rushed on deck as he felt the vessel going over. He had ordered the helm to be put up; and Watson had seized an axe, waiting his directions to cut away the mainmast, when the throat-halyard block parted, the peak-halyards had already been let go, and the mainsail coming in of itself, the vessel righted in an instant; then, feeling her helm, and the headsail being yet set, she flew off before the squall. While we were rejoicing at our own preservation, we almost forgot our poor shipmate. Never can I forget the cry of despair he gave as he saw us flying from him. He knew full well that it was impossible for us to return; not a spar or plank was near to support him, to prolong his life even for a few short hours. The brig, also, was too far away to leeward to render him any help; so that aid from man he had none. Lifting up his arms, with eyeballs starting from his head, he gave one last look at us; and then, uttering a cry of agony, sunk for ever. It had been dreadful to see strong men struck down by the plague, and die by rapid degrees; but I know not whether a scene like this was not still more harrowing. In the course of an hour we had run out of the squall, and the weather had become cool and refreshing. The squall had one very beneficial result, for no other persons were attacked with the plague, and the man who was suffering from it began rapidly to recover. Vernon also sensibly felt the change in the weather, and every day I saw an improvement; though the causes of his illness were too deeply seated to callow the atmosphere to have much effect on him. We very soon repaired the damages which the schooner had sustained, and by the next morning we were all to rights. Our chief anxiety was for the brig. We had lost sight of her in the squall, and we could not tell whether she had been more prepared than we were to meet its fury. Even had she not suffered from the gale, the plague might have broken out in her. Mr Vernon came occasionally on deck, but he was compelled, from weakness, to spend the greater part of the day in his cot, though this was very much against his inclination. We had in vain questioned and cross-questioned our prisoners, to discover if they knew anything of the fate of the _Ariadne_, but not a particle of information could we obtain; and I was myself satisfied that they really knew nothing about her. Our late peril suggested a new cause of alarm to the mind of Mr Vernon, which apparently had not before occurred to him; and he began to fear that the vessel in which the Normans had sailed might have been overtaken by one of those white squalls so common in the Mediterranean, and might have suffered the fate we so narrowly escaped. Since the squall, our prisoners had remained unusually quiet; though, while the plague was aboard, they were as noisy and blasphemous in their conversation as ever. The sick man continued in the same state as before, though he