about eighty miles of a group of islands and
shoals called the Paracels. Then it became
evident that if we held on the same course
for five or six hours more, the vessel must
be lost; it, therefore, became necessary to
heave to.

The crew staunch at their stations, our
commander stood on the weather side of
the poop, with his eyes fastened on the sea,
watching intently for the precise moment
when the waves, subsiding for a few minutes,
would give the best brief opportunity for
bringing the ship to the wind. After a
short suspense he gave the order; and
the vessel, which had been going at the
rate of fourteen miles an hour, gradually
brought the wind to bear on his port beam.
The evolution having been slow, she had not
made sufficient way; and a tremendous sea
striking her at the critical time, she plunged
right into it. When at length she rose to the
surface, shaking and trembling violently like
a living thing conscious of peril, all the masts
seemed to be toppling as if they presently
would go over the side. As she emerged,
men shouted through the gale, "The
bobstays are gone ; The bowsprit has sprung!"
and the loud, rapid voice of the commander
trumpeted orders out in quick succession:
"Hard up with the helm! Run up the
foretopmast staysail! Loose the goose wings of
the foresail! Get the stream chain out
through the hawse holes! Stay the foremast
with the fish tackles!" and many more, all
of which orders were obeyed with equal
promptitude. The staysail was but half
hoisted when the wind rent it into shreds;
still, however, the fine vessel, true to her
helm, paid off slowly. As she rolled her
gunwales under, washing away the greater
portion, straining every mast and rope, the
topmast backstays proved unable to bear the
sudden jerk —they parted. The ship was
then in a most perilous position. Having lost
her velocity in coming up in the wind she
was again obliged to run before the gale, of
which the terrors were then heightened by
dark heavy clouds, by incessant thunder bursting
directly on our heads, and by lightning
that made every man on board exclaim as he
felt its flash, in fear that he was blinded.

Proper repairs were at length made, and
all again was in readiness for heaving the ship
to. The heavy rolling of the vessel again
broke the backstays; but, as running was
become far too dangerous, it was determined to
heave to. In that moment of our peril we found
the foresail a great hindrance to our efforts—
the ship would not come to the wind —and
it became necessary to get rid of the sail at
once. The crew being called, every man but
one refused to go aloft; for the service required
was perilous in the extreme. The man who
preferred his own risk to the wreck of all was
the second mate; a manly fellow, who, without
the slightest hesitation, hastened aloft, and
succeeded in cutting the head of the sail adrift;
the wind then made short work of it, and
blew away the canvas. We did not, at the
time, think much of the deed, but of its doer.
All on board had been watching the efforts of
the brave fellow to gain the yard,, for we
imagined the mast to be going over the side
almost instantly. The captain after nervously
watching his progress —although he knew
how much the safety of the vessel must
depend on the completion of the enterprise—
could not refrain from shouting at the utmost
stretch of his voice, "Come down —for God's
sake —come down, or you will be lost!"
While all our hearts were beating with anxiety,
a fearful crash was heard —an ominous sound
that terror increased tenfold. The ship gave
a tremendous roll to port. Another awful
crash. She slowly recovered her upright
position —a wreck —all her masts gone except
the foremast. Then still on the fore yard,
waiting only for an opportunity to reach the
deck, was our second officer miraculously
saved. In a few moments he stood again
unharmed among us. The mainmast had
gone by the board, the mizenmast head
broken short off, and the fore topmast went
at the cap. The main yard fell across the
port gangway; and, when the ship rolled
(still going through the water at a tremendous
rate) the sea took the outer yard-arm,
which, acting as a lever, wrenched off the
staunch and covering board along the waist
for the distance of about twenty feet. Thus
there was laid open a clear space for the water
to pour down into the hold.

Obedient to their chief, the whole crew
were then at work in broken groups with
axes, tomahawks and knives, in all parts of
the ship, cutting at the rigging, in order that
we might get the vessel clear of the surrounding
wreck. That, however, was not work to
be done rapidly: the men had to secure
themselves with ropes to the ring-bolts; for
there was great risk of being washed away,
and they could only make a cut now and then
at the rigging. In the mean time the masts
were buffetting about under the the counter of
the vessel, and at times giving tremendous
blows against the stern. Then the great
power of the sea tried us with a new disaster.
The heavy mass of masts and rigging towing
astern, had very much lessened the vessel's
speed, and the terrific seas overwhelmed the
vessel, or as the seamen phrase it, pooped her.
In an instant every cabin, with the whole of
its furniture was gone; not a chair, not a table,
not a panel, was to be seen. There remained
nothing but a hollow space between the decks.

The shock was fearful; the man at the
helm, carried away by its violence, clung for
safety to the mizen rigging, but it gave way
to his hand. At the same moment, the
stump of the mizen mast broke short off
below the deck, and, falling flat along the
poop, cut through the wheel at the very
spot from which the man had just been
swept. Owing to the height of the bulwarks,