In the mean time Mr. Farnham, one of the clerks, had caught a grey goose, which he tied to a stone between our hut and the landing-place, in order to have some sport with it. Soon afterwards the captain, happening to come on shore, and seeing the goose, he up with his gun to shoot at it. Thinking, however, that he had missed it, he instantly reloaded and fired again, and seeing the goose flutter he ran up to catch it, when he discovered his mistake, on which we all burst out a laughing. Nettled at this, he immediately turned round and went on board again. Meantime, Messrs. M‘Dougall and Stuart started across the point after game; whilst Mr. M‘Kay, myself, and some others, went up the bay a little to repair two old graves which we had discovered in a dilapidated state the day before. On one of these graves was the following rudely-cut inscription on a board:—“William Stevens, aged twenty-two years, killed by a fall from a rock, on the 21st of September, 1794;” on the other, “Benjamin Peak died of the smallpox on the 5th of January, 1803, ship _Eleonora_, Captain Edmund Cole, Providence, Rhode Island.” While we were thus eagerly employed, little did we suspect what was going on in another quarter; for, about two o’clock in the afternoon, one of our party called out, “The ship’s off!”—when all of us, {24} running to the top of a little eminence, beheld, to our infinite surprise and dismay, the _Tonquin_, under full sail, steering out of the bay. We knew too well the callous and headstrong passions of the wayward captain to hesitate a moment in determining what to do; with hearts, therefore, beating between anxious hope and despair, some made for the boat, whilst others kept running and firing over hill and dale to warn Messrs. M‘Dougall and Stuart, who had not yet returned. In half an hour we were all at the water’s edge; the ship by this time was three miles out at sea. We were now nine persons on shore, and we had to stow, squat, and squeeze ourselves into a trumpery little boat, scarcely capable of holding half our number. In this dreadful dilemma, we launched on a rough and tempestuous sea, and, against wind and tide, followed the ship. The wind blowing still fresher and fresher, every succeeding wave threatened our immediate destruction. Our boat already half full of water, and ourselves, as may be supposed, drenched with the surges passing over her, we gave up all hope of succeeding in the unequal struggle, and a momentary pause ensued, when we deliberated whether we should proceed in the perilous attempt or return to land. The ship was now at least two leagues ahead of us, and just at this time the man who was bailing out the water in the boat unfortunately let go and lost the pail, and one of our oars being broken in the struggle to recover it, our destiny seemed sealed beyond a doubt. A second deliberation {25} ended in the resolve to reach the ship or perish in the attempt. The weather now grew more violent; the wind increased; and,