CHAPTER I.

A WRECK OFT MARGATE.

THE night of Sunday, the 12th of February, in the present year, was what sailors call a very dirty night. Heavy masses of clouds skirted the horizon as the sun get; and, as the night drew on, violent gusts of wind swept along, accompanied with snow-squalls. It was a dangerous time for vessels in the Channel, and it proved fatal to one at least.

Before the light broke on Monday morning, the 13th, the Margate lugger, Eclipse, put out to sea to cruize around the sands and shoals in the neighbourhood of Margate, on the look-out for any disasters that might have occurred during the night. The crew soon discovered that a vessel was ashore on the Margate Sands, and directly made for her. She proved to be the Spanish brig Samaritano, of 170 tons, bound from Antwerp/to Santander, and laden with a valuable and miscellaneous cargo. Her crew consisted of MODESTE 'msi'o, captain, and 11 men. It seems that, during a, violent squall of snow and wind, the vessel was The following narrative is taken, with the kind and n-ompt permission of the proprietors, from Mocmillan'g Magazine for June It has been written by one who had the best local opportunities of being accurate, and of receiving accounts of every detail of the rescue from Hie lips »f the men who were engaged in it.driven on the Sands at about half-past fire in the morning: the crew attempted to put off in the ship's boats, but in vain; the oars were broken in the attempt, and the boats stove in.

The lugger, Eclipse, as she was running for the brig, spoke a Whitstable smack, and borrowed two of her men and her boat. They boarded the vessel as the tide went down, and hoped to be able to get her off at high water. For this purpose six Margate boatmen and two of the "Whitstable men were left on board. But, with the rising tide, the gale came on again in all its fury, and they soon gave up all hopes of saving the vessel. They hoisted their boat on board, and all hands began to feel that it was no longer a question of saving the vessel, but of saving their own lives. The sea began to break furiously over the wreck, lifting her, and then bumping her with crushing force upon the Sands. Her timbers did not long withstand this trial of their strength; a hole was soon knocked in her; she filled with water, and settled down upon the Sand. The waves began now to break over the deck; the boat was speedily knocked to pieces and swept overboard; the hatches were forced up, and some of the cargo floated on deck, and was washed away. The brig began to roll fearfully as the waves one after another crashed over her; and the men, fearing that she would be forced on her broadside, cut, the weather-rigging of the mainmast, and it was speedily swept overboard. All hands now sought refuge in the forerigging. Nineteen lives had then no other hope between them and a terrible death than the few shrouds of that shaking mast.

The wind swept by them with hurricane force: each wave that broke upon the vessel sprang up into columns of foam, and drenched them to the skin: the air was full of spray and sleet, which froze upon them as it fell. And thus they waited, hour after hour, and no help came, until one and all despaired of life.

In the meanwhile, news of the wreck had spread like wildfire through Margate. In spite of the gale and the blinding snow-squalls, many struggled to the cliff, and with spy-glasses tried to penetrate the flying scud, or to gain, through the breaks in the storm, glimpses of the wreck.

As soon as they saw the peril the crew of the brig were in, the smaller of the two Margate lifeboats was manned, and made to the rescue. But all the efforts of her crew were in vain; the gale was furious, and the seas broke over and filled the boat. This her gallant crew heeded little at first, for they had every confidence in the powers of the boat to ride safely through any storm, her air-tight compartments preventing her from sinking; but to their dismay they found that she was losing her buoyancy and fast becoming unmanageable; she was filling with water, which came up to the men's waists. The air-boxes liad evidently filled; and they remembered too late, that the valves with which each box is provided, in order to let out any water that may leak in, had, in the excitement of starting, been left unscrewed. Their boat was then no longer a life-boat, and the struggle became one for their own safety. Although then within a quarter of a mile of the brig, there was no help for it; the boat was unmanageable, and the only chance of life left to the boatmen was to run her ashore as soon as possible on the nearest part of the coast. It was doubtful whether they would be able to do even this, and it was not until after four hours' battling with the sea and gale that they succeeded in getting ashore in Westgate Bay.

There the coast-guard were ready to receive them, and did their best to revive the exhausted men.

As soon as it was discovered that the first lifeboat had become disabled, the big life-boat, T/ie Friend of all Nations, was got ready. With much trouble it was dragged round to the other side of the pier, and there launched. Away she started, her brave crew doing their utmost to battle with the gale and work their way out to the brig ; but all their efforts were in vain. The tremendous wind and sea overpowered them; the tiller gave way; and, after a hard struggle, this life-boat was driven ashore about a mile from the town.

