ute_, which was under orders to take out
stores and convicts to New South Wales. In a chatty, affectionate letter
written to his widowed mother, from on shipboard at the Cape while on
the voyage out, he says,--"I have no expectation, after the promotion
that took place before I left England, of finding myself master and
commander on my return." After speculating as to what might happen in
the meantime while he was so far from home, and expressing an anxiety
which was but natural on the part of an enterprising young officer eager
for advancement in his profession, he proceeded,--"Politics must take a
great turn, I think, by the time of my return. War will likely be begun;
in that case we may bring a prize in with us. But our foresight is
short--and mine particularly so. I hardly ever look forward to beyond
three months. 'Tis in vain to be otherwise, for Providence, which
directs all things, is inscrutable." And he concluded his letter
thus,--"Now for Port Jackson. I shall sail to-night if the wind is fair.
God for ever bless you."

But neither Riou nor the ill-fated _Guardian_ ever reached Port
Jackson! A fortnight after setting sail from the Cape, while the ship
was driving through a thick fog (in lat. 44.5, long. 41) a severe
shock suddenly called Riou to the deck, where an appalling spectacle
presented itself. The ship had struck upon an iceberg. A body of
floating ice twice as high as the masthead was on the lee beam, and
the ship appeared to be entering a sort of cavern in its side. In a
few minutes the rudder was torn away, a severe leak was sprung, and
all hands worked for bare life at the pumps. The ship became
comparatively unmanageable, and masses of overhanging ice threatened
every moment to overwhelm her. At length, by dint of incessant
efforts, the ship was extricated from the ice, but the leak gained
fearfully, and stores, cattle, guns, booms, everything that could be
cut away, was thrown overboard.

It was all in vain. The ship seemed to be sinking; and despair sat on
every countenance save that of the young commander. He continued to
hope even against hope. At length, after forty-eight hours of
incessant pumping, a cry arose for "the boats," as presenting the only
chance of safety. Riou pleaded with the men to persevere, and they
went on bravely again at the pumps. But the dawn of another day
revealed so fearful a position of affairs that the inevitable
foundering of the ship seemed to be a matter of mi