committed themselves on pieces of the wreck to the waves. The chief mate
came to the captain, and said, "We have done all we can, sir, the ship
will sink in a moment;" to which the captain replied, "it cannot be
helped--God's will be done." The vessel gradually settled in the trough
of the sea. The cries of the drowning rose above the sound of the
waters, and were heard at a great distance. Some kept running about the
deck as long as it kept above the waves. At eleven, when she went down,
many hastened up the shrouds and masts. The captain was seen clinging to
the ropes; the fourth mate tried to persuade him to exert himself, but
he submitted without resistance to his fate.

The hull struck the ground, while part of the masts and rigging remained
above water. On the last cast of the lead, eleven fathoms had been
found, and about one hundred and eighty men still clung to the rigging.
The night was dark and frosty, the sea incessantly breaking upon them.
Shocking scenes occurred, in the attempts made by some to obtain places
of greater safety. One seaman had ascended to a considerable height, and
endeavored to climb yet higher; another seized hold of his leg; he drew
his clasp-knife, and deliberately cut the miserable wretch's fingers
asunder; he dropped and was killed by the fall. Many perished in the
shrouds. A sergeant had secured his wife there; she lost her hold, and
in her last struggle for life, bit a large piece from her husband's arm,
which was dreadfully lacerated.

About an hour after she went down, the survivors were cheered by hearing
the sound of vessels beating the waves at a distance; they hailed a
sloop-rigged vessel, with two boats astern of her. Their voices must
have been drowned by the waves. By twelve many more had perished. Some
from cold and fatigue could no longer retain their hold; every instant
those who still hung on, were shocked by the splash, which told that