ABSTRACT

Self-preservation is certainly the rst principle implanted in every thing that has life. Under the in uence of this principle Ned supported himself amid the waves as soon as he emerged from that which had overwhelmed him. A second soon came thundering on in like manner as the former, and bore him forward towards the shore: – as it receded back, he felt his feet touch ground, and at the same time caught a rm grip of sea-weed which grew upon a rock; to this he clung, and established himself upon it before the next wave broke over him, which receding in its turn gave him time to breathe. For two hours he clung fast to this rock, whilst every wave overwhelmed him with a deluge of spray, but le him time to get breath in the intervals/ of its approach. At last, as the tide ebbed out, he became in some measure relieved from this inundation. ough still wet with the spray, the body of the wave did not reach him, and he maintained his position on the rock without being in danger of being washed o from it. e morning at length dawned, and discovered to him an iron coast of lo y precipices, round whose bases the Atlantic thundered for ever, though in vain. His station was on a rock detached from the cli by an interval of about thirty feet, and which had probably at some remote period tumbled from the top: at high water it was covered with the tide, which luckily proved his preservation, as the quantity of sea-weed with which it was covered at once enabled him to catch a grip of it, and prevented his being much bruised when he was thrown upon it. With a sorrowing yet a thankful heart he cast a melancholy look around him, but could discover no particle of the/ boat, nor yet a vestige of any human being; but as the day advanced, he was himself discovered from the summit of the precipice by some shermen who were taking their early rounds along the coast, and passing to the creeks in which their boats lay. e sea was still too tempestuous for any boat to venture on it; but these humane people determined to use every exertion to save their fellow-creature, taught by their own hazards and misfortunes to succour the distressed. With this charitable intention, some of them were let down from the summit of the cli by ropes fastened round their middle, and secured at top by their comrades, till they found a pretty rm footing nearly on a level with the rock on which Edward lay. He soon perceived them; but

how to avail himself of their humanity was a matter of considerable di culty, as the rock was insulated by a streight of about thirty feet wide, through which a tempestuous sea was still foaming. A er many ine ectual struggles,/ in which his strength and hope were nearly exhausted (as the tide was now again coming in), he was at last fortunate enough to catch the end of a rope, which he made fast to a part of the rock on which he lay, whilst they secured it on the other side where they stood; and having fastened another rope round his body for security, the other end of which they held, he warped along the rst over the chasm, and was received with joyful huzzas16 by his generous preservers. He was, however, so exhausted as to be hardly able to stand, and was obliged to be hoisted up to the top of the cli without any exertions of his own. A humane lady, who dwelt about half a mile o , in a sweet situation by the sea-side, and who had been early informed of his condition, had sent a horse to convey him to her house, not knowing but he was a common seaman; and had also sent some biscuit and warm wine for a present refreshment. To this hospitable lady’s he was/ conveyed, and had the pleasure to hear by the way that two more of the crew had been saved in a creek, and were taken to some of the shermen’s houses, but they did not know their names. When he arrived at the house, he was received by an old and faithful man-servant of the lady’s, who conducted him to a comfortable chamber, in which a warm bed and clean linen were provided for him, the things in the world he stood most in need of, and where he was su ered to repose without being as yet troubled with any questions; his fatigued and exhausted spirits evidently pointing out the necessity of quiet.