[B7] XVII.—­Landing of the Sixty-three Men of the Long-Boat.

The sea was within two fingers breadth of the gunnale of the boat:  the slightest wave entered; besides, it had a leak; it was necessary to empty it continually:  a service which the soldiers and sailors, who were with me, refused.  Happily the sea was pretty calm.

On the same evening, the 5th, we saw the land, and the cry of “land, land,” was repeated by every body.  We were sailing rapidly towards the coast of Africa, when we felt that we had struck upon the bottom.  We were again in distress:  we had but three feet water; but would it be possible for us to get the boat afloat again, and put out into the open sea?  There was no more hope of being able to reach the shore.  As for myself, I saw nothing but danger on the coast of Africa, and I preferred drowning to being made a slave, and conducted to Morocco or Algiers.  But the long-boat grounded only once; we proceeded on our route, and by frequent soundings we got into the open sea towards night.

Providence had decided that we should experience fears of every kind, and that we should not perish.  What a night indeed was this!  The sea ran very high, the ability of our pilot saved us.  A single false manoeuvre, and we must all have perished.  We, however, partly shipped two or three waves which we were obliged to empty immediately.  Any other boat, in the same circumstances, would have been lost.  This long and dreadful night was at length succeeded by day.

At day break we found ourselves in sight of land.  The sea became a little calm.  Hope revived in the souls of the desponding sailors, almost every body desired to go on shore.  The officer, in spite of himself, yielded to their wishes.  We approached the coast and threw out a little anchor that we might not run aground.  We were so happy as to come near the shore, where there was only two feet water.  Sixty-three men threw themselves into the water and reached the shore, which is only a dry and burning sand, it must have been a few leagues above Portendic.  I took care not to imitate them.  I remained with about twenty-six others in the long-boat, all determined to endeavour to reach the Senegal with our vessel, which was lightened of above two-thirds of its burden.  It was the 6th of July. (B)

[B8] XVIII.—­The Fifteen Persons in the Yawl taken into the Long-Boat; sequel of the day of the 6th.

An hour after landing the sixty-three men, we perceived behind us four of our boats.  Mr. Espiau, notwithstanding the cries of his crew who opposed it, lowered his sails and lay-to, in order to wait for them.  “They have refused to take any people from us, let us do better now we are lightened, let us offer to take some from them.”  In fact, he made them this offer when they were within hail; but instead of approaching boldly, they kept at a distance.  The smallest of the boats (a yawl) went from one to the other to