irst fair wind.
The wind however chose, as it often does, to put our patience to the
proof. Its perverseness detained us in the roads till the 6th; and
though a temporary change then enabled us to sail, we had scarcely
reached Portland point when a strong gale again set in directly in our
teeth.

The English Channel, on account of its numerous shallows and strong
irregular currents, is at all times dangerous: vessels overtaken there
by storms during the night are in imminent peril of wreck, and thus
every year are great numbers lost.

I myself, on my former voyage in the Rurik, should have infallibly
suffered this fate, had the day dawned only half an hour later. Warned
therefore by experience, I resolved not to trust to the chance of the
night; and fortunately our English pilot, from whom we had not yet
parted, was of the same opinion.--This man, who had grown grey in his
employment, and was perfectly acquainted with these waters, advised our
immediate return to Portsmouth, and that every effort should be made to
reach it before sunset. I therefore had the ship put about, and setting
as much sail as the violence of the wind would allow, we fled towards
our place of refuge, the storm continually increasing. Although we ran
pretty quick, we had scarcely got half-way back, before it became so
foggy and dark, that the land, which had hitherto been our guide, was no
longer discernible. We could not see three hundred fathoms from the
ship. The change in our pilot's countenance showed that our situation
had become critical. The little, stout, and hitherto phlegmatic fellow
became suddenly animated by a new spirit. His black eyes lightened; he
uttered several times the well-known English oath which Figaro declares
to be "le fond de la langue," rubbed his bands violently together, and
at length exclaimed, "Captain! I should like a glass of grog--Devil take
me if I don't bring you safe into Portsmouth yet!" His wish was of
course instantly complied with. Strengthened and full of courage, he
seized the helm, and our destiny depended on his skill.

It was now barely possible to reach Portsmouth with daylight by taking
the shortest way through the Needles, a narrow strait between the Isle
of Wight and the mainland, full of shallows, where even in clear weather
a good pilot is necessary. The sun was already near setting, when an
anxious cry from the watch announced the neighbourhood of land, and in
the same instant we all perceiv