“About 10.30 a.m. the cry of ‘Sail on the port helm!’ caused general excitement, and in a few minutes every telescope and glass in the ship had been brought to bear upon the object which attracted our attention, and which was soon pronounced to be a wreck. Orders were given to starboard the helm and to steer direct for the vessel; and many were the conjectures hazarded and the questions asked of the fortunate holders of glasses. ‘What is she?’ ‘Is there any one on board?’ ‘Does she look as if she had been long abandoned?’ Soon we were near enough to send a boat’s crew on board, whilst we watched their movements anxiously from the bridge. We could now read her name—the _Carolina_—surmounted by a gorgeous yellow decoration on her stern. She was of between two and three hundred tons burden, and was painted a light blue with a red streak. Beneath her white bowsprit the gaudy image of a woman served as a figure‐head. The two masts had been snapped short off about three feet from the deck, and the bulwarks were gone, only the covering board and stanchions remaining, so that each wave washed over and through her. The roof and supports of the deck‐house and the companions were still left standing, but the sides had disappeared, and the ship’s deck was burst up in such a manner as to remind one of a quail’s back.... We saw the men on board poking about, apparently very pleased with what they had found; and soon our boat returned to the yacht for some breakers, as the _Carolina_ had been laden with port wine and cork, and the men wished to bring some of the former on board. I changed my dress, and putting on my sea‐boots, started for the wreck.