The time of high-water at the full and change of moon, was half-past five, which being half an hour earlier than at Clarence Strait, fully bears out the opinion I have before expressed, that the flood-tide comes from the westward.
Having to beat out against the seabreeze, the flood-tide made before we could get round the point on the coast lying midway between Ports Darwin and Patterson, and we were compelled to pass the night in the neighbourhood, a circumstance rendered disagreeable by the recurrence of another midnight squall from East-North-East, so severe as to require the use of a second anchor.

The rain was so bitterly cold and sudden, as well as violent, acting also on our frames with more severity from the lightness of our clothing, that it had all the effect of a shower-bath, momentarily taking away the power of speech.

It caused a rapid fall in the thermometer of ten degrees, bringing it as low as 60 degrees.

At Port Darwin it had been regularly 87 and 89 degrees in the day, and 80 degrees at night.
MIDNIGHT SQUALL.
The squall gave but slight warning of its approach, and four hours afterwards the mutinous assemblage of clouds had wholly disappeared from the heavens, leaving nothing to stay the advent of light which came pouring itself in floods of molten glory over the cloudless sky, as the morning broke.

This was the signal of our again moving towards Port Patterson, which we entered, passing on the eastern side of the reef in the mouth, and anchoring close to the eastern shore of the outermost of a chain of sandy islets, forming the west entrance point of the harbour, and extending eight miles in a North-North-East 1/2 East direction from the land.