Sailing in the second cutter with a high wind blowing and having 'put about,' I noticed the lee-main-stay was not made fast, but was dangling outside the boat. I rose from the bottom of the cutter and stretched out my hand to seize it, when instantly the lee gunwale dipped under water and so did I, with the exception of my right leg, which was jammed crossways in the rowlock. In this position I was carried along for a distance of forty yards, and when the squall had passed over, the boat's crew pulled me in. When naval cutters are under sail the rowlock fittings are filled up with a piece of wood, which corresponds to the fitting. Someone had neglected to slip this piece of wood into the rowlock which held me by the foot. Thank God for that neglect; it was a kindly Providence, for it saved my life from drowning. CHAPTER V HOMEWARD BOUND Homeward Bound! All our stores which we borrowed from Halifax were transferred to the 'Pelican' for her to return. We left St. John's harbour one Sunday evening en route to Plymouth. The crews of the 'Buzzard' and 'Pelican' hailed us 'farewell' as we slowly steamed away from our moorings, and crowds of people gathered on the wharfs to witness our departure. The paying-off pennant was streaming far astern, and every heart felt glad to see it. It was a sign of something beyond expression. Just one more look at the city, a hastening glance at our two companion ships, and we had cleared the harbour. In an hour the land was lost to view, and we were in a dense fog, ploughing the deep, bound for Old England. The wind proving favourable, plain sail was made, and for the next five days we made rapid headway. On the sixth day the wind veered round to the opposite quarter, and in consequence sails were furled, and our speed decreased. However, we were able to make sail again on the ninth day. What was my intense joy when on the morning of the eleventh day the man on the look-out shouted "Eddystone Lighthouse off the port bow, sir!" This delightful cry had almost the same effect as if the boatswain's mate had piped, "Clear lower deck," as nearly all hands rushed on deck. Breakfast was piped shortly afterwards, but only a scanty number went below to partake of it. I stood entranced with the old familiar scenes which were now becoming more and more visible; in fact, I cannot tell what feelings took possession of me. I have often since felt that the three years' separation from home and loved ones were compensated by the joy of home-coming. Yes, there was Maker Tower--the last object I beheld when leaving Plymouth in the 'Himalaya' three years before. Nearer and nearer we sailed until all the surroundings became distinct. Rame Head was passed, then Penlee Point, and now the Breakwater Lighthouse loomed in sight. "Clear lower deck! Hands shorten and furl sail!" was the order. "Come along, lads, it is the last time," said some sympathetic voices.