The evening of the 18th was very dismal: the sky looked black, being covered with dark clouds; the wind blew hard, and the seas ran high, roaring loudly, and covered with white foam. A dark night was coming on, no land in sight to cheer them, and the little bark in danger of being swallowed up by every wave; and what was worse than all, was, as Dampier confesses, none of them thought themselves prepared for another world. "I had been in many imminent dangers before now, but the worst of them all was but a plaything in comparison with this. Other dangers came not upon me with such a leisurely and dreadful solemnity. The sudden skirmish or engagement, also, was nothing when once blood was up, and pushed forward with eager expectations. But here I had a lingering view of approaching death, and little or no hopes of escaping it. My courage, which I had hitherto kept up, failed me. I made many sad reflections on my former life, and looked back with horror and detestation to actions which before I disliked, but now I trembled at the remembrance of. I had long before this repented me of that roving course of life, but never with such concern as now. I did also call to mind the many miraculous acts of God's providence towards me in the whole course of my life. For all these I returned thanks, and once more desired God's assistance, and composed my mind as well as I could in the hopes of it." These hopes were not disappointed. He and Mr Hall taking it in turns to steer, while the rest hove out the water, they prepared, as Dampier writes, "to spend the most doleful night I ever was in. About ten o'clock it began to thunder, lighten, and rain; but the rain was very welcome to us, having drank up all the water we brought from the island." At first the wind blew harder than ever. In half an hour it moderated, and by a lighted match they looked at their compass to see how they steered, and found their course to be still east, and thus they steered for several hours. For a short time they were able to haul up, but again had to put before the wind. During this period they were soaked through and through by the rain, which chilled them extremely. At eight o'clock on the morning of the 19th one of the Malays exclaimed that he saw land, and that it was Pulo Way, at the north-west end of Sumatra. Trimming the smallest amount of sail they could venture to hoist, they steered with it, their outriggers doing them good service, for the wind pressed down the boat's side, and would have overturned her had it not been for them. As they approached the land, they saw that it was not Pulo Way they had at first observed, but the Golden Mountain in Sumatra, so-called by the English.