With night dense fogs came down upon the sea; the captain walked the deck excitedly, keeping a glass of spirits standing near him on the binnacle-head. He often looked aloft, and talked to himself. At one of these times, a little dog he had ran between his legs and nearly capsized him. With a fierce oath he took the poor animal up by the neck, and threw it into the sea. On this, the sailors looked darkly in each other's faces, and felt sure that mischief was soon to follow. The mate and Joe Rudderford now suggested respectfully, that, as the fog was deepening and the wind freshening, some of the canvas should be taken off the ship; but, in a gust of fury, the captain, instead of adopting their advice, had her trimmed before the wind, the yards squared, and the fore and main studding-sails hoisted to port and starboard. Willie Rudderford was at the wheel. The seamen grew pale, and muttered under their breath as they obeyed the rash orders, and belayed the tackle. 'What do you think of all this, Joe?' I whispered. Joe answered only by a grunt, whatever that might mean; but on board, it always seemed that a grunt from old Joe had more weight than a whole speech from any other man. 'I think we should take some of the canvas off her,' said he to me, after a pause, loud enough for the captain to hear. On this, the skipper turned round furiously; but before he could say anything, there went up a cry through all the ship from stem to stern--I think I hear it still. 'May the Lord have mercy on us!' was the fervent prayer uttered by more than one brave fellow, as death seemed suddenly inevitable, when the ship went bump ashore with a frightful crash, and a horrible grinding sound followed. 'All is lost! Let every man shift for himself!' cried the helpless man who commanded us. The three topmasts crashed off at the tops, with the fury of the shock, and with the yards and hamper fell heavily down over the yet inflated canvas, to port and starboard. Aloft we were a total wreck in a moment, and already going to pieces below. Our new captain--a very different man from the gallant Archibald, who was killed in the fight off the coast of Swatow--was the first to perish, overwhelmed, apparently, amid the boiling surf in the dingy, in which he and the first mate tried to effect their escape. Amid the gloom, I saw Joe and Willie Rudderford grasp each other's hard hands for a moment, as their minds, like mine, were doubtless filled with a thousand hurrying thoughts of home and distant friends--remembering, perhaps, former happiness, and contrasting it with the present danger and misery.