ith that habitual deference
which, even in danger and in death, an English seaman rarely foils to
accord to his commanding officer.

He was the first to restore order, to assist the wounded, to encourage
the timid, and to revive expiring hope. Most providentially, when the
vessel struck, the mainmast, in falling overboard, served to form a
communication between the ship and the shore, and Captain Lydiard was
the first to point out this circumstance to the crew. Clinging with
his arm to the wheel of the rudder, in order to prevent his being
washed overboard by the waves, he continued to encourage one after
another as they made the perilous attempt to reach the shore. It was
fated that this gallant officer should not enjoy in this world the
reward of his humanity and his heroism. After watching with
thankfulness the escape of many of his men, and having seen with honor
many others washed off the mast, in their attempts to reach the land,
he was about to undertake the dangerous passage himself, when he was
attracted by the cries of a person seemingly in an agony of terror.
The brave man did not hesitate for a moment, but turned and made his
way to the place whence the cries proceeded; there he found a boy, a
protege of his own, whom he had entered on board the Anson only a few
months before, clinging in despair to a part of the wreck, and without
either strength or courage to make the least effort for his own
preservation. Captain Lydiard's resolution was instantly taken,--he
would save the lad, if possible, though he might himself perish in the
attempt. He threw one arm round the boy, whilst he cheered him by
words of kind encouragement, with the other arm he clung to the spars
and mast to support himself and his burthen. But the struggle did not
last long; nature was exhausted by the mental and physical sufferings
he had endured; he lost his hold, not of the boy, but of the mast, the
wild waves swept over them, and they perished together.

It must not be supposed that the people on the shore were unconcerned
spectators of the fearful tragedy that was enacted before their eyes.
British fishermen are proverbial for their daring and intrepidity.
Inured from childhood to the dangers and hardships attendant on their
perilous calling, with very few exceptions our fishermen have always
been ready to succour the wrecked and tempest-tossed mariner. There is
not, we believe, a fishing village between the Land's End and the
Orkne