commanded them reckoned a great number, which he received in the various combats they had to maintain. At last their united efforts succeeded in dispersing the masses that advanced furiously against them. During this combat, M. Corréard was informed by one of his workmen who remained faithful, that one of their com 'M. Corréard had fallen into a kind of trance; but hearing every moment cries of "To arms! To arms, comrades! We are undone!" joined to the cries and imprecations of the wounded and the dying, he was soon roused from his lethargy. The increasing confusion made him sensible that it was necessary to be upon his guard. Armed with his sabre, he as-rades, named Dominique, had sembled some of his workmen on the front of the raft, and forbade them to hurt any one unless they were attacked. He remained almost always with them, and they had several times to defend themselves against the attacks of the mutineers, who, falling into the sea, returned by the front of the raft, which placed M. Corréard and his little troop between two dangers, and rendered their position very difficult to be defended. Every moment men presented themselves armed with knives, sabres, and bayonets; many had carbines, which they used as clubs. The workmen did their utmost to stop them by presenting the point of their sabres; and, notwithstanding the repugnance they felt to combat their unhappy countrymen, they were, however, obliged to use their arms without reserve; for, as many of the mutineers attacked them with fury, it was necessary to repulse them in the same manner. In this action some of the workmen eceived large wounds; he who taken part with the mutineers, and that he had just been thrown into the sea. Immediately forgetting the fault and the treachery of this man, he threw himself in after him, at the place where the voice of the wretch had just been heard calling for assistance; he seized him by the hair, and had the good fortune to get him on board. Dominique had received in a charge several sabre wounds, one of which had laid open his head. Notwithstanding the darkness, we found the wound, which appeared to us to be very considerable. One of the workmen gave his handkerchief to bind it up and stanch the blood. Our care revived this wretch; but as soon as he recovered his strength, the ungrateful fellow, again forgetting his duty and the signal service he had just received from us, went to rejoin the mutineers. So much baseness and fury did not go unpunished; for soon afterwards, while combating us anew, he met with his death, from which he, in fact, did not merit to be rescued, but which he would probably have avoided, if, faithful to honour and to gratitude, he had remained among us. 'Just when we had almost finished applying a kind of dressing to the wounds of Dominique, another voice was heard. It was that of the unfortunate woman who was on the raft with us, and whom the madmen had thrown into the sea, as well as her husband, who defended her with courage. M. Corréard, in despair at seeing two poor wretches perish, whose lamentable cries, especially those of the woman, pierced his heart, seized a large rope which was on the front of the raft, which he fastened round the middle of his body, and threw himself a second time into the sea, whence he was so happy as to rescue the woman, who invoked with all her might the aid of our Lady of Laux, while her husband was likewise saved by the chief workman, Lavillette. We seated these two poor people upon dead bodies, with their backs leaning against a barrel. In a few minutes they had recovered their senses. The first thought of the woman was to inquire the name of him who had saved her, and to testify to him the warmest gratitude. Thinking, doubtless, that her words did not sufficiently express her sentiments, she recollected that she had in her pocket a little snuff, and immediately offered it to him-it was all that she possessed. Touched by this present, but not using snuff, M. Corréard, in turn, made a present of it to a poor sailor, who used it three or four days. But a more affectionate scene, which it is impossible for us to describe, was the joy which this unfortunate couple displayed when they had sufficiently recovered their senses to see that they were saved. The mutineers being repulsed, as we have said above, left us at this moment a little repose. The moon with her sad beams illumined this fatal raft, this narrow space, in which were united so many heartrending afflictions, so many cruel distresses, a fury so insensate, a courage so heroic, the most pleasing and generous sentiments of nature and humanity. The man and his wife, who just before had seen themselves attacked with sabres and bayonets, and thrown at the same moment into the waves of a stormy sea, could hardly believe their senses when they found themselves in each other's arms. They felt, they expressed so fervently, the happiness which they were, alas, to enjoy for so short a time, that this affecting sight might have drawn tears from the most insensible heart. But in this terrible moment, when we were but just breathing after the most furious attack, when we were forced to be constantly on our guard, not only against the attacks of the men, but also against the fury of the waves, few of us had time, if we may say so, to suffer ourselves to be moved by this scene of conjugal friendship. places by knives and sabres. One of our workmen was also seized by four of the mutineers, who were going to throw him into the sea. One of them had seized him by the right leg, and was biting him cruelly in the sinew above the heel. The others were beating him severely with their sabres and the butt "After this second check, the fury of the soldiers suddenly abated, and gave place to extreme cowardice. Many of them fell at our feet and asked pardon, which we instantly granted them. Thinking that order was restored, we had re-end of their carbines; his cries turned to our post at the centre of the raft; only we took the precaution to retain our arms. It was nearly midnight. After an hour's apparent tranquillity, the soldiers rose again; their senses were entirely deranged; they rushed upon us like madmen, with their knives or sabres in their hands. As they were in full possession of their bodily | strength, and were also armed, we were forced again to put ourselves on our defence. Their revolt was the more dangerous, as in their delirium they were entirely deaf to the cries of reason. They attacked us. We charged them in our turn, and soon the raft was covered with their dead bodies. Those among our adversaries who had no arms attempted to tear us with their teeth; several