another of their number had yielded to his fate. In a short time, boats
were again heard near them, but they did not, though repeatedly hailed,
come near enough to take any on board; an act of cold and calculating
timidity, which could not be justified by the excuse, that they feared
lest all, eager to be saved, should have jumped down, and borne them to
the bottom.

At length two sloops, which had heard the guns of distress, anchored
close to the wreck, took off the survivors, twenty at a time, from the
shrouds, and in the morning conveyed them to Weymouth; so far from
crowding into the boats, they got off one by one, as called upon by
those who commanded the boats. One still remained; the sixth mate
ascended the mast and found him in a state of insensibility; he bore him
down on his back, and with his burden reached the boat in safety; but
the delivered person died the next day.

When the awful words were heard, "The ship must go down," three of the
cadets went into the cabin, where they stood for a short time, looking
at each other, without saying a word. At length one said, "Let us return
to the deck;" two did so, but the other remained below. He opened his
desk, took out his commission, his introductory letters, and some money,
went on deck, but saw neither of his companions. Then looking forward,
he saw the ship going down head foremost, and the sea rolling in an
immense column along the deck. He tried to ascend the steps leading to
the poop, but was launched among the waves encumbered by boots and a
great coat, and unable to swim. Afterwards, finding himself on the
opposite side, he conceived that when the stern of the ship sunk, he
would be drawn into the vortex. While struggling to keep himself afloat,
he seized something which frequently struck the back of his hand, and
found it to be a rope hanging from the mizzen-shrouds. Trying to ascend