Early in February, at Kingston, I embarked in the brig Vittoria, Captain Ferrier, and, soon after, the vessel dropped down to the anchorage at Port Royal. Just before we got under way, a transport arrived from England, having on board a detachment for the garrison, consisting of drafts from the 50th and 58th depÔts, under the command of Captain Mason of the former corps; the other officers were Lieut. Crofton and Assistant Surgeon Young of the 50th and Lieut. Skinner of the 58th. Wishing them all happiness, I returned to my own ship, which immediately put to sea. On the 4th we were off the Island of Cuba, and passed the Grand Caymans at midnight. The weather was fine and the wind blowing fresh from the eastward. We made cape Antonio, the western extremity of Cuba, and in the course of the day stood away to the northward, in order to clear the Colorado shoals on the N.W. of the Cape. While sailing through the Gulf of Mexico, the sun was extremely hot, and very little wind stirring. We caught two small sharks with the line and hook, and having some slices fried for dinner, found them very tough, as well as strong and unsavoury to the taste.

A fine pleasant breeze springing up, we steered in shore, making the northern coast of Cuba, and about noon, the day being remarkably clear, the hills of that island were distinctly seen at the distance of twenty miles.

The wind becoming easterly on the 12th, we continued beating about the Mexican sea, and between the southern extremity of the North American coast and the east end of Cuba. Towards evening we were off the Havannah, and in view of the fortress and castle of the Moro, protecting the entrance into the harbour. Assisted by a strong current we passed a considerable distance to the eastward of the Havannah, and, as the current was running three and four knots, aided by a smart S.E. breeze, we hoped to clear the Florida passage in a few days. Before we got within the influence of the Gulf stream, we were hailed by a strange sail to leeward, which fired a few shots to bring us to. She immediately sent a boat, manned with some desperate looking villains, for the purpose of rummaging the ship. Having obtained all that they required, among which was a portion of our fresh stock, the suspicious visitor bore away to the westward. She proved to be an independent cruizer, named the Confidante of Buenos Ayres, and was one of the insurgent privateers by which those seas were infested. Fortunately, a heavy swell and threatening change of wind coming on, were the means of causing the pirate to sheer off suddenly, otherwise, we might not have escaped on such easy terms from his clutches.

With a fine spanking breeze at S.E. we were rapidly sailing through the Gulf; the weather continued moderate, and the sea tolerably smooth. On the 15th we entered the narrowest part of the straits, about sixteen miles from the shores of the Bahamas.

February the 16th and 17th, clearing the Gulf, we launched into the Great Western ocean, and underwent a series of desperate weather, attended with squalls and rain. The wind being right astern, our little brig was in the utmost danger of getting pooped by the heavy rolling sea, which was driving us along. The dead lights were stove in as fast as they were secured, and the decks were washed from stem to stern. In this way, at the rate of between eight and ten knots, we were scudding under close-reefed topsails. On the 18th and 19th, there was no improvement whatever in the state of things, although the wind was still blowing in a favorable direction. We were at this time in the latitude of Charleston, North Carolina.

Matters continued much in the same state till the 27th, when, at midnight, the dark and stormy appearances of the sky gave indubitable indications of an approaching hurricane from the Northwest. At three in the morning, while running at six knots, the ship suddenly broached to, the foretopsail was torn off the yard arm, and, soon after, the main topsail and jib were literally rent like brown paper, flying in ribbons about the masts.

The whistling noise through the rigging, together with the rattling of blocks and sheets, was really dismal, and the gale kept encreasing with such fury as had never been witnessed by the oldest mariner on board. The sun had set, on the preceding evening, with all those direful omens which are the well known forerunners of bad weather, while the black and lowering clouds, banked up in wild and broken masses, foretold its continuance.

Daylight, so anxiously looked out for, disclosed to our view the horrors by which we were surrounded. The tempest had by this time gained a degree of violence that can be conceived only by such as have voyaged in those latitudes, and at its mercy our poor weather-beaten ship, labouring and struggling against its fury, was allowed, (or rather forced), to drift considerably off her course, in consequence of the helm being dismantled and unmanageable. With elastic bound she rose on the top of each successive wave, then fell as nobly into the furrows, seeming as if despair had given her strength, while the waters with dreadful noise rushed past her quivering sides, and with their accumulated weight occasionally broke upon the decks, sweeping off bulwarks, boats, and every timber on the gangways; while all her masts, yards and spars aloft, bent and strained beneath the fearful blast that howled in dismal gusts around. The sea, agitated into white and boiling foam, was running mountains high, and its angry surface presented a most desolate and wintry aspect.