With both their life-boats wrecked, the Margate people gave up all hopes of saving the crew of the vessel. There seemed no hope for it; they must be content to let them perish within their sight.

But this should not be the case until every possible effort had been made ; and two luggers, The Nelson and The Lively, undaunted by the fate of the lifeboats, put off to the rescue. The fate of one was soon settled; a fearful squall of wind caught her before she had got many hundred yards clear of the pier, and swept her foremast out of her; and her crew, in turn, had to make every possible effort to avoid being driven on the shore-rocks and wrecked. The Lively was more fortunate; she got to sea, but could not cross the Sand, or get to the wreck. The Margate people began to despair; and, when the tidings passed among the crowd that the lieutenant of the Margate coast-guard had sent an express over to Ramsgate for the Ramsgate steamer and life-boat, it was thought impossible, on the one hand, that they could make their way round the North Foreland in the teeth of so tremendous a gale, or, on the other, that the ship could hold together, or the crew live, exposed as they were in the rigging, during the time it would of necessity take for the steamer and boat to get to them.

We now change the scene to Ramsgate.

CHAPTER II.

MAKING FOR THE WRECK.

FROM an early hour on the Monday morning, groups of boatmen had assembled on the pier at Ramsgate, occasionally joined by some of the most hardy of the townspeople, or by a stray visitor, attracted out by the wild scene that the storm presented. In the intervals between the snowsqualls, they could faintly discern a vessel or two in the distance running before the gale; and they were all keenly on the look-out for signals of distress, that they might put off to the rescue.

But no such signal was given. Every now and then, as the wind boomed by, some landsman thought it the report of a gun from one or other of the three light-vessels which guard the dangerous Goodwin Sands; but the boatmen shook their heads, and those who with spy-glasses kept a lookout in the direction of the light-vessels confirmed them in their disbelief.

About nine o'clock, tidings came that a brig was ashore on the Woolpaok Sands, off Margate. It was of course concluded that the two Margate lifeboats would go to the rescue; and, although there was much anxiety and excitement as to the result of the attempt the Margate boatmen would make, no one had the least idea that the services of the Ramsgate boat would be required. Thus time passed on, until twelve o'clock, when most of the men went away to dinner, leaving a few only on watch. Shortly after twelve, the coast-guard man from Margate hastened breathless to the pier and to the harbour-master's office, saying, in answer to eager inquiries, as he hurried on, that the two Margate life-boats had been wrecked, and that the Ramsgate boat was wanted. The harbour-master immediately gave the order to man the life-boat.

No sooner had the words passed his lips, than the sailors who had crowded around the door of the office in expectation of the order, rushed away to the boat. First come, first in; not a moment's hesitation, not a thought of farther clothing! The news soon spread; each boatman as he heard it made a hasty snatch at his south-wester cap and bag of waterproof overalls, and raced down to the boat; and for some time boatman after boatman was to be seen rushing down the pier, hoping to find a place still vacant for him. If the race had been to save their own lives, instead of to risk them, it could scarcely have been more hotly contested.

Some of those who had won the race, and were in the boat, were ill prepared with clothing for the hardships they would have to endure; for, if they had not their things at hand, they would not delay a moment to obtain them, fearing that the crew might be made up before they got there. These were supplied by the generosity of their friends, who had come down better prepared, although too late for the enterprise; the cork jackets were thrown into the boat, and put on by the men. The powerful steam-tug, Aid, belonging to the harbour, and which has her steam up night and day ready for any emergency that may arise, got her steam to full power, and, with her brave and skilful master, DANIEL REAPING, in command, took the boat in tow, and made her way out of the harbour.

JAMES HOgBEN, who, with READING, has been in many a wild scene of danger, commanded the lifeboat.

It was nearly low water at the time, but the force of the gale was such that a good deal of spray was dashing over the pier, and the snow, which was railing in blinding squalls, had drifted and eddied in every protected nook and corner, making it hard work for the excited crowd who had assembled to see the life-boat start, to battle their way through the drifts and against the wind, snow and foam, to the head of the pier. There at last they-assembled, and many a heart failed as they saw the steamer and boat clear the pier and encounter the first rush of the wind and sea outside.

