Day at last began to dawn, and when light fairly broke, I was alone on the ocean; for the poor old hull with its stumpy black masts swerved from side to side, and, with a sidelong movement, sank like a tea-saucer, sending up, with a sudden puff, a great cloud of vapour, and leaving many charred fragments floating in the swirling waters where she disappeared. I pulled in all directions, to see if perchance the bodies of any of the villainous trio might float to the surface, but nothing met my eyes but broken and burnt wood, and the usual flotsam from a scuttled vessel. And that was the last I ever saw of the good ship _Ladybird_. Now that should really be the end of my yarn, for I am not going to tell you how I drifted about for three days, wet to the skin, and unable to protect myself from the pouring rain; and I need not tell you how I cut my raw salt beef in strips and washed it down with the dirty water I had in the bottle. Suffice it to say that on the evening of the third day I was picked up, more dead than alive, by a brig bound to Rekiavick, in Iceland; and from thence was given a passage to Hull, from which port I walked home to Yarmouth. When I quietly entered the bar of the “Jolly Waggoner,” I nearly frightened my father out of his senses at my unexpected appearance. But to tell of that would make my yarn too long. What I want to wind up with is the proof of its truth; and this is how I vouch for its accuracy, by quoting the following extract, taken from the columns of the _Daily Telegraph_ (London). Look up that newspaper for Monday, January 15th, 1894, and on page 3, near the bottom of the 6th column, you will find this paragraph:-- “A STRANGE DISCOVERY.--A Plymouth correspondent telegraphs that advices have been received of the arrival in Galveston of the Norwegian barque _Elsa Anderson_, having in tow the hull of an English-built brig, which had apparently been burned at sea more than fifty years ago, and which appeared on the surface of the ocean after a submarine disturbance off the Faroe Islands. The hull of the strange derelict was covered with sea-shells, but the hold and under decks contained very little water. In the captain’s cabin were found several iron-bound chests, the contents of which had been reduced to pulp except a leather bag, which required an axe to open it. In it were guineas bearing date 1809, and worth over £1000. There were also several watches and a stomacher of pearls blackened and rendered valueless by the action of the water. Three skeletons were also found, one of a man about seven feet high.” There, that is my yarn, and I may just add that my first experience of the sea was my last, for my maiden voyage contained enough excitement during its very brief duration to last for the term of my natural life. “What do you ask? How came the pearl stomacher and the watches in the hands of the miscreants?”