1832.] A SAIL IN SIGHT. 333 
Still, little by little, the Potomac crept towards the north, until 
Saturday, the twelfth, when a brisk breeze from the southwest 
came curling along the ocean's surface, and the water was once 
more seen foaming around the bows of the Potomac. Hitherto, 
the sick-list had continued on the increase, and dreary indeed was 
the prospect which the gundeck presented, with its double row of 
cots. Few that have not been on the lone ocean, with a malig- 
nant disease raging on board, can form any just conception of the 
scene of misery that five hundred souls, cooped up in the narrow 
limits of a ship, in such a climate, presents ! Ever and anon, 
the dreary sound of the boatswain's voice could be heard, calling 
all hands to bury the dead. This at-all-times-melancholy note, 
was dreadfully so, when each day another and another was added 
to the list of those who had already fallen victims to the relent- 
less disease. . 
The Potomac was this day in latitude 10° 45' north, and, for 
the first time on this lingering passage, the tedious monotony 
under which every one languished was relieved by the exhilara- 
ting announcement from the mast-head, of. " Sail, ho !" A sail is 
always a grateful sight at sea ; and, at this time, it was rendered 
doubly so from the dreariness of the Potomac's passage. " A 
sail !" — What emotions are called forth at the sound ! — what a 
tumult of feeling ! A fellow-pilgrim on the great highway of 
nations — perhaps from home — from our own dear native land- 
May she not be the bearer of letters — news — something to excitCj, 
to relieve the mind? But there was nothing of this to call up 
our softer feelings at this time. She was a stranger — but a 
stranger on a weary voyage, like that of the Potomac — and this 
alone was sufficient to_call forth the kindred feelings of fellowship. 
Reader, in order to appreciate the feeling, it is necessary to be 
placed, at least in imagination, in a similar situation. Seest thou 
that small white speck on the distant horizon, rising and falling 
like some small sea-bird ? — It is the bark of the daring sailor ! — 
Mark the white folds of her upper canvass ! The breeze is fair, 
and on we dash to greet her. Now, her topsails, courses, and all 
her high and tapering spars, stand forth in perfect symmetry ! 
From her peak flutters, in deep red folds, her brightly-gleaming 
ensign ! It bears the cross of St. George ! It is the flag of Old. 
England. 
