with the Cork division, are to rendezvous at Barbadoes, and, making that the grand depôt, proceed from thence to the attack of various colonies.

"For a long time past has this vast armament been expected in the West Indies, and during many tedious weeks has England, almost daily, looked for its departure: but to prepare, and to set afloat such a fleet, and such an army, is an undertaking of no trifling magnitude: and far more difficult than those superficial observers, who are ignorant of the service, are willing to imagine.

'We were, yesterday, regaled with the loud treat of hearing the ship's cannon fired, while we were on board. Every thing was cleared away, as if preparing for action: all the doors and windows were set open, and every precaution used, to prevent injury or accident. We remained in the ward-room during the time of firing the guns, in that part of the ship, and endeavoured to be strictly attentive to the effect. It was not unlike a violent stroke of electricity: and, for a moment, we felt stunned with the shock. The jarring concussion conveyed the sensation of the whole ship having shivered asunder, or suddenly burst into atoms; and it seemed matter of surprize that the ears of the sailors should, ever, become capable of supporting the successive and violent explosions of a hostile engagement. Notwithstanding the precaution of letting down the windows, those of the quarter gallery were shattered to pieces.

'As we are to wait for other ships, we may now find an opportunity of adding to the scanty stock of provisions, which we procured amidst the general scramble of embarkation; and and we hope, also, that our vessel will have time to take in a fresh supply of water; for we have hitherto suffered very se verely from not having any, but what has been putrid and offensive, on board; and coming directly to this shore, has rendered it far worse than if we had been gradually compelled to submit to it, after being a long time at sea. To myself, in particular, this is a weighty misfortune, as I have not the common resource of flying to wine and beer, as a relief. We have taken to our aid both purifiers and filtering stones; and

very soon we hope to have good water from the shore. We are further assured of having our present suffering compensated upon the passage; for the Thames water, now so offensive, will soon restore itself, and, becoming settled and depurated, will be clear and sweet as we could desire.

• With regard to our eating, likewise, it is well we are not of the Epicurean school. The many disagreeable smells, and the heaving motion of the ship, have much impaired our appetites; and were we squeamish or over-dainty we must literally starve; for our ship-cuisinier happens to be fit only to cook for the seasoned stomachs of old Neptune's hardiest sons. In strength and stature this governor of the galley might be deemed a fit opponent for Hercules, although his appearance sometimes calls up the idea of a sable spirit who had been long broiling in the dark regions of Pluto. His professional ignorance is only exceeded by his general stupidity. He makes us a daily visit at breakfast-time, to receive instructions regarding dinner; and he usually stumbles upon some outrageous mistake, or totally spoils whatever is put into his hands. A few days ago he was desired, together with other dishes, to let us have some beef-steaks; and having received his instructions, he bent his neck, in respectful civility, and hastened away: but, within a single hour after, lo, and behold! came our cook running and puffing into the ward-room, with a dish of beef-steaks, all hot and smoking. He had used uncommon expedition in getting them ready, and, added to the blunder of giving us dinner an hour after breakfast, he had burnt the steaks as black as his own skin, and as dry as the outside of a tea-kettle.

Spithead, November 19. 'WHEN, in my last, I mentioned to you the grand and splendid sight of an important division of our great expedition, I did not anticipate the painful reverse of, thus soon, communicating the unhappy tidings of its return. But, alas! how uncertain are all human expectations! Pleased as we were at the proud sailing of this fleet, only a few days since; VOL. I.--(18) 3 F

now we could rejoice still more, could we see every ship again safe in harbour.

'We yesterday experienced a most tremendous gale, which, from its disastrous effects among the shipping at Spithead, led to very painful apprehensions concerning the fleet which had so lately gone to sea. The wind having shifted to an unfavourable point, and blowing with great violence, it was manifest that the convoy could not proceed; and, but too evident, that many of the ships must be damaged or lost; and I am sorry to add that we are, already, witnessing the melancholy confirmation of our fears, for the fleet not having cleared the channel, was unable to weather the storm, and, during the whole of this day, different ships have been dropping in at St. Helen's, in a sadly disabled state, bringing still worse tidings of those left behind. A storm so violent and destructive has seldom been known in this climate; indeed, many who have been in the West Indies, remarked, that it was scarcely inferior to a tropical hurricane. Even the admiral's ship was in extreme peril, and with great difficulty weathered the gale. She is now brought back in a much injured condition, being very leaky, and having a considerable depth of water in her hold. So alarming was her situation, during the storm, that if the boisterous elements had raged on but a little longer, she had probably gone to the bottom, with the general, the admiral, and nearly 2,000 souls on board. We are told that she is so damaged as to be unfit for service, and that, notwithstanding the large sum lately expended in repairing her, she can never again be fit to go to sea.

