The following graphic account of a determined and gallant Lifeboat Service rendered on the occasion of a shipwreck which occurred on the Yorkshire Coast a few years since, is abridged from an interesting work, entitled, " Between the Heather and the Northern Sea," by Mary Linskill (" Stephen Torke "), published by Messrs. Eichard Bentley & Son, London.

"The scene in Soulsgrif Bight disclosed itself quite suddenly from the turn at the top of the cliff. It was a wild scene, and impres- sive ; and the sounds that dulled and deadened the hearing were at least as impressive as the sight itself. . . . The Bight seemed to be rapidly rilling with swift-moving apprehensive figures. Some came from the north, some from the south. . . . There was an excitement, sup- pressed as yet, on every countenance, and every eye was turned strainingly seaward. At present this seaward view was suggestive only of terror, of angry and awful power. The dark clouds were obscured; so, too, was the darkly-heaving distance of the sea. Mystery was the key-note of the scene, the mystery of driving storm-scud —scud of rain or snow, meeting and mingling with the scud of riven, flying surf. The only light in it was a heavy, lurid yellow light, that appeared to be neither of sun, nor moon, nor stars; a light that seemed to strike upward from the torn sea, rather than downward from the troubled heavens. . . Nothing was strange, save the awful booming of the sea all along the foot of the cliffs, the wild roaring and lash- ing, the mad bursting and tossing of the waves, that stretched in broken heights and shadowy depths across the Bight from Briscoe Point to Soulsgrif Ness. What roar was of the water, and what of the rushing mighty wind, could not be discerned. . . . The news that a schooner, believed to be the Viking, had been seen drift- ing past Briscoe Point, disabled and dismasted, was the first news of the sailing of the ship.

More than one of the men assembled there had seen the hull of the disabled ship, as it rolled and laboured past the point. The mainmast had snapped off a few feet from the deck; some three or four figures, gathered about the bows, was all that could be discerned through the darkness and mist of the edge of the snow squall. . . . There was a slight change in the aspect of things. The wind veered a little; the snowstorm began to clear away to the north. Every eye in Soulsgrif Bight was fixed upon the riven lurid edge of the moving cloud.

It went on moving, moving over sullen, dark, blue-black waters, fretted with leaping tongues of white foam, tongues that leapt hungrily one upon another, because nothing else was there for them to leap upon. There was nothing else, from Briscoe Point to the riven cloud-edge that went on moving away. Even above the desperate thunder and boom of the sea you could hear, or perhaps feel, the low ground- tone of despair that came from the hearts of the people standing there, More than three parts of the wild, wide bay, was clear now, clear and cold as blue steel; but no dismasted hull rose darkly between sea and sky. . . From point to point there was nothing for the eye to see save the great strife of waters, nothing for the ear to hear but the war of the unabating tempest. . . . But they knew well that so small a thing as a piece of wreck, or even a boat, might show itself for one moment, and then hide itself for many, in such a mountainous sea . . . Yet not one full minute had passed when the cry, half glad, half full of anguish, swept across the Bight, 'They've ta'en to the boat! God help them! They've ta'en to the boat!' For the moment every one had seen it for them- selves. Away beyond the seething, desperate, madly-plunging surf, a vast ridge of water had risen slowly, bearing on its unbroken crest a tiny boat, with six dark figures visible against the cold clear sky. ' Heaven help 'em!' said the man who had been watching them through the glass. ' Heaveu help 'em ! There's some on 'em stripped to swim." Even as he spoke the boat disappeared. A great white crest, with a flying mane, swept up between, seeming as if it broke into the blue ether that was changing to green. There was no murmur in the crowd, no cry; only a breathless, heart- swelling silence. Could nothing be done? Nothing? Nothing? . . .

" Suddenly, very suddenly, the painful, breath- less silence was broken. A woman, looking southward, saw on the snow-covered cliff-top some object looming, towering greatly against the sky. A crowd of toiling people was all NOVEMBER, 1885.] THE LIFE-BOAT JOUENAL.

667 about it; horses were being moved hither and thither; ropes were being thrown, and coiled, and bound. ' My God I my God !' said the woman, who had been praying passionately for her husband's life, ' My God! it's the LIFE- BOAT !' Even so; it was the Life-boat. . . .

