A new and interesting scene in the drama of life was about to open, and I looked forward with impatience to the rising of the curtain.
The brig was laden with a cargo of lumber, rice, and provisions, and her destination was Cayenne, on the coast of Guiana.

In January, 1810, we left the wharf in Charleston, and proceeded down the harbor.

The wind was light, but the tide ebbed with unusual velocity, sweeping us rapidly on our way.

We had nearly reached the bar when it suddenly became calm.
The brig lost steerage way, and the current was setting towards the shoals.

The pilot, aware of the danger, called out, "Let go the anchor!" The order was promptly obeyed, and the small bower anchor was let go.
The tide was so strong that when a sufficient quantity of cable was run out, the attempt to "check her," and to "bring up," resulted in capsizing the windlass, and causing, for a few minutes, a sense of indescribable confusion.