her floating existence.  The sea began to rise and break in fearful power; the leak had already increased so, that two men were continually kept working the pumps.  The crew, with commendable alacrity, cut away the wreck, which had been swaying to and fro, not only endangering the lives of those on board, but obstructing every attempt to get the vessel into any kind of working order.  The main-sail had rent from the leash to the peak of the gaff, and was shaking into shreds.  The starboard sheet of the maintop-sail was gone, and it had torn at the head from the bolt-rope, flying at every gust like the shreds of a muslin rag in a hail-storm.  Without the government of her helm, she lay in the trough of the sea more like a log than a manageable mass.  Sea after sea broke over her, carrying every thing before them at each pass.  The officers and crew had now as much as they could do to retain their holds, without making any effort to save the wreck, while the men at the pumps could only work at each subsiding of the sea, and that under the disadvantage of being lashed to the frame.  A more perilous position than that in which the old brig Janson now lay, it was impossible to imagine.

“’Tis the worst hurricane I’ve ever experienced upon the West India coast, Captain, but it’s too furious to last long; and if she don’t go to pieces before morning, I’ll give her credit for what I’ve always swore against her.  She can’t keep afloat though, if it hangs on another hour in this way,” said the mate, who, with the Captain and Manuel, had just made an ineffectual attempt to rig a storm stay-sail, to try and lay her to under it.  For the mate swore by his knowledge of her qualities, that to put her before it, would be certain foundering.  The gale continued with unabated fury for about two hours, and stopped about as suddenly as it commenced.  The work of destruction was complete, for from her water-line to the stump of the remaining spars, the Janson floated a complete wreck.

The captain gave orders to clear away the wreck, and get what little sail they could patch up, upon her, for the purpose of working her into the nearest port.  The mate was not inclined to further the order, evidently laboring under the strong presentiment that she was to be their coffin.  He advised that it was fruitless to stick by her any longer, or hazard an attempt to reach a port with her, in such a leaky and disabled condition.  “If we don’t abandon her, Skipper,” said he, “she’ll abandon us.  We’d better make signal for the first vessel, and bid the old coffin good-by.”

The captain was more determined in his resolution, and instead of being influenced by the mate’s fears, continued his order, and the men went to work with a cheerful willingness.  None seemed more anxious to lend a ready hand than Manuel, for in addition to is duties as steward, he had worked at sail-making, and both worked at and directed the repairing of the sails.  Those acquainted with maritime affairs can readily appreciate the amount of labor necessary to provide a mess with the means at hand that we have before described.  And yet he did it to the satisfaction of all, and manifested a restless anxiety lest he should not make everybody comfortable, and particularly his little pet boy, Tommy.