the reaction was so fearful that I could hardly retain my hold
till the tide had sunk so that once more I could stand, when my shouts
for help brought assistance to me through the gowt, for they lowered
down a little skiff with ropes, and I was brought out as nearly dead as
my poor companion.

That night's work sprinkled my hair with grey, and was my last
experience with the smuggling business. The loss was heavy; but I had
escaped with life, while poor Hodson was followed to the grave by some
score the following Sunday.

STORY FOUR, CHAPTER ONE.

A FIGHT WITH A STORM.

I got first to be mate when quite a youngish fellow; the owners were
told somehow or other that I'd worked hard on the last voyage, and they
made me mate of the ship, and gave me a good silver watch and chain; a
watch that went to the bottom of the sea five years after in a wreck off
the Irish coast, by Wexford, when I and six more swam ashore, saving our
lives, and thankful for them. For the sea swallows up a wonderful store
of wealth every season; and it meant to have our ship, too, that year I
was made mate, only we escaped it.

It happened like this. We were bound for Cadiz in a large, handsome,
new brig, having on board a rich cargo; for besides a heavy value in
gold, we had a lot of valuable new machinery, that had been made for the
Spanish government by one of our large manufacturers somewhere inland.
But besides this, there was a vast quantity of iron, in long, heavy,
cast pillars. A huge weight they were, and we all shook our heads at
them as they were lowered down into the hold, for we thought of what a
nice cargo they would turn out, if we should have a heavy passage. We
had about a score of passengers, too, and amongst them was a fine
gentlemanly fellow, going out with his wife, and he was to superintend
the fitting up of the machinery, several of the other passengers being
his men.

She was a new, well-found vessel, and fresh in her paint; and with her
clean canvas, and all smart, we were rather proud of that boat. But
we'd only just got beyond the Lizard when it came on to blow, just as it
can blow off there in February, with rain, and snow, and hail; and we
were at last glad to scud before the gale under bare poles.

Night and day, then, night and day following one another fast, with the
hatches battened down, and the ship labouring so that it seemed as if
every minute must be her last. She was far too heavily laden; an