At Bath we were treated with all the attention and kindness we could wish for. The succeeding day we beat down the river, and doubled the point, encountering a head sea, which tossed us about, to the great detriment of our culinary apparatus. We again anchored and passed the night at Small Point. We proceeded the next day, by a difficult and somewhat dangerous channel, between ledges and islands as far as Haskell’s Island, and anchored in the cove. Continuing our course the next day, we stopped at Portland, saw our friends of the Water Lily, and proceeded as far as Winter harbor, where we arrived at twelve o’clock at night. We continued here a day to take advantage of the fine shooting, and had very good luck. We went as far the next day as York, where we anchored, cooked our birds, and, with the help of good appetites, made a glorious supper.
“Leaving the town of Old York, we rowed slowly out of the small river which forms its harbor, accompanied by numerous fishing-boats, which came in the evening previous. It was a dead calm, and continued so about two hours. The time passed however without the usual tedium attendant upon the want of wind, it being employed in the preparation and discussion of a hearty breakfast. The wind came at last, a light breeze and ahead, and we soon exchanged the swinging and rolling motion of the glassy ground-swell for the regular rise and fall and cheerful dash of the ripple against the bow, and the music of the breaking bubbles as they whirled away in the wake. With all our canvass set, we stretched slowly along the narrow coast of New Hampshire.
“Passing the harbor of Portsmouth, with its lighthouse built upon a ledge so low that the tide sweeps over its foundation, as is the case with the famous Eddystone, at nightfall we were off the mouth of Merrimac river, yet some fifteen or twenty miles from our destined port. A few clouds that had collected about dark now dispersed, and the stars shone clear and beautiful from the heavens, while the beacon lights blazed in rival brightness from the shore. About two in the morning we approached the entrance of our port, which is situated near the mouth of a small river which intersects Cape Ann, and which, like most rivers, has a bar at its mouth. After passing the lighthouse, being within half a mile of our anchorage, the wind fell suddenly, and the rapid current swept us aground upon the highest part of the bar, where the receding tide soon left us high and dry upon the sand. Being stopped thus abruptly, we gazed about in search of some means to ‘define our position,’ which measure was presently vetoed by the rolling in of so thick a fog that in ten minutes everything in sight could have been touched with a boat-hook. Finding sight unavailing at this juncture, we resorted to sound, and commenced firing signal guns, which were heard and answered from the shore, and in a short time assistance arrived in the person of the keeper of the lighthouse, who informed us that we should not float again for six hours. Day broke upon us in this position, and having plenty of time, we despatched two ashore for provisions in the pilot’s skiff, and in a short time the sand-bar presented a singular appearance, our baggage of all kinds being strewed about upon the sand, and in close fellowship with cooking utensils, loose sails, spare baskets, boxes, rigging, &c. &c.; for we had entirely unladed the boat, for the purpose of washing and cleansing the inside from the effects of an unlucky basket of charcoal, which had been upset in the confusion consequent upon our endeavors to get into deeper water. Upon the return of our purveyors all hands displayed great activity in providing and eating breakfast. The fog still encompassed us, so that we enjoyed all the uproar and fun of the meal in our own way, as our apparent horizon was hardly more extensive than a common room. It was a memorable breakfast, that seemed much like a day’s eating condensed into a single meal, the whole being much enlivened by the cheerfulness and local anecdotes of our old friend from the lighthouse, to whom we were indebted for sundry excellent hints touching the best method of extricating vessels in difficult and dangerous situations. The tide rose very rapidly, and all the temporary embarrassments of our situation vanished with our footprints in the sand. The mounting sun soon burned up the fog, which in dispersing produced its usual singular and fantastic effects upon the rugged and precipitous shores that lay on each side; and retaining the services of our old friend as pilot, we ran through the river, which is about four miles long, and connected with the harbor of Gloucester by a short canal, through which we passed, and spent another pleasant day in that town previous to starting for Boston; which place we had left just three weeks before. We arrived there the next day, meeting with nothing worthy of particular notice in the course of it.
Our vessel ashore on Squam Bar.
“Such is a brief outline of our excursion, from which we returned much invigorated in mind and body. A thousand little incidents occurred, serving to enhance the pleasure of the trip, which it would be impossible to condense into so small a space as is here allotted us. We had finer opportunities of obtaining picturesque sketches of our New England coast scenery, than could be obtained by any other method. One of our company made a sketch of our mischance upon the bar, and an engraving of it is presented to the reader. We had a good opportunity of observing the peculiar traits that characterize the hardy race that inhabit our rough and rock-bound coast, and always found them a freehearted, hospitable people, ever ready to yield any assistance we might need. We were obliged to submit to many little inconveniences, it is true, which, had they not been voluntary, or had they come under other than the then existing circumstances, would have been deemed hardships; but there was so much excitement, so much novelty, such an endless variety of new objects from day to day to attract and interest us, that we were a thousand times repaid for all our petty privations.”
Proverb.—A person who is suspicious, ought to be suspected.