By Major-General the Rt. Hon. John E. Bernard Seeley, C.B., C.M.G., D.S.O.

[Major-General Seely has been a Member of the Committee of Management of the Institution for over twenty-eight years.

He has been a member of the Life-boat Crew at Brooke, in the Isle of Wight, for over thirty-five years. In the whole history of the Institution he is the only man who has been a member both of the Committee of Management and of a Life- boat Crew. General Seely has just been appointed a V ice-President. These facts give a peculiar interest to the very graphic account of a Life-boat Service which appears in his book of memoirs, well- named " Adventure," which was published at the beginning of this year by Messrs. W.

Heinemann (21s.). We give this account below by the kind permission of General Seely himself, of Messrs. W. Heinemann, and of the proprietors of the Daily Tele- graph, in which paper extracts from the memoirs appeared before they were issued in book form.—Editor The Lifeboat.] ONE autumn, when I was fortunately at home in the Isle of Wight, we had a shipwreck, and after we had rescued the crew, the Coxswain, a famous old Life- boatman, Benjamin Jacobs, proposed that I should be a regular member of the Crew. I was duly elected, and remain a member to this day. I can truly say that of all the posts that have been given to me, this fills me with the greatest joy.

As I have often been asked what a Life-boat launch on service in a storm is really like, I will try to describe such an episode from my own experience.

Later, one mid-winter's evening, on the Isle of Wight's south coast, the wind came on to blow hard from the south- south-west at about five o'clock, and the sea ran exceptionally high. When I went to bed, about twelve o'clock, it was blowing harder than ever, shaking the whole house.

Awakened by the Maroon.

At half-past two I was awakened by a very loud bang—the maroon which we send up to summon theTrew. I jumped up, dressed as fast as I could, and started to run down towards the beach, just half a mile away. When I got round the corner of the house I was blown right over, and, indeed, it was with difficulty that I managed to make my way into the comparative shelter of the trees at the bottom of the garden.

When I reached the little village street I started to run again. It was almost dark, but one could just see. At the Rectory, which is overshadowed by big ilex trees, it was pitch dark, and I ran bump into something woolly and warm.

It was one of the ten horses which we require to pull our Life-boat on its carriage down to the beach. I followed the horses to the Life-boat house, and there found most of the Crew assembled ; the rest turned up within ten minutes.

Quite apart from the howling of the wind, the sea was making so loud a roar that one had to shout into one's neigh- bour's ear to make him hear. The curious thing was that while we stood in the lee of the Life-boat house talking, nobody said what an awful night it was, or expressed doubts as to our fate, though I know full well that it was in the mind of every one of us. A few technical remarks about the last of the ebb helping us towards the wreck if we wasted no time in launching, were all that was said.

We could not see the wreck, but we could see her starboard light showing green at intervals. She was stuck fast on the outer ledge, about a mile and a half from where we launched.

Into the Water.

The horses pulled the Boat on its carriage down to the beach and turned her round. The wind blew so hard up the Life-boat road that it was almost impossible to stand, but we managed to get the carriage down to the water's edge. Then came three problems, easy of solution in ordinary weather, but all terribly difficult in a great storm. The first, to get the carriage far enough into the water so that when the Boat was launched from it she would have water enough to float. The second, after we had pushed the carriage far enough into the sea, to clamber into the boat in clothes sodden from, head to foot. The third problem, when the boat had been launched, was to pull hard enough to surmount the first wave.

Well, we got her in up to the axles of the wheels, but in the process waves went clean over our heads ; still, we did all manage to climb in. Then we got our oars out and waited for tke Coxswain to shout " Launch ! " to the helpers on the shore. There are two long ropes attached to each side of the stern of the Life-boat, passed through pulleys in the forepart of the carriage, and then brought back to the shore ; the helpers catch hold of these, and on the word " Launch ! " run as hard as they can up the beach, thus shooting the Life-boat from the carriage out into the sea.

The Coxswain, Ben Jacobs, was a splendid man, of immense strength, and quite devoid of fear. Moreover, he had lived on the coast all his life, and knew every rock and current.

So we sat in the boat with our oars ready, waiting for the best moment to launch. Then, as now, I rowed stroke on the port side. The oars are painted white to distinguish them from the star- board ones, which are painted blue. I confess that as I sat there waiting, for what seemed like an hour, I thought our chances of getting to the wreck were almost hopeless. Nor did I think it likely that any of us would get out of the adventure alive. I had lived on the coast nearly all my life, and had never seen such a storm.

