Such were my thoughts while the storm continued:  but these good resolutions decreased with the danger; more especially when my companion came to me, clapping me on the shoulder:  “What, Bob!” said he, “sure you was not frightened last night with scarce a capful of wind?”—­“And do you” cried I, “call such a violent storm a capful of wind?”—­“A storm, you fool you,” said he, “this is nothing; a good ship and sea-room always baffles such a foolish squall of wind as that:  But you’re a fresh water sailor:  Come boy, turn out, see what fine weather we have now, and a good bowl of punch will drown all your past sorrows.”  In short, the punch was made, I was drunk and in one night’s time drowned both my repentance and my good resolutions, forgetting entirely the vows and promises I made in my distress:  and whenever any reflections would return on me, what by company, and what by drinking, I soon mastered those fits, as I deridingly called them.  But this only made way for another trial, whereby I could not but see how much I was beholden to kind Providence.

Upon the sixth day we came to an anchor in Harwich road, where we lay wind bound with some Newcastle ships; and there being good anchorage, and our cables found, the seamen forgot their late toil and danger, and spent the time as merry as if they had been on shore.  But on the eight day there arose a brisk gale of wind, which prevented our tiding it up the river; and still increasing, our ship rode forecastle in, and shipped several large seas.

It was not long before horror seized the seamen themselves, and I heard the master express this melancholy ejaculation, “Lord have mercy upon us, we shall be all, lost and undone!” For my part, sick unto death, I kept my cabin till the universal and terribly dreadful apprehensions of our speedy fate made me get upon deck; and there I was affrighted indeed.  The sea went mountains high:  I could see nothing but distress around us; two ships had cut their masts on board, and another was foundered; two more that had lost their anchors, were forced out to the mercy of the ocean; and to save our lives we were forced to cut our foremast and mainmast quite away.

Who is their so ignorant as not to judge of my dreadful condition?  I was but a fresh-water sailor and therefore it seemed more terrible.  Our ship was very good, but over-loaded; which made the sailors often cry out, “She would founder!” Words I then was ignorant of.  All this while the storm continuing, and rather increasing, the master and the most sober part of his men went to prayers, expecting death every moment.  In the middle of the night one cried out, “We had sprung a leak;” another, “That there was four feet water in the hold.”  I was just ready to expire with fear, when immediately all hands were called to the pump; and the men forced me also in that extremity to share with them in their labour.  While thus employed, the master espying some light colliers, fired a gun as a signal of distress; and I, not understanding what it meant, and thinking that either the ship broke, or some dreadful thing happened, fell into a swoon.  Even in that common condition of woe, nobody minded me, excepting to thrust me aside with their feet, thinking me dead, and it was a great while before I recovered.