lement for not more speedily performing its office of
destruction,--the binnacle, by one of those many lurches which were
driving everything movable from side to side of the vessel, was suddenly
wrenched from its fastenings, and all the apparatus of the compass
dashed to pieces upon the deck; on which one of the young mates,
emphatically regarding it for a moment, cried out with the emotion so
natural to a sailor under such circumstances, "What! is the _Kent's_
compass really gone?" leaving the bystanders to form, from that omen,
their own conclusions. One promising young officer of the troops was
seen thoughtfully removing from his writing-case a lock of hair, which
he composedly deposited in his bosom; and another officer procuring
paper and pens, addressed a short communication to his father, which was
afterwards carefully enclosed in a bottle, in the hope that it might
eventually reach its destination, with the view, as he stated, of
relieving him from the long years of fruitless anxiety and suspense
which our melancholy fate would awaken, and of bearing his humble
testimony, at a moment when his sincerity could scarcely be questioned,
to the faithfulness of that God in whose mercy he trusted, and whose
peace he largely enjoyed in the tremendous prospect of immediate
dissolution.[3] It was at this appalling instant, when "all hope that we
should be saved was then taken away," and when the letter referred to
was about being committed to the waves, that it occurred to Mr. Thomson,
the fourth mate, to send a man to the fore-top, rather with the ardent
wish than the expectation, that some friendly sail might be
discovered on the face of the waters. The sailor, on mounting, threw his
eyes round the horizon for a moment--a moment of unutterable
suspense--and waving his hat exclaimed, "A sail on the lee bow!" The
joyful announcement was received with deep-felt thanksgivings, and with
three cheers, upon deck. Our flags of distress were instantly hoisted,
and our minute guns fired; and we endeavoured to bear down under our
three top-sails and fore-sail upon the stranger, which afterwards proved
to be the _Cambria_,[4] a small brig of 200 tons burden, Captain Cook,
bound to Vera Cruz, having on board twenty or thirty Cornish miners, and
other agents of the Anglo-Mexican Company.

[Illustration: The ship the Kent Indiaman is on fire--Elizabeth Joanna &
myself commit our spirits into the hands of our blessed Redeemer.

His gra