siderable difficulty they got up under her lee, and
were able to heave a rope on board. Getting a stronger warp, they
hauled up near enough to enable two of the men to jump on board. The
third slipped, and fell into the water, running a fearful risk of being
crushed; but, happily, he also was got into the boat. As is often the
case, the cabin-boy was the last left. It was a trying thing to see the
poor little fellow clinging to the rigging, but unable to help himself.

"We can't let him perish!" cried one of the lifeboat men; and at the
risk of his own life, the boat being hauled up to the wreck, he sprang
into the rigging, and with his knife cut the lashings by which the poor
boy was held. A crashing sound was heard, the weather shrouds and stays
were giving way. In another instant the mast would fall, and not only
the gallant fellow and his charge, but all in the lifeboat, would
perish.

"Leap, man! leap!" shouted the crew, ready to shove off, and watching
the tottering mast with anxious gaze; but even though they all knew the
fearful risk they incurred by remaining, they would not desert their
companion or the lad he had gone to save. The gallant boatman, seizing
the boy in his arms, slid down the rigging and sprang from the chains
into the boat, where he was caught by the outstretched arms of his
companions. The next moment the boat was many fathoms from the wreck,
when down came the mast on the very spot where she had been floating,
the cap of her topmast almost striking her bow. Still the crew had a
heavy struggle to reach the shore, for the gale came down with greater
force than ever, and the hungry seas seemed ready to engulf her; but the
shipwrecked men were landed in safety. Not until they met their
companion did they learn that he and they were the sole survivors of the
crew.

The lieutenant told the tale so graphically that I have tried to put it
down in his own words. He related many other similar anecdotes; and it
was not until the night was far spent that we dropped off to sleep in
our chairs.

At daybreak, as the rain had ceased, and the wind had somewhat gone
down, we started for Peterhead, papa promising to send a conveyance for
the mate and the boy, that they might be carried to the hospital.

Peterhead is a substantial-looking seaport town, the houses being mostly
built of granite from quarries near. It stands on the south side of the
mouth of the river Ugie, and has two harbours, on