At the close of the war with Great Britain, in the year 1815, I took command of the brig Ganges, owned by Ebenezer Sage, Esq., then a wealthy and respectable merchant at Middleton. I sailed from New York on the 20th of August, bound for Turk's Island for a cargo of salt, and, on the 5th of September, I arrived at my destined port. It being the season for hurricanes in that region, it was thought most safe for us to go around into a small harbor on the south side of the island. In order to reach this harbor, we had to go through a narrow, crooked channel, with rocks and dangerous reefs on every side, but, with a skillful pilot, we made our way through safely, and came to anchor. On the next day we commenced taking in our cargo of salt. On the 9th of September, a day that I shall ever remember, my pilot came to me somewhat agitated, and said that there were strong indications of an approaching hurricane, and advised me to make all possible preparations to encounter it.

We therefore quit taking in salt, and made every thing about the ship snug as possible. At twelve o'clock, midnight, the gale commenced, as the pilot had anticipated, and continued to increase until six in the morning, at which time it became most terrific. Every blast grew more and more violent until our cables all parted, and we were left to the mercy of the gale. It blew directly from the land. We got the ship before the wind, as the only course we could pursue. In doing this we were well aware of the dangerous channel we had to pass, and my only hope was, that we might get to sea clear of the land. But this hope soon vanished. In about twenty minutes after we started, the ship struck a rock, which knocked off her rudder, and set her leaking badly. The rudder being gone, we of course had no control of the vessel. She came around side to the wind, and at this moment her mainmast was blown over the side. We at once cut away the rigging that attached it to the hull, and it floated off, and the foremast still standing, the ship swung off again a little before the wind. All hands were soon set to pumping, but we found that in spite of all our exertions, the water rapidly increased in the hold.

The appearance of the elements at this time almost baffles description. So violent was their commotion that no one could stand without grasping something for support. Not a word could be heard that was uttered. I had to communicate every order by means of signs, while I stood on the quarter-deck holding on to the cabin doors. In this situation I endeavored calmly to reflect. Here we were, as we supposed, on the open ocean,--in a tempest of unparalleled violence--with no rudder--one mast gone--boats all lost--and the ship settling under us from the weight of water in the hold. The sky was black almost as midnight above us, and the waves beneath, and around, and over us--for they dashed at quick intervals, like so many furies, across the devoted ship--seemed ready to drown us ere we sank into their dread abyss. The voice of the gale as it howled through the rigging, mingled with the creaking of timbers, and the roar of waters as they struck the vessel, was an awful wail, as it appeared to me, over bodies devoted to almost instant death. Destruction seemed inevitable. It would not, to all human calculation, be protracted even an hour. We were sinking down, down--inch following inch of the fated vessel in rapid succession--down remedilessly to our graves in the maddened sea, amid the monsters of its great deep.

I descended to the cabin, and attempted calmly to surrender myself to Him who made me. My thoughts--oh, how they flew at once to my wife and children at home! I attempted to pray, and for the first time since I had left my pious mother. I did pray--for my family first--and oh how fervently, in closing my supplications, I besought for myself pardon and forgiveness through Him who is ever ready to hear the penitent!

The water had now got on to the cabin floor, I therefore placed myself on the stairs leading on deck. Shortly after this the wind shifted, and in a few minutes the ship struck with a tremendous crash. I rushed on deck, and at once saw rocks fifty feet high, and perpendicular, but a few feet from the after part of the ship, which now soon filled with water, and rolled over toward the land. At its fore part, and at the only point where we could by any possibility have been saved, the rocks descended gradually, and the foremast leaned over them. Not a moment was to be lost. We crawled up the rigging, and, swinging ourselves on to the rocks, made our way up the precipice on our hands and feet, and, reaching the summit, at once sought, in holes in the rock, shelter from the tempest, which still continued so violent that no one could stand upon his feet.

Our escape happened about ten o'clock in the morning; at five in the afternoon the gale had so moderated that we could stand. We then crawled out from our hiding places, and, assembling together, found that all were safe except my brother, who was mate of the ship, and he, we supposed, was lost, in attempting to get on shore. We soon, as was very natural, approached the precipice to learn the fate of the ship. Nothing was to be seen of her but plank, timbers, spars, sails, and rigging, all in one confused, broken mass, and washing up against the rocks. It was truly to us a most deplorable spectacle. We had no resource in the vessel; not a thing of value was left.

