88 HISTORY AND METHODS OF THE FISHERIES. 
eastward that we could not run our course (WNW.) without danger of jibing the foresail, which 
would be liable to carry away the foremast head. Not wishing to run winged out when it was 
blowing so heavy, we took in the mainsail, and having first double reefed it, furled it up and let 
her run under the whole foresail. Barometer, at 8 a. m., 30.10. We had a very heavy fail of snow 
this a. m., until 11 o’clock, when it stopped snowing and turned to sleet and misty rain. Wind at 
this time had increased considerably. Barometer, 30. At 2 p.m. the barometer stood on 29.90. 
There was not so much wind at this time as during the forenoon, but the sea had made up high 
and sharp. There was a fine, sleety snow falling. The wind was about east and, as we were run- 
ning W., we were dead before it. At 3 p. m. we noticed that the fore throat-halyards were stranded. 
We set the jib, and having first shook the reef out of the mainsail, we hoisted it up in order that 
she would run fast enough to keep clear of the sea. As soon as the foresail was in we let the 
vessel come to, swayed up the mainsail, and then kept off again. We first furled the foresail and 
then repaired the halyards. The wind backed slowly to the northward, but still continued to snow, 
At 5p. m,, just after supper, a heavy northeast puff struck, and if I had not been ready to let the 
mainpeak run she would have repeated the performance of last winter, when she came so near 
going to the bottom ina squall. But this time we had daylight in our favor, which doubtless saved 
us from disaster. We hauled down the mainsail, set the foresail, hauled down the jib and took the 
bonnet out and furled it. At 5.30 the weather cleared so that we could see about half a mile, and 
before dark we could see 2 or 8 miles. Set the jib at 9 p. m. 
Wednesday, February 19, 1879.— At 1 a. m. we set the mainsail. The barometer at this time 
had risen to 30.10. The wind still continued NE., decreasing slightly in force. There was a cold, 
sleety rain that had coated everything on deck and above deck with ice. I judged we were well 
up to Cape Sable, and hauled to W. by N., having previously been running W., to go well clear of 
the cape. At 5a. m. set staysail and gaff-topsail. It was very cold at this time; barometer had 
risen to 30.20. At10.30 a. m. there was a smart breeze NE. by N., and “spitting” snow. Barometer, 
30.35. Our position at this time, by dead reckoning, was latitude 42° 55’ N., and longitude 66° 44 
W. There was a good leading breeze all the afternoon, and we went along very smartly. Barom- 
eter, 30.35 at 6 p. m. ‘ 
Thursday, February 20, 1879.—At 12.15 a. m. (correct apparent time) we made Thatcher’s 
Island Lights a point on the weather bow, and, as we headed, we would have just about struck 
Eastern Point. The wind at this time was veering easterly, with indications of snowing thick 
very soon, and shortly after snow began to fall, though it did not immediately get very thick. 
“Beautiful snow” may sound very pretty and poetical, but it certainly is not appreciated very 
much by one coming on the coast in winter. I was kept in a constant state of anxiety concerning 
the weather, as there was every appearance of a coming gale.* The lights kept disappearing and 
reappearing as we neared them, being hidden most of the time, keeping me in suspense between 
hope and fear; hoping that the snow would not shut down thick before we got in, and fearing it 
might be so dense as to preclude all possibility of making the land until daylight, before which 
time it might blow a gale, and compel us to haul off. At last Thatcher’s Island Lights were entirely 
shut in and we saw no more of them; but as it was not so thick to the westward and we had got 
pretty well in, a glimpse of Eastern Point Light was obtained, and we steered straight for it. The 
wind in the mean time had hauled out to SE., and began to breeze up smart. As the snow grew 
thicker and thicker we barely kept sight of the Point Light, although, with every foot of canvas 
* One of the most furious gales of the winter was then approaching the coast; the gale in which thirteen sail of 
George’s cod fishermen were lost on the Bank, with their crews of one hundred and forty-three men. 
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