Account of a Shipwreck on the Coast of Nova Scotia.

Editor s Note: With permission of the publisher, this account is reprinted from the book: Edward W Pitcher and D. Sean Hartigan, Sensationalist Literature and Popular Culture in the Early American Republic, Lewiston, NY: The Edwin Mellen Press, 2001. (pp. 251-265)

For another look at the sinking of the Martha, read: New, M Christopher Maryland Loyalists in the American Revolution. Centreville MD: Tidewater Publishers. 1996. (pp. 101-105).

The full title on the first instalment of this four-part narrative was:

"An Account of the Sufferings of the Officers and Soldiers who were Shipwrecked on the Coast of Nova Scotia, near Cape Sable, on their Voyage from New York for St. John's in the Bay of Fundy, at the Close of the American War in 1783--in a Letter from the Commanding Officer on Board (Now in Ireland) to a Friend in New York (Never Before Published)."

The first part appeared as the leading article in the "New York Weekly Museum" No. 588 (1 Feb. 1800) and continued in this four-page weekly serial on the 8th, 15th, and 22nd of February under the shortened title used above. Transcription from the original was complicated by a text in a poor state of preservation, especially with regard to the final page that was torn. Some statistics reported there have been carefully reconstructed by reference to information given in the main narrative. Punctuation in the original letter was perhaps completely irregular because the Editor (John Harrisson) seems to have supplied his own in part one, and thereafter allowed the frequent use of dashes to substitute for formal grammar. Much of this stands intact here, but some punctuation has been imposed where clarity demanded it. At two or three points in the original, words seem to be missing, so commonsense substitutes were supplied in square brackets by Edward W. Pitcher who judged that his fellow Canadians would wish to pre serve this "lost" account of the misfortunes of "Loyalists" entering Canada after the American Revolution.

On the 15th of September, 1783, being all embarked with our proportions of necessary supplies, and refreshments of all kinds laid in for our voyage, we bade adieu to New-York, fell down the river, and the weather moderate and pleasant, gave us hope of a prosperous passage. We were one (i.e. Martha) of twelve sail of transports, under convoy of a frigate bound to the same port (St. John, NB); but unfortunately being too late in getting through the Narrows with the ebb, we were obliged to anchor, while the rest of the fleet, clearing Sandyhook, early in the afternoon got out to sea. By this event, when we sailed out next morning, we could not descry any of the vessels.

Thus, my friend, we left New-York, in obedience to his Majesty's command; and though, as you may suppose, depressed by the calamitous event of the war, we enjoyed heart-felt satisfaction in reflecting on the goodness of our Sovereign, whose paternal regards were extended to the interest of his suffering loyalists in America--his goodness had prepared a colony for their reception, provided them with every article of comfort and support, with farming utensils, saws, axes, and other instruments necessary in a wooded country, to begin the arduous work of cultivation.

I confess I felt great regret at leaving New-York, where I had enjoyed the pleasures of local friendship, amid a circle of worthy inhabitants-yes, I look back often with heart-felt satisfaction on the delightful scenes, the heightened joys that filled up every day, even in the severity of the winter months, in the sweet village of Newtown on Long-Island, where we frequently had our quarters and cantonments. I hope I may be indulged this small tribute of grateful remembrance and affection, for many agreeable families of that place--to the Moores of that neighbourhood I am particularly indebted, a family ancient and respectable--to the charms of their company--to the hospitable attentions of their numerous connexions I owe many happy hours of festivity and innocent mirth.

The Rev Benjamin Moore had been long eminent in his pastoral functions, as minister of the Episcopal church: he is a clergyman of most amiable manners, humane, benevolent, affectionate; as much revered in private life as he is admired and distinguished in the pulpit. You will pardon this honest warmth of a susceptible heart. I could not omit the small tribute of gratitude for numerous proofs of affectionate esteem confered on me by a worthy people.

To proceed, we passed the dangerous shoals of Nantucket, the terror of the mariners, and having had soundings in fifty fathom water, on the evening of the 21st we ran out with all sail spread, in the hope of making Cape Sable before night; but unhappily it came on dark without our making the land.

