- ment, entreated the captain to take the boat on board, but
he coolly replied, "I can give them no assistance." Mr. Mumford said it would not be the work of a minute. "Back a sail, throw a rope overboard," cried the partners; the answer was, "No, I will not endanger the ship." We now felt convinced that the boat and crew were devoted to destruction—no advice was given them, no assistance offered, no reasons assigned for risking so cruel a sacrifice of human life—for the place where the boat met us was entirely free from the influence of the breakers, and a long way from the bar. It is impossible, therefore, to account for the cool indifference manifested towards the fated boat and her crew, unless we suppose that the mind of the captain was so absorbed in apprehension, and perplexed with anxiety at the danger which stared him in the face, and which he was about to encounter in a few minutes, that he could not be brought to give a thought to anything else but the safety of the ship.
During this time the ship was drawing nearer and nearer to the breakers, which called our attention {61} from the boat to look out for our own safety; but she was seen for some time struggling hard to follow the ship as we entered the breakers, the sight of which was appalling. On the ship making the first plunge, every countenance looked dismay; and the sun, at the time just sinking below the horizon, seemed to say, "Prepare for your last." Mr. Mumford was now ordered to the mast-head, to point out the channel. The water decreasing from 8 to 2-1/2 fathoms, she struck tremendously on the second reef or shoal; and the surges breaking over her stern overwhelmed everything on deck. Every one who could, sprang aloft, and clung for life to the rigging. The waves at times broke ten feet high over her, and at other times she was in danger
