We were embarked on board of our respective ships on the 13th April, 1807, and weighed anchor on the 18th. There seems much to make one unhappy and melancholy, when taking probably the last view of the land which gave him birth; but, notwithstanding, all seemed now festivity and joy. Some of those who seemed so full of joy, I have good reason to believe, might, with justice, be called Solomon's merry men--in their laughter their hearts were sad. Still more, perhaps, have their relations who loved them cause of sorrow. To them may the prophet's language be truly directed, "Weep not for the dead, neither bemoan him, but weep sore for him that goeth away, for he shall return no more, nor see his native country; but he shall die in the place where they have led him captive, and shall see this land no more." _At sea, Ship Coutts, May 1st._ William Troop departed this life. He was one of those unhappy creatures who left his wife behind, and died of a broken heart. They had been lately married, and were like the "loving hind and the pleasant roe," and his feelings being unable to stand the separating stroke, he sunk under this insurmountable load of sorrow. _May 6_, Twelve o'clock noon. We had a tremendous storm of wind, accompanied with incessant falls of rain and vivid flashes of lightning. All hands during night were piped by the boatswain upon deck, to reef, or rather to clue the sails, when a fine looking young man, who had shipped himself at Portsmouth for ship's painter, being ordered aloft by the boatswain, to bear a hand in reefing the mizzen topsail, fell from the yard into the sea and was drowned. He pled hard with the boatswain to allow him to remain and assist upon deck, saying, that he never was aloft in his life, and that in such a dreadful night he was sure he would not be able to keep his feet; but all his entreaties were in vain.