" She seemed to go out under water," said one old fellow; " I wouldn't have gone in her for the universe!" and those who did not know the heroism that such scenes called forth in the breasts of our watermen, could not help wondering somewhat at the eagerness that had been displayed to get a place in the boat—and this although they knew that the two Margate life-boats had been already wrecked in the attempt to get the short distance which separated Margate from the wreck, while they would have to battle their way through the gale for ten or twelve miles before they could get even in sight of the vessel. It says nothing against the daring or skill of the Margate boatmen, or the efficiency of their boats, that they failed. In such a gale success was almost impossible without the aid of steam. With it they would probably have succeeded; without it the Ramsgate boat would certainly have failed.

As soon as the steamer and boat got clear of the pier, they felt the full force of the storm, and it seemed almost doubtful whether they could make any progress against it. Getting out of the force of the tide as it swept round the pier, they began to move ahead, and were soon ploughing their way through a perfect sea of foam. The steamer, with engines working full power, plunged along; every wave, as it broke over her bows, flying up, sent its spray mast high, and deluged the deck with a tide of water, which, as it swept aft, gave the men on board enough to do to hold on. The life-boat was towing astern, with fifty fathom of five-inch hawser—an enormously strong rope, about the thickness of a man's wrist. Her crew already experienced the dangers and discomforts they were ready to submit to without a murmur, perhaps for many hours, in their effort to save life. It would be hard to give a description to enable one to realize their position in the boat. The use of a life-boat is, that it will live where other boats would of necessity founder: they are made for, and generally only used on, occasions of extreme danger and peril, for terrible storms and wild seas.

The water flows in the boat and over it, and it still floats. Some huge rolling wave will break over it and for a moment bury it, but it rises in its buoyancy, and shakes itself free; beaten down on its broadside by the waves and wind, it rises on its keel again, and defies them to do their worst.

Such was the noble boat of which we are writing.

The waves that broke over her drenched and deluged, and did everything but drown her. The men, from the moment of their clearing the pier to that of their return, were up to their knees in water. They bent forward as much as they could, each with a firm hold upon the boat. The spray and waves beat and broke upon their backs; and, although it could not penetrate their waterproof clothing, it chilled them to the bone—for as it fell it froze. So bitter was the cold that their very mittens were frozen to their hands. After a tremendous struggle, the steamer seemed to be making head against the storm: they were well clear of the pier, settled"to their work, and getting on gallantly. They passed through the End Channel, and had passed the Black and White Buoys, so well known to Ramsgate visitors, when a fearful sea came heading towards them. It met and broke over the steamer, buried her in foam, and swept along. The life-boat rose to it, and then, as she felt the strain on the rope, plunged into it stem on, and was for a moment nearly buried. The men were almost washed out of her; hut at that moment the tow-rope gave way to the tremendous strain; the boat, lifted with a jerk, was flung round by the force of the wave, and for a moment seemed at the mercy of the sea which broke over her amidships. " Oars out!" was the cry as soon as the men had got their breath. They laboured and laboured to get the boat's head to the wind,- but in vain; the force of the gale was too much for them, and, in spite of all their efforts, they drifted fast to the Broke Shoal, over which the sea was beating heavily; but the steamer, which throughout was handled most admirably, both as regards skill and bravery, was put round as swiftly as possible, and very cleverly brought within a yard or two to windward of the boat as she lay athwart the sea. They threw a hawling-Iine on board, to which was attached a bran-new hawser, and again took the boat in tow.

The tide was still flowing, and, as it rose, the wind came up in heavier and heavier gusts, bringing with it a blinding snow and sleet, which, with the foam, flew through the boat, still freezing as it fell, till the men looked, as one remarked at the time, like a body of ice. They could not look to windward for the drifting snow and heavy seas continually running over them; but not one heart failed, not one repented of winning the race to the life-boat. Off Broadstairs they suddenly felt the way of the boat stop. " The rope broken again," was the first thought of all; but, on looking round, as they were then enabled to do, the boat being no longer forced through the seas, they discovered to their utter dismay that the steamer had stopped.

They thought that her machinery had broken down, and at'once despaired of saving the lives of the shipwrecked; but soon they discovered, to their joy, that the steamer had merely stopped to let out more cable, fearful lest it might break again, as they fought their way round the North Foreland. It was another hour's struggle before they reached the North Foreland. There the sea was running tremendously high. The gale was still increasing; the snow, and sleet, and spray rushed by with hurricane speed. Although it was only the early afternoon, the air was so darkened with the storm, that it seemed a dull twilight.

