The two boats kept company the 20th and 21st, when it commenced to blow, and we got separated during the night. I whistled and shouted, but when daylight came we could see nothing of the other boat. Thirst began to tell severely on all of us. A man named Bentley fell overboard while steering the boat and was drowned. Three men became mad that day and died. We then threw the bodies overboard. On the 23rd, the wind was blowing hard and a high sea running. We were continually bailing the water out. We rigged a sea anchor and rode to it; but it was only made fast to the end of the boat’s painter, and we lost it. Four men died, and we were so hungry and thirsty that we drank the blood and ate the livers of two of them. We lost our only oar then. On the 24th, there was a strong gale, and we rigged another sea anchor, making it fast with anything we could get. There were six more deaths that day. She shipped water till she was nearly full. On the 25th there was a light breeze and it was awful hot. We were reduced that day to eight, and three of them out of their minds. We all felt very bad that day. Early on the morning of the 26th, not being daylight, a boat passed close to us running. We hailed but got no answer. She was not more than 50 yards off. She was a foreigner. I think she must have heard us. One more died that day. We kept on sucking the blood of those who died. The 27th was squally all round, but we never caught a drop of water, although we tried to do it. Two more died that day. We threw one overboard, but were too weak to lift the other. There were then five left—two able seamen, one ordinary, myself and one passenger. The passenger was out of his mind. All had drunk sea water. We were all dozing, when the madman bit my foot, and I woke up. We then saw a ship bearing down upon us. She proved to be the _British Sceptre_, from Calcutta to Dundee. We were taken on board and treated very kindly. I got very bad on board of her. I was very nigh at death’s door. We were not recovered when we got to St. Helena. So ends the second mate’s statement. The passenger and ordinary seaman both died a day or two after they were rescued, thus, out of 473 souls on the _Cospatrick_, only three men were saved, the second mate and the two able seamen. The Loss of the “Avalanche.”