DEAR FRIEND,
On the 12th of March I embarked in the Betsy, captain Hart, for London; my live stock consisted of some fowls, four brace of partridges, a flying squirrel, and a young racoon. We sailed about midnight, with a good breeze at S.W., and were in a few hours clear of the land.
On the evening of the 13th, we met with a hard gale at N. E. by N.—The degree of cold was intolerable. We shipped some heavy seas, and our rigging being intirely incrusted with ice, our captain was resolved to stand to the south, in search of better weather. The next morning being on the edge of the gulf stream, we were witness to a strange struggle between the warmth of the current, and the coldness of the surrounding ocean and atmosphere: the stream actually smoaked like a caldron! We ran as far to the south as latitude 38, when the wind shifting to the S. W., in a few hours we found a wonderful change of climate: the degree of heat was, at least, equal to that of a usual summer day in England, without the disagreeable pressure experienced from a thick atmosphere. The air was perfectly clear, elastic, and animating, nothing could be more charming; but this was of short continuance; the next morning the wind shifted to the N. E., and blew a gale, which lasted eighteen hours. We had then a calm, which was succeeded by westerly winds,
On the 27th, we had run down half our longitude, four degrees of which we sailed in the last twenty four hours.
On the 29th, we met with another very severe gale at E.N.E., which soon obliged us to strike our top-gallant-yards, and lie too, under our mizen and mizen stay sail. During the confusion of the night, my racoon got loose, and found means to kill all my partridges! and, as misfortunes seldom come alone; a large spanish cat we had on board, caught my flying squirrel. The loss of my partridges was the more provoking, as they were in perfect health, and I had no doubt of landing them safe: so ends my project of propagating the breed of these birds in England.
In a former letter, wherein I gave you my motives for making this attempt, I mentioned their extreme hardiness; of this I had now additional proofs: these birds were in a coop on the deck, and I expected every sea we shipped over our quarter during the first gale, they certainly would be drowned; but was agreeably surprised, when the gale was over, to find them very little the worse for their severe ducking.
April 14th.—For the last eight days we have been beating against an easterly wind, a few leagues to the westward of the chops of the channel, subject to continual alarms from french cruisers, of all situations the most disagreeable. This evening we had soundings at 80 fathom, and a favourable change of the wind to the westward.
On the 15th we saw an american-built ship standing athwart us, by her course and appearance evidently a french prize, bound to Brest. She had her anchors over her bows, and most likely had been but a few days from some port in St. George's Channel. About five hours after we were boarded by the Spitfire, british sloop of war; we informed the lieutenant of the exact course of the prize, and he immediately gave chace.
The next day we made the Bill of Portland. Our passage up the channel was very pleasant, till within six leagues of Dover, when we once more encountered a violent easterly gale, which, for the fifth time, reduced us to our courses. Night coming on, and not being able to procure a pilot, we were a little uneasy. The gale abating the next day, a pilot came on board. He had the conscience to demand three guineas to put me on shore! but took one third of the sum, which I think he deserved, as we were six hours making this harbour. I found the custom house officers, and their myrmidon porters, exactly as Smollet has described them; two of these gentlemen had the impudence to charge me half a guinea for bringing my trunk seventy yards.—So ends my tour. I am once more landed in Old England, after an absence of three years and nine months, with a plentiful lack of money and some experience!—
Farewell.
Yours, &c.