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November 8. — Having given each of the horses a bucket of water from the well, we moved on again through the same dense scrub we had encountered yesterday, but, if possible, more harassing, from the increased steepness of the sandy ridges and the quantity of dead timber lying on the surface, and causing a great impediment to our progress. We forced our way through this worse than desert region, for about fourteen miles, and arrived early in the afternoon, with our horses quite exhausted, upon the shores of Smoky Bay, at a point where the natives had dug a hole in the sand hills near the beach to procure water, and from which the south end of the island of St. Peter bore W. 15 degrees S.

The Waterwitch was already here, and supplied us with a cask of water, until the men had dined and rested a little, before entering upon the task of digging for water, which proved to be a most arduous undertaking, and occupied us all the afternoon. We had to sink through a loose sand for fifteen feet, which from its nature, added to the effect of a strong wind that was blowing at the time, drifted in almost as fast as it was thrown out. We were consequently obliged to make a very large opening before we could get at the water at all; it was then very abundant, but dreadfully salt, being little better than the sea water itself; the horses and sheep however drank it greedily, as we had been able to give them but little of that received from the vessel.