As night was approaching, we now walked along before the wind toward the south part of the island, and there found, by the side of a huge pile of rocks, a hole or sort of cave, about eight feet square and five feet high. Here we all crawled in, wet and cold, but with hearts grateful to God for our wonderful preservation. As we were packed very close to each other, the natural warmth of our bodies soon relieved us considerably from the sensation of wetness and cold, and we passed the night as comfortably as our varied miseries would allow.

Morning came, and we left our cave. The gale had much abated, and we could see some distance. We found that we were on a small desolate island, about a mile long, half a mile wide, and about ten miles from the place we left the day before. It was covered mostly with huge rocks, with here and there a small patch of soil, overrun with prickly pear, and inhabited by no living animal excepting lizards and small poisonous snakes. We had been now over twenty-four hours without food or water. Of the latter article, on searching around, we found a little in the hollows on the rocks, but it was about half salt, having been made so by the spray which the gale had thrown from the ocean quite over the island, and the more we drank of it the more thirsty we became. As to food, we were soon convinced that this was out of the question. Toward night, we found a cask near the beach, standing on one end, with one head out, which held about two gallons of water, that had rained in. This was not salt, but smelled badly. We, however, scooped out with our hands about one half of it, and left what remained for the next day. We got some relief from this, and then we returned to our former resting-place for the night.

When we crawled out on the following morning we found that the weather had become fine and clear. We could see vessels passing at a short distance from us, but had no means of making any signal, nor any for leaving the shore. This being the third day of our distress and privation, some of us began to suffer much from hunger. Others suffered more from thirst. We, however, cheered each other with the faint hope that some thing would appear for our relief. We wandered about as we had done the day before, seeking for water but found none. We had nothing to dig with but our hands; these we used, but in vain; no water appeared. Toward night we went to the cask, and drank what remained there. We then returned again to our cave for the night, all much exhausted and low-spirited. Despair began to shade every countenance. Very little was said, and we passed the night well as we could, pressed by hunger and parched by thirst. Morning came, and again we all left our shelter. The weather continued fine and clear. The men again separated in search of water, but being myself very feeble, I took my seat on some rocks near the cave, at a point from whence I could see every thing moving on the water, and with a lingering hope that something would appear for our deliverance.

About ten o'clock, an object loomed up in the distance. I thought it was a boat, but could not at once tell. It approached, and soon I saw it distinctly. It was a boat, with one sail, and was steering directly for a low beach not far from where I was seated. My feelings at this moment were so overcome that I lost all power of utterance. I could not, at first, rise from the rock, My strength, however, shortly returned a little, and I got up and made all the noise I could. Some of the men near at hand heard me, and came up. I at once pointed to the boat, which was now near the shore. They shouted to their companions, and we were all soon at the beach near where the boat was landed. A black man got out of the boat, and came to me with a letter--but, before reading it, I besought him for water. To my surprise he had none, but instead of it had a bottle of rum and a small bag of biscuit. I told him to bring these on shore, and, taking them, I gave each of my crew a swallow of the rum and a biscuit. This had the effect of moistening a little our parched mouths and tongues. I then opened the letter. It was from my warm and faithful friend Mr. Tucker, of Turk's Island, and it read as follows, omitting my name:

"To Captain ----, or any other unfortunate person or persons who may be found on any of the neighboring islands. Come as many as can safely and, should any be left, I will find means to convey those that remain."

The two men, who came in the boat, hesitated about taking all of us at once, as we were nine in number, and with themselves might overload the boat. We could not, however, bear the thought of leaving any behind. We therefore all got aboard, shoved off, and made sail. We had a fair wind, and a smooth sea, and at six o'clock arrived safely at the harbor we had left. Many persons ran to the beach to meet us as we landed, and among the rest was our deliverer, Mr. Tucker.

The next morning, my friend and deliverer gave me a brief history of what had taken place with himself and his fellow-inhabitants on the island, during the gale. Many of their houses were levelled to the ground, and some were blown into the sea. Their cisterns, their only dependence for water, were mostly destroyed. Even the cannon mounted on a small battery were dismounted, and most of the inhabitants were in great distress. Every vessel and boat, that floated about the island, were blown to sea or destroyed. Out of the twenty vessels that were at the island on which Mr. Tucker lived, when the gale came on, only six were heard ever from after. Five out of these six were wrecked on adjacent islands, and every soul on board three of these perished. The gale was said, by the oldest inhabitants, to be the most violent ever known in that region. We remained on the island ten or twelve days, and then, taking passage in a ship bound for New York, reached that city safely on the last of November.