I now knew that we were near Port Darwin, _but as a fact we had passed it in the great storm_, _while we were fighting for our lives_.

We slept on the island that night, and felt very much better next morning when we started out on our voyage once more, visiting every bay and inlet.

Hope, too, began to reassert itself, and I thought that after all we might be able to reach Port Darwin in spite of the distance we must have been driven out of our course.

Several islands studded the sea through which we were now steadily threading our way, and that evening we landed on one of these and camped for the night.

Next day we were off again, and as the weather continued beautifully fine we made splendid progress.
One evening a few days after the storm, as we were placidly paddling away, I saw Yamba's face suddenly brighten with a look I had never seen on it before, and I felt sure this presaged some extraordinary announcement.