Oars were at once got out, but it was of no avail. Our vessel would not budge an inch. I sent a couple of natives to the island. They had to cross the reef, and by dint of swimming and wading reached the beach. Numerous fires were blazing in the distance surrounded by numbers of the islanders. The boys were instructed to bring as many natives as they could muster, as I hoped by our united efforts we should be enabled to get the vessel off. About a dozen natives appeared on the scene, who evidently did not relish turning out at such an unearthly hour. We all worked with a will, and after a number of spasmodic efforts we got clear of the reef, only to get on another one a few minutes later. I suspended the certificate of the pilot for the next 12 months, and I am afraid to write the language which, on the occasion, seemed to me appropriate. There was nothing else for it but to drop the anchor on the reef and wait patiently until the morning. The sun rose in full splendour, showing us distinctly our unfortunate position. Here we were, within a mile or so of our anchorage, imprisoned between the reefs like a rat in a trap. The wind had by this time increased, and the sea had got up. Our little craft was in considerable danger, as with a heavy wind and her sides beating against the hard coral, she stood a very good chance of breaking up, or having a hole knocked in her bottom. The wind blowing straight in our teeth, I determined to get the anchor on board, crowd all canvas, turn tail, and run, trusting by this means to get free of the reef. I could then go to leeward of the island, and rounding the north-east end, pick up my anchorage in the passage which is on the south east or weather side. This was a roundabout way, but the only possible one. The anchorage is sheltered by a large coral reef which extends a long distance to windward. Our anchor was safely stowed on board, all the sails set (a strong south-easter blowing astern), and the vessel gave a heave and got clear of the reef. The start was made. No sooner, however, had we got away, and in deep water, than crack went the mainsail, blown into a thousand ribbons. Luckily we had a spare mainsail on board, belonging to another boat. We managed to set it in a fashion, and after many difficulties, circumnavigated the island and came to an anchorage on the other side just abreast of the Mission House, tired out with our unfortunate journey. "Wari," or Teste Island, is situated about 35 miles to the south-east of Milne Bay, and as the trade wind blows from that quarter, it means a dead beat all the way. The island is from two to three miles long by half a mile broad. It is most fertile, and from its position very healthy.