and, as for diving, no loon was quicker than she. Now, that she was deep
and was rolling her deck-load to the water, it was time to think of
lightening her. The cotton was thrown overboard as fast as we could, and
what the men could not start the seas did. After a while we eased the ship
sensibly, and it was well we did; the wheat choking the pumps so often,
that we had little opportunity for getting out the water.

I do not now recollect at what hour of this fearful night, Captain
Johnston shouted out to us all to "look out"--and "hold on." The ship was
broaching-to. Fortunately she did this at a lucky moment, and, always
lying-to well, though wet, we made much better weather on deck. The
mizzen-staysail was now set to keep her from falling off into the troughs
of the sea. Still the wind blew as hard as ever. First one sail, then
another, got loose, and a hard time we had to keep the canvass to the
yards. Then the fore-top-mast went, with a heavy lurch, and soon after the
main, carrying with it the mizzen-top-gallant-mast. We owed this to the
embargo, in my judgment, the ship's rigging having got damaged lying dry
so long. We were all night clearing the wreck, and the men who used the
hatchets, told us that the wind would cant their tools so violently that
they sometimes struck on the eyes, instead of the edge. The gale fairly
seemed like a hard substance.

We passed a fearful night, working at the pumps, and endeavouring to take
care of the ship. Next morning it moderated a little, and the vessel was
got before the wind, which was perfectly fair. She could carry but little
sail; though we got up top-gallant-masts for top-masts, as soon as the sea
would permit. About four, I saw the land myself and pointed it out to the
mate. It was Cape Clear, and we were heading for it as straight as we
could go. We hauled up to clear it, and ran into the Irish channel. A
large fleet of vessels had gathered in and near the chops of the channel,