The master of the vessel indeed thought he saw land about sunset, and therefore resolved to stand off and on through the night. Just after dark the wind began to rise, and had by midnight encreased to a furious gale with heavy rains. We were all quietly stowed away in our cots to get a little sleep, and dreaming of a happy view of land in the morning, when suddently we were alarmed by a dreadful crash upon deck. I sprung from my cot, and getting on deck instantly, found that our main-sail was split by the force of the wind and that some of the rigging has given way. All hands were immediately called to put things to rights, and to get up another main-sail.

Here for the first time I began to think of the dangers to which officers and soldiers are frequently exposed, by being hurried on board crazy old vessels, with patched sails and a thousand splicings in the riggings. The vessel we were in was thirty years old; her sails and rigging in bad order, and very unfit for equinoctial weather.

I must here observe, from dreadful experience, how necessary a business it is to be well informed of the condition of a vessel before a passenger puts his foot on board; it is a principal point on which depends the comfort or misery of a voyage; for in a vessel out of trim, old, rotten or crazy, badly sound or badly manned, (which without particular enquiry can only be known when too late for remedy), (w)e must be ever anxious and uneasy; every blast of the wind or rising of the sea brings with it apprehensions of immediate ruin.

Though there was unhappily at New-York ample scope for censure, it is not my wish to animadvert on the conduct of certain men employed at great saleries, with still greater emoluments of situation, to examine and report the condition of transports, when ordered to take troops on board. I have only to say generally, that a remarkable fatality pervaded every operation, every department of the disastrous war in America.

The storm was violent, the sea high, the night rainy, dreary, dark and cold. The business of the main-sail was at length accomplished; the men were just gone below to put on dry jackets and refresh themselves; the master had ordered the ship to be put about as soon as the men returned upon deck. I had directed the guard of soldiers then on duty, to keep a good look out jointly with the sailors, and all to be even more than usually alert, and to lend a hand to every thing for the common safety. Uneasy and anxious for the return of morning, I went below and turned into my cot; it was then past two o'clock, and I had just closed my eyes to an easy slumber when the vessel struck. I jumped instantly upon deck--all hands, sailors, and soldiers, suddenly awaked by the shock, started up in the utmost consternation, and made all haste to get on deck to enquire our situation. For about five minutes the striking was moderate and easy; it appeared to be a gradual slope or ridge of rocks. We endeavoured to back the sails to give her stern way, but in such a moment of terror and confusion, orders are but little understood, and in a few minutes we found she was saddled upon the rocks, without a hope of getting her off.

Oh! It was then a scene of melancholy and horror presented itself, which beggars every attempt to describe. The shriekings, bemoanings, cries of the poor women and children, who thought every soul must perish in an instant; the lamentations and despair of the men, are still fresh in my memory, and pierce my soul with anguish on the recollection. The gloomy darkness of the night, the master's acknowledged ignorance of the coast, the terrifying reports we had heard at New-York, of the numerous rocks, and irrisistible currents along this iron-bound coast, all crouded upon the mind, and added to horrors that surround us.

In this deplorable condition we continued, unknowing what course to pursue. The ship began to strike with redoubled violence, and the irritated waves alternately raising her up from the bed of rock, and letting her down furiously again, gave her such dreadful jerks, as dashed the men to and fro with great violence, the seas rolling over us constantly, and the ship appearing to be breaking in pieces at every stroke of the surge. With great difficulty I crawled over to that side of the quarter deck which lay highest out of the water, and there found the Captain, with whom I consulted what could be thought most expedient for the preservation of the vessel and the souls in her. He seemed quite stupified by distress, and spoke of keeping the pumps at work, though I knew the bottom was giving way, by the water every instant gaining upon us; yet I endeavoured to keep the soldiers to the pumps, and worked myself with them, as long as any glimmering hope remained; but we soon found the destruction of the vessel was in evitable-The preservation of the people, by means of the boats, was our next consideration, as the vessel was filling fast, and her bottom, shattered to pieces, floating round us.

We had made all the signals of distress in our power by firing of guns, etc. and I exerted myself to give comfort to all around me, by the hope of seeing land at the return of day, but when day appeared, it served only to add to our distress: we indeed saw land, about six miles distant on our starboard quarter, and I confess the sight of terra firma gave new vigor to my exertions. As the master seemed quite confused and full of inconsistency, I spoke to the mate to get out the boats as fast as possible, and directed a party of our best men to assist the sailors in the business; but from the circumstance of having cut away our mizen-mast early in the disaster, it proved a tedious work, from the difficulty of fixing the tackles; the means of relief, however, seemed probable, and hope began to revive.

