As the squadron claws past South America, successive tempests intensify into what Midshipman Byron calls a “perfect hurricane.” John Bulkeley stands double watches on the Wager, describing towering seas that roll ships onto their sides and fling men across decks. Injuries mount across the fleet; Thomas, the Centurion’s schoolmaster, is knocked senseless and confined to his hammock.

On the Wager, a wave throws Bulkeley over the wheel and sends the cutter skidding; boatswain John King wants to jettison it. Bulkeley consults Captain Cheap, who orders salvage and the securing of the swinging jibboom. Bulkeley rescues the cutter and stabilizes the spar amid chaos.

With sails furled, ships drift under bare poles. To turn the Centurion, Anson posts topmen as human sails; one loses his grip and is left to drown, a horror Reverend Walter later reflects upon. Provisions rot, water runs low, and men grow delirious. Damage spreads: the Centurion’s topsail splits, shrouds snap, heads are smashed, lightning shocks the crew; other ships list pages of defects. The Gloucester signals distress, and Anson orders Wager’s carpenter, John Cummins, over to assist.

The Wager deteriorates further; her mizzen mast snaps, leaving only a stump and worsening her lag. Anson urges a makeshift topsail on another mast and ensures Cummins returns. Cummins rigs a forty-foot boom and a jury-sail, steadying the ship. Bulkeley esteems Anson, who labors with the men, shares stores, and lends equipment, yet crews are too depleted to sustain operations and sink into despair.

On April 10, 1741, the Severn and Pearl drop astern and vanish, possibly turning back. The remaining ships fire guns and show lights to keep contact. On the night of April 19, the Centurion’s lights flicker and disappear; other ships fade as well. The Wager, battered and undermanned, is left alone at sea.