"Launch.'" At last the Coxswain chose the right moment. After a great wave had nearly lifted us off the carriage, he raised his right hand above his head and roared out " Launch." There was a rumbling sound as the Boat ran over the rollers on her way to the sea, and, with a crash, into the water we went. How we pulled! My God, how we pulled! Every man knew that it was our only chance to get enough way on the Boat to surmount the next wave. Then it came. We could hear it roaring though we dared not look round, for we had to devote our whole mind and strength to pulling.

Up went the bow, up, up, until the Boat was nearly perpendicular, but over the crest she went, and for a moment we were safe.

It is a strange thing about the sea, but it is a fact, that when you once get on to it in a boat as low in the water as a Life- boat, you get far less wind than you do ashore. I suppose the explanation is that the wind is continually swept up by the backs of the great waves, and thus most of it passes over one's head.

We got over the next wave and the next.

The third one was a big fellow, which., fortunately broke just before we reached it. Nevertheless, it drove us back to within 50 yards of the beach, but we kept on pulling, and from, that time con- tinued to make headway. It took us nearly two hours to row that mile and a half to the wreck. The wind was dead ahead.

At last, quite exhausted, we reached the wreck. She was a great big sailing ship of between 2,000 and 3,000 tons, and her sides towered up above us. We shouted, but no one appeared, so we threw a grapnel into the rigging, which held.

Aboard the Wveck.

She rolled fifty degrees each way, and the seas broke right over her. We all shouted together, but could get no reply, so two of us had to go on board. It had always been arranged that those two should be Tom Hookey, the blacksmith, and myself, because we were the lightest and supposed to be the most agile. Tom was exactly the same age as myself, and we were lifelong and intimate friends.

We both jumped into the rigging as the ship rolled over towards us, and managed to get on board. Then came the really exciting adventure of getting below between the waves without being swept overboard. By great good luck we succeeded.

Down below was a strange and melan- choly sight. Three lanterns were burn- ing in the large fo'castle. There was nearly 3 feet of water, and floating about were coats, shirts, trousers, oilskins, caps and tobacco pouches, but not a sign of human life. We clambered out, dodged a wave, and managed to get down the after-hatch. There the ship was more than half-full of water ; a light was still burning, but not a soul to be seen.

Above the crash of the breakers we heard a loud shout from the Life-boat, and ran to the side. Tom jumped in first, and I was about to follow when she swayed out about 20 yards from the side.

I climbed up the rigging to escape a big wave which swept along the deck below me ; then ran down again, and as the boat sheered alongside, jumped.

She was only about 6 feet below me when I jumped, on the crest of a wave, but she sank into the trough almost as fast as I fell, so that I should guess that I must have fallen quite 15 feet before I reached her. I fell on an unfortu- nate man, and really hurt him quite badly.

Just at that moment the grapnel parted, and we were swept away to lee- ward. All our oars on one side had been smashed to splinters, but we got out enough spares to pull her a bit to the east. Then we threw out the drogue ' over the stern, hoisted a jib, and flew home before the wind at a wonderful speed. What had taken us two hours to accomplish on the way out, took us twenty minutes on the return. As we sailed home we bemoaned our melan- choly fate in having no survivors to bring ashore, and vowed, amidst laughter, that on future occasions we would take a few with us.

What had happened was this: The vessel, having her sails blown away and her steering-gear broken, and being therefore quits out of control, had sent up signals of distress to a passing steamer, when about five miles from the shore. Th.3 steamer could not come alongside in that tremendous sea, so the crew all jumped for it. A few were saved, but, alas ! most of them were drowned, and some of their bodies drifted ashore afterwards. As it turned out, had they stuck to their ship, probably all would have been saved.

We made a wonderful landing on a big wave, and the boat ran well up the beach. In the morning, when daylight came, there was the great ship still standing. But soon the masts, one by one, fell over the side ; then swiftly she opened up like a book, and by nine o'clock there was no trace of her to be seen, only a mass of wreckage drifting ashore, all except the great spars splin- tered into quite little bits.

It was a hard adventure, but except for the man on whom I fell, nobody was seriously hurt; he, too, soon recovered..