The increased swell and the fresh breeze had so beat about and tossed the raft, that it was with difficulty, for some time, that its occupants could hold themselves on it.  A loud shout, mingled with screams, attracted the attention of those in the boats, and Philip, looking back, perceived that the lashings of the raft had yielded to the force of the waves, and that it had separated amidships.  The scene was agonising; husbands were separated from their wives and children—­each floating away from each other—­for the part of the raft which was still towed by the boats had already left the other far astern.  The women rose up and screamed, and held up their children; some, more frantic, dashed into the water between them, and attempted to gain the floating wreck upon which their husbands stood, and sank before they could be assisted.  But the horror increased—­one lashing having given way, all the rest soon followed; and, before the boats could turn and give assistance the sea was strewed with the spars which composed the raft, with men, women, and children clinging to them.  Loud were the yells of despair, and the shrieks of the women, as they embraced their offspring, and in attempting to save them were lost themselves.  The spars of the raft still close together, were hurled one upon the other by the swell, and many found death by being jammed between them.  Although all the boats hastened to their assistance, there was so much difficulty and danger in forcing them between the spars, that but few were saved, and even those few were more than the boats could well take in.  The seamen and a few soldiers were picked up, but all the females and the children had sank beneath the waves.

The effect of this catastrophe may be imagined, but hardly described.  The seamen who had debated as to casting them adrift to perish, wept as they pulled towards the shore.  Philip was overcome, he covered his face, and remained, for some time, without giving directions, and heedless of what passed.

It was now five o’clock in the evening; the boats had cast off the tow-lines, and vied with each other in their exertions.  Before the sun had set they all had arrived at the beach, and were safely landed in the little sand bay into which they had steered; for the wind was off the shore, and there was no surf.  The boats were hauled up, and the exhausted men lay down on the sands, till warm with the heat of the sun, and forgetting that they had neither eaten nor drank for so long a time, they were soon fast asleep.  Captain Barentz, Philip, and Krantz, as soon as they had seen the boats secured, held a short consultation, and were then glad to follow the example of the seamen; harassed and worn out with the fatigue of the last twenty-four hours, their senses were soon drowned in oblivion.