down close to the canoes, deep in the water,
cramped up right, when the first wave broke,
showing me another following it up from the
depth of the sea, and rolling towards the
beach, getting higher and higher; when they
get nearly perpendicular they topple over;
this first one broke on top of me, burying me
deep in the sea; but the second bore up the
canoes, bearing me on the crest of a wave; in
an instant the canoes were turned over so
rapidly that had I not wrapped the flax
several times round my hand I must have lost
the canoes, my right hand having slipped,
but they rolled over and over, giving me once
such a severe blow on the head that I thought
my skull was broken; another time on the
back, and my left arm was so twisted that I
thought it was broken. I now perceived that
I must not get on top of the canoes if I wished
to avoid being beaten to death; I could rest
my head and breast on them a little, and sink
below the surface when the waves broke, when
they could not strike me so hard; the canoes
kept themselves quieter when they were turned
upside down. After a while it got calmer;
still the sea ran high, throwing me hither
and thither; I got an instant to look about
me, but the night was very dark, and the
rain falling fast. Thus I drifted about for
some hours in the sea, nearly benumbed, and
so swollen up from swallowing the salt
water, that I could scarcely breathe. My
whole body was sore from the blows I got
from the canoes; I had no hopes of being
saved; I thought that even if I lived till
morning, I should be so far out to sea, that
I must starve. A feeling of desperation
overcame me, and I determined to end my
sufferings at once. The thought soon gave
me a sense of relief; I would let go the
canoes; I felt certain I could not last much
longer; all power had left me, and I felt
utterly wretched; but I found I could not
let go, my hands were so cramped—fastened
as if they were nailed to the canoe. I have
often looked death in the face in the deadly
battle and in dangerous places, but it never
appeared so near before. I remained some
time longer in this situation, and suddenly,
when I sank with the wave, I felt the canoe
strike against something; I thought it must
be a sand-bank, or a large stump or log
lying in the sea. I determined to find out
what it was when the canoes should strike
again. Presently they did so; I lowered
myself quickly, but could feel nothing;
again it struck, and I felt the ground about
four feet under water. I drew myself with
great difficulty back on to the canoe; with
all my strength I tore my hands loose, and
waited for a fresh shock. It occurred soon;
I slipped down, but I could not use my
limbs, and fell up to my neck in the water;
in an instant a fresh wave reached me, and
struck me down, and bore me back into the
deep water. I had now nothing in my hands,
and did not make the least attempt to save
myself; another wave bore me to the shore
again. I was only knee deep in the water,
but I could not hold myself, and once more
I was carried back into the sea. The third
time I was nearly senseless, and hoped soon

to be out of my misery. The fourth time I
struck something hard with my head—it was
a pile of drift-wood; I grasped it with my
right hand, and the wave for once retired
without me. I crawled over a great heap of
drift-wood, and reached the firm land. The
night was pitch dark, and the rain falling in
torrents. I lay on my stomach with my face
in the sand; I was awfully cold, and shaking
all over; I drew as much wet sand over me
as I could; I felt then as if in a trance,
and did not suffer so much. Strange forms
flitted before me! and I felt quite numb; I
knew it was daylight, but could not stir—I
was as stiff as a log of wood, and quite numb.
About nine o’clock it ceased to rain, and the
sun shone out, but I felt no warmth; this I
perceived with one of my eyes, the other
being covered with sand. I managed to
move the fingers of my right hand, and pre-
sently my whole arm; I now tried to turn
round, but a long time in vain, but at last
succeeded. I could see now that the sun
was high, and I looked at my hands; they
were perfectly black with sand-flies, but I
did not feel them; I laughed at their attempts
to torment me. Having lain so for half-
an-hour I tried to sit up; I succeeded, but
had to lie down again directly, I was dread-
fully sick, and so puffed up and swollen that
I nearly burst. I threw up a quantity of
sea water, sand, and gall, which relieved me
greatly. I cleaned my hair and beard from
sand, also my ears and nose—everything was
full of sand. I tried at last to stand up, but
could not. In another half-hour it had got
pretty warm, and I succeeded; but how
weak I felt, and what pains in all my limbs.
I advanced a few yards, then sat down, and
again tried to walk. I was fearfully thirsty;
I must get a drink, or I would go mad.
Not far off was some fresh water; I got there
with the greatest exertion, and took a drink,
which refreshed me greatly. I could now see
where I was—about one mile further south
from where we attempted to cross the river. I
washed my hands and face, which were
covered with blood from the sand-flies that
had taken advantage of my impotence. The
only clothes I had on was a pair of trousers
and a flannel shirt; in one of my pockets was
a knife and a few shillings, everything else
was lost in the sea. I searched along the
strand for a few muscles, and discovered a
piece of my blanket. In my youth I had read
“Robinson Crusoe” with great pleasure, and
even wished myself in his place; now I was
in reality nearly so situated, the story looked
in quite a different light. I continued along
the beach and found Mr. Whitcombe’s coat
which he had thrown into the river, my hair
brush, a parcel of tobacco, the other portion
of my blankets, the canoes and the biscuit bag;
alittle further on I saw a pair of boots sticking
upright; I hurried to the spot, and was hor-
rified to observe that it was Mr. Whitcombe
himself; his head and body buried deep in the
sand, his legs and feet only uncovered. I
tore away the sand instantly, and pulled him
out; he was quite dead; his waistcoat was
unbuttoned, and drawn over his head; I drew
it back; his watch hung to a buttonhole,