We got the yawl safely over the side, and to their honour be it spoken, the men behaved at this juncture with the greatest attention and obedience; not a man attempted to jump into the boat.

I then advised the master to order five of the most resolute seamen into the boat, with oars, mast and sail, and let them lie off at a small distance, while we laboured to get the long-boat over also; this was happily accomplished after much labour and fatigue.

I intended to fill the long-boat with women and children, and as many of the soldiers as could with safety stow in her, then to have her towed to the shore by the yawl, double manning the oars, so that in three or four turns we might hope to land all hands in security, beside the aid of boats we expected from the shore, as we indulged the fond hope that the land we saw was inhabited.

The sailors had taken their station in the yawl, about one hundred yards from the vessel; the long-boat was ready to take the people in; I had just taken post at the head of the ladder to prevent hurry and confusion in going down to the boat, and that she should not be overloaded, when just at this awful crisis, we saw the mainmast loosed from its base, rolling furiously to and fro, threatening terrible destruction in its fall. In a moment the main top-mast yards, sails and rigging, in one several ruin fell over the side, and dashed our one remaining hope, our only resource, the longboat into pieces.

Here, my dear friend, the powers of description fail; words are inadequate to express the fresh consternation, the despair of my unfortunate comrades. What a dismal sight; what a melancholy spectacle!--A sudden burst of lamentation; a general cry of distress, was heard from every part of the decks--the people running about distracted, not knowing what they did;--some jumping overboard to get upon the wreck of the masts and yards along side; others preparing to lash spars and planks together, to form a raft and commit themselves to the mercy of Providence; but as there was a great swell of the sea, it was impossible to make any permanent raft, and many were turned adrift on loose spars, and soon perished. My spirits sunk within me, and the big tear of heart-rending anguish started to my eye; I saw not the most distant chance of safety for any of us.

After a while assuming an air of composure, I sought to administer that comfort to others which I want myself; with seeming intrepidity, I begged the poor unhappy women and children who crouded round, looking up to me in the most moving manner for assistance, not to be discouraged, that we still had the yawl safe, that the sailors should be dispatched to the nearest land, with as many as she could carry, to bring off more aid; in the mean time to trust in the goodness of Providence, which would still send us succor. Thus I used every effort in my power to reanimate their drooping spirits, chilled as they were by the severity of the weather and violence of the seas, which beat over us incessantly; such were the fury and shocks from the heavy waves, we were obliged to hold by the shrouds and rigging, to save ourselves from being washed overboard.

I hailed the yawl, and begged the sailors to bring her under the stem, whence we might lower a few of the women and children, with their husbands and fathers, to go on the first turn, and so return to us again.--But judge my surprize and honor, when the inhuman, unfeeling wretches made not an effort to come near us. I hailed them again and again, still more loud and peremptory, but in vain, and even called to the master to hail the men--but it was all in vain;--they remained at the first distance, insensible of the (entreaties?) and deaf to the cries of the unhappy women who held up their children in their arms to try to move them to compassion. Oh! judge here of the misery and anguish with which my soul was overwhelmed, when the selfish wretches refused to come near us, but kept off without exertion, without a wish to assist us! The dismal cries of the unfortunate females, from the ship to the boat, still ring in my ears. A more terrible sight as one ever beheld. A few of those who had jumped overboard and were floating on the wreck of the masts and yards, and who could swim, made their way to the boat, and were taken up. I could have swam to save myself at that crisis; but I thought my duty to companions of many years service, precluded me regarding my own safety, as long as the vessel hung together, though then filled with water almost to the decks, and though destruction threatened us in every wave.

In these hopeless circumstances, it occurred that the little jolly-boat, which was still on deck, might serve to convey the master of the vessel and three or four soldiers to the yawl; and it was agreed upon and most solemnly promised on his part that as soon as he got on board the yawl, he would take command of her, and compel the sailors to bring her under the ship's stern, to take off a few of the women and children,--To accomplish this, I lent a hand in person to put the jolly-boat over the side--but as soon as the master got himself safe on board, he forgot his promises and refused to come nearer us--I hailed and called to him with all my might to have pity on the poor children, and to save at least those innocents, but prayers and entreaties were in vain--he indeed called out to me individually to swim off to the boat, that he would advance to meet--and take me up--and here, perhaps, self-preservation would have sanctioned such a step, and I must ingenuously confess that as every hope seemed gone, the idea of my own safety operated very forcibly.

