e
vessel go over, and then down crash came the mizzenmast over the port
side, carrying with them in the ruin spars and rigging in confusion,
and all this wild mass still hung by the shrouds and other rigging
round the quarter and stem of the doomed ship, and were ever and anon
drawn against her by the sea, beating her planking with thunderous
noise and tremendous force.

The Leda's head was now lying S.W., or facing the sea, as after she
struck stem on, her nose remained fast, and the sea gradually beat her
stem round. There was running a very strong lee-tide, i.e. a tide
running in the same direction as the wind and sea, setting fiercely
across the Sands and outwards across the bows of the wreck. Owing,
therefore, to this strong cross tide and the great sea, every minute
breaking more furiously as the water was falling with the ebb-tide, the
greatest judgment was required by the coxswains to anchor in the right
spot, so as not to be swung hopelessly out of reach of the vessel by
the tide. All the bravery in the world would have failed to accomplish
the rescue, had the requisite experience been wanting. Nothing but
experience and the faculty of coming to a right decision in a moment,
amidst the appalling grandeur and real danger which surrounded them,
enabled the coxswains to anchor just in the right spot, having made the
proper allowance for the set of the tide, the sea, and the wind.

This decision had to be made in less time than I have taken to write
this sentence, and the lives of men hung thereon. All hands knew it,
so 'Now! Down foresail!' and the men rushed at the sail, and some to
the 'down-haul,' and got it in; the helm being put hard down, up, head
to sea, came the lifeboat, and overboard went the anchor, taking with
it coil after coil of the great white five-inch cable of Manilla hemp;
and to this they also bent a second cable, in order to ride by a long
scope, thus running out about 160 fathoms or 320 yards of cable. They
dropped anchor therefore nearly a fifth of a mile ahead of the wreck
and well on her starboard bow. Now bite, good anchor! and hold fast,
stout cable! for the lives of all depend on you.

If the cable parted, and the lifeboat struck the ship with full force,
coming astern or broadside on, not a man would have survived to tell
the tale, or if she once got astern of the wreck she could not have
worked to windward--against the wind and tide--to drop down as before.
No friendly ste