All tangled by the storm.

The bodies of a gentleman of foreign aspect, and that of a lad about
seventeen, (their hands still firmly clasped together, undivided even in
death,) lay close by. It was a melancholy scene. They had evidently been a
father and his children. The long boat of the vessel, which had I suppose,
taken ground here, being staved and swamped by the surf, was close beyond,
near which I observed the bodies of several other men. It was with pain
and horror I remarked that some wretches who had been here before me, had
partly stripped the bodies of the lady and others in their search after
plunder, besides rifling the contents of some cases of valuables, which
had been put into the boat. I hastily turned towards the principal scene
of disaster, and addressed myself to one of the survivors, whom I found to
be the supercargo. The vessel was _La Bonne Esperance_ of Brest, of 550
tons, homeward bound, with a mixed cargo of rum, cotton, and colonial
produce, from the West Indies. It appeared that the captain, mate, and
passengers had left the ship just as she struck, and taken to the long
boat, the fatal result of which has been seen. As I surmised, the bodies I
had seen consisted of one family, the only passengers on board, a colonel
in the army, with his son and daughter, returning to his country after
long service in foreign parts. The supercargo, in the confusion which took
place, could not get into the long boat in time, and remained with the
rest of the crew on board; several of the seamen were washed off the decks
and dashed against the rocks, and my narrator and three others were all
that survived "to tell the tale."

The ship's hull lay jammed between two small rocks near the foot of the
cliffs; she was still almost outwardly entire, as the tide receded just
after she came ashore in the night; but there was a hole knocked in her
side from whence a portion of the cargo had been washed out. The two