Finally, in round-jacket and tarpaulin, the future guest of Samuel Rogers and Holland House, planted his feet on British soil.  At London he saw about everything a gay young fellow of seventeen in sailor’s gear could, of that wonderful city,—­or so thought Ned Myers, one of his shipmates, who was with him most of the time.  Concerning these jaunts Myers says:  “I had one or two cruises of a Sunday in the tow of Cooper, who soon became a branch pilot in those waters about the parks and the West End, the Monument, St. Paul’s and the lions; Cooper took a look at the arsenal, jewels, and armory [Tower of London].  He had a rum time of it in his sailor’s rig; hoisted in a wonderful lot of gibberish.”  And with his fine stories of each day’s sights in old London town, the young sailor would make merry evenings for his forecastle comrades, of whom it is recorded his strength could lay flat on their backs in two minutes.

In January the Stirling spread her sails for another stormy passage,—­to the straits of Gibraltar.  On running out, the ship was boarded by a gun-boat officer, who tried to press a Swede; whereupon, young Cooper thinking it an insult to our flag, began high words with the Englishman, but was soon silenced by Captain Johnston.  The Stirling met with various stirring adventures, being chased by a Bay-of-Biscay pirate and rescued by the timely appearance of a British cruiser.  It was thick westerly weather when they ran into the straits, and as the English fleet was off Cape Trafalgar, Captain Johnston realized the danger of being run down in the night, and came on deck during the middle watch for a sharp lookout on the forecastle.  Night orders were given when came the warning, “Sail ho!” and through the mists and shadows was seen dimly a two-decker bearing directly clown upon them.  The Captain ordered the helm “hard up!” and called Cooper to “bring a light.”  With a leap he rushed to the cabin, seized the light, and in half a minute it was swinging from the mizzen rigging, his promptness saving the ship.  So near were the two vessels that the deck officer’s voice was distinctly heard calling his quarter-master to “port the helm.”  As the great mass swept by them she seemed about to crush their railing with the muzzle of her guns.

While the Stirling was lying off the old Moorish town of Almaria, Cooper and others were sent ashore in a jolly-boat to boil pitch.  To return to the ship they put off in a heavy sea, knowing it would be difficult to work through the surf; but orders were orders, and delay would not help.  So off they plunged, when suddenly a breaker “took the bow of the boat, and lifting her almost on end, turned her keel uppermost.”  All hands got safely ashore—­how, none could tell.  A second launching resulted as the first, but with a third they succeeded in forging their way out, and boarded the ship.  Later they ran short of provisions.  But the Stirling’s return cargo was brought back safely to London, where the ship lay at anchor for two months or more, and then sailed in July for America.  After a voyage of fifty-two days she dropped anchor at Philadelphia, September 18, 1807.  So much for this good ship named for Stirling Castle of Bonnie Scotland.