almost heart-broken by being
refused permission to go for want of room--gladly put on the belt and
took Riley's place. Another minute and they were out of the harbour,
battling with the billows and fighting their way inch by inch against
the howling blast. At last they got out so far that they could hoist
sail and run with a slant for the wreck.

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 2.

It was daylight by the time the Greyton lifeboat arrived at the scene of
action, but the thick, spray-charged atmosphere was almost as bad to see
through as the blackness of night.

"I'm afeared she's gone," shouted Slag to the coxswain, putting his hand
to his mouth to prevent the words being blown bodily away.

"No--I see her bearing sou'-west," was the brief reply, as Bob Massey
plied his steering oar.

A few minutes later, and the despairing people on the wreck, catching
sight of the boat, greeted her with a long, wild cheer of reviving hope.

"What is it?" asked the widow, faintly, for she had been growing
gradually weaker from prolonged exposure.

"The lifeboat, darling," said her father. "Did I not say that He would
not forsake us?"

"Thank God!" murmured the poor woman, fervently. "Look up, Lizzie; the
lifeboat is coming to save us!"

The child, who had been comparatively warm and sheltered, at the expense
of her mother, looked up and smiled.

Soon the boat was alongside, and much the same scene that we have
already described was re-enacted; but there were no rebels this time.
By the captain's resolute bearing at first many lives had probably been
saved.

When most of the people had been lowered into the boat--not without
great risk and many bruises--the widow, who, cowering with her father
and child under the forecastle, had been overlooked, was led to the side
with her child.

"Not together, ma'am," said the captain. "You'd likely drop her. Let
me lower the child down first; or come first yourself--that will be
better."

"Give Lizzie to me," said the grandfather. "I'll hold her till you are
safe, and ready to receive her."

"Look alive, ma'am," urged one of the lifeboat men, who had scrambled on
deck to render assistance.

The widow was soon in the boat, and held out her arms for little Lizzie.
Somehow--no one could tell how--the men made a bungle of it. Perhaps
the very fear of doing so was the cause. Instead of being caught by the
boatmen, Lizzie slipped between the boat and the vessel into the boiling
sea.