“He now felt certain that he could reach the shore; but he considered it would be better to get within hail of the brig, some distance to the southward of him, and the most difficult task of the two, as the ebb tide was now running, which, although it carried him towards the land, set to the northward; and to gain the object of his choice would require much greater exertion.  Here, again, are Brock’s reflections:—­’If I gained the shore, could I get out of the surf, which at this time was heavy on the beach?  And, supposing I succeeded in this point, should I be able to walk, climb the cliffs, and get to a house? if not, there was little chance of life remaining long in me:  but if I could make myself heard on board the brig, then I should secure immediate assistance.  I got within two hundred yards of her, the nearest possible approach, and, summoning all my strength, I sung out as bravely as if I had been on shore.’

“‘The seaman’s cry was heard along the deep.’

“He was answered from the deck; a boat was instantly lowered; and at half-past 1 A.M., having swam seven hours in an October night, he was safe on board the brig Betsey of Sunderland, coal laden, at anchor in Corton Roads, fourteen miles from the spot where the boat was capsized.  The captain’s name was CHRISTIAN!

“Once safe on board, ‘nature cried enough:’  he fainted, and continued insensible for some time.  All that humanity could suggest was done for him by Christian and his crew:  they had no spirits on board, but they had bottled ale, which they made warm, and by placing Brock before a good fire, rubbing him dry, and putting him in hot blankets, he was at length, with great difficulty, enabled to get a little of the ale down his throat; but it caused excruciating pain, as his throat was in a state of high inflammation from breathing (as a swimmer does) so long the saline particles of sea and air, and it was now swollen very much, and, as he says, he feared he should be suffocated.  He, however, after a little time, fell into a sleep, which refreshed and strengthened him, but he awoke to intense bodily suffering.  Round his neck and chest he was perfectly flayed; the soles of his feet, hands, and other parts were also equally excoriated.  In this state, at about 9 A.M., the brig getting under weigh with the tide, he was put on shore at Lowestoft in Suffolk, and immediately despatched a messenger to Yarmouth, with the sad tidings of the fate of the yawl and the rest of her crew.  Being safely housed under the roof of a relative, with good nursing and medical assistance, in five days from the time of the accident, with a firm step he walked back to Yarmouth, to confirm the wonderful rumors circulated respecting him, and to receive the congratulations of his friends.  The knife, which he considers as the great means of his being saved, is preserved with great care, and in all probability will be shown a century hence by the descendants of this man.  It is a common horn-handle knife, having one blade about five inches long.  A piece of silver is now riveted on, and covers one side, on which is the following inscription:—­