is might, and fell into the rigging of the wreck. A few
seconds later and he was on the cross-trees, knife in hand, and the
lashings were cut.

At the same moment a rending crash was heard, and again the stentorian
voice of the coxswain was heard shouting to the men. The lifeboat was
pulled off just in time to escape from the mainmast as it fell, burying
its cross-trees and all its tangled gearing in the sea.

The bowman and young Guy leaned over the side, and at the risk of their
lives grasped at a drowning man. They caught him, and Captain Bolter
was dragged into the boat insensible. A moment later and a hand was
seen to rise in the midst of the wreckage. Guy knew it well. He
grasped it and held on. A few seconds more and Jo Grain, with blood
pouring down his face, from a deep cut in his head, was raised to the
gunwale.

"Have a care," he gasped faintly.

His right arm encircled an inanimate form. Both were dragged on board,
and then it was seen that the form was that of Mary Bolter, uninjured
though insensible.

To haul up to the anchor was a slow process and laborious, but it was
done cheerily, for the hearts of the men were aglow with satisfaction.
Three lives saved! It was what Blunt styled a grand haul. Not many,
indeed: but was not one that of a loved comrade, and was not another
that of "the sweetest lass in all the town," in spite of young Guy's
difference of opinion?

It was grey dawn when the lifeboat returned to port under sail, with a
small flag flying in token of success, and it would have done your heart
good, reader, to have seen the faces of the crowds that lined the pier,
and heard the ringing cheers that greeted the gallant rescuers as they
brought the rescued safe to land.

Six hours after that Captain Bolter sat at the bedside of Jo Grain.

"You've been hard hit, Jo, I fear," he said kindly.

"Yes, rather hard, but the doctor says I'll be all right in a week or
two; and it's little I'll care about it, Captain, if you'll only agree
to forgive and forget."

The Captain seized Jo's hand and tried to speak, but could not. After
an abortive effort he turned away with a grunt and left the room.

Six months after that, Joseph Grain, transformed into a coast-guardsman,
led "the sweetest lass in all the town" to the village church, and young
Guy, still objecting to the title, was groom's-man.

"Jo," said Captain Bolter that day, at parting, "I've forgiven you long
ago, but I _can't