; hurrah! from the town; hurrah! from the shore; hurrah! now, from
the very ships in the roads, whose crews are swarming on the yards to
look; five minutes ago they laughed at you; three thousand eyes and
hearts hang upon you now; ay, these are the moments we live for!

And now dead silence. The boat is within fifty yards, they are all three
consulting together round the mast; an error now is death; his forehead
only seems above water.

"If they miss him on that tack?" said Lord Ipsden, significantly, to
Liston.

"He'll never see London Brigg again," was the whispered reply.

They carried on till all on shore thought they would run over him, or
past him; but no, at ten yards distant they were all at the sail, and
had it down like lightning; and then Flucker sprang to the bows, the
other boy to the helm.

Unfortunately, there were but two Johnstones in the boat; and this boy,
in his hurry, actually put the helm to port, instead of to starboard.
Christie, who stood amidships, saw the error; she sprang aft, flung the
boy from the helm and jammed it hard-a-starboard with her foot. The boat
answered the helm, but too late for Flucker; the man was four yards from
him as the boat drifted by.

"He's a deed mon!" cried Liston, on shore.

The boat's length gave one more little chance; the after-part must drift
nearer him--thanks to Christie. Flucker flew aft; flung himself on his
back, and seized his sister's petticoats.

"Fling yourself ower the gunwale," screamed he. "Ye'll no hurt; I'se
haud ye."

She flung herself boldly over the gunwale; the man was sinking, her
nails touched his hair, her fingers entangled themselves in it, she gave
him a powerful wrench and brought him alongside; the boys pinned him
like wild-cats.

Christie darted away forward to the mast, passed a rope round it, threw
it the boys, in a moment it was under his shoulders. Christie hauled
on it from the fore thwart, the boys lifted him, and they tumbled him,
gasping and gurgling like a dying salmon, into the bottom of the boat,
and flung net and jackets and sail over him to keep the life in him.

Ah! draw your breath all hands at sea and ashore, and don't try it
again, young gentleman, for there was nothing to spare; when you were
missed at the bow two stout hearts quivered for you; Lord Ipsden hid
his face in his two hands, Sandy Liston gave a groan, and, when you were
grabbed astern, jumped out of his boat and cried:

"A gill o' whisky for