The wind becoming easterly on the 12th, we continued beating about the Mexican sea, and between the southern extremity of the North American coast and the east end of Cuba. Towards evening we were off the Havannah, and in view of the fortress and castle of the Moro, protecting the entrance into the harbour. Assisted by a strong current we passed a considerable distance to the eastward of the Havannah, and, as the current was running three and four knots, aided by a smart S.E. breeze, we hoped to clear the Florida passage in a few days. Before we got within the influence of the Gulf stream, we were hailed by a strange sail to leeward, which fired a few shots to bring us to. She immediately sent a boat, manned with some desperate looking villains, for the purpose of rummaging the ship. Having obtained all that they required, among which was a portion of our fresh stock, the suspicious visitor bore away to the westward. She proved to be an independent cruizer, named the Confidante of Buenos Ayres, and was one of the insurgent privateers by which those seas were infested. Fortunately, a heavy swell and threatening change of wind coming on, were the means of causing the pirate to sheer off suddenly, otherwise, we might not have escaped on such easy terms from his clutches. With a fine spanking breeze at S.E. we were rapidly sailing through the Gulf; the weather continued moderate, and the sea tolerably smooth. On the 15th we entered the narrowest part of the straits, about sixteen miles from the shores of the Bahamas. February the 16th and 17th, clearing the Gulf, we launched into the Great Western ocean, and underwent a series of desperate weather, attended with squalls and rain. The wind being right astern, our little brig was in the utmost danger of getting pooped by the heavy rolling sea, which was driving us along. The dead lights were stove in as fast as they were secured, and the decks were washed from stem to stern. In this way, at the rate of between eight and ten knots, we were scudding under close-reefed topsails. On the 18th and 19th, there was no improvement whatever in the state of things, although the wind was still blowing in a favorable direction. We were at this time in the latitude of Charleston, North Carolina. Matters continued much in the same state till the 27th, when, at midnight, the dark and stormy appearances of the sky gave indubitable indications of an approaching hurricane from the Northwest. At three in the morning, while running at six knots, the ship suddenly broached to, the foretopsail was torn off the yard arm, and, soon after, the main topsail and jib were literally rent like brown paper, flying in ribbons about the masts.