prison. At the time this bird came on board, we were at least ten miles
northward of the island of Alderney, the nearest land.

At one P.M. tide and wind favouring, we weighed anchor, and stood away
for the Race of Alderney, which separates that island from Cape de la
Hogue. In the Race the tide ran with a strength and rapidity scarcely
paralleled on the coasts of Britain. The famous gulf of Coryvreckan in
the Hebridean Sea, and some parts of the Pentland Firth, are perhaps the
only places where the currents are equally irresistible. To the latter
strait, indeed, the Alderney Race bears a great resemblance; and an
Orkney man unexpectedly entering it, would be in danger of mistaking
Alderney for Stroma, and Cape de la Hogue for Dunnet Head. In stormy
weather the passage of the Race is esteemed by mariners an undertaking
of some peril--a fact we felt no disposition to gainsay; for though the
day was serene, and the swell from the westward completely broken by
the intervention of the island, the conflict of counter-currents was
tremendous. At some places the water appeared in a state of fierce
ebullition, leaping and foaming as if convulsed by the action of
submarine fires; at others it formed powerful eddies, which rendered
the helm almost of no avail in the guidance of the vessel.

We steered as near to Alderney, or Aurigni as it is frequently called,
as prudence warranted. It is a high, rugged, bare-looking island,
encompassed by perilous reefs, but supporting a pretty numerous
population. The only arborescent plants discernible from the deck of our
vessel, were clumps of brushwood. The grain on the cultivated spots was
uncut, and several wind-mills on the higher grounds, indicated the means
by which the islanders, who have very little intercourse with the rest
of the world, reduce their wheat into flour. The southern side of the
island is precipitous, and its eastern cape terminates in a fantastic