settlement of some consequence, but had recently been entirely destroyed, by the British, another beautiful island, called Micland, had shared the same fate. At St. Peter's we took out our guns, and hauled our vessel on a beautiful beach, and cleaned her bottom in order to facilitate her sailing.

Near this Island, we fell in with a Newfoundland shallop owned and commanded by Charles Grandy, he had been to St. John's after salt, for his own use; he was an independent English fisherman. I do not mean that he was a man of fortune; only that he was independent of the English merchants in whose service, almost all the fishermen were employed. We detained Grandy some time, and examined him very closely, and were informed by him, that an English brig had recently entered the bay, with supplies for the fishing stations, we gave Charley some pork and bread, and dismissed him to his great joy, for he fared much better than his countrymen generally did, when they fell into the hands of American privateers

men.

We flattered ourselves, that we should fall in with this brig, and obtain a fine prize. We sailed up the bay, visited several ports where fishing was carried on, upon a large scale, but found nothing of the brig, but were informed that one was expected. Those ports had been before visited by privateers who had plundered them. Our captain strictly forbade every thing of this kind. Having failed in our enterprise respecting the said brig, the captain took two of the best shallops he could find, which belonged to merchants in England, and loaded them with oil and dry fish, which was the property of said merchants.

These shallops being loaded, were both committed to the care of Capt. Arnold, who went on board the largest of them, he was to have two hands with him, one, he was to select himself, and Capt. Willis was to select the other. Arnold chose me, and Capt. Willis selected James Annis. Jasper Loyd, an old Cape Ann fisherman, had the charge of the other shallop, (subject, however, to Capt. Arnold,} and with him, were Samuel Willis and Samuel Babb.

We left the privateer at Micland, in the mouth of Fortune Bay, and set out for Salem; but the wind headed us

and we put back, and anchored in the harbor of the Island of Micland. A dark cloud seemed now to be brooding over me, and the storm with which I had (at least in anticipation) been threatened, was now about to burst upon me. The wind was decidedly ahead and it was something of a risk to cross the gulf of St. Lawrence in so small a vessel, and it was also a risk to pass by Halifax. We lay wind bound in Micland, several days.

As we were in a snug harbor, where there were no inhabitants, we did not keep a watch at night. One morning when I came on deck, I perceived that Capt. Arnold was very different from what I had ever seen him, he had appeared rather low spirited, from the time the privateer left us, and now appeared in some measure deranged, he was remarkably sportive for some time, and on a sudden seemed to have something lie with great weight on his mind. In the evening he requested me to get a light and come into the cabin to him. I complied with his request, and tarried with him all night. Neither of us slept any: he talked without cessation all night, and upon almost every subject imaginable; sometimes he would seem to talk rationally, for a few minutes, and would then appear completely deranged again. From some circumstances, I had the impression that he had an awful dread of falling into the hands of the enemy. It was said that he and others had run away from Halifax with a kings cutter, but I do not recollect whether I had this hint from himself or others. In the morning he appeared very cheerful, and full of business, and quite inoffensive, and generally disposed to hearken to my advice. In the course of the day, he seemed to imagine himself on board the privateer and would frequently speak to this and the other officer, and reply as though they answered him. When night came on, I advised him to go into his cabin. I made his bed and proposed to him to lie down, he complied without hesitation and was still. I thought it a fortunate circumstance that I had got him into his cabin, and was determined to secure him. I shut the door and buttoned it on the outside; I then took a round stick of wood, which was sawn off square at each end, and seven or eight inches in diameter, set one end against the door and the other

end against a bulkhead, which was about three and a half feet from the door, the billet of wood, would admit of tacking a piece of board to one end of it, and it was ther of suitable length, to secure the door. I pressed it down with my whole weight and thought the door perfectly secure, and, having had no sleep the night before, I turned in.

The captain made no noise, and as he had slept none the night before, I flattered myself that he might rest comfortably, he being then perfectly still. As for James Annis he seemed to be a very shiftless and stupid being; he was very low spirited, but had slept well the night before. The weather was very pleasant and we had nothing to disturb us through the night. In the morning Annis went on deck between day and sun rise, but soon returned in great surprise, saying, "Sherburne, where is Capt. Arnold?" I answered he is in the cabin. "He is not on board," said Annis; I went immediately on deck and saw the cabin door open, I looked in and could find nothing of the captain, his clothes all lay on deck except his waistcoat; his shirt lay on the top of his clothes and his silver sleeve buttons lay upon his shirt. The reader will judge of my surprise and distress on this awful occasion!

