Night fell; the wind instead of calming, grew fiercer. The sea became truly terrible, seeking, seemingly, with all its power to drive the _Pelican_ and the _Hudson's Bay_ upon the coast. The rudders of each ship broke; the tide rose and there seemed no hope for the crews whose destiny was so cruel. Their only hope in the midst of the bitter blast and clouds of snow which environed them, lay in the strength of their cables. Soon after nine o'clock the _Hudson's Bay_ and its anchor parted with a shock. "Instantly," says one of the survivors, "a piercing cry went up from our forecastle. The wounded and dead lay heaped up, with so little separation one from the other that silence and moans alone distinguished them. All were icy cold, and covered with blood. They had told us the anchor would hold; and we dreaded being washed up on the shore stiff the next morning." A huge wave broke over the main deck and the ship rocked desperately. Two hours later the keel was heard to split, and the ship was hurled rudderless to and fro in the trough of the sea. By the French account, matters were in no more enviable state aboard the _Pelican_; Iberville, however, amidst scenes rivalling those just described, did his best to animate his officers and men with a spirit equalling his own. "It is better," he cried, "to die, if we must, outside the bastions of Fort Bourbon than to perish here like pent sheep on board." [Sidenote: Terrible plight of the shipwrecked French.] When morning broke, it was seen by the French that their ship was not yet submerged, and it was resolved to disembark by such means as lay in their power. The Company's servants were more fortunate. The _Hudson's Bay_ had drifted eight miles to the south of the fort, and was wrecked on a bank of icy marshland, which at least constrained them to wade no deeper than their knees. The French, however, were forced to make their way through the icy water submerged to their necks, from the results of which terrible exposure no fewer than eighteen marines and seamen lost their lives. Once on shore they could not, like the English, look forward to a place of refuge and appease their hunger with provisions and drink. They were obliged, in their shivering, half frozen state, to subsist upon moss and seaweed, but for which indifferent nourishment they must inevitably have perished. The Company's garrison witnessed the calamities which were overtaking the French, but not knowing how great their number, and assured of their hostility, did not attempt any acts of mercy. They perceived the enemy camped in a wood, less than two leagues distant, where, building several large fires they sought to restore their spirits by means of warmth and hot draughts of boiled herbs. [Illustration: "The enemy camped in a wood where, building several large fires, they sought to restore their spirits."]