f 134 j [Aueust, 
TRUE STORY OF A STORM AT SEA. 
Ir is a vulgar error, but a very common one, to connect in the imagi~ 
nation the dangers and horrors of storms and shipwrecks with distant 
parts of the great ocean, and with large vessels alone; whereas more 
disasters of this kind happen in sight of our own coast than in all the 
rest of the world put together, and these chiefly to vessels scarcely 
bigger than those we are accustomed to see on our own inland waters. 
Again,—nothing is looked upon as more fearful in its nature, and 
excites a more general and intense interest, than an authentic relation of 
an event of this kind, provided it be but connected with sufficiently dis- 
tant and imposing objects; but to talk of a storm and a steam-boat — 
together, seems likely to excite ideas of the ridiculous. And yet the — 
truth probably is, that those who would witness the utmost horrors and : 
miseries which a scene of this nature is capable of exhibiting, must seek 
them under those very circumstances, in connection with which no one 
ever thinks of looking for them. Seamen on board a man-of-war as much 
expect storms as they do battles, and it is as much their duty to brave 
the dangers of the one as of the other ; and they do brave them, gallantly 
and cheerfully. It is a part of their business : they are paid to do it, and 
they do it. The truth is, that what we (“ who live at home at ease”) 
regard the mere imagination of with fear and trembling, they make a 
joke of in the very height of its reality. They think of it as nothing ; 
and, therefore, to them it is nothing :—or even if there happen to be one 
among them disposed, by nature or habit (or rather the want of habit), to 
make much of the circumstances in which he is placed—or, indeed, to 
see them in their true light—he cannot do it if he would. Cowardice 
and courage—or, in other words, fear and bravery—are absolutely 
incompatible with each other ; so much so, that they cannot even exist in 
each other’s presence ; but that of which there is the greatest sum pre- 
sent will inevitably convert the other into its like for the time being. — 
Man is your only true chamelion, in respect of changing his appearance 
according to that with which he is in contact. There is scarcely an 
instance on record of the merest raw recruit running away from his fel- 
lows, even in his first battle; and, on the other hand, there are as_ 
few instances of the bravest standing their ground alone. The mere — 
cry of “ Sauve qui peut!” lost Buonaparte the battle of Waterloo and _ 
his throne. “| 
The account that Iam now to lay before the reader, I offer to him 
as a simple narrative of facts, as far as it relates to others; and of feel- 
ings, as it regards myself. It is on its unembellished truth that the’ ~ 
interest of my description must depend ; for as a fiction it would possess 
none at all. If the reader will look upon the circumstances to be such as — 
may not improbably happen, or might have happened, to himself, he will _ 
read the account of them without any feeling of their being impertinent, 
at least,—which, if they were offered as a fiction, he could scarcely do ; 
since the writer has not felt himself justified in availing himself of any of 
those privileges of addition or embellishment which a writer of fiction hg 
at his command, and has a right to use in the manner that may best 
his purpose. i. 
In the latter part of the autumn of the year 1822, I was at P3 
had twice taken my place to come by the public conveyance to CazaTs; 
my return to London, and was twice induced to forego it by the mos 
