’Some unfortunate men drank salt water, several endeavoured to quench their raging thirst by a still more unnatural means; some chewed leather, myself and many others thought we experienced great relief by chewing lead, as it produced saliva.

’In less than an hour after the ship had struck the ground, all the provisions were under water, and the ship a wreck, so that we were entirely without food.  After a night of most intense suffering, daylight enabled us to see Lieutenant Harvey and Mr. Callam again endeavouring to launch the boat.  Several attempts were made without success, and a number of men belonging to the merchant ships were much bruised and injured in their efforts to assist.  Alternate hopes and fears possessed our wretched minds.

’Fifteen men got safe on shore, this morning, on pieces of the wreck.  About three, P.M., of Wednesday, the 4th, we had the inexpressible happiness of seeing the boat launched through the surf, by the indefatigable exertions of the two officers, assisted by the masters of the merchant ships, and a number of Portuguese peasants, who were encouraged by Mr. Whitney, the British Consul from Figuera.

’All the crew then remaining on the wreck were brought safe on shore, praising God for this happy deliverance, from a shipwreck which never yet had its parallel.

’As soon as I slipt out of the boat, I found several persons whose humanity prompted them to offer me refreshment, though imprudently, in the form of spirits, which I avoided as much as possible.

’Our weak state may be conceived when it is remembered that we had tasted no nourishment from Sunday to Wednesday afternoon, and had been exposed all that time to the fury, of the elements.  After eating and drinking a little, I found myself weaker than before, owing, I imagine, to having been so long without food.  Some men died soon after getting on shore, from taking too large a quantity of spirits.  The whole of the crew were in a very weak and exhausted state, and the greater part of them were also severely bruised and wounded.’

Such is Mr. Lewis’s account of the wreck of the Apollo, one of our finest frigates, and the loss of sixty of her men.

The cause of this catastrophe seems to have been an error in the reckoning.  At twelve o’clock on Sunday, the land was supposed to be thirty or forty leagues distant, nor were they aware of their true position when the vessel struck at three o’clock the following morning, on what was supposed to be an unknown shoal.  Never, perhaps, in the annals of maritime disaster, was there a scene more rife with horror than that upon which the daylight broke on the morning of the 2nd of April.

The frigate, which but a few hours before had been careering on her way with her gallant company full of life and energy, now lay a hapless wreck—­her timbers crashing beneath the fury of the waves.  The merchant vessels around were stranded in all directions, and the air resounded with the despairing shrieks of those on board.  The destruction of the Apollo seemed inevitable; but in this hour of trial, the captain was firm and resolute, sustaining by words and example the courage of his crew; and when no other means of escape presented themselves, he sacrificed his own life in the endeavour to obtain rescue for those under his charge.