Throughout this day the hurricane raged without the slightest intermission, every now and then a ponderous billow, coming with the force of a battering-ram upon her broadside, made the little sea-boat tremble to her very keel. She soon began to leak in all her seams, and the crew, harassed and fatigued, relieved each other by turns, while lashed to the pumps they worked incessantly. All but the seamen were down below, none daring to venture from those regions even for a moment. Pent up within the dark and gloomy limits of the cabin, we remained in awful durance, scarcely giving utterance to a word; our silence occasionally disturbed by a waterfall, tumbling through the sky-light, or companion hatchway, and leaving the steerage and cabin floor in a perfect deluge. Such a day of misery was never passed; and the Captain, who had been under many a stiff norwester, confessed that a gale like this he had not before encountered. The sun set with the same forbidding aspect as on the day preceding, and the night began without the slightest prospect of a change;—every one seemed to be in a state of hopeless despair, and were it not for that buoyancy of spirit, which is natural to man under every circumstance, none would have been capable of the least exertion.

The darkness in which we were involved rendered our situation more deplorable than ever, and without any thing whatever to cheer or comfort us, the most painful forebodings weighed down upon all on board. The Mate, Mr. Grant, however, a hearty good-humoured sailor, a man inured to danger in every form, kept us alive; encouraging the drooping passengers and crew, he never for an instant gave way to useless repining, but exerted himself as far as he could do under circumstances so trying. "With plenty of searoom, and a good ship," he said, "there was nothing to apprehend;" and his example did more to inspire the men with energy to work than any other means could possibly have accomplished. A little before midnight the utmost climax of the tempest seemed to have arrived, and it was hoped a change would soon take place. Grant, after drinking a glass of grog, and wrapping a pilot's frock about him, went on deck, for the purpose of looking out for something favourable; and we impatiently waited his return, as the harbinger of good tidings.

For a considerable time, we heard nothing but the ceaseless thunder of the wind and waves. At length, Captain Ferrier, fearing that something must have happened to detain the Mate, called out for him, from the top of the companion ladder, but no answer was received; the call was repeated throughout the ship, still no reply. Ferrier now perceived that the capstan head, dripstone, and tafferel rail were cleared away, since he was on deck before, and he soon guessed the fate of his unfortunate officer. Grant was last seen by a man at the pumps, holding on by the capstan; but in a moment one of the tremendous seas broke over the ship, with an overwhelming force, and washed the ill-fated seaman into the deep, together with the solid timber upon which he leaned.

All danger seemed for the present set aside, in our regrets for this worthy shipmate. He was a most skilful and zealous man, always at his post, engaged in every active business of the vessel, and unwearied in his duty in the hour of danger.

Immediately after the occurrence of this melancholy accident, the Captain, on glancing round the horizon, observed symptoms of an abatement of the gale; the wild commotion of the elements seemed to be gradually subsiding, and the weather-wise mariner expressed his opinion that, in a few hours, the wind would become so moderate as to enable him to steer his proper course. This welcome information was fully realized, for, even before it was expected, this change took place. Suddenly relieved from inevitable shipwreck, the crew began to work with fresh alacrity, and the tattered remnant of our sails was speedily put in order for instant use; so that by good exertion, crippled as she was, the ship moved slowly onward, and after sunrise, on the 1st of March, was making tolerable way, before a steady breeze and a comparatively smooth sea; dashing up the spray from beneath her bows, with a noise that sounded like the sweetest music in our ears.

Our party assembled at the breakfast table in high glee and spirits; a state of mind far different from that in which we had been for several days. Our late probation of abstinence had reduced us to a very slender compass, we therefore, set to with a goÛt that could not be imparted by Messrs. Harvey or Burgess, and the coarse though solid fare was rapidly devoured; the attacks were boldly made, and the enemy, in the shape of bare bones and empty platters and cups was quickly put to flight.

