on the water with a ring of phosphorus around them. I feel certain that if I had been unable to get on to my boards during the short intervals (about fifteen minutes) between these terrible breakers I would not have had sufficient strength left to resist them. I think it must have been about midnight when I was off the Schanck, but time seemed to be getting beyond my comprehension. I fancied that away back in the dim past I had seen, as in a dream, the _Alert_ sink and leave us all to struggle each one for himself. Then, as I gradually remembered the event took place only a few hours before, the thoughts arose where were my mates and how many of them living. Were they, like myself, still battling for life, or had they all perished in the pitiless storm? The gale seemed now at its height, and my heart sank within me as I reflected that assistance from the shore had become an impossibility. No boat could face and live in such a sea as now swept along with a force at least double that of the time when the ship went down. How I longed for daylight! But would it ever come for me, or any of my companions? If to be rescued depended on endurance, then I felt sure the chief officer, Mr. Hodges, would be almost certain to hold out, for he was, far more than ordinary, a powerful man, and his action, up to the period of the vessel leaving us, showed he was clearly and collectedly helping everyone, and preparing for the worst. Whether the foregoing thoughts crowding in on me, caused me to be less watchful, or whether the continued strain on brain and muscle made me stupid and weak, I cannot say, but in the midst of my reflections I got caught in a sort of swirl, or whirlpool. I was rapidly turned round and round, then quickly, raft and all, sucked under water. Whilst below _this_ time I felt, as my boards were wrenched away from my instinctive, but nerveless grasp, that all was over. Thanks, however, to my life-belt, more than my own exertions, I was thrown to the surface just as I was choking for want of air. Some minutes after, my boards came up a little distance off, and I managed with great difficulty to reach them and drag myself on top again. As I lay on my raft, resting and trying to collect my scattered senses, I turned my head shoreward, for a bit, to watch the Cape Schanck light. I had not been able, during the forepart of the night, to see the light continuously owing to the heavy showers of rain which had passed over. Now I began to realise that it seemed farther off than before. I was getting into comparatively smoother water, and this fact together with the receding light told me plainly that the tide was carrying me seaward. While nearing the light it helped to revive my drooping spirits—not that I expected any help from it, for by this time I had abandoned all idea that the lighthouse people could assist—but still the sight of it, gleaming out like a “star of hope,” encouraged me to struggle on.