cutwater and bowsprit, passed on, and in a moment was out of sight. Every one on board thought the bows were stove in, and that the Pelorus would immediately go down; but on sounding the well, it was found that she made no water. The foremast fell in board almost instantly afterwards, and the vessel was left a complete wreck, in as dreadful a night as any person ever witnessed. The bowsprit was hanging under the bows, by the bobstays, and thumping so hard that all were in momentary dread of its coming through the bottom. It was a case of such imminent peril, that Commander Hamley did not feel justified in ordering any one over the bows to attempt cutting the bowsprit away; but the captain of the forecastle, Thomas Wilson, nobly volunteered his services, and after having been lowered down and pulled up, as the vessel rose and dipped, for a quarter of an hour, during which he was repeatedly under water, the fine fellow at length succeeded in cutting it away. The wreck of the foremast was then cleared, and as soon as the gale moderated, a jury-mast and bowsprit were rigged, and sail made for Plymouth. It is rather a singular circumstance, that, although the foremast fell in board, and such a heavy sea was running, not a man was hurt. Had the strange ship struck the Pelorus but a few inches further aft, she must inevitably have gone to the bottom: the whole of the bolts that secured the cutwater to the stem were clean drawn.
The Pelorus was paid off, at Plymouth, in July, 1826. During the last two years that she remained in commission, Commander Hamley was the senior officer of his rank on the Irish station, where he seized, at various times, no less than sixty-two thousand weight of tobacco. All the others were promoted on paying off their sloops; but he has not yet been able to obtain another step. In 1827, he received a letter from Captain Cadogan, of which the following is a copy:–
