320 SHIPWRECK OF TH£ MEDtfsA. 
point, several of our shipwrecked companions, who had reach- 
ed the shore, ran and hid themselves behind the hills, not to 
see us perish ; others made signs not to approach at that 
place ; some covered their eyes with their hands : others, at 
last, despising the danger, precipitated themselves into the 
waves to receive us into their arms. We then saw a specta- 
cle that made us shudder. We had already doubled two ran- 
ges of breakers ; but those which we had still to cross raised 
their foaming waves to a prodigious height, then sunk with a 
hollow and monstrous sound, sweeping along a long line of the 
coast. Our boat, sometimes greatly elevated, and sometimes 
ingulfed between the waves, seemed now given up to utter 
ruin. Bruised, battered, tossed about on all hands, it turned 
of itself, and refused to obey the kind hand which directed 
it. At that instant a huge wave rushed from the open sea and 
dashed against the poop : the boat plunged, disappeared, and 
we were all among the waves. Our sailors, whose strength 
had returned at the presence of danger, redoubled their ef- 
forts, uttering mournful sounds. Our bark groaned, the oars 
were broken ; it was thought aground, but it was stranded ; 
it was upon its side. The last sea rushed upon us with the 
impetuosity of a torrent. We were up to the neck in water ; 
the bitter sea-froth choked us. The grapnel was thrown out. 
The sailors threw themselves into the sea ; they took the 
children in their arms ; returned, and took us upon their 
shoulders ; and I found myself seated upon the sand on the 
shore, by the side of my step-mother, my brothers and sisters, 
almost dead. Every one was upon the beach except my fa- 
ther and some sailors ; but that good man arrived at last, to 
mingle his tears with those of his family and friends. 
Instantly our hearts joined in addressing our prayers and 
praises to God. I raised my hands to heaven, and remained 
some time immovable upon the beach. Every one also hast- 
ened to testify his gratitude to our old pilot, who, next to God, 
justly merited the title of our preserver. M. Dumege, a naval 
surgeon, gave him an elegant gold watch, the only thing he 
had saved from the Medusa. 
Let the reader now recollect all the perils to which we had 
been exposed in escaping from the wreck of our frigate to the 
shores of the Desert — all that we had suffered during our four 
days' voyage — and he will perhaps have a just notion of the 
rarious sensations we felt on getting on shore on that strange 
and savage land. Doubtless the joy we experienced at hav- 
ing escaped, as by a miracle, the fury of the floods, was very 
