’The people at the light-house had no means of communicating to the frigate, that if she would only stand on a little further, she would disentangle herself from the cloud, in which, like Jupiter Olympus of old, she was wasting her thunder.  At last, the captain, hopeless of its clearing up, gave orders to pipe to dinner; but as the weather, in all respects except this abominable haze, was quite fine, and the ship was still in deep water, he directed her to be steered towards the shore, and the lead kept constantly going.  As one o’clock approached, he began to feel uneasy, from the water shoaling, and the light-house guns sounding closer and closer; but being unwilling to disturb the men at their dinner, he resolved to stand on for the remaining ten minutes of the hour.  Lo and behold! however, they had not sailed half a mile further before the flying gib-boom end emerged from the wall of mist, then the bowsprit shot into daylight, and lastly, the ship herself glided out of the cloud into the full blaze of a bright and ‘sunshine holiday.’  All hands were instantly turned up to make sail:  and the men, as they flew on deck, could scarcely believe their senses when they saw behind them the fog-bank—­right ahead the harbour’s mouth, with the bold cliffs of Cape Sambro on the left—­and further still, the ships at their moorings, with their ensigns and pendants blowing out light and dry in the breeze.’

But to return to our sad tale.  Towards noon, the weather cleared up for about a quarter of an hour, allowing just sufficient time to get a good observation of the latitude, which, according to Captain Baker’s reckoning, made their position to be about ninety-one miles from Cape Race, and fifty-one from Cape St. Mary’s.

They continued to steer east till about six o’clock in the evening, when the breeze rather freshening, and the ship having run sixty miles since noon, she was hauled off to south-east.

The fog was then so dense that the men could not see more than twenty yards beyond the ship, but as Captain Baker’s orders were to use the utmost dispatch, he determined to make the best of his way.  Every precaution was taken, by using the lead, and by keeping a vigilant look-out from every part of the ship.  In this manner they proceeded, carefully feeling the way, until about half-past seven o’clock, when the look-out man shouted, ‘Breakers ahead!  Hard a-starboard!’ The ship was instantly hauled to the wind, but not being able to clear the danger on that tack, every effort was made to stay the vessel, but from the heavy sea, and whilst in stays, her stern took the breakers, and she immediately fell broadside on, the sea breaking completely over her.

At the moment the ship struck, every man was on deck, and there was such a universal feeling of confidence in the commander, that notwithstanding their extreme peril, not the slightest confusion ensued.  Captain Baker’s first order was to cut away the masts, so as to lighten the vessel, and perhaps afford means of saving some of the crew.  The order was promptly executed, but unhappily without producing the desired result, for in a few moments the ship bilged, and the destruction of the whole crew appeared to be inevitable.