As is not very unfrequently the case in that latitude, when off the Cape de Verd Islands, the ship was caught in a violent squall, when the chief mate, who was in charge of the deck, "luffed up," and had commenced to take in sail, till the skipper appeared on the scene, who, without giving himself sufficient time to consider, immediately put the ship before the wind. By this action the sails, which were being reefed, were refilled suddenly, with the result of several of the masts and spars being carried away; and the saddest thing was that several of the crew, who were aloft at the time, went overboard with the rigging, and three poor fellows were drowned, notwithstanding all that could be done to save them. I believe sailors recognize two ways of acting under these circumstances: the one what the mate did, to reduce sail; the other what the captain did, to run before the wind. As a land-lubber, I give no opinion between them; but a mixture of the two cannot help being fatal, as was the case with us. Never shall I forget the crash, crash, crash, of the falling masts. If, however, the skipper made a mistake this time, he showed himself quite equal to the occasion at a subsequent period of the voyage. He and I were pacing the poop together, when suddenly the cabin-boy came up and whispered something to him which I did not catch, but which had the effect of making him scuttle at double-quick time. In about a quarter of an hour he returned, saying, "What do you think I was wanted for?" Of course, I answered, "I do not know." "Why," he replied, "they had set fire to a cask of spirits in the lazaret." "What on earth did you do?" I said. "Well," says he, "I sat upon the bunghole." This move on his part had the effect of excluding the air, and, consequently, of extinguishing the fire. It was a quick, smart thing to do, and saved what would have been an awful catastrophe--a ship on fire at sea, with about five hundred souls on board, and not boat accommodation enough for one hundred. At the end of nearly a five months' voyage we found ourselves sailing up the beautiful Storm Bay, and never did land appear so lovely to my eyes before. The anchor was soon let down in the river Derwent, and the convict ship lay with her living freight off Hobart Town.