The next morning a midshipman and ten men were sent to relieve me, and to take charge of the barque, which proved to be a vessel bound for Bristol. Sad was the tale she would have to convey to the wives and families of her officers and crew. On the 20th a signal of distress was seen flying on board one of our convoy. A couple of boats were manned, and I pulled away to her assistance. As we got near we saw the crew waving to us, some in the rigging, and some leaning over the sides. Her boats, I concluded, had been knocked to pieces in a gale. At all events none were lowered. The people waved and shouted more vehemently than ever. They had good reason for so doing. I saw by the way that the vessel was labouring, and by her depth in the water, that she was on the point of sinking. Already she had given one or two ominous rolls. I cried out to my men to pull up alongside as fast as they could. We were soon up to her. "Leap, leap!" was the shout. I was afraid that the boats might get foul of some of the rigging, or be drawn into the vortex. Not a moment was to be lost. The merchantman's crew saw their danger, and threw themselves headlong over the bulwarks. The deck was already almost awash with the sea. Some reached the boats unhurt, others got much bruised, and two poor fellows plunged into the water. One of them sank before we could get hold of him, and the other we had considerable difficulty in saving from the vortex made by the foundering ship. "Shove off! shove off!" I had to cry out. "Give way--give way, my lads!" We had barely time to get clear of the vessel before she gave a terrific roll, her stern lifted, and down she went, as if dragged by some invisible power towards the depths of the ocean. We hurried back to the Charon, without attempting to pick up anything, for the weather was coming on bad, and the boats were already as full as they could hold. I could not help remarking how little the men seemed to care for the loss of their ship. Most of them grumbled about losing their bags, but as to any thought of gratitude for their preservation, it did not seem to occur to them that there was any necessity for feeling it. Had no other ship been near, or had their vessel gone down in the night, not one of them would have been saved. "Oh, they are a precious rough lot, are my men," observed the master. "There's nothing they wouldn't do, and nothing they care for."