Upon mentioning the natives of the coast and showing them the stone-headed spear that we had found, they evinced their dislike to them very plainly, they called them Maregas, Marega being, as we afterwards found, their appellation for this part of the coast. It was now growing late, and as the canoe had not returned, they hailed their companions several times, but not being answered, they asked for a musket, and fired it in the direction of their boat; this had the desired effect, and it very shortly came alongside, but the crew had not been successful, for they had caught only two small fishes which were presented to us: they then took leave, repeatedly assuring us that the next morning they would pay us another visit. April 26. But, without waiting for the honour they intended us, we got under weigh early and left them to comment as they pleased upon our disappointing them of the gunpowder, which, to get rid of them, we had promised to give them the next morning. Being under sail, we steered to the West-South-West, until the land opened round Cape Don in an east-northerly direction for eight miles, and then the coast trended to the south-eastward under Mounts Bedwell and Roe, where the land was lost to view. To the westward the land was observed trending in a north and south direction, and bore the appearance of being an island. The ebb now commenced setting out, and although we were going three knots through the water, we made no progress over the ground. Seven miles West by South from Cape Don we sounded in fifty fathoms on a bottom of branch-coral, and four miles more to the westward we had but nineteen fathoms. When the flood commenced, it was too dark to profit by it. April 27. And no progress was made until the next morning, when, having a fresh breeze, we reached an anchorage in a bay on the north side, and close under the base of Mount Bedwell. On our way we steered through strong tide-ripplings in which, at times, notwithstanding the strength of the breeze, the cutter was quite ungovernable. Off the bay is a low mangrove island which I had the pleasure to name after the Reverend James W. Burford, of Stratford, Essex, and the bay in which we had anchored was called after W. Aiton, Esquire, of the Royal Gardens at Kew. The bottom of Aiton Bay is shoal and apparently terminates in an inlet or creek; at low water the tide left a considerable space dry that appeared to extend from shore to shore. Our distance from the beach was so short that the howlings of dogs were distinctly heard, and other noises were distinguished which some of us thought were made by natives, but they were more probably the screams of birds. April 28.