I found there was no powder to be had here [Lorient], and therefore set off in a small French coaster for Nantes. The morning we went from L'Orient the skipper fell into the hold, and was so much hurt he thought it necessary to bear away and go into the river Vilaine, where his family lived. The crew all went from the vessel, and there was no one left on board but an old French seaman I brought from Philadelphia, and myself. As it was cold, I ordered him down in the cabin and to shut the scuttle. A short time after, perceiving a fire in the caboose which was in the hold, I told Peter to get up and put it out, but the hasp of he scuttle had got over the staple, and he could not get out, and there was no cabin window by which we could escape. In vain we tried every method to break or cut our way out. Fortunately the fire burnt down without doing any damage. It blew hard, and we remained in this perilous situation for twentyfour hours before the boat came on board and released us. As the wind was ahead, I went on shore. The people appeared to live very miserably, having little but black bread and fish to live upon. We remained here two or three days, when we sailed for Nantes, where we arrived the 10th of October in the evening.