Miss GILLIAN ELLIOTT, of Palsgrave County Modern School, Scarborough, Yorkshire, won the first prize in the competition for the best essay on the Life-boat Service organised by the Institution. The competition was open to boys and girls up to the age of sixteen attending schools in the United Kingdom and the Irish Republic.

Competitors were asked to imagine that they were retiring from the Lifeboat Service after thirty years as coxswain of a life-boat and to describe the experiences they remembered most vividly. Miss Elliott's essay is reproduced below : IT seems only yesterday that old coxswain Ray retired, yet it was thirty years ago. I was so excited when I heard that I had been recommended to be coxswain after him. Then when all the crew were on tenterhooks, each, I know, hoping in their hearts that they would become coxswain, I received the letter from the chairman inviting me to take the post.

And now I am retiring, I suppose I shall have to get all dressed up soon for my presentation ceremony. I hope they don't give me a clock, I've got dozens of the dratted things ding-donging at all hours. Still it's kind of my crew, but I shall think most unkindly of them if they ask me to make a speech.

There's a nice warm breeze today, and the sea, as the saying goes, is as calm as a mill pond. Treacherous though the sea is ; it was like this the first time I was in charge of the life-boat.

Sitting Mending Nets I was sitting mending my nets, as I am today, when suddenly the warm west wind changed to a slashing north-easterly one, that whipped the sea up until it looked like whipped cream, but the cream was grey-green flecked with white, and over it hung a menacing blackness. The sun had hidden his face behind a great black cloud.

It was then morning and at three o'clock in the afternoon I received a telephone call from a coastguard who had seen a small yacht apparently in difficulties just off Jackson's Bay. I raced down to the boathouse as quickly as my legs could carry me, pulling on my oilskins as I went. Once there I fired the minute guns and opened the boathouse door which leads down to the slipway and the sea.

I looked down at the boiling, seething sea, and yes, for a moment I felt almost sick and afraid. Then in twos and threes my crew of seven appeared, and in getting them settled I forgot all about the sea.

Eventually we were sliding down the slipway and then with a smack we hit the water.

Spray flew up in front, behind and at both sides of us. Despite pur oilskins it gave us a wetting, creeping, as it will do, down collars and cuffs. I was too busy giving orders then to think about it, however, but afterwards while sitting at my own fireside, I remembered it.

Cold, Driving Rain We made good progress at first and then the sea became wilder than ever and to make matters worse, a cold, driving, stinging rain began to fall. Up the side of a wave we travelled, then down the other side of it, then the next one broke over us. For an instant a wall of green water seemed to be crashing down on us, we wallowed in it, and then the wave went on, leaving us up to our waists in water. The relieving valves soon got rid of it however. One of my crew, I can't remember who it was now, put his hand to his head, looked round and blinked, for there, sailing blithely along was his bright yellow sou'wester.

A shaky laugh was raised, but he looked sour.

It had been a good sou'wester. Then the second coxswain sighted the yacht.

It was lurching wildly all over the place and some way from where it had first been sighted.

We were too far away to see if anyone was on board her. A huge wave began to bear down on us. I ducked instinctively, water, wetness, the taste of salt in my mouth. The wave passed, but it had served its evil purpose. We had lost sight of the distressed vessel.

For nearly two hours we had been at sea, we were coid, wet and miserable. To make matters worse it would soon be dark and the task of finding the yacht would become increasingly more difficult. I gave orders to the motor mechanic to tack for a while, and told the rest of the crew to keep their eyes skinned.

Darkness fell, the position became grim.

Then, through the rain, the youngest member of my crew, young Bates, saw a flash of light in the west.

" Look coxswain," he cried.

By the time I turned round it had disappeared, but I took his word that he had seen it, and gave orders to turn towards the west, for perhaps the yacht was sending up flares.

Pitching and Tossing On through the swirling waters and driving rain we battled and then, joy, we saw the yacht. She was pitching and tossing and her sails were in ribbons. But worst of all she was low in the water and seemed about to sink.

