At four o’clock in the morning of the 5th of December, we weighed, with a light breeze, but it being variable with frequent calms, we made little way. We kept turning out of the bay till the afternoon, and about ten o’clock we were suddenly becalmed, so that the ship would neither wear nor stay, and the tide or current setting strong, she drove towards land so fast, that before any measures could be taken for her security, she was within a cable’s length of the breakers: we had thirteen fathom water, but the ground was so foul that we did not dare to drop our anchor; the pinnace therefore was immediately hoisted out to take the ship in tow, and the men, sensible of their danger, exerting themselves to the utmost, and a faint breeze springing up off the land, we perceived, with unspeakable joy, that she made head-way, after having been so near the shore that Tupia, who was not sensible of our hair’s breadth escape, was at this very time conversing with the people upon the beach, whose voices were distinctly heard, notwithstanding the roar of the breakers. We now thought all danger was over, but about an hour afterwards, just as the man in the chains had cried “seventeen fathom,” the ship struck. The shock threw us all into the utmost consternation; Mr. Banks, who had undressed himself and was stepping into bed, ran hastily up to the deck, and the man in the chains called out “five fathom;” by this time, the rock on which we had struck being to windward, the ship went off without having received the least damage, and the water very soon deepened to twenty fathom. This rock lies half a mile W. N. W. of the northernmost or outermost island on the south-east side of the bay. We had light airs from the land, with calms, till nine o’clock the next morning, when we got out of the bay, and a breeze springing up at N. N. W. we stood out to sea.