duced by the idea
of our approaching destruction.

On the morning of the 17th, the sun appeared free from clouds. After
having addressed our prayers to the Eternal, we divided among us a
part of our wine. Each, with delight, was taking his small portion,
when a captain of infantry, casting his eyes on the horizon, perceived
a ship, announced it to us by an exclamation of joy. We knew it to be
a brig, but it was at a great distance; we could distinguish the
masts. The sight of this vessel revived in us emotions difficult to
describe. Each believed his deliverance sure, and we gave a thousand
thanks to God. Fears, however, mingled with our hopes. We straightened
some hoops of casks, to the ends of which we fixed handkerchiefs of
different colors. A man, with our united assistance, mounted to the
top of the mast, and waved these little flags. For more than half an
hour, we were tossed between hope and fear. Some thought the vessel
grew larger, and others were convinced its course was from us. These
last were the only ones whose eyes were not blinded by hope, for the
ship disappeared.

From the delirium of joy, we passed to that of despondency and sorrow.
We envied the fate of those whom we had seen perish at our sides; and
we said to ourselves, 'When we shall be in want of everything, and
when our strength begins to forsake us, we will wrap ourselves up as
well as we can, we will stretch ourselves on this platform, the
witness of the most cruel sufferings, and there await death with
resignation.' At length, to calm our despair, we sought for
consolation in the arm of sleep. The day before, we had been scorched
by the beams of a burning sun: to-day, to avoid the fierceness of his
rays, we made a tent with the main-sail of the frigate. As soon as it
was finished, we laid ourselves under it; thus all that was passing
without was hid from our eyes. We proposed then to write upon a plank
an abridgement of our adventures, and to add our names at the bottom
of the recital, and fix it to the upper part of the mast, in the hope
it would reach the government and our families.

After having passed two hours, a prey to the most cruel reflections,
the master gunner of the frigate, wishing to go to the front of the
raft, went out from below the tent. Scarcely had he put out his head,
when he turned to us, uttering a piercing cry. Joy was painted upon
his face; his hands were stretched towards the sea; he breathed with
difficulty. Al