We Coasted Slowly Along, Rounding Several Tall
Forelands, Some Of Them Piled Up By The Hand Of Nature In The Most
Fantastic Shapes.
About nightfall Cape Finisterre was not far
ahead, - a bluff, brown, granite mountain, whose frowning head may
be seen far away by those who traverse the ocean.
The stream which
poured round its breast was terrific, and though our engines plied
with all their force, we made little or no way.
By about eight o'clock at night the wind had increased to a
hurricane, the thunder rolled frightfully, and the only light which
we had to guide us on our way was the red forked lightning, which
burst at times from the bosom of the big black clouds which lowered
over our heads. We were exerting ourselves to the utmost to
weather the cape, which we could descry by the lightning on our
lee, its brow being frequently brilliantly lighted up by the
flashes which quivered around it, when suddenly, with a great
crash, the engine broke, and the paddles, on which depended our
lives, ceased to play.
I will not attempt to depict the scene of horror and confusion
which ensued; it may be imagined, but never described. The
captain, to give him his due, displayed the utmost coolness and
intrepidity; he and the whole crew made the greatest exertions to
repair the engine, and when they found their labour in vain,
endeavoured, by hoisting the sails, and by practising all possible
manoeuvres, to preserve the ship from impending destruction; but
all was of no avail, we were hard on a lee shore, to which the
howling tempest was impelling us.
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