were beating about for several days. One night we were steering a
course about north-north-west, under single-reefed topsails, courses
and spanker, with the wind at west, while the fog was so thick that
the jib-boom could hardly be seen from the forecastle, and supposed
ourselves at least thirty miles to the southward of the Scilly Islands.
Jonas and myself, who were walking the main deck, while the boatswain
was leaning lazily against the quarter rail, and the captain and mate
were sleeping in their berths below, were startled by a dull, moaning
sound, which, ever and anon, seemed to come up from under the lee bow.
The noise became more distinct. "What can it be?" said I, alarmed.

"I know it now," exclaimed Jonas. "It is the ROTE of the breakers
dashing against the rocks, and we must be lively, or we shall soon be in
kingdom come. Boatswain!" shouted he, "Breakers! Breakers ahead! Call
up the captain!" and hastening forward he made such a noise on the
forecastle as to rouse out all hands, who rushed on deck marvellously
lightly clad, but prepared to encounter some mighty evil.

The captain was awakened by the word "breakers," a word which sounds
ominous in a sailor's ears, and was on deck in a trice. He heard the
rumbling noise, the character of which could not be mistaken. "Ready
about!": he screamed. "Stations, men! Hard down the helm!"

The brig came up into the wind, the sails shivered, but owing to
the head sea or some other cause, she would not come round, and soon
gathered stern way. But captain Mott was a good seaman. "Brace round the
head yards!" he exclaimed. "Lower away the spanker peak!"

The brig, by the action of the helm, the head sails being thrown aback,
fell off rapidly on her heel, and soon gathering headway, barely cleared
the dark and rugged cliffs of St. Agnes in the north, which now, as
well as the powerful beacon light by which they were surmounted, broke
through the dense fog.

It was a narrow escape. Fifteen minutes more would have carried us
among the sunken rocks and ledges which are piled together in admirable
confusion on the southwest side of the Scilly Isles, and the vessel and
all hands would have been among the things which were.

The wind came round to the eastward on the following day, and we shaped
our course across the Atlantic, bound for Savannah, whither we arrived,
without the occurrence of any remarkable incident, about the first of
May, 1817.

Having passed a couple of