tumbling waves breaking upon the bar, and apparently forming a foaming barrier from shore to shore.  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.