s with an extremely
seafaring aspect, among which are several pairs of the gigantic boots
before referred to--the property of the coxswain and his mates. The
cork lifebelt, or jacket of the coxswain, hangs near the door. The
belts for use by the other men are kept in an outhouse down among the
recesses of the pier near the spot to which the lifeboat is usually
brought to embark her crew. Only five of the lifeboat men, called
harbour boatmen, keep watch in and around the little stone house at
nights. The rest are taken from among the hardy coast boatmen of the
place, and the rule is--"first come first served"--when the boat is
called out. There is never any lack of able and willing hands to man
the Ramsgate lifeboat.

Near the low ceiling of the watch-house several hammocks are slung,
obliging men to stoop a little as they move about. It is altogether a
snug and cozy place, but cannot boast much of the state of its
atmosphere when the fire is going, the door shut, and the men smoking!

On the night of the storm that has already been described in our last
chapter, the coxswain entered the watch-house, clad in his black oilskin
garments, and glittering with salt-water from top to toe.

"There will be more work for us before long, Pike," he said, flinging
off his coat and sou'-wester, and taking up a pipe, which he began to
fill; "it looks blacker than ever in the nor'-east."

Pike, the bowman of the boat, who was a quiet man, vigorous in action,
but of few words, admitted that there was much probability of their
services being again in demand, and then, rising, put on his cap and
coat, and went out to take a look at the night.

Two other men sat smoking by the little stove, and talking in lazy tones
over the events of the day, which, to judge from their words, had been
already stirring enough.

Late the night before--one of them said, for the information of the
other, who appeared to have just arrived, and was getting the news--the
steam-tug and lifeboat had gone out on observing signals from the Gull,
and had been told there was a wreck on the sands; that they had gone
round the back of the sands, carefully examining them, as far as the
east buoy, encountering a heavy ground swell, with much broken sea, but
saw nothing; that they had then gone closer in, to about seven fathoms
of water, when the lifeboat was suddenly towed over a log--as he styled
it, a baulk--of timber, but fortunately got no damage, and that