seat, and the wave struck me many feet toward the shore, crushing my hat over my face and eyes, so that some moments and several waves passed over me before I could again see. When I was able to look around me, the captain and one of my companions were swimming for land. The others were clinging to the keel of the boat, after having been buried beneath it till they were nearly strangled. Those who were swimming were soon on shore, the captain so completely exhausted that he sank down into the water, and was dragged back to the dry sand. In half an hour all were safe on the beach, grateful for so remarkable a deliverance. Our danger was greatly increased by the fact that the place was infested with sharks. The next day, as we were walking along the shore, two fish darted out of the water, and were instantly followed by two large sharks, which pursued them high upon the beach. We made several attempts to double the cape and proceed on our way, but were driven back each time by heavy head winds. In our third attempt we were becalmed, and spent the most of the day in rowing our schooner along, which we did at the rate of three miles an hour. After we had turned in, and were sleeping upon some water and provision casks in the hold, made level by laying down sticks of wood and boards between them, a severe gale sprang up, and drove us at a fearful rate from our course. The sails were rent, and flapped wildly in the wind. No one but the mate dared to approach them. He was at the helm, which he lashed down while he drew in and furled the refractory sails. Our danger was great, and during the long hours of that night there was little sleep among us. Eight, each unknown to the others, formed a resolution, that if we lived to reach the land, we would never again risk our lives in the San Blasiña. Near the close of the next day, we anchored in a narrow roadstead off the cape. The mate and many of the passengers went on shore, which was half a mile distant, taking the torn sails to be mended. The boat was also hauled up on the beach, and turned over to be caulked. It was near night of the following day, and we were all scattered over the beach and in the village, when alarm guns from the schooner arrested our attention. To our surprise, the vessel had changed her position, having dragged her only anchor. She was already nearly two miles distant, those on board having lost much time in ineffectual attempts to bring her back to anchorage. By the time the mate and a crew daring enough to venture out could be found, she was almost at sea, and already pitching about over the waves. Soon a dark, cloudy night obscured the schooner and the boat alike from our view. We kindled a large beacon-fire on the beach, and, wrapping ourselves in our blankets, anxiously awaited the return of our companions. In the morning the schooner was safely moored near the shore.