ng him." The men--with
cutlasses buckled round their waists, and many with nothing but their
trousers on--instinctively cheered. Blaze went our cannonades and long
gun in succession, and down came the fore-topsail; the head of the
topmast had been shot away. "That will do; now knock off, my boys, and
let us run for it. Make all sail."

Jonathan was for an instant paralysed by our impudence; but he yawed and
let drive his whole broadside; and fearfully did it transmogrify us.
Half an hour before we were as gay a little sloop as ever floated, with
a crew of 120 as fine fellows as ever manned a British man-of-war. The
iron-shower sped--ten of the 120 never saw the sun rise again; 17 more
were wounded, three mortally; our hull and rigging were regularly cut to
pieces.

But we had the start, crippled and be-devilled though we were; and as
the night fell, we contrived to lose sight of our large friend, and
pursue our voyage to Jamaica.

A week later, and the hurricane fell upon us. Our chainplates, strong
fastenings, and clenched bolts, drew like pliant wires, shrouds and
stays were torn away, and our masts and spars were blown clean out of
the ship into the sea. Had we shown a shred of the strongest sail in the
vessel, it would have been blown out of the bolt-rope in an instant.
With four men at the wheel, one watch at the pumps, and the other
clearing the wreck, we had to get her before the wind.

Our spirits were soon dashed, when the old carpenter, one of the coolest
and bravest men in the ship, rose through the forehatch pale as a ghost,
with his white hairs streaming out in the wind. He did not speak to any
of us, but clambered aft, towards the capstan, to which the captain had
lashed himself.

"The water is rushing in forward like a mill-stream, sir; she is fast
settling down by the head."

The brig, was, indeed, rapidly losing her buoyancy.

"Stand by, to heave the guns overboard."

Too late, too late! Oh, God, that cry! I was stunned and drowning, a
chaos of wreck was beneath me and around me and above me, and blue,
agonised, gasping faces and struggling arms, and colourless clutching
hands, and despairing yells for help, where help was impossible; when I
felt a sharp bite on the neck, and breathed again. My Newfoundland dog,
Sneezer, had snatched at me, and dragged me out of the eddy of the
sinking vessel.

For life, dear life, nearly suffocated, amidst the hissing spray, we
reached the cutter, the dog a