on board, at any other time would have excited our deepest commiseration; but at present, the object before us, our stately ship, that had for the last four months been our social home, the scene of our enjoyments, our labours, and our rest, now a prey to the destroying element; the suddenness with which we had been hurried from circumstances of comfort and comparative security, to those of destitution and peril, and with which the most exhilarating hopes had been exchanged for disappointment as unexpected as it was afflictive; the sudden death of the two seamen, our own narrow escape, and lonely situation on the face of the deep, and the great probability even yet, although we had succeeded in removing to a greater distance from the vessel, that we ourselves should never again see the light of day, or set foot on solid ground, absorbed every feeling.  For some time the silence was scarcely broken, and the thoughts of many, I doubt not, were engaged on subjects most suitable to immortal beings on the brink of eternity.  The number of persons in the two boats was forty-eight; and all, with the exception of the two ladies, who bore this severe visitation with uncommon fortitude, worked by turns at the oars and paddles.  After some time, to our great relief, the rain ceased; the labour of baling water from the boats was then considerably diminished.  We were frequently hailed during the night by our companions in the small boat, and returned the call, while the brave and generous-hearted seamen occasionally enlivened the solitude of the deep by a simultaneous “Hurra!” to cheer each others’ labours, and to animate their spirits.  The Tanjore rose in the water as its contents were gradually consumed.  We saw it burning the whole night, and at day-break could distinguish a column of smoke, which, however, soon ceased, and every sign of our favourite vessel disappeared.  When the sun rose, our anxiety and uncertainty as to our situation were greatly relieved by discovering land ahead; the sight of it filled us with grateful joy, and nerved us with fresh vigour for the exertion required in managing the boats.  With the advance of the day we discerned more clearly the nature of the country.  It was wild and covered with jungle, without any appearance of population:  could we have got ashore, therefore, many of us might have perished before assistance could have been procured; but the breakers, dashing upon the rocks, convinced us that landing was impracticable.  In the course of the morning we discovered a native vessel, or dhoney, lying at anchor, at some distance:  the wind at that time beginning to favour us, every means was devised to render it available.  In the yawl we extended the tablecloth as a sail, and in the other boat a blanket served the same purpose.  This additional help was the more seasonable, as the rays of the sun had become almost intolerable to our partially covered bodies.  Some of the seamen attempted to quench their thirst by salt water:  but the passengers