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It was night, and Charley Blount had a watch on deck, when without warning down came the gale on the ship with greater fury than before. With a crack like a clap of thunder the main-topgallant-yard parted and hung by the lifts, dashing furiously against the topsail, and threatening to carry away the topmast.

On the evening of the 13th of the same month, while on her passage there, when it was blowing fresh, with a heavy cross sea, a lad aged nineteen, named John Plunket, fell overboard from the main-topgallant-yard. In falling he struck against the topsail-yard and the sweeps stowed on the quarter, and was bleeding at the mouth and almost senseless when he reached the water.

As the ship lay head to wind, their progress was slow forward, nor did they ascend very rapidly; consequently the mizzen-mast fell before the main-mast was on fire. That shortly, however, followed with a loud crash before they even reached the main-topgallant-yard. Next down came the fore-mast, and the whole hull was a mass of flame.

The only voice was that of the mate, intermittently cursing, threatening, and ordering Tom Spink and the Maltese Cockney at the wheel. Between whiles, and all the while, he gauged the gusts, and ever his eyes lifted to the main-topgallant-yard. He wanted to set that one more sail. A dozen times I saw him half-open his mouth to give the order he dared not give.