We had now nothing but death to look forward to, as the tide was rising fast, and would inevitably in a short time sweep us off her side, where we were all collected to the number of twenty-six, and only myself and one or two more free from dysentery. I expected so soon to be swept away, that I threw off my trousers and prepared for a swim, as I could see the land just on the horizon, and at any rate it was better to die endeavouring to save myself, than to be drowned without making any exertion. Most providentially, the brig righted gradually, until the mast lay in an angle of about forty-five degrees, and enabled us to get, some in the maintop, (where we found a little dog belonging to the mate,) and others on the mainyard. As soon as we got aloft, we began cutting the sails away, as they held an immense quantity of water, and would most likely on that account, cause the loss of the mast; we cut away the mainsail, trysail, and maintopsail, leaving only the masts and yards to hang on the mainmast, as with these we intended to make a raft. The tide continued rising upon us, until half the top was under water, and hope was almost dead within us, when to our inexpressible joy, we found the tide ceased to flow; no time was however to be lost, as in these places there is very little slack water, so we that could swim, immediately set to work, and collected all the spars and booms, masts and yards, we could, (for the rigging still held the topmast, &c.,) intending, when the tide had ebbed enough, to get on the wreck, which we expected would be almost dry at low water, and make a stout raft. We could see some fishing-boats in the distance; but these, though they must have seen our disastrous situation, appeared to make no attempt to come to our assistance. From so many being sick, and from the Lascars refusing to assist us, we had very few left to work, and before we had collected many spars, the ebb tide began to run so strong, that we were obliged to leave off, and take to the maintop again; the spars we did get, we secured together, and made fast in such a manner that the tide could not carry them away. We now sat down again on the top, with hearts most thankful that we had still a little hope left. This was about four in the afternoon, and in half an hour or so afterwards, the jolly-boat came in sight;[3] they had cleared her of water, and they let go the grapnel just abreast of us. Mrs. Noble waved her handkerchief, but the tide was so strong that they were driven past, completely out of our sight, without being able to render us the least assistance, or even being near enough to speak to us. This was a most cruel disappointment; but we had still our raft to look forward to, and knowing that Mrs. Noble and Lieut. Douglas were still alive was some consolation to us; so we cheered one another in the best manner we could, relying upon Him who was able to save us from this apparently certain destruction.