mult were so great as to bewilder those who listened. The wind
howled in its rage, and mingled with the thunder of the waters. The
sea-gulls screamed as they flew madly about the ship, and towards the
shore. The women shrieked so piercingly that their voices could be
heard above all other sounds, and were by far the maddest and most
mournful of all. Nor was this surprising, for the great vessel was
lifted up by the action of the water, and again forced upon the jagged
rock, while the beams and timbers gave way, and that to which the
passengers and sailors had trusted their lives proved itself little
better than a grave.

The bustle and confusion on board were naturally very great at this
juncture. All tried to find their way on deck, but some did not live
to reach it. Others, as soon as they had gained that which they hoped
was a place of safety, were at once swept off into the great deep below.

At this time some of the crew, eager to save themselves, lowered the
larboard quarter-boat, and sprang into it. Among these were James
Duncan, the first mate, to whom some blame seems to have been attached,
and Mr. Ruthven Ritchie, of Perthshire. It is little wonder that in
such a crisis all should do what could be done to save themselves. But
we have some memorable instances of unselfish heroism on the part of
British sailors, who have even lost their own lives in saving those of
others.

"It is the signal of death," was the hurried conclusion to which many
came when they felt the shock of the vessel on the rock. Then followed
a most heart-rending scene. The master lost all self-control in his
anguish and terror; but, perhaps, that is not surprising when it is
remembered that he had on board his own wife. It is so natural for a
woman to think that her husband can save her from everything; and this
woman clung to the master, and looked into his face with imploring
eyes, "Oh, save me! save me! Surely you can do something! Do not let
me drown. Oh, my beloved, will you not save me?" she cried, holding
him in her arms, while the tears ran down her white face.

"Would to God that I could, my darling," was all the man could say, as
he felt his utter helplessness to protect her, or any of those who had
been committed to his care. Other women there were who called upon
him, and upon the sailors, and most of all upon God, though their cries
seemed altogether unavailing. The men were more quiet. They looked
death in