crossed our mind, which, even in spite of our consciousness to the late mercy, extended itself to ourselves; for although we felt an honest anxiety for the lives of our captain and his crew, yet we depended on them as a means, and, indeed, the only probable means, of our own escape from this unknown shore. In these contemplations, and suspense, we continued for some hours; during which time I fortunately thought I would try the pumps : the brake of the starboard pump had been shipped, but its bolt was twisted by some violence, so that it would not work: I could not find the other brake; and with great difficulty, after much hard exertion, I got the brake out, and shipped it with the bolt in the lee pump. I then went to work, and there was plenty to do; I kept pumping till I was quite exhausted, and the water still came up as abundantly as ever. I concluded the brig's bottom must be stove in, so that if we should beat off the reef into deep water, we must sink and go down.

About ten o'clock in the forenoon, the breeze began to set in from the sea, nearly E.N.E., and the brig worked fore and aft. I told my wife what my fears were, and that if it so happened, we must endeavour to get up the fore-rigging; as the water in-shore of us could not be very deep, and take the chance from thence of any escape that might offer. She pressed my hand, and looked like an angel in my face, but spoke not a word.

The sea-breeze freshened, and the sea beat a little on the weather side of the brig. In half an hour her stern swung off into deep water, and she hung by the bow. We now righted, that is to

say, the vessel became upright in the water, and, although no seaman, I had sailed enough to know something about it; I therefore immediately went to the tiller to see if the rudder was gone, which I had every reason to expect, but it was not; and at this discovery I rejoiced greatly, exclaiming, "The rudder is safe; that's well!" My wife did not precisely understand this, but she felt security in my look, and she thanked and blessed God for his goodness. The sea-breeze blew more freshly, but we hung by the fore-foot on the edge of the reef, which no doubt was higher than astern. At length the brig broke adrift, having most likely torn off her false keel forward, and perhaps some of the coral rock which had held her. I was now all amaze; I did not know what to do. "We must be patient, Edward," said my dear wife; "we shall go quietly on the sand." The brig continued to drift in upon a point of rock, close to which we saw a little rivulet. On this rock I expected to be dashed in pieces, but the current, which was setting us on that point, also directed us past it to the southward; so that the brig drifted between the reef to the eastward, and the long beach to the westward, down towards the perpendicular mountainous height, which we had so attentively fixed our eyes on early in the morning, as forming the southern extremity of the sandy extension. I was desirous to get the brig under some command: there was something dragging astern; but finding the forestaysail yet untorn, although the sheet had been carried away, I got the weather sheet over, and was able to set the sail: the vessel's head now paid

off, and she would steer; I therefore made up my mind to keep on as far as I could with safety, hoping to see some inlet, as the current proved there must be a passage somewhere; but if I could not discover one, to bump her on the sandy beach. She went along cleverly, for a vessel almost a wreck; that is, she was not at all water-logged, and consequently in no danger of sinking; hence on that score my great fear was removed. I soon approached the mountainous promontory, which seemed to stand up before me like a vast giant, to obstruct my further progress: I therefore determined to bump her on shore. The wind, by striking against the high land, blew directly from east, which favoured my intention. I then put the helm up, and that, together with the fore-staysail, brought her head west, and I ran for the beach close under the promontory. How great my joy when I discovered an inlet, not twice the vessel's breadth. I pushed into it, and in a few minutes found myself at the end of a little cove, with rocks and fragments of rocks on my larboard side, and a fine sandy beach on my right, with the same ahead. Here the brig struck, and stuck fast with her bow: the shock threw myself and my wife forward with great violence; and we were both more bruised by this happy event, than by all the tossings and tumblings we had experienced during the hurricane. "Blessed be God!" cried I, getting up and shaking myself: but my dear Eliza was stunned, and it was some time before she recovered her senses. Eventful as our situation was, I thought of nothing but her: I sat down by her, and

rubbed her hands between mine: she looked up and smiled; then raising her arm over my neck, and kissing my forehead, as she was often wont to do, said, "I thank God you are safe, my Edward!"

CHAP. III.

We saw ourselves at length delivered from the perils of the ocean, and placed in a state of security: we raised our hearts to the fountain of mercy, and blessed God in thankfulness. It was, however, some time before we could collect ourselves: we looked back upon the ocean, and the reef, and the rocky islands, from whose horrors we so lately had escaped, with strong emotions still partaking of terror, although now in safety; and this feeling was somewhat increased by the immediate sight of the immense cliffs, which towered over the masthead of the brig, as if ready to fall upon us. But it was not long before our self-possession completely returned: we were in a snug place, and the sea all on this side of the reef, to far beyond us, perfectly smooth: our fears, therefore, gradually dissipated; we felt ourselves under God's protection, and were at ease.

"Poor Fidele!" suddenly exclaimed my wife, "it is only now that I remember thee! I will go down into the cabin, and see what has become of my faithful little dog." "Yes, my Eliza," replied I," we will go down together; and as we are in a safe place here, where the sea cannot break in upon the vessel, I will get out the dead lights,