On Monday, The Seventh, We Again Started, And Made For The Bay Of
Biscay.
The sea was high and the wind strong and contrary;
nevertheless, on the morning of the fourth day, we were in sight of
the rocky coast to the north of Cape Finisterre.
I must here
observe, that this was the first voyage that the captain who
commanded the vessel had ever made on board of her, and that he
knew little or nothing of the coast towards which we were bearing.
He was a person picked up in a hurry, the former captain having
resigned his command on the ground that the ship was not seaworthy,
and that the engines were frequently unserviceable. I was not
acquainted with these circumstances at the time, or perhaps I
should have felt more alarmed than I did, when I saw the vessel
approaching nearer and nearer the shore, till at last we were only
a few hundred yards distant. As it was, however, I felt very much
surprised; for having passed it twice before, both times in steam
vessels, and having seen with what care the captains endeavoured to
maintain a wide offing, I could not conceive the reason of our
being now so near this dangerous region. The wind was blowing hard
towards the shore, if that can be called a shore which consists of
steep abrupt precipices, on which the surf was breaking with the
noise of thunder, tossing up clouds of spray and foam to the height
of a cathedral.
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