I scrambled back to the boat, which now lay on her side, level with the surface. On getting upon her, you may conceive -- but no! you cannot -- the horror of the moment, as I felt her gradually go down -- sink, sinking beneath me. All now seemed over. My time had arrived; my last moment was come. I collected my thoughts, and prepared for it. I did not feel so much terror as I should have anticipated in such a scene. Death seemed inevitable, and I nerved myself, and prayed. All the past did NOT press upon me at this moment, in this death- struggle, as some readers may imagine. I thought not of my sins, nor of my friends, nor of time misspent and work left undone -- my whole mind was absorbed in the sense of DEATH and FUTURITY. The glances, rather than the thoughts which shot across my soul, seemed like revealings of immortality. My sensations were mixed of horror and hope; the CHANGE from the old to the new Life seemed beginning within me. It might have been excess of terror, but I did not feel terrified. I felt that all was over, and there was no room for the anguish that arises from doubt. All struggling was vain, and though in tumult and horror, I yet felt resigned. The World of Time was past, and new being was at hand. Such is the memory which I must ever bear of the hour when (yet vigorous and full of Life) I was held in the arms of Death. The boat went down. The waves rushed over me; the enemy held me by the throat, and seemed to press me into the opening grave. Even as the light faded from my eyes, and the Spirit waited for that quick, sharp touch of the dart which should free it from the bonds of mortal life, I perceived the stem of the boat rising slowly out of the waves, whilst the stern was borne down by my weight. Instinctively I swam forward, and got upon another part of the boat. Down it went again; and as the water dashed against my face, I saw the stern now rising up, whilst the stem plunged down into the depths below. I scrambled amidships; the sea and the wind struck her, and she rolled heavily over, righting herself for a moment, with her mast and sail erect; but soon she lay on her larboard side, deep in the water. I had been washed off her, but clung to the main-sheet, and so got back again. I now held on to the side with one hand, whilst I managed to strip off all my clothes except my shirt and flannel waistcoat, first taking my knife out of my pocket. With this I tried to cut away the stays which held the mast in its place, hoping that it would then fall out, and relieve the boat of the sails which weighed her down so low in the water. Most fortunately I had not sand-ballast, in tarred bags, as most of our pleasure-boats had, but water-ballast in breakers, which now proved no additional burthen to the boat. It was also fortunate that she was built partly of deal, and had only her lower streaks of jarra wood, which does not float.