The love of life is strongly implanted in the human breast--It was apparently certain death to stay--to go at that moment offered the means of preserving life--a minute's pause decided the point. Could I withstand the supplications of my wretched companions? Could I resist the prayers and solicitations of the poor women and children, addressing me with streaming eyes and uplifted hands! begging that I would not leave them in their distress--calling me their friend, their comforter--that while I was with them, they still had a hope, a confidence that heaven would send relief. In the anguish of my soul, in the momentary conflict between personal (interest?) and the needs of others in pressing danger, the tears burst from my eyes, and relived my full heart--I turned aside to hide my emotion; assured them that I was resolved not to leave them but share their fate. A gleam of hope seemed to cheer my spirits--sure it was the gracious inspiritation of heaven that gave me new vigour, and endued me with renovated str ength--it was the powerful, the irresistible impression of duty--may I be allowed to say without any imputation of vanity, it was the honour and enthusiasm of a soldier bound to his associates and to his station.

If the men had behaved with any degree of disobedience or tumult, I should have gone from them without a pang; nor given myself the trouble of advising or comforting them; but where every action of mine was observed; every word and order implicitly obeyed; when my advice was solicited, even to the last awful, solemn moment of imminent peril, which renders all ranks of mortals to one common level--Could I consistently with the feeling of a man or the character of an officer, abandon my fellow-soldiers in distress? No; every virtuous consideration forbade it, and heaven crowned my resolution with success.

I told them I would stay by them through every extremity, prayed them to be composed and resigned; trusting in the mercies of heaven whence only relief could now come to us--for we just then saw the master of the vessel hoisting his sail and putting towards the shore with every exertion of oars; he had even the inhumanity to cut the jolly-boat adrift, full in our view, but so far to leeward, that it was dangerous to attempt to reach it even by swimming.

Many of the poor unhappy men, on seeing the boat leaving us for the shore, had jumped into the sea to try to overtake her by swimming, perished in the attempt, as the savage wretches in the boat would not stop to pick them up--those who could not swim, began to consult together about making rafts, by lashing spars, hencoops, tables and other things together-- but such endeavours were vain and of none effect; as there was a great swell of the sea, the lashings soon gave way, and the individuals were so exhausted as to be unable to regain the wreck, and to be drowned in our sight.

The master thus running off with the boat from us, was indeed a dreadful trial; aggravated by the circumstance of his total indifference about us, every eye streamed with tears, every heart was swollen with grief, I tried to put on an air of seeming resolution and composure; and though stung to the heart by the cruelty of the wretch who left us thus to the anguish of despair, I still expressed a hope that he would come off to us from the shore with boats to our relief.

And now, as we had not suffered every disaster that adverse winds and angry waves could inflict, we were roused by fresh terrors; the heavens again darkened, the tempest howled, the billows rolled over us with the utmost fury, and our helpless bark was floating in several detached pieces--The people betook themselves to the forecastle and main-deck, which were separated from the body of the vessel, and held to it only by the cordage, many exhausted by such sufferings, and too weak to sustain the conflict, were washed off and perished: others more able to endure the extremes of cold and thirst, prepared to commit themselves on detached spars and planks in hopes of reaching shore, though they had seen others perish in the like attempts.

Oh! what a dismal sight! scores of souls hanging by the ropes along side, others in the sea on oars and pieces of wood; all nearly distracted by the increasing perils, and uttering the most dismal lamentations, a melancholy spectacle! sure never was there a more shocking sight! pray heaven I may never witness the like again. For my own part it seemed as if calamity was not yet at its height. In the beginning of the disaster we had been obliged to cut away our mizen-mast, as also the tiller as close as hurry would allow; for the violent motion of the rudder driving the tiller to and fro with irrisistible fury, prevented us from enjoying the shelter of the quarterdeck--without attending to the danger from the remaining stump of the tiller. I was walking aft to look out how far the boat was got toward the shore, when I received so dreadful a blow on my knee as felled me to the deck; from the violence of the pain, I thought my knee and leg shattered to pieces, and that all my expectation of escape was over--I ga ve myself up for lost and lay for a minute or two in a kind of inanimate despondency, and here I experienced sincere proofs of affectionate regard from many of my poor comrades; regardless of their own danger, they came towards me in the most endearing strain to enquire into my situation, and to ask how they could assist me--after rubbing my knee for a little time, and the pressure of danger increasing my strength, I got up, and soon found the pains of the body absorbed and lost by fresh terrors of the mind.

