nder command of
Colonel Seton of the 74th Highlanders. About two o'clock in the morning
the vessel struck upon a rock near the well-named Point Danger, and so
tremendous was the shock that her iron plates were driven in as if made
of egg-shell. The cabin was immediately flooded, and it was evident
that in a few minutes the vessel would be engulfed among the breakers.

None but those who have witnessed similar scenes can imagine the horrors
of the situation. It was dark; the breakers roared around; the rugged
and almost inaccessible shores of the Cape of Storms were on the one
hand, the ocean on the other; men, women, and children were rushing
about the decks in wild terror; sharks were known to be in these waters,
and _only two_ of the ship's boats were available for service. In this
moment of extremity God put it into the hearts of both officers and men
to act with unexampled courage and wisdom.

To save all was manifestly out of the question. When people are in such
circumstances it is too often "every man for himself;" the strong push
aside the weak, fight for the boats, overcrowd and swamp them, and thus
few, if any, are left to tell the tale. But it was not so with the
heroes of the _Birkenhead_. At the word of command from Colonel Seton,
the soldiers drew up on the reeling deck as if on parade, and obeyed his
orders with steady calm, unflinching bravery. If there were any selfish
spirits on board they were overawed by the heroism of the soldiers. The
Colonel directed that the women and children and the sick should be put
into the boats. This was quickly done, and these were all saved without
a single exception--to the number of two hundred souls.

But while this was being accomplished the vessel was breaking up, and
the fact that the men would be soon left to struggle in the waves was
apparent to all; yet the noble officer continued to give his orders, and
the not less noble men continued to obey, and saw the boats depart
without a murmur. They were young soldiers too, who had never been
under fire, and this "action" was the first and last that they and their
leader were destined to fight. The vessel suddenly parted amidships,
and though a few saved themselves by swimming and on floating pieces of
wreck, the greater number perished--no fewer than 357 officers and
soldiers--among whom was the Colonel--and sixty seamen, going down with
the ship. It was a sad but splendid specimen of cool self-sacrifici