It was one of those days of extreme stillness which often precede the
frightful hurricanes that sweep the eastern seas. Not a breath of air
stirred, not a cloud was to be seen; the ship lay motionless on the
calm and glassy water. The ensign drooped in heavy folds from the
stern, and many of the crew lay stretched on the decks in listless
apathy, little anticipating the terrible convulsion of the elements
which was so soon to arouse them in fear. The monotony on board was
broken for a moment by the voice of the captain, Lord George Stuart,
who ordered his gig to be manned that he might go on shore with his
first lieutenant, Mr. Swan, and some other officers, whom he had
invited to dine with him under a tent. The bustle of their departure
from the ship was soon over, and again all was still. The captain and
officers had scarcely landed and seated themselves at table, when a
roaring sound was heard, at first distant, but becoming louder and
louder every moment, and before they could conjecture the cause, the
canvass of the tent was almost torn from its fastenings by the sudden
violence of the wind.

Every one thought first of the Sheerness, and rushing from the tent a
scene presented itself to their gaze little calculated to diminish
their alarm for the ship.

The sea, which a few minutes before had been smooth as a polished
mirror, now displayed a picture of terrific grandeur; the waves,
crested with foam, rolled and tossed over one another in wild
confusion, whilst the roaring of the winds, and the torrents of rain,
added to the awful sublimity of the scene. Lord George, though aware
of the imminent danger to which he exposed himself, determined at all
risks to get on board his ship. Without a moment's delay he collected