and die, with a ship for my prison."

The loss of poor Bill made us all sad; but there was no remedy. We got
into the offing, and squared away for the river again. When we reached
London, the ship discharged down at Limehouse, where she lay in a tier of
Americans for some time. We then took in a little ballast, and went up
opposite to the dock gates once more. We next docked and cleaned the ship,
on the Deptford side, and then hauled into the wet-dock in which we had
discharged our flour.

Here the ship lay part of May, all of June, and most of July, taking in
freight for Philadelphia, as it offered. This gave our people a good deal
of spare time, and we were allowed to go ashore whenever we were not
wanted. Cooper now took me in tow, and many a drift I had with him and Dan
McCoy up to St. Paul's, the parks, palaces, and the Abbey. A little
accident that happened about this time, attached me to Cooper more than
common, and made me more desirous than ever to cruise in his company.

I was alone, on deck, one Sunday, when I saw a little dog running about on
board a vessel that lay outside of us. Around the neck of this animal,
some one has fastened a sixpence, by a bit of riband rove through a hole.
I thought this sixpence might be made better use of, in purchasing some
cherries, for which I had a strong longing, and I gave chase. In
attempting to return to our own ship, with the dog, I fell into the water,
between the two vessels. I could not swim a stroke; and I sang out,
lustily, for help. As good luck would have it, Cooper came on board at
that precise instant; and, hearing my outcry, he sprang down between the
ships, and rescued me from drowning. I thought I was gone; and my
condition made an impression on me that never will be lost. Had not Cooper
accidentally appeared, just as he did, Ned Myers's yarn would have ended