the side of my step-mother, my brothers
and sisters, almost dead. Every one was upon the beach except my
father and some sailors; but that good man arrived at last, to mingle
his tears with those of his family and friends.

Instantly our hearts joined in addressing our prayers and praises to
God. I raised my hands to heaven, and remained sometime immoveable
upon the beach. Every one also hastened to testify his gratitude to
our old pilot, who next to God, justly merited the title of our
preserver. M. Dumege, a naval surgeon, gave him an elegant gold watch,
the only thing he had saved from the Medusa.

Let the reader now recollect all the perils to which we had been
exposed in escaping from the wreck of the frigate to the shores of the
Desert--all that we had suffered during our four days' voyage--and he
will perhaps have a just notion of the various sensations we felt on
getting on shore on that strange and savage land. Doubtless the joy we
experienced at having escaped, as by a miracle, the fury of the
floods, was very great; but how much was it lessened by the feelings
of our horrible situation! Without water, provisions, and the majority
of us nearly naked, was it to be wondered at that we should be seized
with terror on thinking of the obstacles which we had to surmount, the
fatigues, the privations, the pains and sufferings we had to endure,
with the dangers we had to encounter in the immense and frightful
Desert we had to traverse before we could arrive at our destination?
Almighty Providence! it was in Thee alone I put my trust.

After we had a little recovered from the fainting and fatigue of our
getting on shore, our fellow-sufferers told us they had landed in the
forenoon, and cleared the breakers by the strength of their oars and
sails; but they had not all been so lucky as we were. One unfortunate
person, too desirous of getting quickly on shore, had his legs broken
under the shallop, and was taken and laid on the beach, and left to
the care of Providence. M. Espiau, commander of the shallop,
reproached us for having doubted him when he wished to board us to
take our family along with him. It was most true he had landed
sixty-three people that day. A short while after our refusal, he took
the passengers of the yawl, who would infallibly have perished in the
stormy nights of the 6th and 7th. The boat named the Senegal,
commanded by M. Maudet, had made the shore at the same time with
M. Espiau. The boats o