On the 27th of October, in the evening, we made Cape Ortegal, and on the 31st came to an anchor in Brest road. The Lys, having so valuable a cargo on board, was towed into the harbour next morning, and lashed alongside one of their men of war. The money was soon landed; and the officers and men, who had been so many years absent from their native country, were glad to get on shore. Nobody remained on board but a man or two to look after the ship, and we three English prisoners, who had no leave to go ashore. The weather was extremely cold, and felt particularly so to us, who had been so long used to hot climates; and what made it still worse, we were very thinly clad. We had neither fire nor candle, for they were allowed on board of no ship in the harbour for fear of accidents, being close to their magazines in the dock-yard. Some of the officers belonging to the ship were so kind as to send us off victuals every day, or we might have starved, for Monsieur L’Intendant never sent us even a message; and though there was a very large squadron of men of war fitting out at that time, not one officer belonging to them ever came near Captain Cheap. From five in the evening we were obliged to sit in the dark; and if we chose to have any supper, it was necessary to place it very near us before that time, or we never could have found it.
We had passed seven or eight days in this melancholy manner, when one morning a kind of row-galley came alongside with a number of English prisoners belonging to two large privateers the French had taken. We were ordered into the same boat with them, and were carried four leagues up the river to Landernaw. At this town we were upon our parole, so took the best lodgings we could get, and lived very well for three months, when an order came from the court of Spain to allow us to return home by the first ship that offered. Upon this, hearing there was a Dutch ship at Morlaix ready to sail, we took horses and travelled to that town, where we were obliged to remain six weeks before we had an opportunity of getting away. At last we agreed with the master of a Dutch dogger to land us at Dover, and paid him beforehand.
When we had got down the river into the road, a French privateer that was almost ready to sail upon a cruize, hailed the Dutchman, and told him to come to an anchor, and that if he offered to sail before him he would sink him. This he was forced to comply with, and lay three days in the road, cursing the Frenchman, who at the end of that time put to sea, and then we were at liberty to do the same. We had a long uncomfortable passage. About the ninth day, before sunset, we saw Dover, and reminded the Dutchman of his agreement to land us there. He said he would, but instead of that in the morning we were off the coast of France. We complained loudly of this piece of villainy, and insisted upon his returning to land us, when an English man of war appeared to windward, and presently bore down, to us. She