“We were riding by the kedge, a small anchor, which, however, was the only one left us, and on which the safety of the brig now depended.  The breakers were close under our stern, and this was not expected to hold ten minutes; it was a forlorn hope, every eye was fixed on the raging surf, and our hearts thrilled with agitation, expecting every moment that the vessel would be dashed in pieces.  A few long and awful minutes were passed in this state, which left an indelible impression on our minds.  Never,” continues Richard Lander, “shall I forget the chief mate saying to me, ’Now, sir, every one for himself, a few minutes will be the last with us.’  The tumultuous sea was raging in mountainous waves close by us, their foam dashing against the sides of the brig, which was only prevented from being carried among them by a weak anchor and cable.  The natives, from whom they could expect no favour, were busy on shore making large fires, and other signals, for us to desert the brig and land at certain places, expecting, no doubt, every moment to see her a prey to the waves, and those who escaped their fury, to fall into their hands.  Wretched resource! the sea would have been far more merciful than they.”

Such was their perilous situation, when a fine sea breeze set in, which literally saved them from destruction.  The sails were loosened to relieve the anchor from the strain of the vessel, and she rode out the ebb tide without drifting.  At ten a.m. the tide had nearly ceased running out, and the fury of the sea rather abated, but it was quite impossible that the brig could ride out another ebb tide where she lay, with the kedge anchor alone to hold her; the only chance left them, therefore, was to get to sea, and the captain determined on crossing the bar, although there appeared to be little chance of success.  At half-past ten a.m. he manned the boat with two of Lander’s men, and two Kroomen belonging to the brig, and sent them to tow while the anchor was got on board.  This had no sooner been done than the wind fell light, and instead of drifting over to the western breakers as on the two preceding days, the brig was now set towards those on the eastern side, and again they had a narrow escape.  With the assistance of the boat and good management, they at length passed clear over the bar on the edge of the breakers, in a depth of quarter less three fathoms, and made sail to the eastward.  Their troubles were now at an end; by the protection of a merciful Providence, they had escaped dangers, the very thoughts of which had filled them with horror, and with a grateful heart and tears of joy for all his mercies, they offered up a silent prayer of thanks for their deliverance.