Yet, as the
Elizabeth was new and strong, and as the commander, trusting to an
occasional cast of the lead, assured them that they were not nearing
the Jersey coast,--which alone he dreaded,--the passengers remained in
their state-rooms, and caught such uneasy sleep as the howling storm
and tossing ship permitted. Utterly unconscious, they were, even then,
amidst perils, whence only by promptest energy was it possible to
escape. Though under close-reefed sails, their vessel was making way
far more swiftly than any one on board had dreamed of; and for hours,
with the combined force of currents and the tempest, had been driving
headlong towards the sand-bars of Long Island. About four o'clock, on
Friday morning, July 19th, she struck,--first draggingly, then hard
and harder,--on Fire Island beach.
The main and mizzen masts were at once cut away; but the heavy marble
in her hold had broken through her bottom, and she bilged. Her bow
held fast, her stern swung round, she careened inland, her broadside
was bared to the shock of the billows, and the waves made a clear
breach over her with every swell. The doom of the poor Elizabeth was
sealed now, and no human power could save her.
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