It was two hours after midnight when the ‘Kent’ blew up; all the individuals of the regiment and of the crew that it had been possible to save were now on board the “Cambria;” their number, however, was diminished by sixty-eight men, one woman, and twenty-one children:--about twenty of the former were left on the poop of the vessel, when it became unsafe for a vessel to approach her; whence, abandoning themselves to despair, they would make no exertion to escape; it was absolutely necessary therefore to leave them: others had thrown themselves into the sea, and were drowned before help could be extended to them, or had come in contact with part of the wreck and had been killed; while the anxiety of some few to board the “Cambria” lost them their lives;--they were jammed to death between the brig and the boats. The only woman lost was suffocated in the orlop deck, with her three children; she was not able to escape. Among the children lost there were four, three girls and a boy, the family of Serjeant Jack, an old and deserving soldier, who had seen much service with the second battalion in the Peninsula. While the women and children were being lowered into the boats, Mrs. Jack fell overboard; the serjeant leaped into the sea to save his wife, and was not able to return to the ship. In the confusion unavoidable on board, the children were overlooked; missing their parents, they had sought refuge, it is supposed, in the Colonel’s cabin, and no one knew, until it was too late, that they were still on board; for the soldiers were not backward in giving their aid to save the families of their comrades; there were instances of men who tied the children of their brother soldiers on their backs, and, leaping overboard, swam with their burdens to the boats. There were indeed proofs among the non-commissioned officers and soldiers of a fortitude, courage, and good-feeling that would have done honor to the highest station. It happened, however, that fourteen of the men, who had remained on the wreck, were picked up the following morning, clinging to some portions of it, by the “Caroline,” a vessel bound from the Mediterranean to Liverpool, and carried by her into that port. The lives lost amounted, therefore, to seventy-six, being two serjeants, two corporals, one drummer, forty-nine privates, one woman, and twenty-one children, as specified at page 82. The “Cambria” was of 200 tons only; notwithstanding her crowded state, she providentially reached Falmouth on the third day (the 4th March), when the regiment landed.