run. The frowning cliffs above them and the smashing of the surf on the
rocks, were their guide in steering a course parallel with the coast.
Bass held the sheet, Flinders steered with an oar, and the boy bailed out
the water which the hissing crests of wind-lashed waves flung into the
boat. "It required the utmost exertion to prevent broaching to; a single
wrong movement or a moment's inattention would have sent us to the
bottom."

They drove along for an hour in this precarious situation, hoping for an
opening to reveal itself into which they could run for shelter. At last,
Flinders, straining his eyes in the darkness, distinguished right ahead
some high breakers, behind which there appeared to be no shade of cliffs.
So extremely perilous was their position at this time, with the water
increasing despite the efforts of the boy, that Flinders, an unusually
placid and matter-of-fact writer when dealing with dangers of the sea,
declares that they could not have lived ten minutes longer. On the
instant he determined to turn the boat's head for these breakers, hoping
that behind them, as there were no high cliffs, there might be sheltered
water. The boat's head was brought to the wind, the sail and mast were
taken down, and the oars were got out. "Pulling thus towards the reef,
through the intervals of the heaviest seas, we found it to terminate in a
point, and in three minutes were in smooth water under its lee. A white
appearance further back kept us a short time in suspense, but a nearer
approach showed it to be the beach of a well-sheltered cove, under which
we anchored for the rest of the night." They called the place of refuge
Providential Cove. The native name was Watta-Mowlee (it is now called
Wattamolla).

On the following morning, March 30th, the weather having moderated, the
Tom Thumb's sail was again hoisted, and she coasted northward. After a