the ravening sea, they wished to avoid calmly
the excruciating horrors of death by fire.

Captain Cobb, the brave Kentish man, full
of thought, and imperturbable as granite,
ordered the deck to be scuttled forward, in
order to draw the fire in that direction, as there
were several tiers of water-casks between it
and the magazine, and the wet sails thrown into
the after hold would prevent the fire spreading
to the spirit-room abaft. To those who were
cool enough to observe, the scenes rapidly
passing were truly heartbreaking. In the after
cabins on the upper deck some of the soldiers'
wives and children were reading and praying
with the ladies, who, being only half clothed,
had taken refuge there. Many of these latter,
and two young sisters in particular, preserved,
their self-possession, and, with firm reliance on
God, comforted the others. One young man
asked Major M'Gregor if there was any hope.
The major replied, they must prepare themselves
to sleep that night in eternity. The lad
exclaimed, with fervour, as he pressed the
major's hand, " My heart is filled with the peace
of God; yet, though I know it is foolish, I
dread exceedingly the last struggle."

There was no excitement of battle here to
occupy and distract the mind. The unhappy
creatures were rather like condemned men
waiting the hour of execution. It was very
affecting to see the little children in bed in
the cuddy-cabins, smiling, and quite
unconscious of danger, playing with their toys as
usual, or asking innocent and unseasonable
questions. One of the senior officers whispered
to some of the older children, that now was
the time to put in practice what they had been
taught at the regimental school. They replied,
with the hot tears running down their cheeks:

"Yes, sir, we are trying to remember them,
and we are praying to God."

All exertions had failed; it was only left them
to wait calmly for their terrible and agonising
death. Few of the sailors or soldiers seemed
to have either much hope or dread of a future
state; so religious men present observed. Many,
however, vowed, with loud and piteous cries
that if their lives were spared they would dedicate
themselves to good works; and others, filled
with remorse, cried that the judgment was falling
justly on them for the crimes and sins of
their past lives.

While the crew of the Kent lay in this heart-
rending position of physical quietude and mental
terror, the waves rose higher and beat faster
and more furious, as if impatient at the long
struggle with their hopeless victims, and greedy
to snatch from the fire their already half-drowned
prey. All at once the binnacle, by a violent
lurch, was torn from its fastenings, and the
compass, with its now useless needle, was dashed to
pieces on the deck. It seemed an omen of
approaching death, and one of the younger mates
exclaimed, with despair:

" What! is the Kent's compass really
gone?"

A young officer was seen to quietly and
thoughtfully remove a lock of hair from his
writing-case and place it calmly near his heart;
while Major M'Gregor, writing a few lines to
his father, enclosed it carefully in a bottle, in
the hope that it might relieve those he loved
from long years of fruitless anxiety and suspense.
This bottle was, however, dropped in the cabin
in the emotion of the next moment, and was
forgotten. By a most singular coincidence,
however, it floated from the wreck, and was
afterwards picked up at Barbadoes.

All hope had now gone; but it occurred to
Mr. Thomson, the fourth mate, during the lull,
to send a man to the fore-top, rather in the ardent
wish than in the expectation that a friendly sail
might possibly be in sight. Eagerly the man
clambered — eagerly all eyes were fixed on him
in momentary hope; the despairing scarcely
looked up to know on whom the eyes were fixed.
The man swept the horizon with the long-searching
practised glance of a sailor; but made no
sign. Suddenly he threw his head forward and
strained his eyes on one spot, without moving.
It was a moment of unutterable suspense. All
at once he said something.

Gracious God! Merciful God! He waves
his hat. Silence!

Then down to the paralysed crowd below,
fixed like statues with expectation, comes the
clear sharp shout:

"A SAIL ON THE LEE' BOW!"

Hope's rainbow springs up and brightens the
air. Many burst into tears, and fall down in grateful
prayer. Three ringing cheers break from the
men; a faint smile of joy comes over the stern
face of the captain, as, to hide his emotion, he
gives quick and sharp orders to hoist flags of
distress, to fire minute-guns, and to bear down
under the three topsails and foresail still left
upon the heaven-sent vessel. "Women clasp their
children; friends grasp hands; husbands and
wives fly into each other's arms with tears of joy.
The sailors hurry to their guns, and load and
fire every sixty seconds.

The vessel proved to be the Cambria, a small
brig of two hundred tons burthen, W. Cook
captain, bound to Vera Cruz, and having on
board twenty or thirty Cornish miners, and
several agents of the Anglo-Mexican Company.
But the danger was still imminent; the brig
either did not observe the signal, or was not
disposed or able to lend assistance. The wind
was so tremendous that the Kent's guns could
not be heard; but, at last, the Cambria slowly
tacked —- then hesitated. Then up went the
British colours, the brig crowds all sail, and bears
down to the relief of the burning vessel.

But the danger was still threatening and
perilous. The Kent had been already a long
time burning; the brig was extremely small,
and there was a tremendous sea running for any
boats that came to the rescue. It was certain
that many must perish, and those who determined
to be last felt even yet no hope left them
of preservation.

"In what order are the officers to move off?"
said Captain Cobb to Major M'Gregor.