It was lucky for us that we got to anchor at the time we did, for that same afternoon one of the most tremendous gales of wind from the westward came on that I ever saw.  Fortunately it was steady and did not veer about, and having good ground-tackle down, we rode it out well enough.  The effect was very uncommon; the wind was howling over our mast-heads, and amongst the cedar bushes on the cliffs above, while on deck it was nearly calm, and there was very little swell, being a weather shore; but half a mile out at sea all was white foam, and the tumbling waves seemed to meet from north and south, leaving a space of smooth water under the lee of the island, shaped like the tail of a comet, tapering away, and gradually roughening and becoming more stormy, until the roaring billows once more owned allegiance to the genius of the storm.

There we rode, with three anchors ahead, in safety through the night; and next day, availing of a temporary lull, we ran up and anchored off the Tanks.  Three days after this, the American frigate President was brought in by the Endymion and the rest of the squadron.

I went on board, in common with every officer in the fleet, and certainly I never saw a more superb vessel; her scantling was that of a seventy-four, and she appeared to have been fitted with great care.  I got a week’s leave at this time, and, as I had letters to several families, I contrived to spend my time pleasantly enough.

Bermuda, as all the world knows, is a cluster of islands in the middle of the Atlantic.  There are Lord knows how many of them, but the beauty of the little straits and creeks which divide them no man can describe who has not seen them.  The town of St. George’s, for instance, looks as if the houses were cut out of chalk; and one evening the family where I was on a visit proceeded to the main island, Hamilton, to attend a ball there.  We had to cross three ferries, although the distance was not above nine miles, if so far.  The ’Mudian women are unquestionably beautiful—­so thought Thomas Moore, a tolerable judge, before me.  By the by, touching this ’Mudian ball, it was a very gay affair—­the women pleasant and beautiful; but all the men, when they speak, or are spoken to, shut one eye and spit;—­a lucid and succinct description of a community.

The second day of my sojourn was fine—­the first fine day since our arrival—­and with several young ladies of the family, I was prowling through the cedar wood above St. George’s, when a dark good-looking man passed us; he was dressed in tight worsted net pantaloons and Hessian boots, and wore a blue frockcoat and two large epaulets, with rich French bullion, and a round hat.  On passing, he touched his hat with much grace, and in the evening I met him in society.  It was Commodore Decatur.  He was very much a Frenchman in manner, or, I should rather say, in look, for although very well bred, he, for one ingredient, by no means possessed a Frenchman’s volubility; still, he was an exceedingly agreeable and very handsome man.