The Magpie, commanded by Lieutenant Edward Smith, was lost during a hurricane in the West Indies, in 1826. At the moment of the vessel going down, a gunner's mate of the name of Meldrum struck out and succeeded in reaching a pair of oars that were floating in the water; to these he clung, and, having divested himself of a part of his clothing, he awaited, in dreadful anxiety, the fate of his companions. Not a sound met his ear; in vain his anxious gaze endeavored to pierce the gloom, but the darkness was too intense. Minutes appeared like hours, and still the awful silence remained unbroken: he felt, and the thought was agony, that, out of the twenty-four human beings who had so lately trod the deck of the schooner, he alone was left. This terrible suspense became almost beyond the power of endurance; and he already began to envy the fate of his companions, when he heard a voice at no great distance inquiring if there was any one near. He answered in the affirmative; and, pushing out in the direction from whence the sound proceeded, he reached a boat to which seven persons were clinging; among whom was Lieutenant Smith, the commander of the sloop. So far, this was a subject of congratulation; he was no longer alone; but yet the chances of his ultimate preservation were as distant as ever. The boat, which had been placed on the booms of the schooner, had, fortunately, escaped clear of the sinking vessel, and, if the men had waited patiently, was large enough to have saved them all; but the suddenness of the calamity had deprived them of both thought and prudence. Several men had attempted to climb in on one side; the consequence was, the boat heeled over, became half filled with water, and then turned keel uppermost; and, when Meldrum reached her, he found some stretched across the keel, and others hanging on by the sides. Matters could not last long in this way; and Mr. Smith, seeing the impossibility of any of the party being saved if they continued in their present position, endeavored to bring them to reason, by pointing out the absurdity of their conduct. To the honor of the men, they listened with the same respect to their commander as if they had been on board the schooner; those on the keel immediately relinquished their hold, and succeeded, with the assistance of their comrades, in righting the boat. Two of their number got into her, and commenced baling with their hats, while the others remained in the water, supporting themselves by the gunwales.