I proceed now to inform you more immediately of the manner and means of our escape--fortunately the timbers and planks of the decks were torn from the body of the wreck, and floated in large compact pieces--the main-deck floated in two divisions, the fore-deck kept also together--the quarter-deck gave way the last. In the momentum of ardurous trial I had taken post on the after part of the quarter-deck, some time before it gave way; and as that part of the vessel was turned gradually over by the force of the seas, I had mounted on the side and there waited my fate. I watched the approach of every tremendous wave, and clung fast to the mizen-chains, till it passed over me--then raised and shook myself, to look round for the next--the wind was still high, the sky gloomy and threatening--at last a prodigious heavy sea fell on board, and tore everything before it--the stove in the ribs and timbers beneath, and plunged us headlong into the deep. I had fixed my eyes on the rudder, but as soon as I rose to the surf ace, I saw a Serjeant of ours had already got on it--he floated away--but, poor fellow, has never since been heard of. I then scrambled on a part of the quarterdeck about five planks in width, but tom in various lengths; our number was soon increased, to twenty-five-among them two women and three children--we were stowed as close as possible; and in spite of every endeavour during the first three hours, we were washed off every three minutes, (and) had to struggle with the billows and broken timbers to get on again, as we had not even a rope to hold by, it being all a smooth surface.

We soon lost sight of the other rafts, consisting of the main-decks, forecastle and other pieces, which were all crouded, and driven to and fro, the sport of wind and waves. I will not attempt to describe the afflicting groans and heart-rending cries of the helpless females worn out by fatigue, bruised and battered by the falling timbers, and trembling with agony for their little ones--the scene was dreadful, the situation most horrible--it was too severe a conflict for the poor women and children who were on the raft with me--they were soon overwhelmed, and in spite of the little aid we tried to give them, they in a few hours perished--many of the men weak and enfeebled were washed away and drowned--they were seized first with a stupor and drowsiness, and died in convulsive spasms. I myself being plunged so often into the sea found my strength giving way; and, chilled with cold, had scarce power at one time to get on the raft, till our Surgeon kindly, on my calling faintly to him, stretched out his hand to assist me--and what was more distressing, the next wave separated us entirely, nor did I see him after, till we met at St. John's (sic).

I was now so debilitated that I almost gave way to despondency, and began to be indifferent about what might befall us, as our fate seemed approaching fast, and I was exposed to be overwhelmed by every wave, having nothing to hold by, to resist the waves--when luckily I observed the hole made in the deck for the pipe of the stove to be conveyed through. I instantly thrust my arm down to the elbow in it, to keep me steady; and this situation however painful, saved me from many dippings and gave me new courage--in about six hours our numbers were reduced to ten--in proportion to our decrease the raft rose higher to the surface; the winds and sea began to abate of their fury, and though destitute of food, without even a drop of water to put to our lips, we felt something like a ray of hope--as we seemed to float toward the shore, we began to cheer each other with the hope of reaching it, or of seeing boats coming off to us.

The flattering idea of nearing the land encouraged us to encounter the danger, and lessened the acute anguish of our sufferings. We passed a few hours in this soothing hope: but alas! dark, dreary night was approaching and we began to observe with silent horror that a tide of ebb was sweeping us away from the wished for land, and carrying us out to sea. Every circumstance was dispiriting, the prospect most alarming;--while we seemed to advance however little towards the shore, we felt a hope of a termination to our miseries--but to encounter the horrors of a long night--oh! 'twas dreadful!--At last, I broke an awful silence: "What," said I, "my dear friends, is to be done? certainly not to sit down and die--by exertion of our little strength the pieces of broken planks may be employed as paddles or oars, to struggle through the night against the force of the current, and prevent our being carried out to sea." This plan was instantly embraced, and we set to paddling by alternate spells, steering by the stars which now and then broke through the clouds, but a long, tedious, dreadful night it proved.

When day at length appeared, we saw the land, but at a greater distance than before--however, we found the benefit of a little warmth from the exercise of the paddle, and the stupor and drowsiness which usually attends, and if indulged, proves fatal in such situations, was prevented. I felt myself often through the night inclined and yielding to what I imagined a sweet slumber, but the faithful attention of one of my comrades rescued me from the danger, by rousing me to the duty of the paddle.