"The damage done to the vessels, immediately around us, and the perilous state of our own ship, although lying at anchor, had caused a too faithful representation of the evils which might have befallen us, had we been on our passage to Ireland; and rendered us happy in not having previously gone to sea. Signals of distress were heard on all quarters. Pieces of masts, cordage, and planks floated by the sides of the Ulysses all was hurry and alarm around us. Many vessels near to us were injured---some, driven from their anchors,

drifted on board other ships, or were cast on shore, and, being there wrecked, remained, before our eyes, sad examples of the greater disasters to be apprehended from the storm.

'In the midst of our apprehensions, and our danger, I could not but notice the strange remarks, and quaint jokes which passed among the sailors, who were variously actuated by feelings of indolence, anxiety, or indifference. One of them being called upon deck, and desired to go aloft, to do something that was expedient at the top of the mast, idly crawled up from below muttering, "I'd rather be drowned in the sea, dammee, than at the mast's-head"--another, observing a passenger in a severe fit of vomiting, exclaimed-" dammee, he's only sick for want o'grog"-and a third, as if responsive to the other, called out, "stiff breeze Jack. He'll be worse yet! Steward! why don't you give the gentleman a piece of fat pork to settle his stomach."

'About five o'clock in the evening the storm began to abate; when torrents of rain lessened the wind, and brought the sailors some respite from the harassing and perilous duties of the day. From those who have returned in safety we hear many details of real, and of imaginary distress, of ludicrous incidents, and of very truly afflicting, and melancholy events; but the distressful sum of the whole is, that the fleet is severely damaged; many ships are lost; numbers of souls have perished; and the whole expedition is disabled and delayed.'

After some further delay, during which a thousand vague stories were circulated respecting the destination of the Ulysses, it was finally settled that she should make a running passage to Martinique, in order to hasten thither a body of troops, without waiting for a convoy. The St. Domingo stores were therefore removed from the Ulysses, and our author and Master were ordered to repair on board the Lord Sheffield, a neat West India trader. Their companions were consigned to the George and Bridget, a heavy gloomy timber vessel.

"Mother-bank, December 8.

• IN my passage from Portsmouth to the Lord Sheffield, at the Mother-bank, I was exposed to such imminent peril as to have had scarcely a hope of escape. The necessary arrangements being made for occupying our new births, I left Portsmouth in a small four-oared boat, belonging to the Lord Sheffield, accompanied by Mr. Jaffray (the master of the ship) and Mr. McLean, of the hospital department; when, on our way to the Mother-bank, we were suddenly overtaken by a violent, and, situated as we were, most perilous storm. The sky blackened; the tearing winds roared; and the tumid sea, gathering into frightful mountains, rushed before the wind in boisterous loudness, threatening us with instant destruction. Tossed from wave to wave, and dashed and rolled about, amidst the broken mountains of water, every moment seemed likely to be our last; for any one of the heavy seas might have upset our little bark, or have broken over us, and sent us at once, to the bottom. Beset by multitudes of rugged and liquid hills, rupturing on all quarters, and rolling and tumbling one over another towards her, so small a boat seemed to have no chance, nor even a possibility of maintaining herself upon the rude and ever changing surface. From the deep swelling of the sea, together with the constant agitation and breaking of the waves, the sailors could not take sufficient depth to pull steadily their oars; nor could the boat be made to obey the helm. At one moment we were raised, as it were, on a pinnacle--at the next ingulphed in deep shade between two roaring surges, towering high above us, and seeming to say, "Ye shall never rise again." Yet, quickly, were we cast upon a new formed summit, and as suddenly dashed again into the vale of still more rugged billows, each contending in hasty strife, which should be the messenger of our fate.

• Poor McLean, who had taken his seat at the bow, in order to trim the boat, trembled, and turned pale with fear; the sailors grew tired and dissatisfied; and the captain, with a countenance strongly expressive of trouble and anxiety, begged of us not to speak, lest we should divert his attention from