across to Brenton’s Reef, on the other side. Up anchor, hoist away the jib. Here we go, again coursing o’er the blue water. How the wind lulls. Whew—whew—whew—blow wind, blow! Put her a little more before it; that will do. Hallo, you, Scipio! wake up—wake up. Here we are, close on the reef—give her plenty of cable. Let her just swing clear, to lay our sinkers on the rocks. That will do. How the surges swell, and roar, and, recoiling, rush again boiling on the rocks. So—so, they don’t bite well here to-day. The tide comes in too strong flood; well, we can’t complain, we have had good sport even as it is. Come, Africa, bear a hand; let’s see what you have got in that big basket. Come, turn out, turn out. Ham, chicken, smoked salmon, bread and butter; and in that black bottle?—ay, good old brown stout? Pass them along—pass them along, and wo be unto thee, old fellow, if thy commissariat falls short. BRENTON’S REEF. With what sullen and continuous roar the ocean waves heave in upon this inhospitable reef. See, as they recede, how the long slimy rock-weed hangs dripping, and how deeply the returning surge buries it again. Oh, never shall I forget the scene upon this horrid reef, witnessed in my boyhood. A dark portentous day in autumn, was followed in the evening by a terrific storm. Low, muttering thunder, which had been growling in the distant horizon, as the night set in, grew louder. The perfect stillness which had obtained, as if in preparation, was broken by long moaning sighs; the lightning became quick and incessant, and ere long, the tempest, like an unchained demon, came bounding in from Ocean. The lightning intensely vivid, accompanied by crashing and terrific thunder, illuminated the surrounding coast with glittering splendour; the islands, the rocks, and yon beacon tower, now exposed to brightness, surpassing noon-day, and now plunged into blackest darkness. The ocean appeared a sea of molten fire. Rain—hail—dashed hissing by, and mid the screaming of the blast, and the torrents rushing from the skies, the huge waves plunged, and roared, and lashed in milky whiteness, broke mast high upon these horrid rocks. While the fishermen in their cottages were thanking their stars that they were snug and safe on shore, we heard in the temporary lulls of the howling storm, signal guns of distress. The neighbouring inhabitants, myself among the number, were soon upon that point, and by the glittering flashes within musket shot of the shore, discerned a Spanish ship on the very ridge of the frightful reef—the stumps of her masts alone remaining—the surf running and breaking in a continual deluge over her, while in her fore shrouds were congregated the unhappy crew. She was so near to us, that we could almost see the expression of agony in their countenances, as, with extended hands they piteously shrieked for help. Their situation was hopeless. We could do nothing for them. No whale-boat could have lived for a moment, the surf