120 



WRECK OF THE MEDUSA. 



The day passed on quietly enough. Night at length came on ; 

 the heavens were overspread with black clouds ; the winds un- 

 chained raised the sea mountains high, in the most dreadful man- 

 ner ; apprehensions arose again, and cries resounded from every 

 side : rolled by the waves from fore to aft, and back again ; 

 sometimes plunged in the sea, suspended betwixt life and death, 

 bewaiUng our misfortune, and, though certain of death, still strug- 

 gling with the merciless element ready to swallow us ; such was 

 our situation till morning. Every instant we heard the doleful 

 cries of our sailors and soldiers, preparing themselves for death ; 

 they bid a last adieu, and implored the protection of heaven. 

 During this painful night, I had firmness enough to keep calm, 

 amidst this confusion, and to remark the moral condition of our 

 people. Their expressions were already very incoherent; the 

 strongest ideas followed the recollection of their families, their 

 country, and their friends ; some cried out land^ others saw vessels 

 coming to our relief ; and these fallacious visions were announced 

 with repeated cries. Two young cabin-boys and a baker, despi- 

 sing death, plunged into the ocean, after taking leave of their 

 comrades." " We are o/f," said they, and instantly disappeared. 

 Such was the commencement of that dreadful insanity we shall 

 hereafter see exercising itself in the cruelest manner, and mowing 

 down a crowd of victims. 



The day coming on, brought back a little calm among us; 

 some unhappy persons, however, near me, were not come to their 

 senses; but in general, mental disorganization was little percepti- 

 ble. A charming young man, scarcely sixteen, asked me every 

 moment, " When shall we cut P He stuck to me, and followed 

 me everywhere, repeating the same question. This day, Mr. 

 Griffon threw himself into the sea, but I took him up myself ; his 

 answers were confused ; I gave him every consolation in my pow- 

 ar, and endeavoured to persuade him to support courageously 

 every privation we were suffering. But all my care was fruitless, 

 I could never recall him to reason ; he gave no sign of despair, 

 and appeared insensible to the horror of our situation ; I, however, 

 got some few incoherent words out of him ; but, being forced to 

 leave him, I recommended him to some of our companions, for 

 he was entirely absorbed in dark reflections. In a few minutes 

 he threw himself again into the sea, but by an instinct of self- 

 preservation he held to a piece of wood that went beyond the 



