obeyed with safety. Every thing, therefore, remained quiet till
the evening of the 2nd of June, when the gale moderating a
little, the anchors were raised and the sails hoisted. The tide
was beginning to ebb when this was done, favoured by which the
ships drifted gradually on their course; but before long, the
breeze shifting, blew directly in their sterns, when they stood
gallantly to sea, clearing the river before dark; and, as there
was no lull during the whole of the night, by daybreak the coast
of France was not to be discerned. All was now one wide waste
of waters, as far as the eye could reach, bounded on every side by
the distant horizon; a scene which, though at first it must
strike with awe and wonder a person unaccustomed to it, soon
becomes insipid, and even wearisome, from its constant sameness.

ST. MICHAEL'S

The fair wind which carried us out of the Garonne continuing to
blow without any interruption till the 19th of June, it was that
day calculated, by consulting the log and taking observations,
that the Azores, or Western Islands, could not be very distant.
Nor, as it turned out, were these calculations incorrect; for, on
ascending the deck next morning, the first object that met our
eyes was the high land of St Michael's rising, like a collection
of blue clouds, out of the water. With such a prospect before
us our consternation may be guessed at, when we found ourselves
deserted by the breeze which had hitherto so uniformly favoured
us, and lying as motionless as logs, under the influence of a
dead calm.

But the complaints to which we had begun to give utterance, were