was able to remain a week indoors.

A boat which left for Ternate, the day after we arrived, was obliged to
return the next day, on account of bad weather. On the 31st we went out
to the anchorage at the mouth of the harbour, so as to be ready to start
at the first favourable opportunity.

On the 1st of November I called up my men at one in the morning, and we
started with the tide in our favour. Hitherto it had usually been calm
at night, but on this occasion we had a strong westerly squall with
rain, which turned our prau broadside, and obliged us to anchor. When it
had passed we went on rowing all night, but the wind ahead counteracted
the current in our favour, and we advanced but little. Soon after
sunrise the wind became stronger and more adverse, and as we had a
dangerous lee-shore which we could not clear, we had to put about
and get an offing to the W.S.W. This series of contrary winds and bad
weather ever since we started, not having had a single day of fair wind,
was very remarkable. My men firmly believed there was something unlucky
in the boat, and told me I ought to have had a certain ceremony gone
through before starting, consisting of boring a hole in the bottom and
pouring some kind of holy oil through it. It must be remembered that
this was the season of the south-east monsoon, and yet we had not had
even half a day's south-east wind since we left Waigiou. Contrary winds,
squalls, and currents drifted us about the rest of the day at their
pleasure. The night was equally squally and changeable, and kept us hard
at work taking in and making sail, and rowing in the intervals.

Sunrise on the 2d found us in the middle of the ten-mile channel between
Kaioa and Makian. Squalls and showers succeeded each other during the
morning. At noon there was a dead calm, after which a light westerly
breeze enabled us to reach a village on Makian in the evening. Here I
bought some pumelos (Citrus decumana), kanary-nuts, and coffee, and let
my men have a night's sleep.

The morning of the 3d was fine, and we rowed slowly along the coast of
Makian. The captain of a small prau at anchor, seeing me on deck and
guessing who I was, made signals for us to stop, and brought me a letter
from Charles Allen, who informed me he had been at Ternate twenty days,
and was anxiously waiting my arrival. This was good news, as I was
equally anxious about him, and it cheered up my spirits. A light
southerly wind now sprung up, and we th