The ship being ready, about the first of February, 1841, we set sail for St. Johns. After a good passage of seventeen days, we saw Mount Desert, on the coast of the United States. At night there were many indications of bad weather; the ship rolled carelessly over the long heavy swell—the light breeze whistled mournfully through the rigging; all at once the main-top-gallant sheet (being chained) parted. Men were sent to bind or fasten it again—while in the act of obeying that order, the main-topsail sheet, (being chained also,) parted. This was considered by the crew as ominous; some prophesied that the ship would be lost, others, that there was some one on board who had committed some awful crime on shore—all were in a state of consternation. At length the Captain went below, and in a moment came running back, saying, "Shorten the sails[266] as fast as possible, for the barometer has fallen 4-10 in five minutes; bare a hand my good fellows, there is not a moment to lose." Every sail was soon clewed up to the yards, and lowered—there was no wind though it was cloudy, and all thought the barometer had deceived us, but we soon enough found that the truth was told; for while we were yet on the yards it came butt-end foremost, (as it is termed,) and blew with utmost fury. We were unable to get down, consequently were obliged to make the best of it by clinging fast to the rigging, and it was with difficulty that we did so. The water rushed over the deck, the scuppers would not allow it to run off. During this time the Captain was calling aloud with the trumpet, but its sounds did not reach our ears. The breeze lulled a little, and those in the rigging were enabled to get down, when it came with redoubled fury; our main-top-sail was carried away; then we lay twelve hours beating about by wind and waves, amid torrents of rain. At length the wind died away into a start calm; the sea at the same time running very irregular, the waves mounting to the height of twenty or thirty feet. Sail was made as quick as possible, which relieved the laboring of the ship; the fore and main top-sails which had been cleared away were repaired. The wind wore away into the South West. We shaped our course so as to shun the St. George's shoals which we were very near, and stood for St. Johns. The breeze freshened every moment until we found ourselves going at the rate of ten knots per hour. This was indeed cheering after the fearful situation we had but just escaped. But this was not always to last, for we were soon enveloped in a fog so dense,[267] that it was with the greatest difficulty we could manage the ship. We shortened sail, hauled our wind, and according to our own reckoning stood across the bay to the rock known as the Old Proprietor, feeling our way along, we were nearing the Nova Scotia shore. Falling in with a fisherman, we found we were five miles below the grand passage; shaped our course up the bay. Having a fair tide we were soon above Grand Menan,