Arrived onboard at 2 this afternoon, with an intention of sailing to
Philadelphia: Gravesend is so called from it's being _the end of a
sailors grave_, as those who die on a voyage after passing the fort are
thrown over board.
Got under weigh with a light breeze at S.W., which not being sufficient to
stem the returning tide, we dropped out anchor again off the Nore light.
_Aug. 2nd_. - Weighed anchor with the wind at S.E., and on the morning
of the 3rd; off Deal, sent a boat on shore, which soon returned with a
supply of meat, water, sheep, poultry gin, and gingerbread; dismissed our
pilot, and soon after doubted the South Foreland; the prospect of Dover
and the adjacent coast delightful.
_Aug 8th_. - Beating to windward with a fresh breeze off the Lizard;
finding it impossible to clear the land, put about, and by three in the
afternoon were safe moored in Falmouth harbour. Went on shore; the lower
order of the inhabitants chaunt, or rather speak in recitative, a strange
dialect, in which I could distinguish several English words.
Took a walk to Pendennis castle, which protects the West entrance of the
harbour; found it garrisoned by a party of invalides, who informed me they
had not two nights in bed to one up; hard duty after twenty years
_Aug. 9th_. - Dined on john dory, which I cannot think equal either to
turbot or sole.