The last of July we weighed anchor, and spread our sails bound for London. Nothing worthy of note occurred on the passage to Gibralter, at which place we stopped. Sent a boat ashore for fresh provisions, and soon it came back richly laden with fruits, and a quantity of wine for the use of the seamen. We were allowed three glasses of wine per day, and on Saturday night one bottle was allowed each four men. Bracing full, we were soon through the gut of Gibralter, homeward bound; and in a few days were in the chops of the channel of Old England. Had fine weather, though a head wind to contend with. While we were thus detained by adverse winds, we were employed in cleaning the ship. We lay thus several days when the wind veered around in our favor. Our sky-sails, and studding-sails were set alow and[244] aloft; and in forty-eight hours we came to anchor at the Downs. This is the sea between the shore and the Goodwin Sands, which furnishes a large and usually safe anchorage for vessels, where they ride at their leaving or entering the Thames. Here were seventy or eighty ships laying at anchor, all flying the British colors. We lay here three days, when we were taken in tow to Graves End, and the next tide took us up abreast the London docks, where we anchored and awaited the next tide, when we docked the ship. This was near the last of September, 1839. We spent a few days visiting various places of interest, (which I shall notice when I speak of London.) At the expiration of which time I shipped on board the Cornet, Captain Tabor, bound to St. Johns, which is the principal town in New Brunswick; and is situated at the mouth of the St. Johns river, which is navigable for vessels of fifty tons, for nearly fifty miles, and is a place of extensive trade. As they were nearly in readiness, we soon left and proceeded down the channel. Nothing worthy of particular notice occurred until we reached the Newfoundland Banks, which place is almost constantly thronged with vast numbers of fishing smacks. Here we encountered a fog so dense, that scarcely could we see from one side of the ship to the other. We shortened sail, keeping the bell almost constantly ringing. We lay in this position several days, when an east wind broke the fog, so that we were enabled to get into fair sailing. It is not unfrequently that vessels with a press of sail run down some small fisherman, and nothing more is heard of them. After a few days of fair sailing[245] we made Cape Sable, off our starboard bow. This was a sight long wished for, as is always the case with seamen when bound to any particular port. We hauled our wind and stood up the bay, making the land a few miles below Eastport. Ran up the Bay of Fundy with a delightful wind.