As the Ranger was built in Portsmouth and had fallen into the hands of the enemy, the patriotic merchants of Portsmouth were anxious to retrieve their loss; they built a beautiful ship, which mounted twenty guns and called her the Alexander, and gave Capt. Simpson the command of her; Elijah Hall, Esq. who was first Lieut. of the Ranger, was also second in command on board the Alexander; he was a worthy character and much beloved by the officers and crew. A considerable number of the Ranger's officers and crew occupied the same station on board this ship, they had previously occupied on board the Ranger. Having been invited by Capt. Simpson, to try my fortune with him again, I readily accepted the invitation.

We sailed from Portsmouth in December 1780, and cruised upwards of three months, but took nothing; we never gave chase to any vessel without coming up with her, but we never met with an enemy. Our cruise was

designed for three months, but, as we could get no prize, we prolonged it and our provision failed, so that we came to half allowance before we got in, and we really suffered for water.

I left with my mother the power of attorney, with directions to sell any part of my share she might think proper. She sold one fourth part, for about seventy dollars, to a former acquaintance and was to take country produce, this answered a valuable purpose; it procured fodder for her cow, firewood, &c.

On my return, I found my mother and family in health, but no news from Thomas. I began to feel as if the care of the family would devolve on me and I felt zealous to render them all the help in my power. Our friends and neighbors began to extol me for my attention to my mother and sister, and I was emulous to redeem the pledge.

The Alexander was a fine ship and the fastest sailing ship I was ever acquainted with. She was preparing for the second cruise and I had been invited to try my fortune in her again, and had concluded to accept the invitation; but a circumstance occurred which gave me a different direction.

I was walking the street one day, and being in a seaman's garb, was readily recognised as a sailor and was overtaken by a jolly tar, who accosted me in the following manner. "Ha, shipmate, don't you wish to take a short cruise in a fine schooner and make your fortune?" I replied that I expected to sail in the Alexander. "O we shall get back," said he," before the Alexander will get ready to sail.""

The young man was Capt. Jacob Wilds, of Kennebunkport, in Maine; his schooner was called the Greyhound, she was fitted out in Salem, Massachusetts. She had been a bank fisherman, but being now finely painted, with a new and longer set of masts and spars, and having her ensign and pennant flying, she made quite a warlike appearance. She mounted eight four pounders and was of about sixty tons burden. A Capt. Arnold, (of whom I shall have occasion to speak more particularly hereafter) was the only person who was going on board the Greyhound from Portsmouth. He was first prizemaster and was very solicitous that I should go with him. He was the only person on board, whose face I had ever seen before, and with him, I had but a very slight acquaintance. I was then in my sixteenth year and pretty well grown; the Capt. promised that I should have a full share and made me many fair promises, and he proved punctual. He told me he should go into Old York, (a small port, three leagues east of Portsmouth) and that if I would go on board his vessel, and go to York, if I did not like the vessel and crew, he would pay my expenses back to Portsmouth again.

Privateering had now become the order of the day, and in many instances small vessels had as good success as large ones, though it was difficult to get a sufficient number of hands to man them. I was induced to go on board with Capts. Wilds and Arnold, and to go as far as York. Having got on board I was, by Capt. Wilds, with something of ceremony introduced to the officers, and I found indeed a jovial company. She had a full complement of officers, two or three ordinary seamen before the mast, and between twenty and thirty boys, scarcely one of them as large as myself, and some of them not a dozen years old. I was taken into the cabin and caressed

by Capt. Wilds and his officers, and spent a long and jovial evening; I was invited to sing them a song, and in the course of the evening entertained them with several. In this no doubt there was management with Capt. Wilds and his officers; they found it very difficult to obtain hands; I was not yet secured and they wished that I might become attached to them.

The next day having got under way, we ran down to York, and it became necessary for Capt. Wilds to lay some plan to increase his crew in this place,for in Portsmouth he had very poor success; the Capt. had gained some information of the state of things at York by the pilot, who piloted us into the harbor; he therefore laid a plan to get up a frolic at a public house, and suitable persons were employed to invite the lads and lasses for a country dance. Rum, coffee, sugar, biscuit, &c. were taken on shore from the privateer, for the purpose, and the frolic went on. Having but one fiddler and the company being large, it became necessary to have dancing in more than one room; I was selected by some of the officers, to sing for some of the dancers; this suited my turn, for I was no proficient in dancing. Every art and insinuation was employed by the officers to obtain recruits; they succeeded in getting two only that evening, one by the name of Sweet, and the other by the name of Babb.

