Day followed day without relieving the monotony.  At times we would get a glimpse of the topsails of a ship gliding along the horizon, but usually the ocean seemed to have no other tenant than our own stout brig.  One afternoon the cook rushed out of his den with the shout ’There she spouts!’ and looking where he pointed we saw a whale cleaving the waves.  We were in our third week out when we ran into a fog.  The wind fell and the brig rolled in the swell, causing her tackle to rattle and sails to flap as if they would split.  The second day the fog was thicker, and the ocean smooth as glass.  For fear of collision with another ship, the lookout man kept blowing a horn which had a most dismal sound.  The captain and mate tried to get the sun at noon but could not find the faintest trace.  After dinner a gull flew past, which made the cook say he smelt danger.  A few were below but the most of us were on deck when a slight bump was felt and then another.  The rattling in the rigging stopped and the ocean swell broke on our stern.  The mate started to the companion scuttle and shouted to the captain, that the ship was grounded.  In a minute he appeared, his face white and twisted with anguish.  His anxiety was not alone for the passengers and crew but for himself.  He was owner of the brig and if she was wrecked he was ruined.  The mate was casting the lead and when he shouted ‘We are on a sandbank’ there was a sigh of relief deepened by the carpenter’s report that the ship was not making water.  Grannie, who had managed to creep up the ladder from the deserted hold, remarked ’We are sooner in Canada than I expectit.’  Her exclamation brought the reaction from our dread and we burst into laughter.  ‘It is not Quebec,’ shouted Allan in her ear, ’we are aground.’  ‘A weel,’ she replied, ‘I will cling to the rock o’ my salvation.’

The order was given to get ready the boats.  There were two, the yawl that had been hauled on top of the house on deck, and lay keel up.  Oars were mislaid and on hanging her to the davits it was noticed in time there was no plug in the hole for drainage.  The other boat, which was our reliance, was the long boat abaft the foremast.  Its cover was torn off and we saw it was filled with all sorts of odds and ends that had been stowed there to be out of the way.  These were pitched aside by willing hands and the tackle had been fastened to hoist her overboard, when there was a shout from the fog of Ahoy.  We saw a man in yellow oil skins rowing towards us.  Jumping on board, he asked ’What is keeping you here?’ ‘You tell us,’ replied the captain, who was overjoyed to see him.  The fisherman said we had been drifted by the current towards Newfoundland, and had the ship not grounded she would in a few hours, have been dashed against the cliffs that line the shore and every soul been lost.  It was the most wonderful escape he had ever known.