Darkness began to set in, and I soon lost sight of everybody and everything except the light on Cape Schanck. With the daylight fled my hope of a life-boat coming to our assistance. I had all along been under the impression that the sinking of our ship had been seen by the people in the lighthouse, and that it was only a question of time when help would come. I began to give way to despondency! While the daylight lasted I expected assistance, and my attention, when not struggling under water, was taken up watching my mates and the shore. Now night had come, and I felt as if I were left alone in the midst of the raging waters. Was it worth while trying to continue what seemed to be a hopeless struggle for life? I thought of my poor wife, who, just then, would be expecting me home! I remembered, too, that Captain Mathieson—who knew my life was insured—had asked me, on the way from Melbourne to Port Albert, if I had made my will. When I told him “No,” he said, “You should have done so, as no one knows what may occur.” I gave little heed to his words at the time, but now they seemed to have all the meaning of a presentiment. Under the circumstances, thoughts like these were anything but cheering, but nevertheless I made up my mind that, while God gave me strength, I would battle on to the end. My raft, through being so frequently turned over, had got reduced to three boards and the crosspiece. At first I thought this was a misfortune, but I found that, being smaller, it was more easily managed, and less liable to be capsized. The wind began to be very cold, and a heavy shower of rain came on. As I lay on my boards, the raindrops felt to me like spots of ice as they fell upon my body. Strange as it may seem, I believe I must have perished with the cold, but the frequent washings off the raft, and my struggles in swimming to get on again, always kept my blood in circulation, and made me feel fairly warm. Meanwhile, the tide was slowly setting me down towards Cape Schanck, I saw the light burning brightly, and it seemed no great distance off. As I drew nearer and nearer, the breakers I got amongst were terribly heavy. From the peculiar thunder-like roar they made in rushing along, I could hear them coming in time to get ready for them. This I did by turning myself on the raft with my head and face seaward. These tremendous waves generally ran in threes, one after the other in succession. The first would dash me off my boards and bury me in a half-senseless state under water; then by the time I got to the surface again, and had a breath or two, the second sea would be on me, repeating the burying process, so that I used to reckon the third would completely finish me. After recovering from these dashings my next great trouble was to find my boards. I was anxious to keep them, as they not only gave me a rest, but they also seemed to be kind of company for me. In the dark I could see them always a little distance off; as they shone