Several boats were heard at a short distance, about nine o’clock, but they rendered no assistance; being either engaged in plunder, or in rescuing some of those unfortunate individuals who hazarded themselves on pieces of wreck, to gain the land.  Those on board baled and pumped without intermission; the cadets and passengers struggling with the rest.  A midshipman was appointed to guard the spirit room.  Some of the more disorderly sailors pressed upon him.  “Give us some grog,” they cried, “it will be all one an hour hence.”  “I know we must die,” replied he, coolly, “but let us die like men;” and armed with a brace of pistols, he kept his post even while the ship was sinking.

At length the carpenter came up from below, and told those who worked at the pumps that he could do no more.  Some gave themselves up to despair, others prayed; and some resolved not to perish without a struggle, committed themselves on pieces of the wreck to the waves.  The chief mate came to the captain, and said, “We have done all we can, sir, the ship will sink in a moment;” to which the captain replied, “it cannot be helped—­God’s will be done.”  The vessel gradually settled in the trough of the sea.  The cries of the drowning rose above the sound of the waters, and were heard at a great distance.  Some kept running about the deck as long as it kept above the waves.  At eleven, when she went down, many hastened up the shrouds and masts.  The captain was seen clinging to the ropes; the fourth mate tried to persuade him to exert himself, but he submitted without resistance to his fate.

The hull struck the ground, while part of the masts and rigging remained above water.  On the last cast of the lead, eleven fathoms had been found, and about one hundred and eighty men still clung to the rigging.  The night was dark and frosty, the sea incessantly breaking upon them.  Shocking scenes occurred, in the attempts made by some to obtain places of greater safety.  One seaman had ascended to a considerable height, and endeavored to climb yet higher; another seized hold of his leg; he drew his clasp-knife, and deliberately cut the miserable wretch’s fingers asunder; he dropped and was killed by the fall.  Many perished in the shrouds.  A sergeant had secured his wife there; she lost her hold, and in her last struggle for life, bit a large piece from her husband’s arm, which was dreadfully lacerated.

About an hour after she went down, the survivors were cheered by hearing the sound of vessels beating the waves at a distance; they hailed a sloop-rigged vessel, with two boats astern of her.  Their voices must have been drowned by the waves.  By twelve many more had perished.  Some from cold and fatigue could no longer retain their hold; every instant those who still hung on, were shocked by the splash, which told that another of their number had yielded to his fate.  In a short time, boats were again heard near them, but they did not, though repeatedly hailed, come near enough to take any on board; an act of cold and calculating timidity, which could not be justified by the excuse, that they feared lest all, eager to be saved, should have jumped down, and borne them to the bottom.