“The ‘Dewdrop’ was one of the smallest yachts that ever ventured across the Channel in the month of March.  I left London with a fair wind from the west, and got along the London river well enough; but once past the Nore I found it quite lumpy enough to make things very wet and uncomfortable, and after leaving Dover behind I had serious thoughts of putting into Folkestone, or one of the south coast ports, but as I am not one to take a task in hand and then give it up, I shaped my course for Guernsey, making up my mind to give Cape La Hogue a wide berth.  There was a high west wind blowing, and a choppy sea rolling the white horses along at a great pace, so that it required some amount of attention to handle a light built twenty-foot yacht.  Everything stood as we bowled along, but having no one to help me I felt dreadfully tired and hungry, for I could not leave the tiller to get a proper meal.  Two or three hours more and the wind backed a little to the south south-west and blew harder than ever, while, in proportion as the wind rose, so did the sea, so that the poor little ‘Dewdrop,’ with nearly a head wind, was labouring heavily.  How I got through the night I cannot tell, for with cold and hunger I was nearly dead, and what was more, I was lost.  When I say lost, I could not tell within a score miles where I was.  I looked for the Casquet Light, but could not see it.  Then I strained my eyes ahead, trying to penetrate the darkness and discern Alderney Light, but in vain.  Turning my head to the left I looked out for the lights of Cape La Hogue, but again was disappointed.  Where was I?  I could not tell, but I fancied I knew where I should be in a very short time, for the seas were such as to make it a marvel how such a cockle-shell could float in such a turmoil of black seething water.  It was a terrible night, for death rode near me on every crested wave, any one of which breaking aboard would have formed my winding sheet.  To make matters worse, towards morning a dense sea fog set in, and I so far gave myself up as to say my prayers at least half a dozen times in as many half hours.

“Although apparently very reluctant to do so, the sun did rise at last, and behold, as the fog melted away, not two miles off, on my starboard beam, was Alderney.  I never felt such a thrill of joy in my life as when I saw the breakwaters at the entrance to Braye Harbour, extending their arms as if to receive me into their snug embrace.  I was glad to get into smooth water once again, and inside a harbour to boot, for I had never expected to set foot on dry land again.  The old hands could scarcely believe that I had crossed the Channel in such a gale; but there I was, and there was the ‘Dewdrop’ to prove my assertion, therefore they could not doubt it.  I pumped her out, and repaired the little craft as well as I could, and on the third day of being in port had eaten everything eatable aboard, and as there was no chance of resuming the voyage yet