The journey down was not very eventful, but one night we spent at Bioto Creek will always remain memorable to us. At Bioto we put all our cases on board a canoe, and set out with two natives to navigate the overladen craft to Pokama. As we did not leave until late we were forced to spend the whole night in the creek. In our crazy vessel, weighed down almost to the water’s edge, for she had only three inches of free board, we lay close inshore, under dense mangrove trees. Sleep was impossible, for we were assailed by mosquitoes and other discomforts; added to this we had to endure the stench of mud, the hoarse cry of the mound-builder, the clacking of myriads of bivalves as the tide receded, the incessant rain, the inky blackness of the night, and the unmistakable presence of innumerable crocodiles. Fortunately we did not know then that only a short time before, near this place, two natives had had a desperate fight with a crocodile, which lifted one of them right out of their canoe; the other fought the crocodile gallantly, and managed to get his companion back into the boat, when the saurian, nothing daunted, returned to the attack, and seized the poor fellow again, dismembering him. Although we had not the knowledge of this accident to add to our troubles, that night in Bioto Creek, which we spent cramped up in the most uncomfortable position, was probably the most unenviable I have ever passed. Darkness fell at 6.30; at 3.30 A.M. we were very glad to welcome the moonrise, and saw the light gradually silhouette the dense matted branches of the mangrove. About 4 A.M. we left our anchorage, and the dawn saw us well on our voyage to Pokama. It was wonderful on our arrival there how soon, under the influence of a good bath, clean clothes, a white table-cloth, and a decent meal, we forgot the horrors of the night that had just passed. [Illustration: POLING LAKATOIS (RAFTS OF CANOES) OUT FROM THE SHORE. ] From Pokama we went on to Hall Sound, where we were fortunate enough to find the ketch _St. Andrew_ about to sail, and on board that boat we secured a passage. Setting out on the 4th May, we were often badly becalmed, and on the third day we lay ten miles off the coast for the whole twenty-four hours. On the 9th we sighted an islet thirty miles from Thursday Island. This we passed safely, but at 1.30 a strong tide from the leeward set us to windward of the next island, where there is a bad reef, and at 4 P.M., when we were running before the wind at the rate of six knots an hour, we ran right on to it. As morning broke we found we were on a shelving reef, and in a very undesirable predicament indeed. We threw out stone ballast, and after bumping about for four hours, and making many unsuccessful attempts to get the boat off, losing an anchor and chain in the process, we managed to get clear with the flood tide. Next night we got into Thursday Island, and, on examining the ship, we found that some sheets of copper had been torn off her.