Here give me leave to inform you of the circumstance, to which, under heaven, I owe my preservation through these dreary, unpromising scenes,--we had a large stout dog on board the ship, of the pointer breed; this dog, when we were all set afloat, got upon the raft with us, and though we endeavoured, crouded (sic), distressed, and forlorn as we were, to get rid of our guest by pushing him off, his strength still enabled him to get on again, as often as the seas washed all off, the dog was the first on, and took his station in the centre. Encumbered by his weight, and by the space he occupied, the men beat him over the head and sides, but he remained immoveable; till at length pity for the animal induced me to beg they would suffer him to remain; as, if thrown off at one moment, he would be on again in spite of us, and throw us into confusion by his struggles, he was therefore suffered to remain.--At night when I felt the heaviness and drowsy stupor stealing on me, from the extreem fatigue and cold, surely he aven inspired the thought to press the dog close to my breast, apply my mouth to his back to breathe on, and to clasp my hands round his flanks, thus partaking of the animal heat from his body and restoring the vital part almost extinct in me. This method I pursued as often as I was relieved from the paddle through the night and the whole of next day; and to that poor animal I am confident I owe that degree of strength which enabled me to hold out to the time of our deliverance. This anecdote I relate as an additional instance of the attachment and faithful services of dogs to the human race.

By this time the weather though not boisterous was still cold and wet; we had not enjoyed a ray of sunshine through the whole of our sufferings: on one side we were whirled towards the vast ocean; on the other we saw a body of land, which from the wild, rude, and rocky appearance we now judged to be uninhabited.-Six only of our number survived-with those few, the powers of nature were sinking under the long continued pressure of distress. Our mutual expressions of condolence and hope had ceased-each seemed engaged in silent contemplation of the awful moment of expected dissolution.--Our eyes and trust were directed to heaven.--Two of the six, a Serjeant and myself began to feel strong symptoms of stupefaction, the forerunner of death. I began to totter, and found my knees and legs grow rigid and insensible--I begged indulgence of a brother-officer (Captain Sterling) to lean on his shoulder for support. My throat and tongue were dry and parched--my voice faultered, and I waited with calm resignation for death which seemed to have fastened upon me.

The night was again coming on, when one of the men who was looking towards the sea called out--"A sail! a sail!" T'was a salutation, my dear friend, in its effects at that moment, undescribable. 'Twas too much for me--for in turning round with the rest by a sudden impulse, to look towards the desired object, my foot stumbled and I was on the point of going overboard, when one of the men seized me by the arm and prevented me from tumbling into the sea; but I received in the fall against the rugged end of the timbers of the raft which projected, a violent contusion in my sides, the dire effect of which to my health, I feel almost to this day.

'Alas! I fear 'tis not a sail," said one of the party, "it appears like a white rock in the sea." Opinions were different even in our little community--however the idea of a sail took possession of our minds, and our eyes were all turned towards it. After a while the object manifestly enlarged to our view--"It is a sail," we exclaimed one and all, "and heaven is still merciful to us."

On nearer approach there appeared to be three small vessels coming into the bay before the wind--though cheared by this unexpected sight, yet a thousand new fears alarmed us, lest they should pass along without seeing us; we were low on the water, and unable to make any signal of distress, except by hanging out a handkerchief on the end of a paddle. The day was far spent--this circumstance gave a check to our hopes. However, they continued to approach nearer--they saw our little signal--they saw our distress-they most humanely made signs that they saw and would relieve us. It is impossible to conceive what we felt at that moment from the sudden change of fortune, from the rapid transition, an escape from the borders of impending death to joyful prospects of safety and comfort!

It was sunset when they hove to, and with the celerity of active seamen, ever ready to relieve the distressed, they put out their little boats or punts, and took us on board. We imagined we were the only six who had escaped the general wreck, when we found on enquiry they had seen nothing of rafts or wreck--but how great was our exaltation to hear them cry out in a few minutes from one of the vessels at a distance from us--"Behold! one, two, three rafts in view, and full of people."

In a very short time there were all taken up and distributed on board the different vessels to the number of about sixty-eight, and among them six women and five children. Gracious Providence! how wonderful are thy dispensations, how unerring and safe are the ways of thy goodness!

