heard their drowning cry mingling with the wind. The blast that
bore it to our ears, swept us out of all further hearing. I shall
never forget that cry! It was some time before we could put the
ship about, she was under such headway. We returned, as nearly as
we could guess, to the place where the smack had anchored. We
cruised about for several hours in the dense fog. We fired
signal-guns, and listened if we might hear the halloo of any
survivors: but all was silent--we never saw or heard any thing of
them more."

I confess these stories, for a time, put an end to all my fine
fancies. The storm increased with the night. The sea was lashed
into tremendous confusion. There was a fearful, sullen sound of
rushing waves and broken surges. Deep called unto deep. At times
the black volume of clouds overhead seemed rent asunder by
flashes of lightning which quivered along the foaming billows,
and made the succeeding darkness doubly terrible. The thunders
bellowed over the wild waste of waters, and were echoed and
prolonged by the mountain waves. As I saw the ship staggering and
plunging among these roaring caverns, it seemed miraculous that
she regained her balance, or preserved her buoyancy. Her yards
would dip into the water; her bow was almost buried beneath the
waves. Sometimes an impending surge appeared ready to overwhelm
her, and nothing but a dexterous movement of the helm preserved
her from the shock.

When I retired to my cabin, the awful scene still followed me.
The whistling of the wind through the rigging sounded like
funereal wailings. The creaking of the masts; the straining and
groaning of bulkheads, as the ship labored in the weltering sea,