The scene on board was one of the most harrowing description.  Mingled together were the living, the dying, and the dead.  The bodies were piled up by the survivors in rows one above another, as a shelter from the violence of the waves, which broke incessantly over them.

In the fourth row lay the admiral and his friend Captain Guion; whilst the groans of the dying, mingling with the roar of the tempest, unnerved the hearts of those who had hitherto shown an unappalled front to the perils surrounding them.

There still remained about two hundred men, who were employed in constructing a raft, as the last chance of saving their lives.  After considerable labour, this was effected, by lashing together a topsail yard and a cross-jack yard, the only spars that remained.

Upon this, ten men left the wreck, but the timbers being improperly secured, they broke adrift, and the first sea that came washed five men off; the others gained the shore, one of whom died.

According to all accounts, even the few who survived would have perished, had it not been for the humane conduct of the Danes who came to their assistance; these, at the risk of their own lives, succeeded in rescuing from the raft the seven exhausted sufferers who survived, out of the crew of seven hundred and fifty men.

The St. George, as has been already mentioned, was in company with both the Cressy and Defence.  Captain Pater, who commanded the former, seeing the impossibility of rendering any assistance to the St. George, and the imminent risk to his own ship if he remained longer on the starboard tack, wore, and escaped the danger.

The master of the Defence reported to Captain Atkins that the St. George had gone on shore, and that the Cressy had veered and was standing to the southward,—­at the same time pointing out the great danger the ship was in, and recommending that he should follow the example of the Cressy.  The captain inquired whether the admiral had made the signal to part company; upon being answered in the negative, he replied, ’I will never desert my admiral in the hour of danger and distress.’

At about six o’clock A.M., the hands were turned up to wear ship, but before this could be accomplished she struck, the sea made a breach over her, and washed several men overboard.

The captain gave orders to fire minute guns, and cut away the masts.  Five or six guns only had been fired, before they broke adrift, so that it was impossible to fire any more; but providentially these had been heard by the look-out men on shore, to whose assistance may be attributed the preservation of the few lives that were saved.

The waves swept over the vessel, forcing numbers of the crew down the hatchways, the guns and other heavy articles had broken loose, killing some, breaking the arms and legs of others, whose agonizing cries served only to add to the horrors of a scene scarcely within the power of description.