Thoroughly wearied in mind and body, he had no sooner touched his pillow than he fell into a deep sleep--a sleep that annihilated several hours of time. He slept until he was aroused by a tremendous shock--a shock that threw him, strong, heavy, athletic man as he was, from his stateroom berth to the cabin floor. He was on his feet in a moment, though stunned, confused, and amazed. The poor ship was shuddering throughout her whole frame like a living creature in the agony of death. Men who had been violently thrown from their berths to the floor were everywhere picking themselves up and trying to collect their scattered senses. Crowds were hurrying from the cabins and saloons to the deck. The voices of the officers were heard in quick, anxious, peremptory orders; and those of the crew in prompt, eager, terrified responses. And through all came shrieks of terror, anguish, and despair. "The ship has struck!" "We are lost!" "God have mercy!" were the cries. Ishmael hurried on his clothes and rushed to the deck. Here all was panic, confusion, and unutterable distress. The fog had cleared away; day was dawning; and there was just light enough to show them the utter hopelessness of their position. The steamer bad struck a rock, and with such tremendous force that she was already parting amidships; her bows were already under water and the sea was breaking over her with fearful force. How had this happened, with the lighthouse ahead? Was it really a lighthouse, or was it a false beacon? No one could tell; no one had time to ask. Everybody was fast crowding to the stern of the ship, the only part of her that was out of water. Some crawled up, half drowned; some dripping wet; some scarcely yet awake, acting upon the blind impulse of self- preservation. Two of the lifeboats had been forcibly reft away from the side of the ship by the violence of the shock and carried off by the sea. Only two remained, and it was nearly certain that they were not of sufficient capacity to save the crew and passengers. But the danger was imminent--a moment's delay might be fatal to all on board the wreck; not an instant was to be lost. The order was quickly given: "Get out the lifeboats!" And the sailors sprang to obey. At this moment another fatality threatened the doomed crew--it was what might have been expected: the steerage passengers, mostly a low and brutalized order of men, in whom the mere animal instinct of love of life and fear of death was predominant over every nobler emotion, came rushing in a body up the deck, and crying with one voice: "To the lifeboats! to the lifeboats! Let us seize the lifeboats, and save ourselves!"