At last, but with greater precaution than before, the port cutter was launched, and got safely down. Six men were in her, but as she rose and fell with the fury of the waves, and every moment appeared likely to swamp, all felt the propriety of the Captain’s words, that in such a sea there was but little chance for the boat. The command of the boat belonged to Mr. Greenhill, as second engineer, and without loss of time he was anxious that all who had determined to make one more desperate struggle for life should hasten from the poor doomed ship. She was fast settling down to the water’s edge; there was a fearful swirl of water around her stern, and the cutter was in danger of being sucked down into the whirlpool of the wreck. It was a leap for life in the case of each one who jumped from the vessel, for the cutter seemed no more than a piece of cork upon the tumultuous billows, and no wonder that many paused and drew back in horror from a leap to what seemed nothing short of instant death. It was while the ship was fast filling with water, and death every moment drew nearer, that some last words were spoken that will never be forgotten by the survivors, or by those to whom, in some instances, they were sent. What were Mr. Draper’s last words? He had been exhorting and praying, without intermission, for more than twelve hours before the ship went down. Two of the survivors have a distinct remembrance of him as they last saw him, about an hour before the boat left. He was then in the saloon, and men and women were still gathering around him, and saying, “O! Mr. Draper, pray for me!” The last words these two survivors heard him utter were these: “Well, my friends, our Captain tells us there is no hope, but the Great Captain above tells us there is hope that we may all get safe to heaven.”