Signals were exchanged, and our ship, which was then well off
the land, ran in and spoke the Sully. We put our pilot on board this ship,
which was doing a good turn all round. The afternoon proving fair, and the
wind moderating, Captain Funk filled and stood in near to the coast, as
his best tack. Towards night, however, the gale freshened, and blew into
the bay, between the Start Point and the Lizard, in a heavy,
steady manner.
The first thing was to ware off shore; after which, we were compelled to
take in nearly all our canvass. The gale continued to increase, and the
night set in dark. There were plenty of ports to leeward, but it was
ticklish work to lose a foot of ground, unless one knew exactly where he
was going. We had no pilot, and the captain decided to hold on. I have
seldom known it to blow harder than it did that night; and, for hours,
everything depended on our main-top-sail's standing, which sail we had set,
close-reefed. I did not see anything to guide us, but the compass, until
about ten o'clock, when I caught a view of a light close on our lee bow.
This was the Eddystone, which stands pretty nearly in a line between the
Start and the Lizard, and rather more than three leagues from the land.
As we headed, we might lay past, should everything stand; but, if our
topsail went, we should have been pretty certain of fetching up on those
famous rocks, where a three-decker would have gone to pieces in an hour's
time in such a gale.
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