Alarmed, but not aware of the real
danger that hung over us, I groped my way to the cabin, and thence
ascended to the deck.
Here a scene of confusion prevailed that baffles description. By
some strange fatality, the Horsley Hill had changed her position,
and run foul of us in the dark. The Anne was a small brig, and her
unlucky neighbour a heavy three-masted vessel, with three hundred
Irish emigrants on board; and as her bowspirit was directly across
the bows of the Anne, and she anchored, and unable to free herself
from the deadly embrace, there was no small danger of the poor brig
going down in the unequal struggle.
Unable to comprehend what was going on, I raised my head above my
companion ladder, just at the critical moment when the vessels were
grappled together. The shrieks of the women, the shouts and oaths
of the men, and the barking of the dogs in either ship, aided the
dense darkness of the night in producing a most awful and stunning
effect.
"What is the matter?" I gasped out.
