with a large knife which one of the crew happened to have in his pocket, they made a yard, and lashed it together by the strands of the fore-top-gallant halliards, that had been thrown into the boat promiscuously. They also made a mast of one of the long oars, and set their sails with sheets and tacks made out of the strands of the top-gallant halliards, having the north star only for their guide, as the compass which they had brought with them was rendered useless, by one of the men having trodden on it. They had a tolerable good breeze all night; and the whole of the next day, July 4, the weather continued very moderate, and the people were in as good spirits as their dreadful situation would admit.

On Saturday, July 5, the wind and weather continued much about the same; and by the north star they knew that they were standing in for the land. The next day some of the men seemed rather fatigued, and began to drink salt water: the wind, they imagined, had got round to the southward, and they steered, as near as they could guess by the north star, to the north-west quarter; but on the 7th, they found that the wind had got back to the northward, and blew very fresh. They got their oars out the greater part of the night; and the next day, the wind still dying away, the people laboured alternately at the oars without distinction. About noon the wind sprung up again, so that they laid by their oars, and steered as near as they could guess about N.N.W., continuing so until about eight or nine in the morning of July 9, when, by the coldness of the water, they all thought they were upon soundings. In general they were in very good spirits; the weather still thick and hazy; and they found, by the north star, that they had been steering about N. by W.

Thursday, July 10. By this time the people had drank so much salt water, that it began to have a visible effect upon their constitutions: the second mate had lost a considerable share of his strength and spirits; and about noon the carpenter became delirious, his malady increasing every hour, till he became so violent that, about dusk, he almost overset the boat, by attempting to throw himself overboard: as his strength, how ever, failed him, he became more manageable, and they succeeded in getting him to lie down in the middle of the boat among some of the people. Mr. Purnell drank once a little salt water, which he did not relish, but preferred his own urine, which he drank occasionally as he made it. Soon after sunset the second mate lost his speech. Mr. Purnell desired him to lean his head on him, and he died without a groan or a struggle on the 11th July, being the ninth day they were in the boat. A few minutes afterwards the carpenter breathed his last, almost in a similar manner. These melancholy scenes rendered the situation of the survivors more dreadful it is impossible to describe their feelings

despair became general, and each man, in the sad spectacle before him, of the dead bodies of his companions, imagined his own dissolution was at hand. Their first impulse was prayer; and some in the Welch language, some in Irish, and others in English, fervently prayed to the Almighty for a speedy release from their sufferings: then, after a little deliberation, they stripped the dead bodies, and committed them to the deep.

The weather having become very mild and almost calm, they turned to, cleaned the boat, and resolved to make their sail larger, out of the frocks and trousers of the two deceased men. Purnell got the captain to lie down with the rest of the people, excepting the boatswain and one man, who assisted in making the sail larger, which they completed by about six or seven o'clock in the afternoon, having made a shroud out of the boat's painter, which served as a shifting back-stay; Purnell also fixed his red flannel waistcoat at the masthead, as a signal most likely to be seen. Soon after this, some of them observed a sloop at a great distance, coming, as they thought, from the land; this roused every man's spirits; they got out their oars, at which they laboured alternately, exerting all their remaining strength to come up with her; but night coming on, and the sloop getting a fresh breeze of wind, they lost sight of her, which occasioned a general consternation: but the appearance of the north star, which they kept on their starboard bow, gave them hopes that they stood in for the land. This night died one of the seamen, named William Wathing, at the age of sixty-four years, having been fifty years at sea: worn out with fatigue and hunger, he earnestly prayed to the last moment for a drop of water to cool his tongue. Early the next morning another seaman, named Hugh Williams, also died, and in the course of the day, another of the crew, entirely exhausted.

Early in the morning of July 13, it began to blow very fresh, and increased so much that they were obliged to furl their sail, and keep their boat before the wind and sea, which drove them off soundings. In the evening the gunner died, being six that had perished since their disaster. The weather becoming now more moderate, and the wind in the S.W. quarter, they made sail, not one in the boat being able to row, and they ran all this night with a fine breeze.

The next morning, being July 14, they lost two more, and in the evening two others of the crew died. They were on soundings again, and concluded the wind had got round to the N.W. quarter. They stood in for land all this night, and early on the following morning two others died: the bodies of the dead were committed to the deep as soon as the breath had departed. The weather was now thick and hazy, and they were still certain that they were on soundings.

