as soon, however,
picked up by a boat, and was found to have sustained but little
injury.

The first lieutenant, who followed his example, escaped in a similar
manner. Unfortunately, Captain Swaffield perished, in all probability
having been stunned either by the first blow he received against the
carlings, or by coming in contact with some part of the hulk. His body
was found a month afterwards, with the skull fractured, apparently
crushed between the sides of the two vessels.

At the moment of the explosion, the sentinel at the cabin door was
looking at his watch, when it was dashed from his hands and he was
stunned: he knew nothing more until he found himself safe on shore,
and comparatively unhurt. The escape of the boatswain was also very
remarkable; he was standing on the cathead, directing the men in
rigging out the jib-boom, when he felt himself suddenly carried off
his feet into the air: he then fell into the sea senseless; and on
recovering his consciousness, he found that he had got entangled
amongst the rigging, and that his arm was broken. He contrived to
extricate himself, though with some difficulty, and he was soon picked
up by a boat, without further injury.

The preservation of a child was no less singular: in the terror of the
moment, the mother had grasped it in her arms, but, horrible to
relate, the lower part of her body was blown to pieces, whilst the
upper part remained unhurt, and it was discovered with the arms still
clasping the living child to the lifeless bosom.

Till then we had not wept--
But well our gushing hearts might say,
That there a _Mother_ slept!
For her pale arms a babe had prest
With such a wreathing grasp,
The fire had pass'd o'er that fond breast,
_Yet not undone the clasp_.
Deep in her bosom lay his head,
With half-shut violet eye--
_He_ had known little of her dread,
Nought of her agony.
Oh! human love, whose yearning heart,
Through all things vainly true,
So stamps upon thy mortal part
Its passionate adieu:
Surely thou hast another lot,
There is some home for thee,
Where thou shalt rest, rememb'ring not
The moaning of the sea.--MRS. HEMANS.

The exact complement of the Amphion was 215, but from the crowded
state of her decks at the time of the accident, it is supposed that
300, out of 310 or 312 persons, perished with the ship.

The captain, two lieutenants, a boatswain, three or fou