The next day was to me, one of the most memorable days of my life; such gloom and horror fell upon my mind as I never before experienced, such melancholy and despondency as I never before or since have felt, and which it is impossible for me to describe. I resolved to return home, but even in this resolution I could not anticipate the least degree of relief, and the voyage before me looked as gloomy as death; had I been on a single plank, in the midst of the ocean, my condition could not have appeared more hopeless. While in this forlorn condition it came into my mind to go on board the vessel which now lay at the wharf, and pray; accordingly I went on board (the people being mostly on shore) and sought a place of retirement, and after some time spent in contemplation, I attempted to pray. The gloom in some meas

ure subsided. I disclosed my intention to the Capt. he acknowedged my right to return if I chose, but expressed great unwillingness to part with me; he engaged Capt. Arnold and other officers in his interest to persuade me to stay and spend one more evening with them; they were so urgent that they finally overcame me, and I reluctantly gave my consent. The evening was spent as had been the preceding evening, and they obtained one more hand only. I think his name was Preble.

The Capt. was satisfied that this was not the place for him to make up his crew and was determined to push farther eastward and gained my consent to go the cruise. We left York with a design to call at Cape Porpoise in Arundel, now called Kennebunkport. At this place dwelt the Captain's father, who was an old sea Captain and had acquired a handsome estate and now occupied one of the best farms in that region. Our Capt. was but about twenty-two years of age; he had been absent several years sailing from Salem and other ports, being now in the place of his nativity, there was no difficulty in getting up a frolic; this plan was resorted to, but to little purpose, for we obtained but one hand; his name was Samuel Wilds, a kinsman of the Capt. a lad about sixteen. I shall have occasion to say something of him hereafter.

and

The harbor of Cape Porpoise was but very little resorted to except by coasters and fishermen; there was by no means a dense population in this place, a vessel of so rakish an appearance as the Greyhound, with such a flaming flag and streaming pennants, was quite a novelty. The Captain's barge was rowed with four oars only, and I had the honor of being steersman of this little barge, and when we put off from along side, the Capt. was honored with a gun and three cheers, from the crew; this was something unusual, but we were privateers

men.

We left Cape Porpoise, for the port of Falmouth, now called Portland, which had been burnt in the commencement of the revolution, by Capt. Mowatt, who commanded his Majesty's ship Cancer. We made but a short stop at this place and got one hand only, and a poor

thing he was. There was now no further prospect of increasing our crew, we were obliged to try our fortune with what we had and put to sea.

I very much regretted that I had ever seen the Greyhound; my melancholy which commenced at York, had by no means snbsided; at times I felt fearful forebodings, but endeavored to put the best side out, for it was by no means becoming a young sailor to discover a want of fortitude; I endeavored to suppress all gloomy reflections and make the best of a bad bargain.

There was a lad on board, by the name of William Deadman, near my age, but not so heavy; he was quite active and very persevering; he and myself were always called upon to do whatever was to be done aloft and were each of us emulous not to be outdone by the other. William was a worthy lad and there was always perfect harmony between us; we had the praise of the officers and were much caressed by them. We met with nothing worth noticing, until we got off against Halifax; we were there chased by a topsail-schooner, larger than ours; we had a fresh gale and a heavy sea, we carried sail so long, that we were much in danger of carrying away our masts; the vessel chasing us, was a much faster sailer than ours, and of course, came up with us; but before she came up, we were obliged to take in our topsail. In taking in the fore-topsail alone, I very narrowly escaped being thrown off the yard, which was but a small spar, not much larger than a man's leg, and consequently, could afford but little support to what a large spar would. The pitching, and rolling of the vessel, rendered my situation dangerous beyond description. I even now shudder at the thought of my then perilous condition; millions would not induce me to run such a risk again. The schooner in chase of us, proved to be an American privateer, called the Blood Hound. We found that our privateers were numerous on this

coast.

After this we adventured to take a peep into Halifax. As we drew near the harbor, we discovered a ship, apparently in distress, aiming to get in. We began to hope she might be a prize for us; we were not however