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We were on the lee side here, but this circumstance alone was in our favour. The beach was rocky, and the foreshore about the cove had a barren appearance that promised nothing to relieve our wants. It was shut in on all sides by high, rocky cliffs, and there appeared to be no means of entrance or exit save by the sea. Captain Bligh stood up in his seat, examining the place carefully whilst the rest of us awaited his decision. He turned to Mr. Nelson with a wry smile.

“By God, sir,” he said, “if you can find us so much as an edible berry here, you shall have my ration of grog at supper.”

“I’m afraid the venture is safe enough,” Mr. Nelson replied. “Nevertheless, I shall be glad to try.”

“That we shall do,” said Bligh; then, turning to the master, “Mr. Fryer, you and six men shall stay with the launch.” He then told off those who were to remain on board, whereupon they slackened away until we were in shallow water and the rest of us waded ashore.

The beach was composed of heaps of stones worn round and smooth by the action of the sea, and although the surf was light, the footing was difficult until we were out of the water. Robert Lamb, the butcher, turned his ankle before he had taken half a dozen steps, and thus provided me with my first task as surgeon of the Bounty’s launch. The man had received a bad sprain that made it impossible for him to walk. He was supported to higher ground, where Captain Bligh—quite rightly, I think—gave him a severe rating. We were in no position to have helpless men to care for, and Lamb’s accident was the result of a foolish attempt to run across a beach of loose stones.