y watching the same appearance, but when he inquired of him
what it meant, he received a very short uncourteous reply, together
with a command from the captain who was by, to go back to his post. He
did so, and not long after the man on the bowsprit once more called
out, that notwithstanding the thick fog he saw a light distinctly;
Stewart looked in the direction the sailor pointed out, and plainly
saw the glimmer of the friendly beacon, and knew it at once as the
signal placed to warn ships from approaching too near the cliffs which
lined the shore. Notwithstanding his first repulse, he approached the
pilot a second time; but he met with a second repulse;--he was
answered--"Sir, I have been royal pilot on this coast for twenty-five
years, and I ought to know where I am." The captain too, in a sterner
manner then before, commanded Stewart to return to his watch. The
lieutenant dared utter no further remonstrance, but with a heart,
heavy with sad forebodings, busied himself to keep up the failing
spirits of his men who were as apprehensive of the threatened danger
as himself. And his sad foreboding was only too soon fulfilled, for
whilst the pilot imagined his vessel to be sailing on the open sea,
she was already among the rocks that lay but a mile and an half from
the coast, but yet were sixty distant from the roadstead by which they
were to enter Halifax.

By midnight, Stewart felt himself so fairly exhausted by cold and long
watching, that he left the quarter deck, and went below to snatch, if
possible, a few minutes sleep. He had been in his cabin only long
enough to change his damp clothing for dry, when a fearful crash told
him the ship had struck upon the rocks. In a moment he was back on the
quarter deck. He found that a surging billow had struck the hinder
part of the ship, tore off part of the sheathing, and carried away the
watch-house in which two women were sleeping--all efforts to rescue
them were in vain. Whilst the storm-tossed ocean raged and foamed
around the devoted ship, and night shrouded all objects in her veil of
impenetrable darkness, wild shrieks and cries arose from the women and
children, increasing the horrors of the moment, and filled the
stoutest hearted among the mariners and soldiers with dread and
despair. Among the soldiers all discipline was at an end, and in many
families this hour of terrors had loosed the bonds of affection and
dependence, that until now had subsisted for years. The