About twelve o'clock one night a big sea pooped us, (a heavy sea striking against the stern or quarter of the vessel when she is scudding before the wind) bursting the bulwarks from their stanchions, carrying away most of our provisions that were lashed to the deck. The[279] water-casks that were lashed each side of the long boat had their heads knocked in, leaving the sides standing unhurt. Most of the crew seeing the swell sprang into the rigging and thus saved themselves from harm. The captain being at the helm, assisting in controlling the vessel, was struck and carried forward with great force, as must be supposed from the effect upon the water-casks. The second mate and myself both seeing the situation of the vessel sprang from the mizzen-rigging and seized the helm before she had time to broach to, which had she done, all would have been lost. The water when we left the rigging was up to our arms upon deck, and running over the rail of the vessel. Our vessel was apparently sinking, but was relieved by the bulwarks giving way, clearing the decks. The captain coming aft with bruised head avowed his determination of never scudding a vessel again. The second mate and myself kept the wheel three days and two nights, for the captain thought no others competent. As the wind abated sail was made, and an observation taken, which was the first taken since leaving Savannah, and we found ourselves on the northern side of St. George's Banks at the mouth of the Bay of Fundy. The wind, blowing fresh from the northeast, was in our teeth (as it is termed) obliging us to beat about for several days, when it shifted into the northwest enabling us to run up the American coast. We sighted Grand Menan, when the wind dying away to a start calm, we were carried back by the tide about forty miles, when a favoring breeze springing up, we squared[280] our yards and set studding-sails and soon had a pilot on board and were at St. Johns. I remained with my family but a few days when I left St. Johns, and entered upon the duties of commander of the Warrior, a vessel of 120 tons burden, laden with plank, lath, &c., bound for Cork. We sailed from St. Johns the first of September, 1842, had a very fine passage, and at the expiration of thirty-four days we were safely at Cork, when leaving the vessel in charge of the mate I went on shore for orders respecting my cargo. Cork is situated at the southeast side of the island on the river Lee, fourteen miles from the sea. Its harbor called the cove is elegant, and strongly fortified. The city presents something of a Venitian appearance, the several channels through which the river empties itself into the harbor being quayed.