Poor Jack Rogers! His lot was indeed a hard one. We left him clinging to the keel of the schooner, while she was carried on by the rapid current over the bar, amidst the raging waters and blinding foam. Every moment he expected to be torn from his hold; but life was dear to him, and he exerted every particle of strength he possessed to hold on. Now a sea would come and wash over the vessel, almost drowning him, and completely preventing him from seeing; then he felt that he was whirled round and round, till he looked up--but it was only to see another huge breaker rolling up ready to overwhelm him. He felt the terrific dash of the wave, its roar sounded in his ears--he was almost stunned. He prayed that he might be preserved from the terrible danger to which he was exposed. The roller passed on, leaving him still firmly clutching the wreck. Again he looked up. The blue sea danced cheerfully before his eyes; the sun shone brightly; the wreck had drifted clear of the influence of the breakers. Most grateful he felt at having been thus far preserved. Still he knew that he was not out of danger. The schooner might any moment go down, and he might be left, without a plank to rest on, to the mercy of the ravenous sharks which swarmed around. His first impulse was to look out for the brig. She was in the offing, standing away to the westward. He had no hope from any help she could render him. Then he looked back over the bar, in the expectation of seeing the other boat coming out; but nowhere was she to be discovered. He saw, meantime, that the wreck was drifting to the southward down the coast, and at no great distance from it. He calculated the distance, and thought to himself that he could swim on shore. If he delayed, the vessel might drift farther out to sea, and the feat might be impossible.