The captain of the boat was steering; he peered out between his coat-collar and cap, but looked in vain for the steamer. He knew that she was all right, for the rope kept tight; but many times, although she was only 100 yards ahead, he could see nothing of her. Still less able were the men on board the steam-boat to see the life-boat.

Often did they anxiously look astern and watch for a break in the drift and scud to see that she was all right; for, although they still felt the strain upon the rope, she might be towing along bottom up, or with every man washed out of her, for anything they could tell. Several times the fear that the life-boat was gone came over the master of the steamer. Still steamer and boat battled stoutly and successfully against the storm.

As soon as they were round the North Foreland, the snow squall cleared, and they sighted Margate, all anxiously looking for the wreck; but nothing of her was to be seen. They saw a lugger riding just clear of the pier, with foremast gone, and anchor down, to prevent her being driven ashore by the gale. They next sighted the Margate lifeboat, abandoned and washed ashore, in Westgate Bay, looking a complete wreck, the waves breakover her. A little beyond this, they caught sight of the second life-boat, also ashore; and then they learnt to realize to the full the gallant efforts that had been made to save the shipwrecked, and the destruction that had been wrought, as effort after effort had been overcome by the fury of the gale.

But where was the wreck? They could see nothing of her: had she been beaten to pieces, all lives lost, and were they too late ? A heavy mass of cloud and snow-storm rolled on to windward of them, in the direction of the Margate Sands, and they could not make out any signs of the wreck there. There was just a chance that it was the Woolpack Sand that she was on. They thought it the more likely, as the first intelligence which came of the wreck declared that such was the case; and accordingly they determined to make for the Woolpack Sand, which was about three miles further on. They had scarcely decided upon this, when, most providentially, there was a break in the drift of snow to wind ward, and they suddenly caught sight of the wreck. But for this sudden clearance in the storm, they would have proceeded on, and, before they could have found out their mistake and got back, every soul must have perished. The master of the steam-boat made out the flag of distress flying in the rigging, the ensign union downwards; she was doubtless the vessel they were in search of. But still it was a question how they could get to her, as she was on the other side of the Sand. To tow the boat round the Sand would be a long job in the face of such a gale; and for the boat to make across the Sand seemed almost impossible, so tremendous was the sea which was running over it. Nevertheless, there was no hesitation on the part of the lifeboat crew. It seemed a forlorn hope, a rushing upon destruction, to attempt to sail through such a surf and sea; but to go round the Sands would occasion a delay which they could not bear to think of. Without hesitation, then, they cast off the tow-rope, and were about setting sail, when they found that the tide was running so furiously that it would be necessary for them to be towed at least three miles to the eastward, before they would be sufficiently far to windward to fetch the wreck. It was a hard struggle to get the tow-rope on board again, and a heavy disappointment to all to find that an hour or so more of their precious time must be consumed before they could get to the rescue of their perishing brother seamen; but there was no help for it; and away they went again in. tow of the steamer. The snow-squall came on, and they lost sight of the vessel; but all were anxiously on the look-out; and now and then, in a lift of the squall, they could catch a glimpse of her. They could see that she was almost buried in the sea, which broke over her in great clouds of foam; and again many and weary were the doubts and speculations as to whether or no any one on board the wreck could still be alive.

For twenty minutes or so they battled against the wind and tide. The gale, which had been steadily increasing since the morning, came on heavier than ever; and the sea was running so furiously, that even the new rope with which the boat was being towed could not resist the increasing strain, and suddenly parted with a tremendous jerk. There was no thought of picking up the cable again. They could stand no further delay, and one and all rejoiced to hear the captain give orders to set the sail.

CHAPTER III.

THE RESCUE AND THE RETURN.

HARDER still the gale, and the rush of the sea, and the blinding snow—the storm was at its height.

As they headed for the Sands, a darkness as of night seemed to settle down upon them: they could scarcely see each other; but on through (he raging sea they drove the gallant boat. As they approached the shallow water,—the high part of the Sand, where the heaviest sea was breaking, — they could see spreading itself before them, standing out in the gloom, a barrier-wall of foam; for as the waves broke on the sand, and clashed together in their recoil, they mounted up in columns of foam, which were caught by the wind, and carried away in white steaming clouds of spray, and the fearful roar of the beating waves could be heard above the gale. But straight for the breakers they made. No wavering—no hesitation; not a heart failed'.

