piercing shriek of horror that ran through the
whole ship. The sailors, who, conscious of their
inevitable fate, had latterly grown idle and
hopeless, and had hidden themselves in their
hammocks, leaving the toil of the pumps to the
officers and soldiers, who, in their ignorance,
remaining more hopeful, had been unceasingly
active and assiduous, now poured on deck,
though it had been hitherto found impossible to
keep them there. Tossing their arms, screaming
prayers, or crying for help, they ran to and
fro like madmen, eager enough now to struggle
for their lives.

It was too late; the ship began to beat upon
the rocks, then bulged and fell helpless, with
her broadside towards the shore. Directly
she struck, a number of the sailors swarmed
up the ensign-staff, expecting her to break
up every moment in that seething sea. Mr.
Meriton shouted to those frightened wretches
all to come to the side of the ship that lay lowest
on the rocks, and, one by one, to seize the first
opportunity of escape that might offer.

By this time all the passengers and most of the
officers had crowded into the round-house, the
men, bravely and heroically forgetting their own
danger, endeavouring to console the ladies by
hopes and assurances, and by promises not to
forsake them, buoying each other up by the
possibilities of safety and by the promises of
religion: at least, they could die together.
Some wept passionately, and fought, as it were,
with death; fathers embraced their daughters
silently, and prepared to die, clinging to those
they loved as if to ward them from the blow.
Mr. Meriton and other cool brave men still kept
their courage, and did not flinch even at the
frightful danger that was impending. The chief
officer, indeed, assured the women that he
believed firmly the ship would hold together till
the morning. They must be on shore
somewhere near St. Aldhelm's Head; when light
came, the fishermen and quarrymen would run
to their help, and they would all be saved.
Captain Pierce, while his daughters clung to
him, was able to smile at a lad who was loud in
his exclamations of terror.

The Halsewell had struck on the Dorsetshire
coast, near Seacombe, in the island of Purbeck,
between Peverel and St. Aldhelm's Head. The
cliffs there are of vast height, and almost
perpendicular, so steep that scarcely a seagull
can alight on its ledges, or fern or ivy grow,
except at the base, where the rock has been
quarried by nature into a small cavern, ten or
twelve yards deep, and of the breadth of a large
ship. The side of this cave was steep and difficult
of access, and the bottom strewn with sharp
uneven rocks that have fallen from above; it
was at the mouth of this rude cave the wreck
of the shattered vessel lay stretched like a
stranded whale, offering a broadside to the sea-
washed chasm. In the pitchy darkness neither
cavern nor cliff could be seen, and the shock of
death was the first real warning to the people of
the Halsewell that their hour had come.

Mr. Meriton, still cheering the women by
hopes of safety, on returning to the round-house
found about fifty persons assembled there. He
cut several wax candles into pieces, and stuck
them in various parts of the round-house, and
also lighted up all the lanterns he could find.
Observing the ladies to be parched and exhausted,
he kindly brought a basket of oranges, and
prevailed on some of them to suck the juice.

The sides of the ship were giving way, the deck
was lifting. The poor Halsewell could not hold
together long. Mr. Meriton tried to go
forward and look out, but to his horror saw
the vessel was already separated in the middle,
and that the fore-part had changed its
position and lay rather further out to sea.
There was not a moment to be lost. The next
great wave, and the vessel might be swallowed
up, with all that were upon it. To use Mr.
Meriton's own words, he "at once determined
to follow the example of the soldiers and crew,
who were now quitting the ship in numbers,
and making their way to a shore of which they
knew not the horrors."

Among other measures adopted to favour
these attempts, the ensign-staff had been
unshipped, and attempted to be laid from the ship's
side to some of the rocks, but without success, for
it had snapped to pieces before it reached them.
However, by the light of a lantern, which a
seaman of the name of Burmister handed through
the skylight of the round-house to the deck, Mr.
Meriton discovered a spar, which appeared to be
laid from the ship's side to the rocks, and on
that spar he determined to attempt his escape.
He accordingly laid himself down on it, and
thrust himself forward, but soon found that
the spar had no communication with the rock.
He reached the end of it, and then slipped off,
receiving a very violent bruise in his fall;
before he could recover his legs, he was washed
off by the surge, in which he supported himself
by swimming, till the returning waves dashed
him against the back part of the cavern, when
he laid hold of a small piece of the rock, but was
so benumbed that he was on the point of quitting
it, when a seaman, who had already gained a
footing, extended his hand, and assisted him till
he could secure himself on a little piece of the
rock, from which he clambered to a shelf still
higher, till he was out of the reach of the surf.

On board the ship, soon after Mr. Meriton
left the round-house, the captain asked what was
become of him, and Mr. Rogers, the third mate,
replied that he was gone on the deck to see what
could be done. After this, a heavy sea breaking
over the ship, the ladies exclaimed, "Oh! poor,
poor Meriton! he is drowned; if he had only
stayed with us, he would have been safe;" and
they all, particularly Miss Mary Pierce, expressed
great concern at the apprehension of his loss. On
this occasion Mr. Rogers offered to go and call to
Mr. Meriton, but this was opposed by the ladies,
from an apprehension that he might share the
same fate. At this time the sea, breaking in at the
fore-part of the ship, reached as far as the main-
mast. Captain Pierce gave Mr. Rogers a nod;
they took a lamp and went together into the