To night it is blowing furiously: the water is fairly torn up, & thick bodies of spray are whirled across the Bay.
The night was one of the most stormy I ever witnessed. Although close to a weather shore in a snug cove, upon good holding ground, with masts struck and yards braced as sharp as possible, the wind was so furious that both bowers were brought a-head with a cable on each, and the sheet anchor (having been let go early) had half a cable on it, the depth of water being only ten fathoms. During some of the blasts, our fore-yard bent so much that I watched it with anxiety, thinking it would be sprung. The storm being from the westward, threw no sea into the cove, but I several times expected to be driven out of our place of refuge, if not shelter. During part of the time we waited in Good Success Bay for an interval of tolerable weather, in which we might cross to the Falkland Islands without being molested by a gale, there was so much surf on the shore that our boats could not land, even while the wind was moderate in the bay.