Three beside the Captain made up the number of our company in the cabin, one of whom, an old Scotch gentleman, who had made his fortune in the Plantations, was retiring in the evening of his days, to spend his money in his own country. He had been the greatest part of his life in Jamaica, and seemed to have lost all recollection of the period when he first left home; suffering under infirmity of body, and from the effect of climate, he was reduced to a very indifferent state of health.

The other passenger was a gentleman, whose intellect was rather out of order; in fact, when he was put on board the Vittoria at Port Royal, he was quite deranged, being held in charge of two men, who with difficulty prevented him from jumping into the sea. However, he cooled a little afterwards, although, during the whole voyage, he displayed many wild symptoms. While the hurricane lasted he kept close to his berth, and was in such a dreadful state of terror, that he did nothing but call out every moment that we were going down, and he fancied the violent concussion of the waves against the ship to be no other than our contact with the bottom of the ocean, at which he supposed we had arrived. Nothing whatever, but extreme longing for gain, could have induced any one in his common senses to admit such an unruly character into the ship, at all events without the very necessary appendage of a straight waistcoat. The poor man himself, however, was much to be pitied, for he was the victim of many serious trials. The vessel in which he sailed for the West Indies, a few years back, took fire, while lying becalmed off Cape Tiberon, and was burnt to the water's edge. He narrowly escaped destruction, being obliged to leap overboard, and with others was rescued from the devouring element.

The fright caused by the awful situation in which he had been placed, affected his mind at the time, but not so as materially to affect his reasoning powers; he had wisdom enough left to seek for comfort with a blooming partner, a planter's daughter; which circumstance, it was said, rather increased than diminished the malady.—This fair lady died, and to prove his estimation of the married state, he took to his arms a second helpmate, with whom he resided at an estate called Vere. Misfortune still pursued the unhappy man; the last companion of his woes and joys followed her predecessor to the tomb, and the mourning widower, who was no admirer of the creed of Malthus or Miss Martineau, was left to go a third time, like another Coelebs, in search of a wife. If to have been burned out of a ship, and enjoyed the felicity of having had two wives, with the chances of getting his head again into the noose were not enough in all conscience to qualify a man for Bedlam, it would be a difficult matter to find out what could effect that desirable object. Such was the case of our friend, of uxorious memory and to the disasters of his campaigns, we were perhaps indebted for the pleasure of his society on the passage home.

The dark and threatening aspect of the weather, for the rest of the voyage, gave us no reason to doubt that the Equinoxial gales would support their usual character, and that Boreas would attend us to our destined harbour.

Continuing our course across the great Atlantic, we got into soundings about the eighteenth of March, and were off the S.W. coast of Ireland, but the atmosphere being thick and hazy, the land was not discernible. Keeping the lead in active operation, we slowly though cautiously approached the Channel. The weather cleared up on the 21st, when with a fine breeze from the S.W. we gained the Lizard, at an early hour, and having made a capital run past the Eddystone and Needles, were compelled to heave to, off the S. Foreland, in consequence of a dense fog. Signals were made for a pilot, which were answered by a rough looking member of that tribe pulling up, and boarding us. The night set in dark, but the moon shining out towards twelve o'clock, we stood away for the Downs, illumined by her light; and came to anchor about three in the morning of the 22nd of March 1821, after a stormy passage of seven weeks and two days.

On our getting moored, some Deal boats crowded round the ship, and their crews made the most extravagant demands for their services. Impatient to set foot on shore, after being so long caged up in my floating prison, I gladly embraced the opportunity, and agreeing to give the rapacious fellows a guinea for a two miles pleasuring on a wintry morning, my goods and chattels were gathered from the hold, and being tumbled into a boat, were soon followed by their master. We then shoved off, and I bade adieu to the shattered brig, and strange as it may appear, not without some feelings of regret, Rowing for about an hour against a head wind and strong tide, we hurried through the surf and brought to on the sandy beach of Deal, and with joy unspeakable, I once more found myself on the shores of happy England.

THE END.

BURY ST. EDMUND'S:
PRINTED BY T. C. NEWBY, ANGEL HILL.