52 SCRAPS OF LOCAL HISTORY. 



over, and Acteson was thrown into the water. I gradnally rose 

 to the surface, said he, when my first thought was to rid myself 

 of my coat, but it was no use trying. I made for the shiij's yards, 

 as she was on beaniends, and with three others, who had previ- 

 ously been with me in the jolly-boat when she capsized, I got into 

 the longboat, which was between the masts in the water. After 

 clearing the long boat from the rigging, we tried to reach the 

 wreck to pick up some of the crew or passengers, but, having lost 

 our oars, we had to drift at the mercj^ of the waves With some 

 boards found in the longboat, we rigged a kind of aft sail by 

 sitting with our backs to them. This kept the boat's head to the 

 sea. Thus we drifted about all night, which was bitterly cold. 

 Two of Capt. Hudson's sons, who were on board, would likely 

 have perished from cold and exhaustion had we not protected 

 them by sitting down on them. We wore in the neighborhood of 

 the ship and could hear all night jmrticularly loud and melancholy 

 cries on board. They came from a powerful young sailor who 

 never ceased moaning until he sank exhausted, about dawn, utter- 

 ing, even under the waves, a loud scream for help ; but none came 

 to him. 



DRIFTED ABOUT ALL NIGHT. 



"The mere chance whicli brought this unfortunate youth on 

 board the Colborne seemed to add to the tragic nature of his fate. 

 It seems that while the Colborne was taking on her cargo at 

 London, two lads belonging to the crew and hailing from Hull, 

 where the ship was owned, deserted, and were lost in the London 

 crowd. By so doing they saved themselves from perishing in the 

 Bale de Chaleur. On the day of the sailing, and just as the shij) 

 was casting off from her dock, a lad came alongside and offered to 

 ship as a sailor. His offer was at once accepted. It was just 

 possible for him to jump from the dock to the moving ship. And 

 so he embarked on the ill-fated Colborne. It was this wretched 

 lad who clung to the rigging all night, crying out in anguish for 

 help that could not come, until overcome by cold and exhaustion, 

 his hold upon the ropes relaxed and he was swept away by a 

 remorseless wave. It is now 33 years since I heard this cry of 

 despair, said Mr. Acteson in recounting the horrors of that awful 

 night, and many a time have I wakened from my sleep, horrified, 



