My own meditations were of a more melancholy character, for I feared that the days of some of the light-hearted group were already numbered and would soon be brought to a close.

Amidst such scenes and thoughts we were swept along, whilst this unknown coast, which so many had anxiously yet vainly wished to see, passed before our eyes like a panorama or a dream, and, ere many years have hurried by it is probable that the recollection of this day will be as such to me.
BOAT LEFT AGROUND BY THE TIDE.
March 25.
This morning I was up early in order that we might lose no time in getting under weigh; I was much surprised however to find both boats aground, and when the day had dawned sufficiently to enable me to distinguish surrounding objects I could not make out the sea, but found that we were lodged in a regular mangrove bush.

I walked a few yards to get a clear view to the westward and found that we were at least a mile inland, so far does the tide run in over this low level shore.

My eyes were so sore that I could scarcely see and I therefore did not attempt to make an excursion into the country, but sent a party for this purpose, who ascended the first low range of hills and reported that the country as far as they could see to the eastward was a succession of low mud flats subject to the overflowings of the sea.

There was a promising-looking creek immediately to the south of us.
The tide came very slowly in until ten o'clock, which was about the time of high-water: but here it had only half risen and remained stationary for some time, when it began to ebb again, but soon meeting the second flood, now came pouring rapidly in, and just before sunset there was water enough for us to get off.