le, which parted at two in the
afternoon, and we could have no hopes to recover our anchor, as the buoy
had been staved and sunk about an hour before we were thus set adrift. I
did not think it adviseable to risk another anchor, and therefore
immediately crossed over for the island of Chiloe, in a boisterous gale
with thick rainy weather, surrounded on all hands with seeming shoals,
and in a manner bewildered in an unknown navigation. When within a mile
of Chiloe, we ranged along shore to the southward,[257] in hope of
discovering the town of Chacao. We passed two commodious bays, which had
no appearance of any town, and came to a point of land marked by a high
pyramidal rock. After getting round this point, we found ourselves
entirely out of the tideway, and quite sheltered from all other
inconveniences, and came therefore to anchor opposite a cross on the
north side of the harbour, having just sufficient day-light to enable us
to get into this place of shelter.

[Footnote 257: The direction was more probably to the eastward--E.]

Next morning, I sent the second lieutenant, in the pinnace well manned
and armed, to look out for the two towns; and sent at the same time Mr
Hately in the launch, to endeavour to find a watering-place. He soon
returned, accompanied by an Indian, who had shewn him a very convenient
place where we could at once procure both wood and water, even under the
command of our guns from the ship, and free from all danger of being
surprised. I accordingly sent back the launch with casks to be filled,
and several people to cut wood, all well armed, together with an
officer of marines and ten men to keep guard. The Indians gave us hopes
of a sufficient supply of provisions; but came in the evening to our
people who were on shore, to acquaint them that the natives were
forbidden to bring any thing to us. As the pinnace had not yet returned,
this information gave me much concern, fearing that the enemy had taken
her, and had by that means learnt what we were. On the 3d December,
about seven in the evening, a Spanish officer came to us, in a boat
rowed by eight Indians, being sent by the governor of Chiloe to enquire
what we were. Meaning to pass upon him for a French captain well known
in these seas, I ordered none of my people to appear on deck but such as
could speak French or Spanish, and hoisted French colours. When the
officer came on board, I told him my ship was the St Rose,
homeward-bound, that my