gale came on, worse than the last, on a leeward shore; no port; a dismal atmosphere, with all the horrors of Thursday night doubled. From the captain's dark physiognomy I saw our danger, though not [5] willingly admitted by him. We could see no land from the mast-head, only a dismasted vessel; and knowing not where we went, suffered the ship, without sail, to drift back. Felt my nervous system greatly shocked and impaired; passed a most dreadful night, admitting of no sleep, but a fearful looking out for death and swift destruction on the rocks. At nine, p. m., the gale abated, and hope dawned; and we hailed an Isle of Wight pilot-boat, which led us to Mother Bank, Portsmouth-harbour. Great and general was the joy of all on board, some being sick, and all worn down with fatigue and excessive watching. Thunder this morning. Off Ryde, at anchor, by eleven o'clock, a. m. Felt great gratitude, but not commensurate with the deliverance. The feeling during the gale was that of overwhelming fear, and as one under sentence of death, in dreadful suspense, waiting the moment which was to sink us all in old ocean's deep unfathomed caves. It was the most miserable 24 hours of my life, but worse were to follow. I was near resolving, that if I reached shore, I would abandon my mission! My hopes, objects, prospects, and all the bright visions of the future, seemed only as things passed away. When safely anchored, I felt as one risen from the dead; and, though my fears tried to seduce me towards home, shame, and my little remaining courage, impelled me to proceed.
11th.—The gale continues: how happily anchored! [6] Infinite mercy calls for infinite gratitude! In the gale, we damaged our cargo, and lost nearly all our water; the bung-holes of the casks being left carelessly unclosed.
