minutes, the boats must inevitably have been dashed to pieces!—we had just time and room to avoid this unexpected and unknown danger[1]. Admonished by this narrow escape, we thought it prudent to stand to the northward, under easy sail, until daylight; when we directed our course for Buckle's Isle, which we expected to reach about noon.
The sea was now becoming formidable, the wind augmenting in strength, and all appearances indicated that our dangers were increasing. We continued advancing together till noon, when we fortunately obtained the sun's meridian altitude, which shewed our latitude to be 10° 59'; but, much to our astonishment and vexation, there was no appearance of land[2]. Just as we finished the observation, the skiff suddenly hove-to, and the chief mate hailed us to do the same: but this was impossible, as we were compelled to run before the wind, even if it had been to certain destruction.
The jolly-boat came on with us, and those on board her expressed an earnest desire to be received into the long boat. We did not at all relish this proposal; and they were rather harshly reproached with having lost courage, and admonished to be of good cheer. We