The children' of children yet unborn will tell of the cutting of the frozen and deeply-drifted snow, over hills and through hollows, for six long miles; the painful dragging, step by step, of the massively-built boat, mounted on her own carriage, by men who wrought in silence, in utter obedience, in splendid willingness, with desperate resolve. . . . Men and horses from well-nigh every farm on the road joined the band of volunteers, the men working with such » will as they had never in their lifetime brought to any labour of their own. Massive snow- drifts disappeared, hewn away in heavy blocks; the horses strove in the shafts, as many as eighteen being yoked at one time, in places where the road was steep or the snow imper- perfectly cleared. No difficulty stopped or stayed this little force of brave Yorkshiremen, as they struggled forward, ever forward, on their merciful errand. Even the men who knew that for them the worst was yet to come, the braving of the terrible sea after the terrible toil on land, even they spared not themselves.

No, not even when the Life-boat stood on the top of Briscoe Ban!*, 'and was seen towering there by eyes that could only see through tears, welcomed by voices whose words of greeting were choked and overpowered by sobs. Strong .men wept as the ringing cheers at length possed Upward through the deafening roar of wind and wave; but their weeping had to be brief.

The end was not yet. The day was passing on, the tide was rising, the awful foam-white walls of sea that were roaring and dashing in Souls- grif Bight were growing more appalling in their dread tempestuousness with every hour that went by. ... The little boat, with the ship- wrecked crew, was still there, tossing outside the breakers. It could be seen from time to time for a few seconds. . . . Near five hours had gone by between the sighting of the dis- masted ship and the sudden looming of the Life-boat on the top of Briscoe Bank. . . .

Swiftly, silently, yet with terrible difficulty, the Boat was lowered down by means of ropes.

When it touched the sands of the Bight there was a burst of strong, subdued, yet almost over- powering emotion. . . . Swiftly, and as silently as might be, the Life-boat was manned, the brave sea-soldiers buckled on their buoyant armour, set their pale-blue lances athwart the rest, and turned to face the foe, with hearts as brave, as disdainful of danger, as any that ever beat in the breasts of the chivalrous knights of ancient repute. . . . If Homer had seen Ulysses and his men launching a nineteenth-century Life-boat straight out into the very middle of the breakers that surge and dash upon the North Sea coast during a hurricane, we had had another epic to set our hearts a-beating to its diviner theme. . . . No eye there saw aught save the Boat, its swift forward leaping, its down- ward plunge into the trough of the sea, its perilous uplifting and suspension on the curling crest of the mountainous wave, its perpendicular rearing as it rose, its dread descent as it fell, its human reel and shudder under the shock of a mighty blow, its sad submission to the drench- ing, bursting wave, that half filled the hollow between ita planks, the s-waymg, the rocking, the tossing, the threatening, the hard, strong, desperate striving, how should any eye turn from the appalling fasciriation of a scene like that ? . . . The Life-boat was struck by the heaviest sea she had encountered yet. It fell like an avalanche, well-nigh swamping the Boat, and breaking six of her oars. ' They snapped like straws,' said one of the men afterwards, a man whose arm had been disabled by the same stroke. Two other men were hurt; the Boat was not manageable against the wind; there was nothing for it but to turn back for re- inforcements of men and oars. A whole hour's rowing, at full strength, in such a sea as that had exhausted the powers of the Life-boat crew to a considerable extent, and it had been fruitless. The storm was still raging with its •wildest fury. The little boat 'was still in. sight . . . Another snow squall was looming and threatening in the distance; the coxswain of the Life-boat was calling out for fresh hands.

They were there, with fresh oars, all waiting ready. . . . Another moment, and they were out again in the great white upheaving world of water. It seemed as if the roar of the gale were rising to a shriek as the squall came on. The mingled sleet came down, rain and snow one minute, rain and stinging hail another. You looked, and the Life-boat was visible through the slanting scud, leaping, plunging, quivering ; the men bending forward on the thwarts, under the deluge that was pouring over them, cling- ing for very life. Again you looked, and there was neither boat nor men to save, neither boat nor men to be saved. All was rage, dread, •white fury, black despair. . . . At last, through a break in the thick yellow-grey mystery, it was seen that the Life-boat was being rapidly driven shoreward again. Another minute, and it was seen that she had more than her crew on board. No voice was heard in that suspense.

If any one spoke, even to God, he spoke silently.

Not till the Life-boat actually touched the beach, slanted downward on a seething wave, did the cry reach the shore, ' ALL SAVED !' Across the Bight it flew, amid the roaring and rattling of the hurricane. 'All saved! all .saved! all saved!'" The NATIONAL LIFEBOAT INSTITUTION granted £7010s. in rewards for this grand service..