The cabin-boy was seldom required to do any thing; and as his intellects at this time were very good, and his understanding clear, it was the opinion of Mr. Purnell that he might survive them all, but this he prudently kept to himself. The captain appeared likewise to be tolerably well, and to have kept up his spirits. On account of the haziness of the weather, they could not so well know how they steered by day as in the night time; for whenever the north star appeared, they endeavoured to keep it on the starboard bow, by which means they were certain of making the land some time or other. In the evening they lost two more of the crew, and also, before sunset, one named Thomas Philpot, an old and experienced seaman, and very strong; he died rather convulsed, and having latterly lost the power of articulation, his meaning could not be comprehended: he was a native of Belfast, in Ireland, and had no family. The survivors found it a difficult task to heave the corpse overboard, as he was a very corpulent man.

The next morning, July 16, about six or seven o'clock, they stood in for the land, according to the best of their judgment, but the weather was still thick and hazy. Purnell now prevailed on the captain and boatswain to lie down in the fore part of the boat, to bring her more by the head, in order to make her hold a better wind. In the evening the cabin-boy, who had lately appeared so well, and of whom the mate had such hopes of his surviving them all, breathed his last, leaving behind him only the captain, the chief mate, and the boatswain, of all the nineteen that left the wreck.

The next morning, July 17, Purnell asked his two companions if they thought they could eat any of the flesh of the poor cabin-boy, who had died the day previous, and they having expressed an inclination to try, and the body being quite cold, he cut a part of the inside of the thigh, just above the knee, and gave a piece to the captain and boatswain, reserving a small piece for himself; but their stomachs were so weak, from long protracted abstinence, that neither of them could swallow a morsel of it; the body was therefore consigned to the deep. Early in the morning of the 18th, Mr. Purnell found both his companions dead and cold! Thus, on the sixteenth day of his exposure to the elements, left destitute and alone, in an open boat on the vast expanse of ocean, without food and without shelter, he began to think of his own dissolution. Though feeble, his understanding was still clear, and his spirits were as good as his forlorn and desolate situation could possibly admit. By the colour and coldness of the water he knew he could not be far from land, and still maintained hopes of making it. The weather continuing very foggy, he lay-to all this night, which was very dark, with the boat's head to the northward.

On the morning of the 19th, it began to rain, but cleared up in the afternoon, and the wind died away; still he was convinced he was on soundings.

On the 20th, in the afternoon, he thought he saw land, and stood in for it; but the night coming on, and it being very dark, he lay-to, fearing he might get on some rocks and shoals.

On the 21st, the weather was very fine all the morning, but towards afternoon it became thick and hazy; his strength was now almost exhausted, though his spirits remained good, and he continued to drink his own water occasionally.

On the 22nd he discovered some barnacles on the boat's rudder, very similar to the spawn of an oyster, which filled him with greater hopes of being near land. He unshipped the rudder, and scraping them off with his knife, found they were of a salt, fishy substance, and ate them; but he was now so weak, and the boat having a great motion, that he found it a difficult task to reship the rudder.

On July 23rd, at sunrise, he became so confident that he saw land, that his spirits were considerably lightened. In the middle of the day he got up, leaned his back against the mast, and receiving considerable warmth and succour from the sun, contrived to steer the boat in this position. The next day he saw, at a very great distance, some kind of a sail, which he judged was coming from the land; but this he soon lost sight of. In the middle of the day he stood up as before, and received warmth from the sun, and stood on all night for the land.

Very early in the morning of the 25th, after drinking his morning draught, to his inexpressible joy, he saw, while the sun was rising, a sail, and when the sun was up, found she was a two-masted vessel: he was, however, considerably perplexed, not knowing what to do, as she was a great distance astern, and to leeward. In order to watch her motions better, he tacked about, and soon after this perceived she was on her starboard tack, which was the same he had been standing on for many hours. Seeing she approached him very fast, he lay-to for some time, till he believed she was within two miles from the boat, but still to leeward; he therefore thought it best to steer larger, when he found she was a top-sail schooner, nearing him very rapidly. He continued to edge down towards her, until he had brought her about two points under his lee bow, having it in his power to spring his luff, or bear away. By this time she was within half a mile, and he saw some of her crew standing forwards on her deck, and waving for him to come under their lee-bow. At the distance of about two hundred yards they hove the schooner up in the wind, and kept her so until Purnell got alongside, when they

