It was late one hazy afternoon, when the Euphrasia made the land near the entrance of the Frith of Forth. As it did not appear possible to get to Leith that evening, Fitz-Ullin proposed to the pilots to lay-to till morning. They declared, however, that they could take the ship in by night as well as by day, the lights being sufficient to guide them. Accordingly, they stood in for port; about an hour after, when they supposed themselves still some miles from land, it was announced from the forecastle that there was a ship at anchor ahead. Almost immediately afterwards, however, it was discovered that the object they were approaching was a huge rock. In the greatest confusion the ship was now tacked about, but hardly were her sails turned, when it was found that she was getting into shoal water, and at the same moment land appeared just under her lee. Fitz-Ullin now fearing that the pilots were quite unfit for their duty, gave immediate orders to let go the anchor. During the short time thus occupied, there was scarcely a breath drawn, all, each moment expecting that the ship would strike. The anchor dropt, the sails were furled, and the clouds, breaking a little, there was just starlight sufficient to enable Fitz-Ullin to ascertain that they lay between the Bass rock and Tantallon castle, in a little steep-sided bay, the mouth of which, except at one small outlet, was closed by a very dangerous looking reef. He sent a boat with the master and another officer to sound, on which it was discovered, that the ship was actually anchored on a ledge of rocks; yet was it judged advisable, as there was very little wind, not to attempt quitting this perilous situation before morning; for, the clouds having closed again thicker than ever, the darkness had become quite impenetrable. Our hero remained on deck, giving every precautionary and preparatory order, till the night was far advanced; when, much fatigued, and finding that nothing more could be done till daylight, he went below, and lay down on a sofa for a short time, leaving directions with the officer of the watch to call him half an hour before dawn. All was soon perfectly still: every one seemed to have forgotten, in “nature’s sweet restorer, balmy sleep,” both the dangers they had so lately passed, and those which still threatened them.