Buddle, a midshipman, (one of the few who escaped,) was cast upon the
waves almost insensible. He had not strength to strike out for the
beach, and he therefore merely tried to keep himself above water. This
proved to be the means of saving his life, for he floated in a
direction parallel with the shore, and avoided the huge pieces of
wreck by which all his companions who made directly for land
(excepting three) were dashed to pieces.

Mr. Buddle was nearly exhausted, when he caught hold of a small piece
of timber that was floating near him; a nail which projected from it
wounded him on the breast; he fainted, and did not recover his senses
until he found himself lying on the beach upon a heap of dead bodies.
He attempted in vain to rise; for though he felt no pain, his left leg
was broken, his knee cut almost half through, and his body much
bruised. In this state he was discovered, and carried by some persons
to a large fire until further assistance could be obtained, and he was
then conveyed to the hospital.

One of the officers of the Sceptre, who is still alive, and who
happened to be on shore at the time this terrible catastrophe
occurred, declares, that nothing imagination could conceive ever
equalled the horrors of that night. When the first signals of distress
were made from the Sceptre, the whole population of Cape Town, with
the officers and soldiers of the garrison, crowded down to the beach,
in the vain hope of being able to afford some assistance. The night
was bitterly cold; the wind blew with terrific violence, and the sea,
lashed into fury, broke with a deafening roar upon the beach. As night
approached, and darkness hid the vessel from their sight, the
feelings of the agonized spectators became almost insupportable. The
booming of the guns alone told that the ship still lived among the