There is, after that, a wild confusion in my mind of shrieks and groans; of foaming, tossing waters; of pieces of plank driven to and fro; of arms outstretched; of despairing countenances, some pale or livid, some of ebon hue, lighted up ever and anon by a flash of lightning. I was clinging, I found, to a small piece of timber torn from the wreck. Now I was driven near the sands; now carried out to sea; tossed about on the tops of the foaming waves, rolled over and over, and almost drowned with the spray. Still I held on convulsively, half conscious only of my awful position. It seemed rather like some dreadful dream than a palpable reality. How long I had been tossing about in this way, I knew not. Daylight had been stealing on even before the final catastrophe had occurred. At length I know that I felt myself carried near the sands, and while I was trying to secure a footing, some black figures rushed into the water and dragged me on shore. My preservers were, I discovered, some of the negroes who had escaped from the wreck. I was too much exhausted to stand; so they carried me up out of the reach of the waves, and laid me on the sands, while they returned once more to the edge of the water. Their object was evident. By the increasing light I saw several figures clinging to the rocks, against which I concluded the vessel had struck. Full twenty negroes were on the beach, which was strewed with bits of plank and spars, and coils of rope, and other portions of the wreck. Presently I saw four or five of them plunge into the water together, holding the end of a rope. They struck out bravely, and though more than once driven back, they still made way, till they reached the rock, up which they clambered. The people on the rock helped them out of the water. There were several negroes, a few of whom were women, and three white men. One of the white men held a black infant in his arms, and as the light increased, I recognised my friend Jack Stretcher. "Just like the gallant fellow!" thought I. At that dreadful moment, when most people would have been thinking only of their own preservation, he looked out for the most helpless being, that he might try and save it, even at the risk of his own life. I hope the mother of the infant has escaped to thank him; but, at all events, he will have his reward. The other two men were my shipmates. Of the slaver's crew, not a man had escaped. After this I remember nothing; for, from exhaustion, consequent on the blows I had received in the water, I fainted. I had a dreamy notion of being lifted up and carried along some distance, and of the hot sun scorching me; and then of entering the cool shade of a house, and of hearing a voice which I fancied I recollected, and thought very sweet, say, "Why, papa, it's that little officer again. Poor, poor fellow! how ill and wretched he looks!" I tried to open my eyes to look at the speaker, but had no strength left to lift even my eyelids.