SPITHEAD, Jan. 12, 1791.

My dear Friend,

Contrary winds prevented us from proceeding directly out of the channel, and made it necessary to put into this place. We have been here two days, but I am told there is an appearance of the wind changing, and that it is probable we shall make the attempt to get away some time this day; therefore I shall think it best not to defer performing my promise of writing to you, lest we sail, and I am disappointed.

We embarked at Gravesend between eleven and twelve o'clock, the night after I wrote you. Every thing seemed in dreadful confusion; but this I understand is commonly the case on board ships when on the eve of sailing: besides the captain had several friends who came from London to bid him farewell.

You may guess that my mind, in spite of all the resolution a young girl is capable of mustering, could not be undisturbed; but I would not give way to any melancholy reflections, and endeavoured to smother them as often as they intruded; although I must confess they sometimes caught me off my guard, and my heart for the moment was ready to burst with the thoughts of what I had to encounter, which was pictured to me by almost every one in the worst of colours.

However I went to bed, and being much fatigued, was in hopes every care would be buried for the night in delightful sleep; but in this I was disappointed, for although my eyes were closed as soon as I got my head on the pillow, yet it was not of long continuance.

I had slept perhaps two hours, when the shocking cries of murder awoke me: I did not at the instant recollect where I was, but the first thoughts which occurred upon remembering myself on ship-board were, that a gang of pirates had attacked the ship, and would put us all to death.

All the cabin was by this time alarmed; the cries of murder still continuing while the captain and others were loudly calling for lights…