A furious storm
of hail or snow immediately follows. The howl of the tempest rises to a
yell, and the squall, as it sweeps along in its fury, cuts off the tops
of the waves, and scatters them in foam over the surface of the deep
like a mantle of snow. The first of those squalls went right through our
large square sail, tearing it to shreds. Another sent a wave on board
which snapped in pieces stanchions of wrought iron thicker than my arms,
and carried away one of our best boats. And this unspeakable uproar of
the elements continued for several days. At times I crept on deck for a
few moments, and, holding by the rigging, gazed on the wild magnificence
of the appalling scene. And all this time my heart, instead of being
tortured with its customary fears, was full of a cheerful joyous
confidence. It was as if some spirit of heaven had taken possession of
my soul to give me sweet presentiments of the approach of better days.
And so perhaps it was. I was moving onwards, though I knew it not, to a
happier destiny, and the peace and joy I felt were as the dawn or
twilight of the coming day of my redemption.
We reached Liverpool at length, and I was soon at Betley, the native
place of my wife, which was to be my temporary home. And now, if I had
fallen into good hands, or if the better thoughts and tendencies of my
soul had been sufficiently strong, I might have entered at once on a
happier course.
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