were.

We had a fine leading wind from the south-east, and were now going
through the water at the rate of seven knots. Eight o'clock, nine
o'clock, ten o'clock, and still no appearance of land, although we
had made since daylight more than thirty miles. At eleven o'clock,
however, the horizon gradually darkened, and all at once a bold
headland, terminating in a precipitous cliff, loomed up out of a thin
mist at a distance of only four miles. All was at once excitement. The
topgallant sails were clewed up to reduce the vessel's speed, and her
course was changed so that we swept round in a curve broadside to the
coast, about three miles distant. The mountain peaks, by which we
might have ascertained our position, were hidden by the clouds and
fog, and it was no easy matter to ascertain exactly where we were.

Away to the left, dimly defined in the mist, were two or three more
high blue headlands, but what they were, and where the harbour of
Petropavlovsk might be, were questions that no one could answer. The
captain brought his charts, compass, and drawing instruments on deck,
laid them on the cabin skylight, and began taking the bearings of the
different headlands, while we eagerly scanned the shore with glasses,
and gave free expressions to our several opinions as to our situation.
The Russian chart which the captain had of the coast was fortunately
a good one, and he soon determined our position, and the names of the
headlands first seen. We were just north of Cape Povorotnoi, about
nine miles south of the entrance of Avacha Bay. The yards were now
squared, and we went off on the new tack before a steady breeze from
the south-east. In less than an hour we sighted the high isolated
rocks known as the "Three Brothers," passed a rocky precipitous
island, surrounded by clouds of shrieking gulls and parrot-billed