As we neared the yacht we saw, clinging to her mast, two boys of about seventeen years of age. Once alongside, our most difficult task began, transferring the boys from the stricken yacht to our life-boat. I threw a line to her and one of the boys caught and secured it. Three times we neared her, three times we were swept apart, the fourth time one of the boys managed to jump aboard us, he landed safely. We neared the yacht again, the other boy jumped and in the same instant the force of the wind and the waves combined pushed us some yards away from the yacht.

Into the smouldering cauldron of the sea fell the boy. Before I knew what was happening, my bowman, Philip Masterson, had dived in. The next few minutes are a blur in my memory. Masterson managed to support the boy and hold his own against the waves. I helped to drag the pair of them on board, they looked like a couple of drowned rats. For this brave act, bowman Philip Masterson was awarded the Institution's silver medal.

Our journey back to the harbour was to me, at least, a confused blur of slashing rain, cutting wind and waves breaking over us. I managed to give the orders correctly however and we chugged into the harbour safely enough. I arranged for the boys to be given shelter and praised my crew for their coolness and adroitness in obeying orders.

" Do you know, Bill," said the sou'westerjess member of my crew, " we were only just in time to pick those lads up. As we were scurrying back to the harbour, I saw the yacht overturn and sink." Pilot Shot Down Perhaps I remember that run best of all because it was the first I made as a coxswain.

The summer of 1942, that was, when the the crew, and the life-boat of course, rescued a pilot who had been shot down by some jabbering German, over the North Sea. A nice young chap he was, he seemed quite sorry to leave his plane. Isobel he called it.

It seems peculiar to me to name a plane Isobel.

It was probably the name of some girl heknew.

That was a fine, calm day, or he wouldn't have had much chance of survival in the turbulent seas off our coast.

I hope no one gets into difficulties today.

We had a. lot of calls last year, from people who had drifted out to sea in dinghies, or suddenly found themselves out of their depth and panicked. Quite a few never saw their homes again, as we were called too late or more often never called at all.

To think that, after thirty years, I have been out for the last time in the life-boat.

Grand boat she is with her blue painted sides and red fendering.

Many more liyes would be lost at sea if it wasn't for the life-boat service. Fifty lives its members have saved every month for a century and a quarter. Many people have cause to be grateful to it. I was reading a poem the other day, now what was it called ? Ah yes ! " Sir Patrick Spens ". Now if there had been a few life-boats in those days he wouldn't be lying at the bottom of the sea, with the Scots lords at his feet.

Hard to Believe My last run with the life-boat is passed. It seems hard to believe. That voyage was sad in more ways than one.

What was the name of that trawler; some Scottish name ? " Dunedin ", that was it, she had a fire on board her. At first we had good weather and then a stiff breeze began to blow, it blew itself into a squall. I was at my wits' end to keep the boat from overturning.

Then it happened, a huge wave came hurtling towards us. It caught us broad side on and before I knew precisely what had happened I was struggling in the water, then the life-boat righted itself. Luckily I had clung on to it and found myself safe once more. Half my companions were floundering in the water.

The motor mechanic helped me to drag in one man and another managed to heave himself aboard. But Philip was some distance away, as was Tom Young. I dived in.

How green was the sea's depths. I surfaced and breathed in welcome lungsful of air. Above the water I saw a yellow mackintoshed arm. I caught it and heaved ; the white face that appeared was Tom Young's.

How large the waves seemed, they towered above us. To be in those seas alone would have been terrifying but with an unconscious man, those few moments were agonizing.

Twice we both went under, although I did my best to keep Tom's head above water. Then I saw the side of the life-boat. Never did it look so beautiful. Kind hands caught mine and pulled us both on board. Philip Masterson was never seen again.

