It was late in the afternoon of an intensely cold day, which caused the spray to congeal as it dashed against the bulwarks and cordage of the vessel, that we descried with great pleasure looming indistinctly in the distance, the shores of Sandy Hook, a desolate-looking island, near the coast of New Jersey, about seven miles south of Long Island Sound.  This the captain informed me was formerly a peninsula, but the isthmus was broken through by the sea in 1767, the year after the declaration of American independence, an occurrence which was at the time deemed ominous of the severance of the colonies from the mother country, and which proved in reality to be the precursor of that event.

The sight of terra firma, though at a distance and but gloomy in aspect, put all on board in buoyant spirits; but these were but transitory, our enthusiasm being soon damped by a dense fog, resembling those the Londoners are so accustomed to see in the winter, and which in an incredibly short space of time, in this instance, obscured everything around.  Our proximity to the shore rendered the circumstance hazardous to us, and it appeared necessary that the vessel’s head should be again put seaward; but this the captain was evidently anxious to avoid, as it involved the risk of protracting the voyage.  A general rummage for ammunition was therefore ordered, and a supply of this necessary having been obtained, the ship’s carronade was after considerable delay put in order, and minute guns were fired.  After discharging some thirty rounds or more, we were relieved from the state of anxiety we were in by a pilot hailing the ship, and in a minute after he was on deck issuing orders with great pertinacity.

It is impossible for any one unaccustomed to sea voyages to form a just conception of the relief afforded by the presence of that important functionary, a pilot.  Perhaps a captain’s greatest anxiety is, when his vessel, having braved a thousand perils on the deep, is about to enter on the termination of its voyage.  On the broad expanse of ocean, or, in nautical phrase, with plenty of sea-room, if his bark is in good condition, he fears little or nothing, but when his vessel approaches its goal, visions of disaster arise before him, and he becomes anxious, thoughtful, and taciturn.

The pilot informed us that he had kept our vessel in chase for a considerable time, and had burnt a number of newspapers on the deck of his cutter to attract attention, but all his efforts proved unavailing, when just as he was about to abandon the pursuit, he descried and hailed the ship.  This being the first specimen of an American whom many of the passengers had seen in his native climate, their curiosity was aroused, and they crowded round him, regarding every word and movement with the greatest attention and interest.  The pilot was evidently displeased with being made “a lion” of, and gave vent to his feelings rather freely, while there was a curl