until a tremendous sea, striking her
astern, carried away her rudder and left her a helpless log on the
water. The sky had been so completely overcast since the commencement
of the gale, that neither the sun nor a star had been seen; consequently
no observations could be taken to tell where the ship was; but the
captain considered that she was west of the Natal bluff, and about fifty
miles from the land. The currents in this part are, however, so
variable and run sometimes with such force, that it is difficult,
without observations, to ascertain a ship's position.

The night was pitch dark, and every one in a state of great anxiety. No
one had undressed, all the passengers being huddled together in the
principal saloon. It must have been shortly after midnight when we
heard a great noise on deck, shouts and running about, and then came a
crash and a shock that made every sailor and passenger aware that a
great catastrophe had occurred.

I was lying on one of the fixed sofas, and was sent flying across the
cabin, and was considerably bruised; but the pain I experienced I
scarcely thought of, as my alarm was so great to hear the terrific rush
of water which struck the vessel, poured over her, and deluged the
cabin. Two or three times the ship rose, and then, with a crash of
smashing timbers, came down again, and was once more deluged with water.
"We have struck on a rock!" was the cry (such was the fact), "and shall
all be drowned."

As though satisfied with its victim, the storm ceased as suddenly as it
had risen; but the sea continued to break over us all night, and every
minute we expected the ship to break up. Had she not been a strong
teak-built ship, she would probably have gone to pieces long before
morning; but the sea gradually went down as the tide receded, and we at
length saw that day was breaking. By this time some of the most daring
among the male passengers removed the hatch that had been placed over
the gangway to keep the water out, and ventured on deck, when the full
extent of our disaster was visible. The ship's masts had all fallen,
and of the captain and crew only five sailors remained; the others had
been washed overboard, or had been killed by the falling masts. The
ship had struck on a ledge of rocks about half a mile from the shore,
and had then been carried over this into a sort of bay inside. As the
tide fell, this ledge acted as a sort of breakwater, and fully accounted
for the su