A cry burst from the crew as she came round, for as the wind took her on the beam she lay farther and farther over.

A great wave struck her broadside, sweeping the bulwarks away as if they had been paper, and carrying a number of the crew off the forecastle into the sea.

Still farther over she went, and all thought that she would capsize; when there were a series of reports, like musket shots, as the lashings of the shrouds parted.

This was followed instantly by a crash, as the mizzen mast snapped off, two feet above the deck.
Relieved of the strain, the Swan righted somewhat.

Another great wave swept over her forecastle, still further diminishing the number of the crew, but it carried her head round.