e had quitted the fleet. We made the best of our
way, for time might be of importance. The night was very dark, the
water was smooth and the foam which bubbled up at our bows of the boats
and fell in showers from the blades of our oars sparkled brilliantly, as
if composed of grains of burnished gold.

Ahead of us lay the devoted city against which our arms were soon to be
turned, and from whose neighbourhood we expected every instant to see
the fire-ships issue forth. At length the order was passed from boat to
boat that we should lay on our oars to await the expected event. Hour
after hour, however, went by. Now there was an alarm that some dark
bodies were seen moving down towards us, but no vessels made their
appearance, and at last the near approach of dawn warned us that it was
time to pull back to our ships to escape an attack by the enemy. We of
course kept a look-out astern, to be certain that the fire-ships were
not following us, and then lay on our oars again in the neighbourhood of
the fleet. Either the alarm was a false one or the rebels, aware of our
preparations, saw that it would be useless to send out the fire-ships.

This was the last night I was thus engaged, for on the 13th of August,
to my very great satisfaction, my eyes fell on the Orpheus standing up
the harbour and taking up her berth among the fleet. I did not,
however, get my discharge from the Chatham till the following day, when,
accompanied by old Grampus, Tom Rockets, and my two other men, I lost no
time in pulling on board, after an absence of ten weeks. I was warmly
greeted by my messmates, and we each had our adventures to recount. She
had taken seven prizes, most of which she brought in with her. Poor
Lee, the surgeon's second mate, was, they told me, at the point of
death. His constitution was unfit to cope with the hard life to which
he was exposed in the navy. He died soon afterwards, and on the morning
of the 16th we carried him on shore on Staten Island, where he rests in
an unknown grave in the land of the stranger.

The same day we sailed and steered a course for Cape May, with, the
intention of proceeding up the Delaware river to Philadelphia. My
account of the way in which I had frightened off the privateer highly
delighted my shipmates, and Captain Hudson was pleased to approve of my
conduct. We had on board forty masters of merchantmen which had been
captured by the different ships-of-war. They were mostly ve