just one bell in the afternoon watch. The wind had a trifle more northing in it, so much so, in fact, that our saucy and stanch little ship was able to lay her course for Bartlett's Reef lightship, thirty-five miles distant.
This prospect cheered us up considerably. The steward resumed duty and gave us a square meal of fine cold roast beef and pickles, which we washed down with bottled Bass. Thus strengthened, we went on deck and set the jib, gave her a foot or two of the mainsheet, and, keeping her a good full, went smoking through the perturbed sea at a great rate. The whole distance to Bartlett's Reef, at the entrance of the River Thames, was accomplished with the Athlon's lee rail under water. Strong gusts from the land smote her at frequent intervals. If all her gear hadn't been of first-class material, something would have carried away. At half-past four o'clock we passed the lightship, having made the thirty-five miles in four hours—a highly creditable performance, considering the villainous weather we had had.
Our troubles, however, were not over by a long shot. The ebb tide was running out of New London harbor with the velocity of a mill-race. It was blowing a living gale dead in our teeth. The beat to the city against wind and tide was as hard a one as I remember on this side of the Atlantic; but we drove her at it. Glad enough we were to cast