The boat, although under only her double-reefed foresail and mizen—as little sail as she could possibly carry—was driven on by the hurricane force of the wind. On through the outer range of breakers she plunged, and then came indeed a struggle for life. The waves no longer rolled on in foaming ranks, but leapt, and clashed, and battled together in a raging boil of sea. They broke over the boat; the surf poured in, first on one side and then on the other; some waves rushed over the boat, threatening to sweep every man out of her. " Look out, my men! hold on! hold on!" was the cry when this happened ; and each man threw himself down with his breast on the thwart, and with both arms clasped round it, hugged it, and held to it against the tear and wrestle of the wave, while the rush of water poured over their backs and heads and buried them in its flood. Down for a moment boat and men all seemed to sink; but the splendid boat rose in her buoyancy and freed herself of the water which had for a moment buried her, and her crew breathed again. A cry of triumph arose from them—"All right! all right! now she goes through it; hold on, my boys!" A moment's lull; she glided on the crest of a huge wave, or only smaller ones tried their strength against her; then the monster fellows came heading on; again the warning cry was given, " Look out! hold on, hold on!" Thus, until they got clear of the Sands, the fearful struggle was often repeated. But at last it ended, and they got into deep water, leaving the breakers behind them. They had then only the huge rolling waves to contend with, and they seemed but as little in comparison to the broken water they had just passed through and escaped from. The boat was put before the wind, and every man was on the look-out for the wreck. For a time it remained so thick that there was no chance of finding her, when again, the second time, a sudden break in the storm revealed her. She was about half a mile to leeward. They shifted their foresail with some difficulty, and again made in for the Sands to the vessel. The appearance of the wreck made even the boatmen shudder. She had settled down by the stern upon the Sands, the sea making a clear breach over her. The starboardbow was the only part of the hull visible; the mainmast was gone; the foresail and foretopsail blown adrift; and great columns of foam were mounting up, flying over her foremast and bow.

They saw a Margate lugger lying at anchor just clear of the Sand, and made close to her. As they shot, by they could just make out through the roar of the storm a hail—"Eight of our men on board!" and on they flew into a sea which would in a moment have swamped the lugger—noble boat though she was. Approaching the wreck, it was with terrible anxiety they strained their sight, trying to discover whether there "were still any men left in the tangled mass of rigging, over which the sea was breaking so furiously. By degrees they made them out. " I see one, two, three! The rigging is full of them!" was the cry; and with a cheer of triumph at being still in time, they settled to their work.