Tom revived after someone had applied artificial respiration. I felt dazed and bruised by the buffeting of the waves. The motor mechanic shook me by the hand and called me a hero. Hero ! I felt more like a wet dish cloth waiting to be wrung out.

Trawler Sighted Half an hour later, at half past two in the afternoon, we sighted the trawler. She was alight from end to end and we could see no one. Just then we were hailed and we saw two of the ship's life-boats, bobbing like a couple of corks in a pan of boiling water.

Any moment they would certainly be overwhelmed.

I told the motor mechanic to steer as close to one of them as he could. He obeyed, and as soon as we were close enough two of my crew threw over the grappling irons. The life-boat was continually nearing the small boat, and it was all we could do to prevent her from crashing down on it and its passengers.

One by one the trawler's crew were pulled and pushed to comparative safety, and soon they were all wrapped in cocoons of blankets.

The other boat was further away than ever.

Pete increased the speed of the engines, so much that he said he thought they would burst.

If we had been perhaps half a minute earlier, it might have been quite a simple operation to transfer the remaining members of the trawler's crew from their frail craft into our life-boat, as the gale had died down somewhat. The flimsy craft had overturned and all but two men who were clinging were trying to keep their heads above water. We threw them ropes, but for two men that fateful Tuesday had been the last day on earth, for while we were yet speeding towards them, they had been drawn down to the world beneath the waves.

But now our position was becoming critical. The " Dunedin" was sinking, gradually, it was true, but soon she would sink with a vengeance, and unless we could muster enough speed we would surely be drawn down after her.

This didn't happen or else I wouldn't be sitting here. From a safe distance, we watched the brave ship go down. A fine sight she made sending up bright sheets of flame to the last.

We had saved, that day, twenty-two men, but the captain and mate had perished in the sea, two men had been lost on the trawler itself and a gallant life-boatman had been drowned.

A Silver Medal Strange about the Institution making all that fuss, just because I did what any decent person would have done. Collared young Tom before it was too late. Yet I had to go up to London, and the Duchess of Kent, nice lady she is, gave me a silver medal, like poor Philip's, much good it ever did him, and said a lot of things about me, " brave, gallant rescuing life at the risk of his own ". I only did my duty and tried to keep the good crew I had.

I'd dearly love to go out just once more. I suppose I shall go on saying that to the end of my days. But I've retired and there's an end to it, time someone younger took my place.

Now what's the time ? 1 shall have to hurry or I shall be late. How calm the sea looks. How quickly it can lash itself into a fury.

Goodbye rocking deck and driving rain, farewell rolling waters. Most of all goodbye comrades, men who want to save lives, you will always be needed. As long as there is a sea the life-boat service will continue to serve, in fact as long as men go down to the sea in ships.

Other Prizes The prizes for the best essays in Scotland, Ireland, Wales and six districts in England were awarded to the following :—• Ireland : Sheila French, Girls' Model School, Dunkeld Gardens, Oldpark Road, Belfast, Northern Ireland.

Scotland : Sandra Margaret Tail, St. Margaret's Junior Secondary School, Ayr.

Wales : Joan Margaret Brooks, Towyn Grammar School, Towyn, Merionethshire, North Wales.

England : South-East : John Page, County Secondary Boys' School, Mill Road, Deal, Kent.

North-East : Gillian Elliott, Falsgrave County Modern School, Scarborough, Yorkshire.

Midlands : Christine Smith, Bromsgrove County High School, Bromsgrove, Worcestershire.

South-West : Terry Begg, Priory Secondary Boys' School, Carisbrooke, Isle of Wight.

North-West : Barbara Chaloner, George Tomlinson County Secondary School, Springfield Road, Kearsley, Lancashire.

London Area : Janet May Dean, Greenway Secondary Modern School,, Uxbridge Middlesex.

This is the second year in succession in which pupils of Palsgrave County Modern School, Scarborough ; Bromsgrove County High School, Bromsgrove ; and Greenway Secondary Modern School, Uxbridge, have won the prize for the district..