"Arrived at the beach, he saw at once that the loss of nearly all on board, between five hundred and six hundred, was inevitable, without some one to direct them. The principal officers of the ship had abandoned their charge and got on shore just as he arrived on the beach. Having urged them, but without success, to return to their duty, and vainly offered rewards to pilots and others belonging to the port to board the wreck--for all thought it too hazardous to be attempted--he exclaimed, 'Then I will go myself!' A single rope, by which _the officers_ and a few others had landed, formed the only communication with the ship, and by this he was hauled on board through the surf. The danger was greatly increased by the wreck of the masts which had fallen towards the shore, and he received an injury in the back which confined him to his bed for a week, in consequence of being dragged under the main mast. But, disregarding this at the time, he reached the deck, declared himself and assumed the command. He assured the people that every one would be saved if they quietly obeyed his orders; that he himself would be the last to quit the wreck, but that he would run any one through who disobeyed him. His well-known name, with the calmness and energy he displayed, gave confidence to the despairing multitude. He was received with three hearty cheers, which were echoed by the multitude on shore, and his promptitude and resource soon enabled him to find and apply the means by which all might be safely landed. His officers, in the meantime, though not knowing that he was on board, were exerting themselves to bring assistance from the _Indefatigable_. Mr. Pellowe, first lieutenant, left the ship in the barge, and Mr. Thomson, acting master, in the launch; but the boats could not be brought alongside the wreck and were obliged to run for the Barbican. A small boat belonging to a merchant vessel was more fortunate. Mr. Esdell, signal midshipman to the port admiral, and Mr. Coghlan, mate of the (merchant) vessel, succeeded, at the risk of their lives, in bringing her alongside. The ends of two additional hawsers were got on shore, and Sir Edward contrived cradles, to be slung upon them, with travelling ropes to pass forward and backward between the ship and the beach. Each hawser was held on shore by a number of men, who watched the rolling of the wreck, and kept the ropes tight and steady. Meantime a cutter had with great difficulty worked out of Plymouth Pool, and two large boats arrived from the dockyard, under the directions of Mr. Hemmings, the master-attendant, by whose caution and judgment they were enabled to approach the wreck, and received the more helpless of the passengers who were carried to the cutter. Sir Edward, with his sword drawn, directed the proceedings and preserved order, a task the more difficult as the soldiers had got at the spirits before he came on board and many were drunk. The children, the women and the sick were the first landed.