threw him a rope, still keeping the schooner in the wind. They interrogated him very closely, as they imagined he belonged to a man-of-war, by the manner in which the boat and oars were painted, and that he had run away from one of his majesty's ships at Halifax; consequently, if they should take him up, they would be liable to some punishment. They also thought they might expose themselves to some contagious disorder, as the bodies of the captain and boatswain were lying in the bottom of the boat, Purnell being too weak to throw them overboard; this kept him in suspense for some time. They told him they had made the land that morning from the mast-head, and that they were running along shore to Marvelhead, to which place they belonged, and where they expected to arrive the next morning. At last they told him he might come on board, which, as he could not do without assistance, the captain ordered two of his men to assist him; they conducted him aft on the quarter-deck, and left him resting against the companion. They were now for casting the boat adrift, but Purnell told them she was not above a month old, built at New York, and would well pay them for their trouble if they would hoist her in. To this they agreed, and having taken out the clothes that were left by the deceased, and thrown the two corpses overboard, they hoisted her in and made sail.

Being now on board, Purnell asked for a little water. Captain Castleman, who commanded the schooner, and had two sons on board, ordered one of them to bring him some, and thinking it too much, threw some of it away, and gave him the remainder, being the first fresh water he had tasted for twenty-three days. As he leaned against the companion all this time, he felt very cold, and begged to go below: they helped him down to the cabin, where they left him, leaning on the lockers, all hands being engaged in securing the boat. After this they made some soup for him, which he thought very good, but could eat but little; and, in consequence of his late draughts, he had broke out in many parts of his body, which put him in intense pain every time he stirred. They made a bed for him out of an old sail, and were very attentive. While they were at breakfast a squall came on, which called them all upon deck, and during their absence, Purnell took up a stone bottle, and without smelling or tasting it, but thinking it rum, took a hearty draught, and found it to be sweet oil.

They still ran along shore, with the land in sight, and were in great hopes of getting into port that night, but the wind dying away, they did not get in till about nine o'clock the next night. All this time Purnell remained like a child, some one or other always

with him, to give him whatever he wished to eat or drink.

As soon as they came to anchor, Captain Castleman went on shore, and returned the next morning with the owner, John Picket, Esq. Soon after they got Purnell into a boat, and carried him on shore, as he was still so feeble, that he was obliged to be supported by two men. Mr. Picket took a comfortable lodging, and hired a nurse to attend him; he was immediately put to bed, and in the course of the day was visited by every doctor in the town, who all gave him hopes of recovering, but that the stronger his constitution was, the longer time it would take to recover his strength; and though treated with every kindness and attention that humanity could dictate, it was three weeks before he was able to come down stairs. The nails of his fingers and toes withered to nothing, and it was many months before they began to grow again. The boat and oars were sold for ninety-five dollars, which paid all his expences, and procured him a passage to Boston.

Whale Hunting.

ONE of our party of mids, who has since turned out a valuable and enterprising officer, took it into his head to make a trip in one of the whale-boats of the Bermuda fishery. Having ascertained the time of starting, he obtained leave to go on shore, and completely succeeded in his object by being present at the capture of a whale. The monster, however, led them a considerable dance off to sea, and it was long after the time appointed for his return, when the youth made his appearance, delightfully perfumed with blubber, and with a glorious tale to tell of his day's adventure. This was voted by acclamation to be something like an expedition, and the youngster of course, gained great credit for his spirit.

I was one of another party, who, I suppose, being a little jealous of our companion's laurels, took the earliest opportunity of trying to signalize ourselves in a similar way. A monstrous whale was seen one morning playing about the Leander, in Murray's anchorage, at Bermuda, and of course, far within the belt of reefs that fringed the roadstead on its eastern and northern sides. How this great fellow had got into such a scrape we could not conjecture. Possibly, in placing himself alongside of the rugged coral ledges to scrub off the incrustations of shell-fish which torment these monsters of the deep, he had gradually advanced too far; or, more probably, he may have set out in pursuit of some small fry, and before he was aware of it, have threaded his way amongst this labyrinth of rocks, till escape was impossible. At all events, he now found himself in comparatively deep

water, from eight to ten fathoms, without any visible means of retreat from his coral trap. All hands crowded into the rigging to see the whale floundering about, till at length some one proposed-rashly enough certainly to pay him a visit in one of the ship's boats, with no better implements, offensive or defensive, than the ordinary boat-hooks. These are light poles with a pike, not unlike a shepherd's crook, at the end of them, and not bad things for fishing up a turtle, when caught napping, but slender reeds, in all conscience, against a fish forty or fifty feet long.

