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November 23. — Moving along the coast for ten miles, we came to large high drifts of pure white sand, from which some red-winged cockatoos and pigeons flew out, and near which were several native encampments. I now fully hoped to find water; but after a long and anxious examination, was obliged to give up the search. I knew that our only hope of finding water lay in these drifts of sand; but as it was frequently very difficult to find, and never could be procured without digging, (sometimes to a great depth,) I began to fear that our attempt to reach the head of the Bight was almost hopeless. We had no means of digging in the sand to any depth; whilst, from the constant drift, caused by the winds among these bare hills, it was exceedingly disagreeable to remain even for a short time to examine them. The wind was blowing strong, and whirlwinds of sand were circling around us, with a violence which we could scarcely struggle against, and during which we could hardly venture either to open our eyes, or to draw our breath.

Leaving the sand-drifts we travelled behind the coast ridge through a more open but still sandy country, making a long stage to some more high bare sand-drifts, amidst which we again made a long but unsuccessful search for water; at night we encamped near them, and our unfortunate horses were again obliged to be tied up for the second time without either grass or water.