On the 26th of January, we stood to the eastward, expecting, by our reckonings, to have fallen in with the land on the 28th; but though the weather was perfectly clear, we had no sight of it at sun-set, and therefore continued our course, not doubting but we should see it by the next morning.  About ten at night we discovered a light on the larboard-bow, bearing from us N.N.E.  The Tryal’s prize too, about a mile a-head of us, made a signal at the same time for seeing a sail; and as we had no doubt that what we saw was a ship’s light, we were extremely animated with a firm persuasion, that it was the Manilla galleon, which had been so long the object of our wishes:  And what added to our alacrity, was our expectation of meeting with two of them instead of one, for we took it for granted, that the light in view was carried in the top of one ship for a direction to her consort.  We immediately cast off the Carmelo and pressed forward with all our canvass, making a signal for the Gloucester to do the same.  Thus we chased the light, keeping all our hands at their respective quarters, under an expectation of engaging in the next half hour, as we sometimes conceived the chase to be about a mile distant, and at other times to be within reach of our guns; and some positively averred, that besides the light, they could plainly discern her sails.  The commodore himself was so fully persuaded that we should be soon along-side of her, that he sent for his first lieutenant, who commanded between decks, and directed him to see all the great guns loaded with two round-shot for the first broadside, and after that with one round-shot and one grape, strictly charging him, at the same time, not to suffer a gun to be fired, till he, the commodore, should give orders, which he informed the lieutenant would not be till we arrived within pistol-shot of the enemy.  In this constant and eager attention we continued all night, always presuming that another quarter of an hour would bring us up with this Manilla ship, whose wealth, with that of her supposed consort, we now estimated by round millions.  But when the morning broke, and day-light came on, we were most strangely and vexatiously disappointed, by finding that the light which had occasioned all this bustle and expectancy was only a fire on the shore.  Indeed the circumstances of this deception are so extraordinary as to be scarcely credible; for, by our run during the night, and the distance of the land in the morning, this fire, when we first discovered it, must have been above twenty-five leagues from us.  It was indeed upon a very high mountain, and continued burning for several days afterwards; it was not a volcano, but rather, as I suppose, stubble, or heath, set on fire for some purpose of agriculture.[1]

[Footnote 1:  The reasons for this supposition ought to have been adduced.  It is not improbable that the volcanic mountain in the neighbourhood of Acapulco did furnish this vexatious light.—­E.]