Away we went, however, in our wild-goose whale chase, without any precise idea as to what we were to do if we should come up with the game. When we got near the great leviathan, his aspect became more and more formidable; and it was necessary to think of some regular plan of attack, if any were to be made; as to defence, it may easily be imagined that was out of the question, for one whisk of his tail would have sent the cutter and her crew, boathooks, and all, spinning over the fore and yard-arm of the flag ship. All eyes were now upon us, and after a pause, it was agreed unanimously that we should run right on board of him, and take our chance. So we rowed forward, but the whale, whose back was then just showing above the water, like a ship keel upwards, perhaps not approving of our looks, or possibly not seeing us, slipped down clean out of sight, leaving only a monstrous whirlpool of oily-looking water, in the vortex of which we continued whirling round for some time, like great ninnies as we were, and gaping about us. At this time we were not above half a ship's length from the Leander, so that our disappointment caused a considerable amusement on board, and the people came down laughing from the rigging, where they had been perched to see the grand fight between the whale and the young gentlemen.

As we were lying on our oars, and somewhat puzzled what to do next, we beheld one of the most extraordinary sights in the world-at least I do not remember to have seen many things which have surprised me so much, or made a deeper impression on my memory. Our friend, the whale, probably finding the water disagreeably shallow, for, as I have said, it was not above fifty or sixty feet deep, or perhaps provoked at not being able to disentangle himself from the sharp coral reefs, or for some other reason of pleasure or of pain, suddenly made a spring out of the water. So complete was this enormous leap, that for an instant we saw him fairly up in the air, in a horizontal position, at a distance from the water not much short, I should think, of half his own breadth. His back, therefore, must have been at least twenty feet in perpendicular height over our heads. While in his progress upwards, there was in his spring

some touch of the vivacity with which a trout or a salmon shoots out of the water, but he fell back again on the sea like a huge log thrown on its broadside, and with such a thundering crash as made all hands stare in astonishment, and the boldest hold his breath for a time. Total demolition, indeed, must have been the inevitable fate of our party, had the whale taken his leap one minute sooner, for he would then have fallen plump on the boat. The waves caused by the explosion spread over half the anchorage; nor if the Leander herself had blown up, could the effects have extended much farther. As we rolled about in the cutter from side to side, we had time to balance the expediency of further proceedings against the tolerable chance of being smashed to atoms under the whale's belly at his next leap.

All idea of capturing him was now, of course, given up; if indeed, any such frantic notion could have seriously entered our heads. But our curiosity was vehemently aroused to witness such another feat, and after lying on our oars for some time, we once more detected the whale's back at a little distance from us.

"Let us poke him up again," cried one of the party. "Agreed, agreed!" roared the others, and away we dashed in hopes of producing a repetition of this singular exploit. The whale, however, did not choose to exhibit any more, though we were often near him. At last he fairly bolted, and took the direction of the north rock, hoping to make his escape by the narrow passage, known only to the most experienced pilots of these intricate regions.

Loss of the Francis Spaight, December, 1836.

THE Francis Spaight, a fine vessel of 345 tons burthen, laden with timber, sailed from St. John's, Newfoundland, on the 24th of November, 1836. The crew amounted to fourteen men, with the captain and mate, many of whom were indifferent hands. They were mostly Irish boatmen, trained on the Shannon-some from Kilrush, a few from the Tarbert, and one or two from Foynes. Nothing could be finer than the weather, for the first eight or ten days of the voyage; but it afterwards came on to blow so hard, that they were obliged to drive before the wind under a mizen-topsail.