I will not attempt describe the mutual and heart-felt congratulations of the poor people on seeing each other--their suffering seemed forgotten in the pleasure of meeting--their joy flowed in a thousand questions relative to the late disaster, and were only lessened by a deep concern on hearing from each other the number of names of those who perished in the arduous struggle. Weak and overwhelmed, I was immediately put into a birth (berth) in a snug little cabin--oh! it was to me a palace; the heat of a good fire gave me new life, and a small glass of rum and water, with a mouthful of bread, was my first refreshment for forty-eight hours--but the happy opportunity of lying down to a little rest, and screened from the inclement skies, was the first of luxuries to me. My mind was quick relieved from all agitations, the wildness of despair. But in proportion as the mind relaxed from it terrors, the anguish and pain of body, arising from the wounds and bruises received in the late struggle for life, when contendi ng with broken timbers, ragged planks, chests, spars, etc. came on with redoubled violence, and though I felt comparatively nothing of all this, while on the raft (so strongly was the mind engaged by the impending dangers) yet in an hour after getting into birth, I could not move a limb without the most excruciating pain.--The upper joint of one of my fingers was tom and mangled in a dreadful manner, and gave me the greatest torture for a month afterwards.

How shall I here describe the lamentable fate of an individual who made his appearance on a raft, alone, at some distance from us, just as the sail was hoisted to proceed up the bay.--'Twas then nearly dark, we could distinguish an object--but could not know the person--the unhappy man called out earnestly for relief--but dreadful to relate--it was too dangerous to attempt going after him: the sailors were afraid of losing their boats and their lives too, as he was unfortunately entangled in an eddy or kind of whirlpool formed by sunken rocks. I shall never forget his piercing cries, his incessant calls for help which the darkness prevented our being able to give.--The miserable victim was left to despair and death. Oh! may my eyes never behold, or my ears hear of so distressing a scene!

I have thus led you on to the happy moment of our being taken up, and by the means of men against whom we had lately been at arms. They belonged to Boston; their shallops were laden with fish taken on the adjacent banks of Nova Scotia. They were on their return homewards with their little cargoes, but the bad appearance of the equinoctial weather induced them to run into that bay to seek a harbour against the threatening storm. Nothing could exceed their friendly, courteous behaviour to us--they endeavoured to consult our ease and comfort in every instance, and to alleviate the memory of our misfortunes by the most endearing attentions.

The men were supplied with messes of chouder--a well-known favourite dish among fishermen--made up of cod-fish stewed with spices and wine by those who can afford it. A little remnant of tea was boiled in a kettle for the supply of the women. Though weak, fatigued and enfeebled as I lay, I was rejoiced to hear the detail of their several sufferings, while floating on the sea, after separating from the body of the wreck, for we had on board our sloop men from different rafts. Nor were they wanting in offices of kindness to me. I had my feet, legs, and arms fomented with warm spirits, and wrapt in flannel--for during the long tremendous conflict, I had neither shoes nor hat on, and my other cloathing was rather thin for the season; and I had not the thought to get on warm cloathing before the vessel filled.

As the party was too numerous to find a comfortable shelter on board, the cabins being very small, as soon as we got to safe anchorage under the land, it was settled to carry all the people on shore, and to make large fires round which they could enjoy the comforts of sleep and warmth, each man, Indian-like, stretched with his feet to the fire, and a log of wood for a pillow.--In the morning, how was I overjoyed to hear the voice of gladness on shore, and although destitute of cloaths and money, without a blanket to cover them all seemed in transport and rapture, skipping and bounding through the woods. The wind being a head and story, we remained two nights under this uninhabited island, after which our little fleet set sail, and in a short time made the harbour of Jebogue or Yar-mouth, an old settlement on the eastern point of the bay of Fundy, and some leagues within Cape Sable

Here we found a considerable number of the inhabitants hospitable and friendly, and we saw fine farms abounding with cattle. These people were used to the business of receiving shipwrecked men: towards the close of the war, the Blonde frigate struck on a ledge of rocks, the same or nearly those on which we suffered, and there was just time to land the crew before she went Down--and a mast ship not too long before in a thick fog run her bowsprit on the main shore, and there went to pieces. The crew and master were saved. Our men were cantoned in the different houses along the settlement, and the sick soon recovered from their fatigues, by a good nourishing diet of beef and mutton, with plenty of butter, milk, and cheese. I was carried from the shore by the assistance of two of our officers to a comfortable house, and laid on a kind of bed of straw. In a few days I was enabled to go abroad on horseback to visit the cantonments.

