to the storm mentioned above which blew down the lighthouse on the
Eddystone). About mid-night the noise, indeed, was very dreadful,
what with the rearing of the sea and of the wind, intermixed with
the firing of guns for help from the ships, the cries of the seamen
and people on shore, and (which was worse) the cries of those which
were driven on shore by the tempest and dashed in pieces. In a
word, all the fleet except three, or thereabouts, were dashed to
pieces against the rocks and sunk in the sea, most of the men being
drowned. Those three who were saved, received so much damage that
their lading was almost all spoiled. One ship in the dark of the
night, the men not knowing where they were, run into Catwater, and
run on shore there; by which she was, however, saved from
shipwreck, and the lives of her crew were saved also.

This was a melancholy morning indeed. Nothing was to be seen but
wrecks of the ships and a foaming, furious sea in that very place
where they rode all in joy and triumph but the evening before. The
captains, passengers, and officers who were, as I have said, gone
on shore, between the joy of saving their lives, and the affliction
of having lost their ships, their cargoes, and their friends, were
objects indeed worth our compassion and observation. And there was
a great variety of the passions to be observed in them--now
lamenting their losses, their giving thanks for their deliverance.
Many of the passengers had lost their all, and were, as they
expressed themselves, "utterly undone." They were, I say, now
lamenting their losses with violent excesses of grief; then giving
thanks for their lives, and that they should be brought on shore,
as it were, on purpose to be saved from death; then again in tears
for such as were drowned. The various cases were indeed very
affecting, and, in many things, very instructing.