ZEbe Storm's ZEttumpb 137 



a feat of seamanship even more dazzling than the 

 previous one, but when the Fran$ais re-stood across 

 the bay to the northward it was for the last time. 



m 



The short December day declined. The air grew 

 murky over land and sea. The sky became more 

 leaden and the scudding clouds more inky. Ocean's 

 voice, too, seemed to grow deeper, booming above all 

 the other storm voices. Was there already a song of 

 savage triumph in its majestic notes ? 



For now the ocean bird fluttered, baffled. And 

 what feelings must have arisen in the breast of that 

 undaunted skipper as he began to realise the hopeless- 

 ness of his self-imposed task ! Was it to be the Long- 

 scar Reef after all ? Many a gallant ship has gone to 

 its doom on cruel Longscar, in the bend of Hartlepool 

 Bay. 



A fearfully cross sea was running off the Tees, and 

 amidst it all the Frenchman encountered the brig 

 Remembrance entering the river. The English captain 

 hailed him and waved to him to follow, for, as he 

 subsequently declared, it seemed that if it were not 

 the Tees for the Franqais, it was Longscar or Seaton 

 Snook. 



The French skipper had been striving all day to 

 beat out to sea and had several times come within his 

 own ship's length of destruction. Moreover, he and 

 his men had undergone the greatest hardships. What 

 pangs, therefore, must it have cost him when, his iron 

 resolve relaxing, he put up his helm and fell off in the 

 brig's wake ! I have sometimes wondered since if he 



