In this tantalizing state of suspense, Mr. Hunt was detained at the Marquesas until November 23d, when he proceeded in the Albatross to the Sandwich Islands.  He still cherished a faint hope that, notwithstanding the war, and all other discouraging circumstances, the annual ship might have been sent by Mr. Astor, and might have touched at the islands, and proceeded to the Columbia.  He knew the pride and interest taken by that gentleman in his great enterprise, and that he would not be deterred by dangers and difficulties from prosecuting it; much less would he leave the infant establishment without succor and support in the time of trouble.  In this, we have seen, he did but justice to Mr. Astor; and we must now turn to notice the cause of the non-arrival of the vessel which he had despatched with reinforcements and supplies.  Her voyage forms another chapter of accidents in this eventful story.

The Lark sailed from New York on the 6th of March, 1813, and proceeded prosperously on her voyage, until within a few degrees of the Sandwich Islands.  Here a gale sprang up that soon blew with tremendous violence.  The Lark was a staunch and noble ship, and for a time buffeted bravely with the storm.  Unluckily, however, she “broached to,” and was struck by a heavy sea, that hove her on her beam-ends.  The helm, too, was knocked to leeward, all command of the vessel was lost, and another mountain wave completely overset her.  Orders were given to cut away the masts.  In the hurry and confusion, the boats also were unfortunately cut adrift.  The wreck then righted, but was a mere hulk, full of water, with a heavy sea washing over it, and all the hatches off.  On mustering the crew, one man was missing, who was discovered below in the forecastle, drowned.

In cutting away the masts, it had been utterly impossible to observe the necessary precaution of commencing with the lee rigging, that being, from the position of the ship, completely under water.  The masts and spars, therefore, being linked to the wreck by the shrouds and the rigging, remained alongside for four days.  During all this time the ship lay rolling in the trough of the sea, the heavy surges breaking over her, and the spars heaving and banging to and fro, bruising the half-drowned sailors that clung to the bowsprit and the stumps of the masts.  The sufferings of these poor fellows were intolerable.  They stood to their waists in water, in imminent peril of being washed off by every surge.  In this position they dared not sleep, lest they should let go their hold and be swept away.  The only dry place on the wreck was the bowsprit.  Here they took turns to be tied on, for half an hour at a time, and in this way gained short snatches of sleep.

On the 14th, the first mate died at his post, and was swept off by the surges.  On the 17th, two seamen, faint and exhausted, were washed overboard.  The next wave threw their bodies back upon the deck, where they remained, swashing backward and forward, ghastly objects to the almost perishing survivors.  Mr. Ogden, the supercargo, who was at the bowsprit, called to the men nearest to the bodies, to fasten them to the wreck; as a last horrible resource in case of being driven to extremity by famine!