daybreak, about half-past four o'clock, we discerned land at two
cables' distance, a long sandy beach reaching to Cape Mondego, three
leagues to the southward of us. On daylight clearing up, we could
perceive between twenty and thirty sail of the convoy ashore, both to
northward and southward, and several of them perfect wrecks. We were
now certain of being on the coast of Portugal, from seeing the cape
mentioned above,--though I am sorry to say no person in the ship had
the least idea of being so near the coast. It was blowing very hard,
and the sea was running mountains high, so that there was little hope
of being saved. About eight o'clock, the ship seemed likely to go to
pieces, and the after part lying lowest, Captain Dixon ordered every
one forward,--a command it was difficult to comply with, from the
motion of the mainmast working on the larboard gunwale, there being no
other way to get forward. Mr. Cook, the boatswain, had his thigh
broken in endeavouring to get a boat over the side. Of six boats not
one was saved, all being stoved, and washed overboard with the booms, &c.

'Soon after the people got forward, the ship parted at the gangways.
The crew were now obliged to stow themselves in the fore-channels, and
from thence to the bowsprit end, to the number of 220,--for, out of
the 240 persons on board when the ship first struck, I suppose twenty
to have previously perished between decks and otherwise. Mr. Lawton,
the gunner, the first who attempted to swim ashore, was drowned;
afterwards, Lieutenant Witson, Mr. Runice, surgeon, Mr. McCabe,
surgeon's mate, Mr. Staudley, master's mate, and several men, were
also drowned (though they were excellent swimmers), by the sea
breaking over them in enormous surges. About thirty persons had the
good fortune to reach the shore upon planks and spars, amongst whom
were Lieutenant Harvey and Mr. Callam, master's mate. On Monday night,
our situation was truly horrible; the old men and boys were dying from