At three o'clock in the morning of December 3, an alarm was raised by a cry and confusion on deck. The vessel, it appeared, either steering wild, through the carelessness of the helmsman, or perhaps from her bad trim, suddenly broached-to, and lay like a log in the trough of the sea. The day had not dawned at the time; it was still very dark, and the waves broke so frightfully over her, that the captain nor mate could not get the men to obey their directions; nor even when she was filling

rapidly with water, could he get them to the pumps. In less than an hour she lay on her beam-ends, the greater part of her crew saving themselves by climbing on her side, and clinging to the rigging. Pat. Cusack and Pat. Behane, however were drowned in the forecastle, and William Griffith, the mate, in the after cabin, into which he had gone accidently only a few minutes before. The captain, and a man named Murville, now got to the fore and mainmasts, and cut them away; the mizen-topmast went with them over the side, and the ship almost immediately righted. As soon as she righted, being already filled with water, she settled down in the sea, and there was scarcely any portion of her to be seen, except the poop and bulwarks. No situation could be more hopeless or miserable than that of the unfortunate crew, standing ancle deep on the wreck, in the depth of a winter's night, and clinging in the darkness to whatever was nearest, as sea after sea rolled successively over them; but they knew not the full horror of their condition, until the dawn of morning, for which all were looking eastward with intense anxiety. They then discovered that their provisions had been washed overboard, and as the hold was filled by the sea, they had no means of coming at any fresh water. The gale continued unabated through the morning, and the dreadful swell every now and then swept over the decks, so that for safety, as well as for shelter, they gathered into the cabin under the poop. Even here, she was so deep with water, that a dry plank could not be found on which they might lay; their only rest was by standing close together, huddled up, and leaning against one another. At about ten o'clock in the forenoon, a vessel was suddenly descried to the westward, and for some time it was thought possible her course might be near them, but she stood far away beyond the reach of signal, and was soon out of sight. That day and the next passed away without the slightest change in the weather. On the third it began to moderate, during the whole of which period they remained standing in the cabin, leaning against one another, or against the ship's sides, unable to take rest or sleep.

Their greatest suffering was hunger, or rather a sinking at the stomach, and from thirst, neither of which had they any conceivable means of allaying. There were fifteen hands alive, and of these, not one had tasted a morsel of food since the wreck; and for drink, they had only three bottles of wine, which were found in the cabin this was served out in wine-glasses at long intervals. There was some occasional rain, which they were not prepared at first for saving, getting but a scanty supply by holding the cover of a tureen under the mizenmast. Horrible as this situation was, it was made yet worse by the conduct of the crew towards one another. As their sufferings increased, they lost all command of

temper, and became cross and selfish in the extremesuch as were strong, securing a resting place on the cabin floor, and pushing aside those that were weak, to shift for themselves as they could in the wet and cold.

On the 19th of December, the sixteenth day since the wreck, and since they had tasted food, many of the men were gathering together in groups, and something seemed to be in agitation amongst them. The mystery was cleared up in the course of the day. When they all happened to be assembled in the cabin, the captain came off deck and seriously addressed them about their desperate condition. His opinion was, that one should suffer for the rest, and that lots should be drawn between the four boys, as they had no families, and could not be considered so great a loss to their friends as those who had wives and children depending on them. The lot having been cast, it fell upon a boy named O'Brien. The poor fellow heard the announcement without uttering a word. His face was very pale, but not a feature of it was changed. The men now told him he must prepare for death, and the captain said it was better it should be done by bleeding him in the arm, to which O'Brien made no objection. The captain then directed the cook, John Gorman, to do it, telling him it was his duty; but Gorman strenuously refused. He was, however, threatened with death himself by the men if he continued obstinate; and he at last consented. O'Brien then took off his jacket without waiting to be desired, and, after telling the crew, if any of them ever reached home, to tell his poor mother what had happened to him, bared his right arm. The cook cut his veins across twice with a small knife, but could bring no flow of blood, upon which there seemed much hesitation among the men as to what could be done. They were relieved by the boy himself, who immediately desired the cook to give him the knife, as he could not be looking at them putting him to pain. When he got the knife, and was about to cut the vein, the captain recommended him to try his left arm, which he accordingly did. He attempted to open the vein at the bend of the elbow, with the point of the knife, as a surgeon would, but, like the cook, he failed in bringing blood. A dead consternation now fell upon all; but in a minute or two the captain said, "This is all of no use; 'tis better to put him out of pain by at once bleeding him in the throat," and some of them said it was true. At this O'Brien, for the first time, looked terrified, and begged hard that they would not do so, but give him a little time. He said he was cold and weak, but if they would let him lie down and sleep for a little time, he would get warm, and then he should bleed freely. To this wish there was some expression of dissent from the men, and the captain shortly after said to them, "that it was useless leaving the boy this way in