I was in the second mate's watch. Early one morning, about four bells in the middle watch--that is to say, about two o'clock--I had just been relieved from my trick at the helm. The weather was thick and squally, and the night very dark. The look-out was careless, or had bad eyesight; and the mate, knowing this, was constantly going forward himself. I was leisurely going along the deck, when I heard him sing out,--"A sail on the starboard-bow! Luff!--luff all you can!" I sprang forward. The ship was nearer to us than he supposed. Right stem on she came, towering like a huge mountain above us. In an instant the brig's bows were cut down to the water's edge. I sung out to those on deck to follow me, and clung on to whatever I could first get hold of. It proved to be the ship's bobstay. I climbed up it on to the bowsprit, and, as I looked down, I saw her going right over the vessel I had just left--her decks sinking from sight beneath the dark waters. The tall masts, and spars, and sails followed: down, down they went, drawn by an irresistible force! It seemed like some dreadful dream. Before I could secure myself on the bowsprit, they had disappeared in the unfathomable abyss. Not a cry or a groan reached my ears from my drowning shipmates--unwarned, unprepared they died. Such has been many a hapless seaman's fate. One only escaped. He had hold of the dolphin-striker. I could just distinguish his form through the darkness as he followed me. I slid down to help him, and with difficulty hauled him up on the bowsprit. He seemed horror-struck at what had occurred; and so, indeed, we might both well be, and thankful that we had been preserved. Such was the end of the old _Rainbow_. I now first sung out, and gave notice of our escape to those on board the ship. Several of the crew had rushed forward, and now helped poor Mr Sims and me off the bowsprit. We heard, meantime, the officers of the ship ordering the boats to be lowered; and she being hove up into the wind, one from each quarter was soon manned and in the water. While the two mates of the ship, anxious to save the lives of their fellow-creatures, pulled about in every direction near where the brig was supposed to have gone down, I was looking over the bows, hoping that some of my poor shipmates might yet survive; but no answering cry was made to the repeated shouts of the boats' crews. At last the boats returned on board, and I found that the mate and I were the only survivors of the _Rainbow_. Had she not been an old vessel, I do not think that she would so easily have foundered from the blow she received.