The wreck of the mainmast, and the tremendous wash of the sea over the vessel, prevented their going to the lee of the wreck. This increased the danger tenfold, as the result proved. About forty yards from the wreck, they lowered their sails, and cast the anchor over the side. The moment for which the boat had so gallantly battled for four hours, and the shipwrecked waited, in almost despair, for eight, had at last arrived. No shouting, no whisper beyond the necessary orders; the suspense and risk are too terrible! Yard by yard the cable is cautiously paid out, and the great rolling seas are allowed to carry the boat little by little to the vessel. The waves break over them —for a moment bury the boat; and then, as they break upon the vessel, the spray hides the men, lashed to the rigging, from their sight. They hoist up the sail a little to help the boat sheer, and soon a huge wave lifts them: they let out a yard or two more cable by the run, and she i$ alongside the wreck! With a cry, three men jump from the rigging and are saved. The next instant they see a huge wave rolling towards them, and might and main, hand over band, all haul in the cable, and draw the boat away from the wreck, and thus escape being washed against her, and perhaps over her, to certain destruction. Again they watch their chance, and get alongside. This time they manage to remain a little longer than before; and, one after another, thirteen of the shipwrecked leap from the rigging to the boat; and away she is again. " Are they all saved ?" No; three of the Spaniards are still left in the rigging; they seem almost dead, and can scarcely unlash themselves from the shrouds, and crawl down, ready for the return of the hoat. This time the peril is greater than ever. They have to go quite close to the vessel, for the men are too weak to leap: they must remain longer, for the men have to be lifted on hoard; hut as before, coolly and determinately they go to their work: the cable is veered out, the sail manoeuvred to make the hoat sheer, and again she is alongside ; the men are grasped by their clothes, and dragged into the boat. The last in the rigging is the cabin-boy ; he seems entangled in the shrouds. (The poor little fellow had a canvas bag of trinkets and things he was taking home; it had caught in the rigging, and his cold, halfdead hands could not free it.) A strong hand grasps him, and tears him down into the boat; for a moment's delay may be death to all. A tremendous wave rushes on them •, hold, anchor ! hold, cable! give but a yard, and all are lost! The boat lifts, is washed into the fore-rigging; the sea passes; and she settles down again upon an even keel! If one stray rope of all the tangled rigging of the vessel had caught the boat, she would have capsized, and every man in her have been in a moment shaken out into the sea. The boat is very crowded; no fewer than thirty-two men now form her precious freight. They haul in cable, and draw up to the anchor as quickly as they can, to get clear of the wreck: an anxious time it is. At last they are pretty clear, and hoist the sail to draw still farther away. There is no thought of getting the anchor up in such a gale and sea. " She draws away," cries the captain; " pay out the cable; stand by to cut it; pass the hatchet forward; cut the cable; quick, my men, quick I" There is a moment's delay'. A sailor takes out his knife, and begins gashing away at the thick rope. Already one strand out of the three is severed, when a fearful gust of wind rushes by; a crash is heard, and the mast and sail are blown clean out of the boat. Never was a moment of greater peril. Away with the rush of the wave the boat is again carried straight for the fatal wreck; the cable is payed out, and is slack; they haul it in as fast as they can; but on they go swiftly,' apparently to certain destruction. Let them hit the wreck full, and the next wave must wash them over it, and all perish; let them but touch it, and the risk is fearful. On they are carried; the stern of the boat just grazes the bow of the ship. Some of the crew are ready for a spring into the bowsprit, to prolong their lives a few minutes. Mercifully, the cable at that moment taughtens; another yard or two and the boat must have been dashed to pieces. Might and main they continue to haul in the cable, and again draw away from the wreck; but they do it with a terrible dread, for they remember the cut strand of the rope. Will the remaining two strands hold ? The strain is fearful; each time the boat lifts on a wave, the cable tightens and jerks, and they think it breaking; but it still holds, and a thrill of joy passes through the hearts of all as they hear that the cut part is in. The position is still one of extreme peril. The mast and sail have been dragging over the side all this time: with much difficulty they get them on board. The mast had broke short off, about three feet from the heel. They chop a new heel to it, and rig it up again as speedily as possible; but it takes long to do so. The boat is lying in the trough of the sea, the waves breaking over her; the gale blowing as hard as ever; the boat so crowded that they can hardly move; the Spaniards clinging to each other, the terrors of death not having yet passed away from them. They know nothing of the properties of the life-boat, and cannot believe that it will live long in such a sea. As the huge waves broke over the boat and fill it, they imagine that she is going to founder; and besides this, for nearly four hours had they been lashed to the rigging of their vessel, till the life was nearly beaten and frozen out of them by the waves and bitter wind. One of them seeing a life-belt lying under a thwart each one of. the crew had thrown off in the hurry of his work, picked it up and sat upon it, by way of making himself doubly safe.

But the work went on; at last the mast is fitted and raised. No unnecessary word is spoken ail this time, for the life and death struggle is not yet over, nor can be until they are well away from the neighbourhood of the wreck; but as they hoist the sail, the boat gradually draws away, the cable is again payed out little by little, and as soon as they are well clear of the vessel, they cut it, and away they go.

The terrible suspense—when each moment was a moment of fearful risk—from the time they let go their anchor to the time they were clear of the vessel, was over. It had lasted nearly an hour.

The men could now breathe freely; their faces brightened; and from one and all there arose, spontaneously, a pealing cheer. They were no longer face to face with death, and joyfully and thankfully they sailed away from the breakers, the sands, and the wreck. The gale was still at its height, but the peril they were in then seemed as nothing compared to that which they had left behind. In the great reaction of feeling, the freezing cold and sleet, the driving foam and sen, were all forgotten; and they felt as light-hearted as if they were out on a pleasant summer's cruise. They could at last look around and see whom they had in the boat. Of the saved were eleven Spaniards—the master of the brig, the mate, eight seamen, and a boy ; six Margate boatmen, and two Whilstable fishermen. They then proceeded in search of the steamer, which, after casting the life-boat adrift, had made for shelter to the back of the Hook Sand, not far from the Reculvers,and there waited, her crew anxiously on the look-out for the return of the life-boat.

