must see his sister."

Daaka had sent an old cow as a present to Alexander, which was a very
seasonable supply, as the hippopotamus-flesh had all been eaten. The
next morning they proposed that he should accompany them to where the
_Grosvenor_ had been wrecked.

Daaka did not at first appear to know what they wished, and inquired,
through the interpreter, whether they meant the ship that was wrecked on
the sea-coast, pointing to the eastward. On receiving an answer in the
affirmative, he agreed to set off with them that afternoon, saying that
it was about forty miles off, and that they would not get there until
the next day.

About noon they set off on their journey, and as they made but slow
progress over a rugged although most beautiful country, they stopped at
night at a kraal about half-way. Early the next morning they were led
by Daaka and some Caffres who accompanied him to the sea-shore, and when
they had arrived at the beach, it being then low water, Daaka pointed to
a reef, upon which were to be seen the guns, ballast, and a portion of
the keelson of a ship--all that remained of the unfortunate _Grosvenor_.

As the sea washed over the reef, now covering and now exposing these
mementoes of misery and suffering, Alexander and Swinton remained for
some time without speaking; at last Alexander said--

"Swinton, you have read the history of this unfortunate vessel, I know,
for you asked me for it to read. What a succession of scenes of horror
do these remains, which from their solid weigh only have defied the
power of the winds and waves, conjure up at this moment in my mind. I
think I now behold the brave vessel dashed upon the reefs--the scream of
despair from all on board--the heart-rending situation of the women and
children--their wonderful escape and landing on shore, only to be
subjected to greater suffering. See, Swinton, that must have been the
rock which they all gained, and upon which they remained shivering
through the night."

"It is, I have no doubt, from its position," said Swinton.

"Yes, it must have been; I think I see them all--men, women, and
helpless children--huddled together, half-clothed and suffering,
quitting that rock by this only path from it, and setting off upon their
mad and perilous journey: the scattering of the parties--their perils
and hunger--their conflicts with the natives--their sufferings from heat
and from thirst--their sinking down one by one into the welcome