The sufferings of these poor fellows were intolerable. They stood
to their waists in water, in imminent peril of being washed off by every
surge. In this position they dared not sleep, lest they should let go
their hold and be swept away. The only dry place on the wreck was the
bowsprit. Here they took turns to be tied on, for half an hour at a
time, and in this way gained short snatches of sleep.
On the 14th, the first mate died at his post, and was swept off by
the surges. On the 17th, two seamen, faint and exhausted, were washed
overboard. The next wave threw their bodies back upon the deck, where
they remained, swashing backward and forward, ghastly objects to the
almost perishing survivors. Mr. Ogden, the supercargo, who was at the
bowsprit, called to the men nearest to the bodies, to fasten them to the
wreck; as a last horrible resource in case of being driven to extremity
by famine!
On the 17th the gale gradually subsided, and the sea became calm. The
sailors now crawled feebly about the wreck, and began to relieve it from
the main incumbrances. The spars were cleared away, the anchors and guns
heaved overboard; the sprit-sail yard was rigged for a jury-mast, and
a mizzen topsail set upon it. A sort of stage was made of a few broken
spars, on which the crew were raised above the surface of the water, so
as to be enabled to keep themselves dry, and to sleep comfortably.
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