ow to the Bridgewater to make
arrangements for the rescue of the wrecked people. The gig, in which he
attempted to carry out this plan, was compelled to lie at a little
distance from the ship, to prevent being stove in; so he jumped overboard
and swam to her. She leaked badly, and there was nothing with which to
bale her out but the hats and shoes of the ship's cook and two other men
who had taken refuge under the thwarts. Flinders steered towards the
Bridgewater's lights, but she was standing off, and it was soon seen to
be impossible to reach her. It was also unsafe to return to the Porpoise
through the breakers in the darkness; so that the boat was kept on the
water outside the reef till morning, the small party on board being
drenched, cold under a sharp south-easter, and wretchedly miserable.
Flinders did his best to keep up their spirits, telling them that they
would undoubtedly be rescued by the Bridgewater at daylight; but he
occupied his own mind in devising plans for saving the wrecked company in
case help from that ship was not forthcoming.

Meanwhile blue lights had been burnt on the ship every half-hour, as a
guide to the Bridgewater, whose lights were visible till about two
o'clock in the morning. Fowler also occupied time in constructing a raft
from the timbers, masts and yards of the Porpoise. "Every breast," says
Smith's narrative, "was filled with horror, continual seas dashing over
us with great violence." Of the Cato nothing could be seen. She had
struck, not as the Porpoise had done, with her decks towards the reef,
but opposed to the full force of the lashing sea. Very soon the planks
were torn up and washed away, and the unfortunate passengers and crew
were huddled together in the forecastle, some lashed to timber heads,
others clinging to any available means of support, and to each other,
expecting every moment that the stranded vessel would be broken asunder.
In Smith's expressive words, the people were "hanging in a cluster by
each other on board the wreck, having nothing to take to but the
unmerciful waves, which at this time bore a dreadful aspect."

At dawn, Flinders climbed on to the Porpoise by the help of the fallen
masts. As the light grew, it was seen that about half a mile distant lay
a dry sandbank above high-water mark, sufficiently large to receive the
whole company, with such provisions as could be saved from the ship.
Orders were at once given to remove to this patch, that gave pr