No sail had been seen for many days, the vessel being somewhat out of the regular course. But, although it seemed hopeless, a man was sent up to the foretop to scan the horizon. How many anxious eyes were turned up to him, how many anxious hearts beat at that moment, can well be understood. The sailor threw his eyes rapidly over the waste of howling waters, and instantly waved his hat, exclaiming, in a voice hoarse with emotion, “A sail on the lee bow!” Flags of distress were soon hoisted, minute-guns fired, and an attempt made to bear down on the welcome stranger, which for some time did not notice them. But at last it seemed probable, by her slackening sail and altering her course, that the _Kent_ had been seen. Hope revived on board; but there were still three painful problems to be solved. The vessel in the distance was but a small brig: could she take over six hundred persons on board? Could they be transferred during a terrible gale and heavy sea, likely enough to swamp all the boats? Might not the _Kent_ either blow up or speedily founder, before even one soul were saved? The vessel proved to be the _Cambria_, a brig bound to Vera Cruz, with a number of miners on board. For fifteen minutes it had been very doubtful to all on the _Kent_ whether their signals of distress—and the smoke issuing from the hatchways formed no small item among them—were seen, or the minute-guns heard. But at length it became obvious that the brig was making for them, and preparations were made to clear and lower the boats of the East Indiaman. “Although,” says Sir Duncan MacGregor, “it was impossible, and would have been improper, to repress the rising hopes that were pretty generally diffused amongst us by the unexpected sight of the _Cambria_, yet I confess, that when I reflected on the long period our ship had been already burning—on the tremendous sea that was running—on the extreme smallness of the brig, and the immense number of human beings to be saved—I could only venture to hope that a few might be spared.” When the military officers were consulting together, as the brig was approaching, on the requisite preparations for getting out the boats, and other necessary courses of action, one of the officers asked Major MacGregor in what order it was intended the officers should move off, to which he replied, “Of course, in funeral order,” which injunction was instantly confirmed by Colonel Fearon, who said, “Most undoubtedly—the juniors first; but see that any man is cut down who presumes to enter the boats before the means of escape are presented to the women and children.” To prevent any rush of troops or sailors to the boats, the officers were stationed near them with drawn swords. But, to do the soldiers and seamen justice, it was little needed; the former particularly keeping perfect order, and assisting to save the ladies and children and private passengers generally. Some of the women and children were placed in the