The brig proceeded on her way, the rescued men insisting on doing
their share of the work, and greatly lightened the labors of the crew.
Within a few days, however, their powers were tried to the uttermost;
the wind freshened to a gale, and threatened to annihilate the poor
old brig, which was not in extra seaworthy condition. They were by
this time more than half-way across the Atlantic, where the seas run
sometimes as high as the yard-arm, and take several days to calm
down when they have once been lashed into fury. The ship's timbers
creaked and groaned, and the carpenter and his men had much ado to
stop the numerous leaks which sprung in her sides. The next day it
blew a hurricane, taking the fore mast and mainmast away, together
with most of the rigging, and leaving the vessel almost a total wreck.
As they were not far from the southern coast of Ireland, the Captain
ordered the boats to be got ready with sails, arms and provisions;
he also took with him a chart and compass, by which he was enabled
to steer for the Fastnat Rock. There was scarcely room for the large
party in the boats, but they all got safely in, a few minutes before
the waterlogged brig went down like a lump of lead. They had not
much to eat, but they had a good supply of water, and, as all the
boats were well fitted with sails, the Captain hoped to make the
Irish coast within a few days, the wind being much more moderate and
in their favor.
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