The water being smooth and clear, and being but about twelve or fifteen feet deep, and the bottom white sand, was plainly to be seen. The other shallop being within fifty yards of us, and they having the skiff, we hailed them and informed them of the circumstances, and requested them to come with the boat which they did. We went round and round the shallop, enlarging our circle and viewing the bottom very carefully for a considerable distance, and then went on shore and walked round the beach to see if we could discover any tracks of bare feet in the sand, but all our endeavors to find him were abortive. The ques

tion now was, what shall we do? Loyd was no navigator though he was well acquainted with the eastern shore. His plan was to take both shallops under his command, and endeavor to get them to Salem. He flattered himself that he should have a decent share if he should succeed.

I proposed that we should all take the best shallop, and take the sails and light rigging off the other and endeavor

to make the best of our way home, but the old man would

not consent.

Ours was the largest and best of the two, and of course had the best cargo, but theirs had the best sails. I then proposed that Annis and myself should go on board with him and quit ours, but he would not agree to this.

I felt myself in a critical situation. I was not yet sixteen years of age. Annis knew not a point of the compass, he had never attempted to steer, knew nothing about working the vessel, and appeared quite low spirited and stupid. We were yet in an enemy's country, had to cross the gulf of St. Lawrence, and get by Halifax (if we could,) and the wind yet against us. The thoughts of taking charge of this little vessel, and taking her to the United States, with all these difficulties to encounter, together with the uncertainty of the weather, was extremely embarrassing. The inflexibility, folly and unfriendliness of old Mr. Loyd, increased my perplexity and excited my grief, as well as my resentment. But he had very much the advantage of me, and I was obliged to submit to my fate. Night came on and when the sun sank from the western horizon, and the sable curtains of night were drawn around me, I retired to the cabin with Annis, with a deep gloom upon my mind. My thoughts were much employed upon Captain Arnold, his wife and children. They lived within half a mile of my mother, yet I had but very little acquaintance with them or with Captain Arnold himself, until within six or eight weeks. He considered himself as my guardian, (as did the worthy Captain Powers,) and was very partial to me, and I much respected him. I do not know that I slept any that night. I retraced the trials through which I had passed, and attempted to look forward, but all was darkness. It may well be thought that at that time of life I could cry, but whether I attempted to look to God for protection and direction, I

cannot now say.

The next day the wind was more favorable but rather light. We got under weigh. Annis could assist me in getting up the anchor and hoisting the sails, but he knew not how to trim them to the wind, nor could he steer. Common sense may judge whether I was to steer this lit

tle vessel all the way to the United States; it is true that Annis might in a few days learn to steer his trick, as the sailor calls his tour at the helm, but it must devolve on me to stand at the helm all the succeeding night. At about noon we discovered a ship, and soon ascertained that she wished to speak with us; she chased us several hours, but the wind dying away she sent her boats. They took Mr. Loyd on board and examined him. She was an armed vessel, of about eighteen or twenty guns, and no doubt she was an American privateer, but was not honorable enough to let us know what she was, or who commanded her. The boat which boarded us, plundered us of some fishing nets, lines, &c. and let us pass.

Towards night I spoke with Loyd and entreated him to consider my situation, that I should be obliged to stand at the helm all night; I plead with him to let Samuel Willis come on board with me, and take Annis on board with him. To this he agreed, and Willis consented, greatly to my relief. Mr. Loyd could not have compelled Willis to have left his own vessel, and there could be no doubt that Annis would prefer taking his chance with an old sailor.

Early in the evening, we had something of a breeze, and it continued to increase, and by midnight we had quite a gale, and our vessel seemed to labour hard. The night was dark; neither moon or stars could be seen. We could not "cast anchors out of the stern," as Paul's company off Malta. We no doubt as earnestly wished for day as they did, and when the day arose, although so desirable, yet it was only to discover to us more visibly our danger. Our consort was about half a mile ahead of us; the clouds looked wild and the ocean rough. We had lost our boat which was towing at our stern. At about sun rise we split our mainsail from top to bottom, and with difficulty got it down and secured it. At that moment we were obliged to put away before the wind, and scud under a whole foresail which was almost new. It would have been much in our favour if our foresail had been reefed, which would have reduced it at least a quarter part; but it was impracticable for one boy to get this sail down, reef it, and set it again; our foremast was now in great danger from having so much sail upon it, for the