Seeing it was a revolving one, I knew it to be the South Rock light, and told him she would strike in fifteen minutes. In a moment I saw the little harbor lights called St. Johns light, on our larboard bow, situated at the entrance of Port-au-Ferry Lough. I ran[294] forward, and could see through the fog, which was breaking up a little, land and breakers right ahead.—Upon my own responsibility I immediately ordered the yards to be braced up and the helm put hard to port. The ship came to and ranging ahead, in a moment would have cleared the point, had not a heavy sea struck her starboard bow and deadened her headway; her keel struck upon the rock, the sails caught aback, and swung her bows around upon her keel with great force. She rested with each end on a reef, and as the tide left her, she careened and twirled over, thus giving the surf still greater effect upon her. At this unfavorable moment the captain ordered the sails to be clewed up. I knowing the great danger that would arise from it, told the men to look out for themselves first. I had hardly ceased speaking when a sea washed over her decks, sweeping upwards of twenty of the crew into the sea! Those that were aft—seven of us—were saved. The screams of the passengers, who were all fast below, were beyond conception. They were set on deck to act for themselves. Daylight came, and we were seen from the shore, (we went upon the rock about two o'clock, having been there a little over two hours,) but they dare not attempt our rescue, as the sea ran very high. Twenty-three of the bodies of those lost were seen washing about, and beating against the ship's side. Again a heavy sea struck her, and carried away the boats from the fore part of the poop, with all my articles of value, except a few instruments of navigation; and I almost cursed the day I went aboard the Ashburton.[295] But when I saw the mangled, headless bodies of the sailors beating about against the rocks, my loss sank into insignificance. We had stowed in the half deck some salt hams, which had not been disturbed: our bread had been saturated with salt water, yet we devoured it like half-famished wolves. Thus we lay for seven days, almost momentarily expecting death, and yet within half a mile of the shore. On the eighth day a boat came from the shore, and when within hail was capsized, and one of the noble crew found a watery grave. The ninth day a boat succeeded in getting to us, and took away the passengers, captain, boatswain, and steward, leaving the rest of us to spend yet another dreary night upon the rocks.