"After remaining here some minutes, the deck overhead was split open by the violence of the waves, which allowed the writer an opportunity of climbing out. This he instantly did, and assisted his wife through the same opening. As he had now left those below, he is unable to say how they were finally lost; but, as that part of the boat was very soon completely destroyed, their further sufferings could not have been much prolonged. We were now in a situation which, from the time the boat struck, we had considered as the most safe, and had endeavoured to attain. Here we resolved to await our uncertain fate. From this place we could see the encroachment of the devouring waves, every one of which reduced our thinned numbers, and swept with it parts of our crumbling boat. For several hours previously, the gale had been sensibly abating; and, for a moment, the pale moon broke through the dispersing clouds, as if to witness this scene of terror and destruction, and to show to the horror-stricken victims the fate that awaited them. How few were now left, of the many who, but a little before, inhabited our bark! While the moon yet shone, three men were seen to rush from the middle to the stern of the boat. A wave came rushing on. It passed over the deck. One only, of the three, was left. He attempted to gain his former position. Another wave came. He had barely time to reach a large timber, to which he clung, when this wave struck him, and he too was missing. As the wave passed away, the heads of two of these men were seen above the water; but they appeared to make no effort to swim. The probability is, that the violence with which they were hurled into the sea disabled them. They sunk to rise no more.
"During this time, Mr Lovegreen, of Charleston, continued to ring the boat's bell, which added if possible to the gloom. It sounded, indeed, like the funeral knell over the departed dead. Never before, perhaps, was a bell tolled at such a funeral as this. While in this situation, and reflecting on the necessity of being always prepared for the realities of eternity, our attention was arrested by the appearance of a lady, climbing upon the outside of the boat, abaft the wheel near where we were. Her head was barely above the deck on which we stood, and she was holding to it, in a most perilous manner. She implored help, without which she must soon have fallen into the deep beneath, and shared the fate of the many who had already gone. The writer ran to her aid, but was unable to raise her to the deck. Mr Woodburn, of New York, now came, and, with his assistance, the lady was rescued; she was then lashed to a large piece of timber, by the side of another lady, the only remaining place that afforded any prospect of safety. The former lady (Mrs Shroeder) was washed ashore on this piece of wreck, one of the two who survived. The writer having relinquished to this lady the place he had occupied, was compelled to get upon a large piece of the boat, that lay near, under the lee of the wheel; this was almost immediately driven from its place into the breakers, which instantly swept him from it, and plunged him deep into the water. With some difficulty he regained his raft. He continued to cling to this fragment, as well as he could, but was repeatedly washed from it. Sometimes when plunged deep into the water, he came up under it. After encountering all the difficulties that seemed possible to be borne, he was at length thrown on shore, in an exhausted state. At the time the writer was driven from the boat, there were but few left. Of these, four survived, _viz_. Mrs Shroeder and Mr Lovegreen, of Charleston; Mr Cohen, of Columbia; and Mr Vanderzee, of New York.