point.

It was now high-water, as Captain Billings observed from the marks on
the shore; so, as nothing more could then be done towards getting the
long-boat further in and righting her, and the hands were pretty well
tired out with their exertions, he called a rest as soon as the jolly-
boat was hauled up well beyond reach of the waves, which still broke
threateningly on the beach--impelled by the force of the wind, now
blowing a stiff gale from the south-west, and covering the beach with
breakers that sent showers of foam over us, even when we had moved many
yards away.

"Spell O!" sang out the skipper. "Boatswain, pipe down the men to
dinner."

We had to encroach on the jolly-boat's stores, the provisions being
divided between the two boats although our craft, being the larger of
the two, had of course carried the major portion. This could, however,
only now be looked upon as lost; for the seawater must have spoilt
everything eatable.

However, as the crew had gone through a good deal of hardship, the
skipper did not attempt to ration them down to any smaller allowance on
this our first evening on Herschel Island; and so, when a fire was built
up, and some hot coffee brewed by Jorrocks, who usurped Pat Doolan's
functions on this occasion, the Irishman being still too weak from his
efforts to rescue poor Harmer to be of much use yet, we all had a hearty
meal, feeling much the better thereby.

After this, the skipper told the men to lie down round the fire, which
we found very grateful when the sun had set, besides its enabling us to
dry our wet clothes; but the crew were warned that they would have to
rouse up about midnight, when Captain Billings expected the tide would
have gone down sufficiently to enable us to get the long-boat out of
danger, and turn her over on the beach beyond high-water mark.

I confess that I went off to sleep at once; and neither the shaking of
Jorrocks, nor the noise the men made in righting the long-boat, served
to wake me up till it was broad daylight next morning, when I opened my
eyes to find the sun shining down on a calm sea that hardly made a
ripple on the beach, with the long-boat upright in her proper position,
alongside the jolly-boat, and high and dry ashore.

There was a delicious smell of something cooking in one of Pat Doolan's
galley pots, hung gipsy fashion over a roaring fire, and superintended
by the Irishman, now himself again. A large tent had also been rigge