A cloth of
shawl of some sort was seen to be fluttering from under the weather
bulwarks.

The boat drew nearer. "There is somebody there, to a certainty,"
exclaimed Mr Oliver. "We may get up under her quarter, and an active
man may then leap on board."

My father volunteered. The boat approached. Taking a line in his hand,
he sprang on to the deck, half of which was under water. Supporting
himself by the stump of the after-mast, and then catching hold of a
portion of the weather-rigging, he hauled himself to the upper part of
the wreck, where, secured to a stanchion, was what looked like a bundle
of rags, out of the midst of which appeared a brown face, while his ear,
at the same time, amidst the roaring of the sea, caught the sound of an
infant's cry, to which, since I came into the world, his ears had been
pretty well accustomed. Although Mr Oliver and the men in the boat
gave him notice at that instant that the wreck was sinking, that cry had
aroused all the father's feelings in his bosom. He sprang forward, and,
as a seaman only could have done, cut away the lashings which secured a
dark female, in whose grasp he then discovered a fair young infant.
Seizing the woman and child in his arms, as the bow of the vessel was
already sinking, he gave one spring aft, and struggled out of the vortex
of the sinking vessel.

"Haul away!" he cried out, while he held the rope with one hand and kept
his charges afloat with the other. A strong man alone could have saved
them, and even a strong one, unless a truly brave fellow, would not have
made the attempt. In a few seconds they were lifted safely into the
boat. The infant breathed freely, and seemed not to have got any harm,
but the poor black woman suffered greatly, and this further immersion
had contributed still more to exhaust her. Yet she was perfectly
conscious of what had occurred. Her lips moved, and a smile lighted up
her countenance when she saw the infant lifted carefully in my father's
arms. Unfortunately, there was no food in the boat, but just as Mr
Oliver was stepping in, the surgeon had put a small brandy-flask in his
pocket. This he produced, and attempted to pour a few drops down the
throat of the poor woman, but the instant she tasted it she spat it
forth as if it was poison, and showed signs of the evident disgust she
felt at its being put into her mouth. All that those in the boat could
do, therefore, was to make the best of their way bac