MIRACULOUSLY SAVED. 233 



tones. Each moment, as the waves dash over the vessel, the boatmen expect to see him 

 washed overboard like a cork. What can be done ? No one can mount the rope in tha 

 face of the seas and tide which had really helped the poor fellow now safely on the boat. 

 There seems no hope of taking- him off by any means whatever, but the coxswain deter- 

 mines to haul the boat up to the ship sharply, and attempt it. Scarcely are the orders 

 given, when some of the men give a cry, "' What's that? look out'/ Yes, he is overboard, 

 washed over by that big sea. e Where is he ? where is he ? There he is ! No ; only his 

 cap ! there he lifts on that sea he is coming straight for the boat ! ' From the change 

 and eddy of the tide, the rush of the sea past the boat is not nearly so rapid as it was, 

 and the poor boy comes floating slowly from the ship; once or twice he has been rolled 

 under by the waves, now he is on the surface again, and near the boat. ' Here he 

 comes! look! on that wave! Lost! No, he floats again! Slacken hawsers! Now he is 

 within reach! Carefully, quick! Now you have got him! He is making no effort, and 

 floating with his head under water ! ' A boatman manages to hook his jacket with a long 

 boat-hook, and pulls him towards the boat; gently the men lift him in, sorrowfully, and 

 tears are in the eyes of more than one as they look upon the small face. ' Poor little 

 chap ! Too late ! too late ! he's gone ! ' J Their efforts are now all needed to get clear 

 of the wreck, cut the cable, and raise the sail, all which being done successfully, they 

 go off smartly before the wind, and have time to look to the poor boy again. Kind 

 hands chafe his hands and rub his back and limbs, and put a little rum to his lips, and 

 after about half an hour they have the joy of seeing him show signs of life, and their 

 efforts are redoubled. Some of the men take the dryest of their jackets and wrap him up 

 tenderl} r , lying him under the mizen-sail. He eventually recovers. 



But, strangest part of all this eventful story, the captain, who had been two hours in 

 the seething waters, is picked up alive, although, it may well be believed, in a terrible 

 state of exhaustion. At first he seems to be dying, but at length, after the men have done 

 their best in chafing and rubbing, he gets a little better, and is able to tell them that his 

 vessel, the Providentia, was a full-rigged ship from Finland, and that he himself is a 

 Russian Fin, which accounts for his miraculous preservation in the water, as the Fins 

 are the hardiest of sailors. Eleven of his men had left the ship in their best boat, and 

 were, it was eventually found, blown over to Boulogne. 



The waves are rolling along in all their fury, and beat down upon the sands with 

 tremendous force, and among them, and settled down somewhat, is a large barque. The 

 life-boat men look at the awful rage of sea, and say to each other, "We have indeed 

 our work cut out for us." There are no signs of life on board the wreck, but the flag 

 of distress is still flying, and the steamer tows the boat nearer to her. Then the crew 

 is discovered crouching in the shelter of the deck-house, while the huge waves make a 

 complete breach over the vessel, threatening to wash away both house and crew. The 

 steamer takes the boat to windward and lets her go. The boat's sail is hoisted, and she 

 makes for the wreck. A minute more and they are in the broken water, the seas falling in 

 tangled volumes over the boat, and she is tossed in all directions by the wild broken 

 waves. She fills again and again, and the men have to cling with all their strength to 

 the thwarts; but still the wind drives the boat on, and they get within about sixty yards 

 70 



