nds, tied one over the other, to a spoke of the
wheel. Between the inner hand and the wood was a crucifix, the set
of beads on which it was fastened being around both wrists and
wheel, and all kept fast by the binding cords. The poor fellow may
have been seated at one time, but the flapping and buffeting of the
sails had worked through the rudder of the wheel and had dragged him
to and fro, so that the cords with which he was tied had cut the
flesh to the bone.

Accurate note was made of the state of things, and a doctor, Surgeon
J. M. Caffyn, of 33, East Elliot Place, who came immediately after
me, declared, after making examination, that the man must have been
dead for quite two days.

In his pocket was a bottle, carefully corked, empty save for
a little roll of paper, which proved to be the addendum to
the log.

The coastguard said the man must have tied up his own hands,
fastening the knots with his teeth. The fact that a coastguard was
the first on board may save some complications later on, in the
Admiralty Court, for coastguards cannot claim the salvage which is
the right of the first civilian entering on a derelict. Already,
however, the legal tongues are wagging, and one young law student is
loudly asserting that the rights of the owner are already completely
sacrificed, his property being held in contravention of the statues
of mortmain, since the tiller, as emblemship, if not proof, of
delegated possession, is held in a dead hand.

It is needless to say that the dead steersman has been reverently
removed from the place where he held his honourable watch and ward
till death, a steadfastness as noble as that of the young
Casabianca, and placed in the mortuary to await inquest.

Already the sudden storm is passing, and its fierceness is
abating. Crowds are scattering backward, and the sky is
beginning to redden over the Yorkshire wolds.

I shall send, in time for your next issue, further details
of the derelict ship which found her way so miraculously
into harbour in the storm.

9 August.--The sequel to the strange arrival of the derelict in the
storm last night is almost more startling than the thing itself. It
turns out that the schooner is Russian from Varna, and is called the
Demeter. She is almost entirely in ballast of silver sand, with
only a small amount of cargo, a number of great wooden boxes filled
with mould.

This cargo was consigned to a Whitby solicitor, Mr. S.F. Billington,