I now began to reflect on my situation, without money--without cloaths;--I had even lost my hat and shoes in the conflict of the first day. I had received a considerable sum of money at New-York, the day before we sailed, but unluckily all in dollars, and I had not an opportunity to change them for gold.--These dollars I was afraid of on account of their weight--and I shall ever be of opinion that a worthy man, a Serjeant, who had amassed some money by keeping the regimental mess, lost his life by his endeavours to save his dollars. He was seen to stow his pockets with them when the ship was going to pieces;--he was afterwards on the same raft with me, and by my side, when a violent wave washed us off into the sea..--On recovering and looking round, I saw him not. The unfortunate man rose no more. I confess ingenuously I had a strong wish to save my cash--and some small trinkets of value;--to that end I had tied up my bag of dollars, a ring, watch, and breast-pin, with a few shirts and stockings into one bund le, and kept it by me to the moment of extremity--'till I saw that tremendous wave rolling along, which was to set me afloat--then away went bundle, money, and all. Life was at stake, and trivial considerations vanished before that of preserving that valuable blessing.

And here I anticipate your enquiry, about the fate of my poor dog. Alas! helpless inanimate as I was when taken up, it was not in my power to bring him off with me. I indeed begged the seamen most earnestly to bring him on board, and they promised they would, but when I afterward enquired about this, you may judge how great was my disappointment when they told me they had been obliged to leave him, through apprehension of his becoming mad, as he snapped at, and attempted to bite the man who went to lay hold and hawl him into the boat; and in consequence this generous animal, the guardian, the protector, the prolonger of my days was left alone on the raft to perish.

As some of our gentlemen had saved a little gold, I borrowed money to purchase a check shirt, and trowsers, and a pair of shoes, which articles we luckily found for sale among the neighbours, as fishing-boats frequently came into the harbour to purchase those commodities. We also made up a few guineas to divide among the generous seamen who had rescued us from destruction, before they took their departure from us for Boston.

We were detained upwards of two weeks in this place, after which we embarked in two small fishing-boats, hired for the purpose, to convey us up the Bay of Fundy to St. John's. In our passage up the bay we got into a variety of little harbours and bays inhabited by the Acadian French, and the lands which they cultivated gave us a good opinion of the fertility of the soil, and removed prejudices we had imbibed against the country from the vague rumours at New-York. At length we arrived at our destined port, and cast anchor in the harbour of St. John,--and soon received the congratulations of the officers and men of the several corps who sailed in company from New-York, and who had given us up for lost.

P.S. Return of troops embarked at New-York, on board the transport ship Martha, for St. Johns in the Bay of Fundy:

Regiment of Maryland Loyalists: 2 captains, 2 lieutenants, 2 ensigns, 1 surgeon, 11 serjeants, 7 corporals, 2 drummers, 56 privates, 12 women, 10 children, 5 servants (110 in all)

Ludlow's New-York Regiment: 1 captain, 2 lieutenants, 1 ensign, 1 surgeon, 6 serjeants, 6 corporals, 21 drummers, 30 privates, 9 women, 8 children, 5 servants (71 in all)

Total Embarked: 3 captains, 4 lieutenants, 3 ensigns, 2 surgeons, 17 serjeants, 13 corporals, 4 drummers, 86 privates, 21 women, 18 children, 10 servants, (181 in all)

Return of the men, etc. saved, of the Regiment of Maryland

Loyalists: 1 captain, 1 lieutenant, 1 ensign, 1 surgeon, 5 serjeants, 5 corporals, 2 drummers, 21 privates, 5 women, 1 child. Total 43

Ludlow's New-York Regiment: 1 captain, 1 lieutenants, 4 serjeants, 2 corporals, 12 privates, 1 woman, 4 children. Total 25

Total Saved: 2 captains, 2 lieutenants, 1 ensign, 1 surgeon, 9 serjeants, 2 drummers, 7 corporals, 33 privates, 6 women, 5 children, (no servants). Total: 68.

Perished by Shipwreck:

1 captain, 2 lieutenants, 2 ensigns, 1 surgeon, 8 serjeants, 6 corporals, 2 drummers, 53 privates, 15 women, 13 children, 10 servants. Total 113.