The cause of our misfortune was something quite different, and might have been foreseen. After taking in about one hundred tons of stone ballast for the trip to Foo Chow, we took in for the remainder a great quantity of semi-liquid mud that had been dredged up from the bottom of the river. Whether any consideration had been given to the matter by those in charge I am unable to say, but the fact remains that as soon as we got to sea the ship showed a great want of stability or stiffness, and as she heeled over the moist mud picked up its lowest possible level. It was evident that this state of things would not do, so as the ship had sister keelsons we tried to build a dam amidships by driving down piles inside them and then filling up the internal space with stone ballast. The general effect of this procedure was, I think, to make matters worse, and as we could not get back to Adelaide, the wind being strong and adverse, we tried to get to Port Lincoln. Here, again, our luck was poor, for the wind came strong from the westward and cut us off. The next idea was to run for Melbourne. We in the forecastle were dependent for our news of what was being done upon such scanty information as might be dropped by one of the officers, but we mostly recognised that we were in rather a tight fix and that we should be lucky to get out of it. Owing to the ship’s inability to stand up to her canvas we were driven south of Kangaroo Island and were hardly put to it to weather Cape Jaffa. From that point, however, the land trended a little to the north-eastward, but it was soon recognised that nothing short of a shift of wind would save us, and that there was no sign of. We had weathered Cape Jaffa about midnight, having carried close-reefed topsails and foresail with the greatest difficulty. The ship, of course, lay over tremendously, but she still carried some way. As soon as we were past the Cape the maintopsail blew away and, the foretopsail and foresail being furled, we lay hove-to under the mizzen-topsail. The next morning we were set to work to get up stay and yard tackles for the long boat, and to clear away the spars that were stowed on top of it. This was done and the stay tackles hooked on and hauled tight, but during this operation I had fallen on my left shoulder and hurt it so badly that it was difficult and painful to move my arm. Some time shortly after noon the weather cleared a little and some one shouted out “land on the lee beam.” There it was sure enough, and about two miles or so of breakers I should think. There was no escape, for the ship was simply drifting to leeward. Davies, who went aloft to obtain a better view, hailed the poop: “It’s all right, sir--a sandy beach;” and then scuttled down to help and advise the only thing possible, which was to run for the beach. As we discovered afterwards, it was the top of high water and fortune had directed us to the only patch of sand in the locality.