foresail!' when well outside the wreck, and anchored E. by S. of her.
Thus the same 'in-tide' which swept the Ramsgate lifeboat away from the
wreck, carried the Deal lifeboat right down to her.

[Illustration: Location of the wreck]

It will be remembered that the head of the Golden Island lay N.W., and
the accompanying diagram will enable the reader to understand that as
the lifeboat anchored in nearly the opposite quarter, viz. about S.E.,
her head, as she ranged alongside the wreck, lay in precisely the
opposite direction to the head of the shipwrecked schooner.

The Deal lifeboat coxswain now hoisted a bit of his foresail to sheer
her in towards the wreck, but from the position of his anchor he could
not get closer than ten fathoms, or twenty yards.

To bridge this gulf of boiling surf, the cane loaded with lead, to
which a light line was attached, had to be hurled by a stalwart arm,
and John May succeeded in throwing the 'lead line' on board the wreck.

As the half-drowned and perishing crew of the wreck saw the Deal
lifeboat winning her way towards them, and inch by inch conquering the
opposing elements, their hearts revived.

They saw within hailing distance of them--for their cries could be
heard plainly enough coming down the wind by the Deal men--the brave,
determined faces of their rescuers, and they felt that God had not
forsaken them, but had wrought for them a great deliverance.

Having gone through all that surf, and having got within reach as it
were of the wreck, the crew of the Deal lifeboat were now eager for the
final rescue. They never speak of, or even allude to the feeling on
such occasions within them, yet we know their hearts were on fire for
the rescue, and men in that mood are not easily to be baulked or to be
beaten.

As the wearied seamen grasped the meaning of the Deal coxswain's
shouts, or rather signs, for shouts against the wind were almost
inaudible, they aided in rigging up veering and hauling lines, by which
they would have to be dragged through the belt of surf which lay
between them and the lifeboat.

A clove-hitch, which my readers can practise for themselves, was passed
round the waist of the captain's son, a boy of thirteen, who was first
to leave the wreck.

[Illustration: Clove-hitch]

The lad naturally enough shrank from facing the boiling caldron which
raged between him and the lifeboat, and with loud cries clung to his
father. Waiting was impossible, and he