[In every number of The Life-boat there appears after an account of all the effective services in any month the statement: The following life-boats went out on service, but could find no ship in distress, were not needed or could do nothing. This account, written by a member of the crew of the Longhope, Orkneys, life-boat, gives an impression of what often takes place on these occasions when no effective service is rendered. It first appeared in the Orcadian and is reproduced by kind permission of the editor.] "WE are in a bad way ashore near Dunnet Head," signalled the trawler Koorah to Wick radio, and a few minutes later the alarm reached the Longhope life-boat.

For me it was a 5 a.m. telephone call from Coxswain Fred Johnston, a quick heave into warm clothes and a full speed dash along seven miles of winding road to Brims. Dry salt on the windscreen made it hard at first, but spray swept over the car at Crockness and that washed the glass.

As I braked for the sharp turn at Ayre causeway, the first of two maroons exploded with a brilliant fire- ball that spread wide the news. The car headlights showed two hurrying figures in sea boots, and most of the crew and launchers appeared almost together through the darkness. Quick work by all, as my speed had not dropped below fifty.

Oilskins on, life-belts strapped, engines started; it was all done in seconds. No bother, scarcely a word, everything done smoothly. "All hands forward," ordered Fred John- ston, still with no flurry. "All together, jump." There were eight of us jump- A** ing; five were Johnstons, with Dan Kirkpatrick and Steve McFadyen; no mean weight, and the boat tipped nose down with a heavy jolt.

A Devil Black Darkness Hand raised by the coxswain and down the slip she went. Hard over with the wheel, and steering by com- pass she plunged and soared out of Aith Hope. It was black, not just that velvety blackness that one feels is mere lack of light, this was a devil black darkness that struck the mind as violently as the strong south-easter bit into the cheeks. Not a sign of land, although cliffs were scarcely a hundred yards away; you could not see the waves, but you caught their drenching punch as they drove over the boat.

When Dunnet Light peeped clear of Brims Ness to starboard, the boat turned straight for it, with the ebb tide helping and the waves doing all they could to stop her. The Thurso boat was out too.

Breaking waves snarled and struck in their plenty, but not even a grey smear lightened the darkness; thev were black demons instead of white horses. Up forward, two lights, red and green, each side lit an iron stanchion with its life-line chains.

Framed in the gap between was a pulsating column of spray, which rose vertically then turned abruptly and hurtled away green-tinted to star- board. An outline of heads sometimes showed above the fore shelter—Steve McFadyen and young Robbie John- ston.

Dim Shapes in the Life-boat I ducked below the cockpit shelter for a heavy one; a dim light gleamed from each of four thigh-high sea-boots, firm footed as the water swirled around them; dimmer still were the shapes of Engineer Bob and Soldier Bob, both Johnstons, who sat rigid by their engine controls as though part of the hull itself. Soldier Bob had two sons aboard, Robbie up forward and Jimmie in the cockpit; Engineer Bob is brother to coxswain Fred.

Again the radio spoke. " Our Lassie has taken off the crew," then soon after, "Longhope life-boat return to your station." Slowly the boat turned to starboard until Cantick's light beam revolved ahead. The ebb was running even faster then.

Darkness no longer clamped down with sheer annihilation; first, breaking waves showed us dim smudges, then slowly the sky differed from the land as dark does from darker. Dawn was coming.

Too rough to go back to Aith Hope, .we stood in for Cantick Sound. Past the lighthouse and in calm water sleet danced by from astern. So on to Longhope in the growing light with a green flare burning aloft to signal no casualties.

Cold ? My hands were hard and numb. But it would warm the heart of an iceberg to spend a wild night in the Pentland with such men as these on life-boat service. Orkney has reason to be proud of all her life-boat- men..