The gale was now approaching to a hurricane; but as the Etna sailed bravely, she was hauled to the wind on the port tack.
"Double reef the fore and main-topsail, and lower the yards down on the cap!" was now the order of Stanley.
In a minute after this she gave a mighty lurch, and rolled right over on her beam-ends to starboard, and thus she lay helplessly, with her mast-heads in the sea, the waves of which were roaring, bellowing, and foaming, as if each was rivalling the other in efforts to sink or rend her to pieces.
Clinging to the larboard side of the poop, I got upon the mizen rattlins, which were still a few feet above the sea, and there, though drenched with the spray which flew in showers over me, I had time to breathe—-to utter a few pious invocations—to collect my thoughts and look about me.
I beheld, so far as the darkness, the drifting spray, and the incessant motion of the foundering ship permitted me, a scene of horror, such as I had often read of—often imagined—but never expected to witness or experience. Shrieks to God for aid, mingled with the hollow bellowing of the wind and the roar of the destroying waves, as man after man was torn from the rattlins, the yards, or timber-heads, as the death-clutch failed, and he was swept away into the waste of water, or was dashed again and again by succeeding waves against the wreck. All this when viewed through the darkness of a tempestuous night was terrible—beyond all description terrible!
Wave after wave burst in thundering volume over me, confusing, drenching, and benumbing me; yet I clung desperately to my perch in the mizen rattlins, which were now horizontal, and with each successive sea that struck the wreck sank lower and lower in the water.
Life I wanted now—life under any circumstances, however wretched! Every thought, energy, and faculty became excited, and merged in the passionate longing for life, for self-preservation.
A portion of the maintopsail was still above water; but a mighty wave burst into it and tore away the now horizontal mast with all its gear, and swept it far from the ship into darkness, and with it went poor Stanley and four of his seamen.
By this time I could only see four other men clinging to different parts of the wreck. I called to them repeatedly, but without receiving an answer. They seemed to be stupified. As Falconer says,—
A while they bore th' overwhelming billow's rage
Unequal combat with their fate to wage;
Till all benumb'd and feeble they forego
Their slippery holds, and sink to shades below,