of us were cruelly bitten; M. Savigny was himself bitten in the legs and shoulder; he received also a wound with a knife in his right arm, which deprived him for a long time of the use of the fourth and little fingers of that hand: many ers were wounded. Our nes were pierced in many made us fly to his aid. On this occasion, the brave Lavillette, ex-sergeant of the artillery on foot of the Old Guard, behaved with courage worthy of the highest praise. We rushed on these desperadoes, after the example of M. Corréard, and soon rescued the workman from the danger which threatened him. A few moments after, the mutineers, in another charge, seized on the sub-lieutenant Lozach, whom they took in their delirium for Lieutenant Danglas, of whom we have spoken before, and who had abandoned the raft when we were on the point of putting off from the frigate. The soldiers in general bore much ill-will to this officer, who had seen little service, and whom they reproached with having treated them harshly while they were in garrison in the Isle of Rhé. It would have been a favourable opportunity for them to satiate their rage upon him; and in the thirst of vengeance and destruction which animated them, they fancied they had found him in the person of M. Lozach, whom they were going to throw into the sea. In truth, the soldiers almost equally disliked the latter, who had served only in the Vendean bands of Saint Pol de Leon. We believed this officer lost, when his voice being heard, informed us that it was still possible to save him. Immediately Messrs. Clairet, Savigny, L'Heureux, Lavillette, Coudin, Corréard, and some workmen, having formed themselves into little parties, fell upon the insurgents with so much impetuosity, that they overthrew all who opposed them, recovered M. Lozach, and brought him back to the centre of the raft. The preservation of this officer cost us infinite trouble. Every moment the soldiers demanded that he should be given up to them, always calling him by the name of Danglas. It was in vain we attempted to make them sensible of their mistake, and to recall to their memory that he whom they demanded had returned on board the frigate, as they had themselves seen. Their cries drowned the voice of reason; everything was in their eyes Danglas; they saw him everywhere, and furiously and unceasingly demanded his head; and it was only by force of arms that we succeeded in repressing their rage and in silencing their frightful cries. 'On this occasion we had also reason to be alarmed for the safety of M. Coudin. Wounded and fatigued by the attacks which we had sustained with the disaffected, and in which he had displayed the most dauntless courage, he was reposing on a barrel, holding in his arms a sailor boy, of twelve years of age, to whom he had attached himself. The mutineers seized him with his barrel, and threw him into the sea with the boy, whom he still held fast. Notwithstanding his burden, M. Coudin had the presence of mind to catch hold of the raft, and to save himself from this extreme danger. Dreadful night! thy gloomy veil covered these cruel combats, instigated by the most terrible despair. "It is almost incredible that a handful of individuals could resist such a considerable number of madmen. There were certainly not more than twenty of us to resist all these furious wretches. Let it, however, not be imagined that we preserved our reason unimpaired amidst all this disorder; terror, alarm, and the most cruel privations had greatly affected our intellectual faculties; but being a little less deranged than the unfortunate soldiers, we energetically opposed their determination to cut the cords of the raft. 'After these different combats, worn out with fatigue, want of food and of sleep, we endeavoured to take a few moments' repose. At length daylight came, and disclosed all the horrors of the scene. A great number had in their delirium thrown themselves into the sea. We found that between sixty and sixty-five men had perished during the night; we calculated that at least a fourth part had drowned themselves in despair. We had lost only two on our side, neither of whom was an officer. The deepest despondency was painted on every face; every one, now that he was come to himself, was sensible of his situation; some of us, shedding tears of despair, bitterly deplored the rigour of our fate. 'We soon discovered a new misfortune the rebels, during the tumult, had thrown into the sea two barrels of wine, and the only two casks of water that we had on the raft. One of the water-casks was recovered, but the mutineers had made a large hole in it, and the sea-water got in, so that the fresh water was quite spoiled. As soon as M. Corréard perceived that they were going to throw the wine into the sea, and that the barrels were almost entirely loose, he resolved to place himself on one of them, where he was continually thrown to and fro by the impulse of the waves; but he did not let go his hold. His example was followed by some others, who seized the second cask, and remained some hours at that dangerous post. After much trouble, they had succeeded in saving these two casks, which being every moment violently driven against their legs, had bruised them severely. Being unable to hold out any longer, they made some representations to those who, with M. Savigny, employed all their efforts to maintain order and preserve the raft. One of them took his (M. Corréard's) place; others relieved the rest. But finding this service too difficult, and being assaulted by the mutineers, they forsook this post. Then the barrels were thrown into the sea. Two casks of wine had been consumed the preceding day. We had now only one left, and as we were above sixty in number, it became necessary to put ourselves on half allowance. At daybreak the sea grew calm, which enabled us to put up our mast again; we then did our utmost to direct our course towards the coast. Whether it were an illusion or reality, we thought we saw it, and that we distinguished the burning air of the Sahara Desert. It is, in fact, very probable that we were not very distant from it, for we had had winds from the sea which had blown violently. In the sequel we spread the sail indifferently to every wind that blew, so that one day we approached the coast, on the next ran into the open sea. 'As soon as our mast was replaced, we made a distribution of wine; the unhappy soldiers murmured and accused us for privations which we bore as well as they; they fell down with fatigue. For forty-eight hours we had taken nothing, and had been obliged to struggle incessantly against a stormy sea; like them, we could hardly sup |