the brig rolled in the swell, causing her tackle to rattle and sails to
flap as if they would split. The second day the fog was thicker, and the
ocean smooth as glass. For fear of collision with another ship, the
lookout man kept blowing a horn which had a most dismal sound. The
captain and mate tried to get the sun at noon but could not find the
faintest trace. After dinner a gull flew past, which made the cook say
he smelt danger. A few were below but the most of us were on deck when a
slight bump was felt and then another. The rattling in the rigging
stopped and the ocean swell broke on our stern. The mate started to the
companion scuttle and shouted to the captain, that the ship was
grounded. In a minute he appeared, his face white and twisted with
anguish. His anxiety was not alone for the passengers and crew but for
himself. He was owner of the brig and if she was wrecked he was ruined.
The mate was casting the lead and when he shouted 'We are on a sandbank'
there was a sigh of relief deepened by the carpenter's report that the
ship was not making water. Grannie, who had managed to creep up the
ladder from the deserted hold, remarked 'We are sooner in Canada than I
expectit.' Her exclamation brought the reaction from our dread and we
burst into laughter. 'It is not Quebec,' shouted Allan in her ear, 'we
are aground.' 'A weel,' she replied, 'I will cling to the rock o' my
salvation.'

The order was given to get ready the boats. There were two, the yawl
that had been hauled on top of the house on deck, and lay keel up. Oars
were mislaid and on hanging her to the davits it was noticed in time
there was no plug in the hole for drainage. The other boat, which was
our reliance, was the long boat abaft the foremast. Its cover was torn
off and we saw it was filled with all sorts of odds and ends that had
been stowed there to be out of the way. These were pitched aside by
willing hands and the tackle had been fastened to hoist her overboard,