ng the lifeboat and the helm and the
steersmen--for both Wilds and Roberts were straining at the yoke
lines--and hurled the lifeboat like a feather right round before the
wind, and she shot onwards with and amidst this sea, almost into the
deadly jangle of broken masts and great yards and tops, which with all
their rigging and shrouds and hamper were tossing wildly in the boiling
surf astern of the wreck.

But the noble deed was not to end in disaster. Beaten and hustled as
the Deal lifeboatmen were with this great sea, there was time enough
for those skilled and daring men to set the foresail again, to drag her
clear before they got into the wreckage. 'Sheet home the foresail, and
sit steady, my lads,' said Roberts, 'and we'll soon be through!' and
they made for the dangerous broken water, which was now not more than
twelve feet deep. The coxswains kept encouraging the men, 'Cheer up,
my lads!' And then, 'Look out, all hands! A sea coming!' And then,
'Five minutes more and we'll be through.' And so with her goodly
freight of thirty-two souls, battered but not beaten, reeling to and
fro, and staggering and plunging on through the surf, each moment
approaching safety and deep water--on pressed the lifeboat.

Now gleams of hope broke out as the lifeboat lived and prospered in the
battle, and at last the rescued Germans saved 'from the jaws of death,'
and yet hardly believing they were saved, sang out, though feeble and
exhausted, 'Hurrah! Cheer, O.' And inside the breakers the Kingsdown
lifeboat, on their way to help, responded with an answering cheer.

Then we may be well sure that from our own silent, stubborn Deal men,
many a deep-felt prayer of gratitude, unuttered it may be by the lips,
was sent up from the heart to Him, the 'Eternal Father strong to save,'
while the Germans now broke openly out into 'Danke Gott! Danke Gott!'
and soon afterwards were landed--grateful beyond expression for their
marvellous deliverance--on Deal beach[1].

With conspicuous exceptions, few notice and fewer still remember those
gallant deeds done by those heroes of our coast.

Few realize that those poor men have at home an aged mother perhaps
dependent on them, or children, or 'a nearer one yet and a dearer,' and
that when they 'darkling face the billow' the possibility of disaster
to themselves assumes a more harrowing shape, when they think of loved
ones left helpless and destitute behind them. Riches cannot remove the