A worthy ecclesiastical chronicler
paints the unhappy vessel as a floating Babylon, and sees in
her fate the stern judgment of Heaven.[858] It is true that New
France ran riot in the last years of her existence; but before
the "Auguste" was well out of the St. Lawrence she was so
tossed and buffeted, so lashed with waves and pelted with rain,
that the most alluring forms of sin must have lost their charm,
and her inmates passed days rather of penance than transgression.
There was a violent storm as the ship entered the Gulf; then a calm,
during which she took fire in the cook's galley. The crew and passengers
subdued the flames after desperate efforts; but their only food
thenceforth was dry biscuit. Off the coast of Cape Breton another gale
rose. They lost their reckoning and lay tossing blindly amid the tempest.
The exhausted sailors took, in despair, to their hammocks,
from which neither commands nor blows could rouse them,
while amid shrieks, tears, prayers, and vows to Heaven, the
"Auguste" drove towards the shore, struck, and rolled over
on her side. La Corne with six others gained the beach; and
towards night they saw the ship break asunder, and counted
a hundred and fourteen corpses strewn along the sand. Aided
by Indians and by English officers, La Corne made his way
on snow-shoes up the St. John, and by a miracle of enduring
hardihood reached Quebec before the end of winter.[859]
[Footnote 857: _Levis a Belleisle, 27 Nov.
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