As they were making for the steamer, the lugger, Eclipse, came in chase, to hear whether all hands, and especially her men, had been saved. They welcomed the glad tidings with three cheers for the life-boat crew. Soon after, the Whitstable smack stood towards them on the same errand, and after speaking them, tacked in for the land.

The night was coming on apace. It was not until they had run three or four miles that they sighted the steamer; and when they got alongside, it was a difficult matter to get the saved crew on board.

The gale was as hard as ever, and the steamer rolled heavily ; the men had almost to be lifted on board as opportunities occurred; and one poor fellow was so thoroughly exhausted that they had to haul him into the steamer with a rope.

Again the boat was taken in tow, almost all her crew remaining in her; and they commenced their return home. The night was very dark, although clear; the sea and gale had lost none of their force; and until they got well round the North - Foreland, the struggle to get back was just as hard as it had been to get there. Once round the Foreland, the wind was well aft, and they made easier way; light after light opened to them; Kingsgate, Broadstairs, were passed;. and at last the Ramsgate pier-head light shone forth its welcome, and they began to feel that their work was nearly over.

A telegram had been sent from Margate, in the afternoon, stating that the Ramsgate life-boat had been seen to save the crew; but nothing more had been heard, and the suspense of the boatmen at Ramsgate, as they waited for the life-boat's return, was terrible. Few hoped to see them again, and as hour after hour passed without tidings, they were almost given up. During the whole of the afternoon and evening, anxious eyes were constantly on the watch for the first signs of the boat's coming round the head of the cliff. As the tide went down, and the sea broke less heavily over the pier, the men could venture farther along it, until, by the time of the boat's return, they were enabled to assemble at the end of the pier. When the steamer was first seen .with the life-boat in tow, the lookers-on shouted for very joy; and as they entered the harbour, and hailed, "All saved!" cheer after cheer for the life-boat's crew broke from the crowd.

The Spaniards had somewhat recovered from their exhaustion under the care of the steam-boat crew, and were farther well cared for and supplied with clothes by the orders of the Spanish Consul; and the hardy English boatmen did not take long to recover their exposure and fatigues, fearful as they had been. The captain of the Spaniard, in speaking of the rescue, was almost overcome by his feelings of gratitude and wonder. He had quite made up his mind to death, believing that no boat could by any possibility come to their rescue in such a fearful sea. He took with him to Spain, to show to the Spanish government, a painting of the rescue, executed by Mr. Ifold, of Ramsgate.

There is an interest even in reading the names of those (however unknown to us) who have done gallant deeds; we give therefore the names of the crew of the" life-boat, and of the steamer. Of the life-boat: JAMES HOGBEN, captain; CHARLES MEADER, THOMAS TUCKER, PHILIP GOODCHILD, EDWARD STOCK, WILLIAM PENNY, WILLIAM PRIESTLEY, GEORGE HOGBEN, WILLIAM SOLLY, GEORGE FORWOOD, JOHN STOCK, ROBERT SOLLY.

Of the steam-tug: DANIEL READING, J. SIMPSON, W. WHARRIER, T. NICHOLS, J. DENTON, J. FREEMAN, T. LARKINS, W. PENMAN, W. MATSON, W.

SOLDY. Other fearful scenes have most of these men, especially the captains of the life-boat and steam-tug, passed through in their efforts to save life; one so terrible that two out of the crew of the life-boat never recovered the shock given to their nerves. One died a few months after the event, and the other to this day is ailing, and subject to fits. Of the splendid life-boat too much cannot be said; no fewer than 88 lives have been saved by her during the last five years. Designed and built by J. BEECHING and SONS, boat-builders, &c., of Yarmouth, she won the Northumberland Prize of 100 guineas, in a competition of 280 boats. Each time the men go out, their confidence in her increases, and they are now ready to dare anything in the Northumberland prize lifeboat.

Ifr is pleasing to be able to add, by way of postscript, that the Board of Trade has presented each man engaged in this rescue with a medal and ZL, and that the Spanish Government has also gratefully acknowledged the heroism of the men, and sent to each a medal and 31.

%* The Ramsgate Royal Harbour Commissioners paid 210t. for this valuable life-boat in 1852, to Messrs. BEECHING.

In 1854 her water ballast was removed, and an iron keel and other solid ballast substituted for it, besides other internal improvements, under the superintendence of the NATIONAL LIFE-BOAT INSTITUTION.