By nine o’clock, the breeze rose to a gale, which every hour increased in violence, till at midnight it became a hurricane.  Yet, as the Elizabeth was new and strong, and as the commander, trusting to an occasional cast of the lead, assured them that they were not nearing the Jersey coast,—­which alone he dreaded,—­the passengers remained in their state-rooms, and caught such uneasy sleep as the howling storm and tossing ship permitted.  Utterly unconscious, they were, even then, amidst perils, whence only by promptest energy was it possible to escape.  Though under close-reefed sails, their vessel was making way far more swiftly than any one on board had dreamed of; and for hours, with the combined force of currents and the tempest, had been driving headlong towards the sand-bars of Long Island.  About four o’clock, on Friday morning, July 19th, she struck,—­first draggingly, then hard and harder,—­on Fire Island beach.

The main and mizzen masts were at once cut away; but the heavy marble in her hold had broken through her bottom, and she bilged.  Her bow held fast, her stern swung round, she careened inland, her broadside was bared to the shock of the billows, and the waves made a clear breach over her with every swell.  The doom of the poor Elizabeth was sealed now, and no human power could save her.  She lay at the mercy of the maddened ocean.

At the first jar, the passengers, knowing but too well its fatal import, sprang from their berths.  Then came the cry of “Cut away,” followed by the crash of falling timbers, and the thunder of the seas, as they broke across the deck.  In a moment more, the cabin skylight was dashed in pieces by the breakers, and the spray, pouring down like a cataract, put out the lights, while the cabin door was wrenched from its fastenings, and the waves swept in and out.  One scream, one only, was heard from Margaret’s state-room; and Sumner and Mrs. Hasty, meeting in the cabin, clasped hands, with these few but touching words:  “We must die.”  “Let us die calmly, then.”  “I hope so, Mrs. Hasty.”  It was in the gray dusk, and amid the awful tumult, that the companions in misfortune met.  The side of the cabin to the leeward had already settled under water; and furniture, trunks, and fragments of the skylight were floating to and fro; while the inclined position of the floor made it difficult to stand; and every sea, as it broke over the bulwarks, splashed in through the open roof.  The windward cabin-walls, however, still yielded partial shelter, and against it, seated side by side, half leaning backwards, with feet braced upon the long table, they awaited what next should come.  At first.  Nino, alarmed at the uproar, the darkness, and the rushing water, while shivering with the wet, cried passionately; but soon his mother, wrapping him in such garments as were at hand and folding him to her bosom, sang him to sleep.  Celeste too was in an agony of terror, till Ossoli, with soothing words and a long and fervent prayer, restored her