OIL ON THE TROUBLED WATERS. 177 



handled as we could see, on on, and buried her bows in 

 the raging tide as a war-horse might charge an opposing 

 rampart. We held our breath hard. No one moved ; 

 not a word was spoken, not a sound was heard but the 

 rush and roar of wind and waves or the wild scream of 

 a sea-mew overhead, A minute of intense suspense, 

 and still she bravely battled on. 



" Ha ! " cried the young fisherman at my side, " what 

 is that they are doing ? I know ! I know ! They are 

 croppin' the livers ! I can see the lioom on her track. 

 Wisely thought of, and well done ! It is their only 

 chance in yon tideway." 



And so indeed it was. We could distinctly see the 

 men with eager hands throwing out the crushed livers 

 astern, to right, to left, all around, as though offering 

 a propitiatory sacrifice to the sea-god ; and the waves 

 did not break on them then. A few minutes more, 

 and then, amid tears of thanlcfulness and joy, " Safe — 

 safe, thank God ! " burst out on every side ; and soon 

 they reached the shore, those hardy fishermen, and 

 were welcomed in a manner much easier to conceive 

 than describe. 



The skipper had never left his post at the helm for 

 nine long hours, during which he had fought out his 

 brave battle for life with rare skill and nerve and endur- 

 ance. And now, when he stepped on the beach and 

 took up his little boy in his arms and kissed him, I did 

 not think there was anything unmanly in the big tears 

 which coursed down his brown cheek. A little after- 

 wards I said to him : " You have had a terrible day, 



M 



