"It was on a Friday night," the newspaper report of his narrative ran, "and we were there or thereabout up to the latitude of Cape Horn. I had turned in ’all standing,’ for the weather was squally, and I didn’t expect to get much of a nap. Sure enough I’d hardly got my eyes shut when there came a crash, and some one sang out, ’All hands, ahoy!’ We tumbled up the ladder in a hurry, and I tell you there wasn’t a man there who didn’t think Davy Jones was calling us. It was a night! The rain was coming down full pelt, and you couldn’t keep your feet for the wind. Spars snapped like match-boxes, and the barque lay nearly on her beam-ends. It was dark as pitch just then, though it cleared up afterwards. We did what we could to save the ship; but, bless you, we had no more chance than a parcel of babies. She was settling down like a stone, and the old man sung out that we’d better try the boats. I ran to help clear the port quarter boat, and got in, when a heavy sea broke over her, smashing her in two. Down I went a long way, but at last came up to the surface again, and hammered my right hand against something hard. This turned out to be a top-gallant mast, so I took a firm grip. I couldn’t see anything of the _Morning Star_, but there seemed to be a lot of rigging about, and I heard some men shouting in the distance. I reckoned afterwards it must have been the first mate and the chaps who got away in the other boat. I hulloed back, but they couldn’t hear, and I reckoned I was done. Soon after that came another shout close to me, and I yelled back, ’Ahoy, there! Is that you, Mr. Hartland?’ "’Yes. Who are you?’ "’Davies,’ I sings out—’on a mast.’ "’Can you hold on?’ "’Not much longer, I’m afeared.’ "’Keep your spirits up,’ says he, cheery like, and then it was all quiet. However, we must have drifted pretty close together, for, directly day broke, there he was, not twenty yards off, with a lifebuoy round him, and clinging to a light spar. "’How goes it now?’ says he; and when I tells him I’m nearly done, he says, ’I’ve a good mind to keep you company. I’ve some rope here, and a draw or two round the body will keep you tight.’ With that he swims over and lashes me to the mast. Presently he says again, quiet as anything, ’Look here, Davies; it’s no go! This won’t hold us both; I must take my chance. Good-bye, and if you’ve the luck to be picked up, just let ’em know over in England that I stood by the ship till she went down.’ "Them were his last words. He let go, and the last I saw of him he was striking out towards the shore. Of course he never reached it, though he was a strong swimmer, too. After that I lost count of things, and don’t know anything more till my eyes opened aboard the _Cormorant_. The lashings saved me, or I should have gone under as sure as fate."