Two weeks previous to this storm an aged colonist from New Haven, had arrived with his son at the island on which Newport now stands. The advantages of that situation for sea-bathing, at this day so thoroughly known and tested, had even at that early period been discovered, and the season being spring, their object was to make arrangements for putting up a rude bathing-house for the accommodation of invalids. During the storm described, the pair had remained for shelter on board their schooner, which, anchored as she was, had hard work to live through the anger of the elements. At length, however, after four or five hours, their rage began to abate: the wind gradually blew less and less wildly, the clouds commenced to disperse, and the shower to fall more quietly. Finally, the sun broke through his shroud of darkness, a pleasant calm succeeded, and the only rain-drops perceptible were those which clung to the dripping masts and sides of the schooner, and the rocks and shrubbery on the island. As the old man and his son looked around them, the sea swelled and heaved with the agitation of the recent storm, the effects of which upon the waves had been too violent to subside for many hours. The tide poured along a surf deafening to hear, and bewildering to behold. The sea came on toward the beach in swells, rather than waves, as though the whole flood were pouring on in one huge body, rising gradually as it neared, towering above the high ridge, drawing back for an instant, and standing as a wall of water, it poured down like some mighty cataract. All at once, the young man started and exclaimed, “God in Heaven! father, there is a vessel drifting upon the opposite strand.” The old man perceived an object among the tide. He took his spy-glass and looked through it. “She is dismasted,” he said, “nothing but her hulk is left upon the water.” “And drifting against the breakers,” cried his son, in horror, “without the slightest means of weathering the point!” “She makes no attempt,” replied the other, “she must be deserted by her crew.” “No open boat could have existed through such a storm as is just past, all must have perished.” “Most probably,” answered the old man, with the mild composure of his years. The hulk was now in the midst of the current, and drifting rapidly toward the strand. Their sight of it, however, was still indistinct: though from the black speck it had at first appeared, it grew a visible object. At length, they could perceive that it was a freight or passenger vessel, unfitted for defense, for there were no port-holes discernible. She had evidently been dismasted in the storm, and lay water-logged upon the waves, at the mercy of their violence. The crew, finding themselves unable to guide her, or relieve the leak, had taken to their boats and left the ship to her fate.