The day was far spent, when towards the close of the month of October,
18--, I wandered out to the shore to watch the flow of the evening's tide.
The weather had been unsettled for some time previous, and the rain had
fallen in torrents, with a moderate breeze, during most part of the day.
Towards evening the rain ceased, though large heavy masses of black clouds
were flying about, and backing up to seaward, accompanied with a short
gusty gale of wind. I never recollect a more dismal night. A thick haze
overspread the lower parts of the landscape, throwing the bloated masses
of clouds higher up in the horizon, into a sort of sombre relief. As I
passed a little look-out house on my way to the beach, I sauntered to a
group of sailors at their usual council, who were gazing with deep
interest at a solitary vessel dimly discernible through the fog in the
offing. As she neared us we found her to be a barque of apparently
considerable burthen, making a tack to weather the Torhead, which lay
several miles under her lee, with a strong breeze from windward. She was
evidently quite out of her reckoning from the indecision and embarassment
displayed in her movements; and the captain seemed not sufficiently aware
of the hazard he ran. I waited sometime at this place watching the
movements of the ship. The tide came roaring in with a broken swell
increased by a high spring flood; and there was that in the "wind's eye"
which betokened approaching disaster; while the gloom was increasing, and
the harsh cries and hurried flight of the sea-birds indicated tempestuous
weather.

"An ugly looking night this, Mr. ---- as I have seen for many a-day,"
remarked Harry Covering, one of the oldest of the group of sailors, and a
crony of mine. "Sink the Customs! if yon ship weathers Torhead this night,
may I never pull an oar again." "It is, indeed, a fearful-looking night,
messmate, and no time ought to be lost in the present state of the tide in