I have now shown the action and bearing of our coast heroes, both in circumstances of triumphant victory and of partial success. Before proceeding to other matters it is well to add that, when intelligence of this disaster was telegraphed to the Lifeboat Institution, a new lifeboat was immediately forwarded to Tynemouth, temporarily to replace the damaged Constance. Instructions were given for the relief of the widows and children of the two lifeboat-men who had perished, and 26 pounds was sent to the crew of the boat. At their next meeting the committee of the Institution, besides recording their deep regret for the melancholy loss of life, voted 100 pounds in aid of a fund raised locally for the widows and seven children of the two men. They likewise bestowed their silver medal and a vote of thanks, inscribed on vellum, to Mr Lawrence Byrne, of the coastguard, in testimony of his gallant services on the occasion. Contributions were also raised by a local committee for the relief of the sufferers by these disasters, and a Volunteer Corps was formed to assist in working the rocket apparatus on future occasions of shipwreck. Let me at this point earnestly request the reader who dwells in an _inland_ home, and who never hears the roaring of the terrible sea, carefully to note that in this case it was _men of the coast_ who did the work, and _people of the coast town_ who gave subscriptions, who sympathised with sufferers, and raised a Volunteer Corps. Ponder this well, good reader, and ask yourself the question, "Is all as it should be here? Have I and my fellow-inlanders nothing to do but read, admire, and say, Well done?" A hint is sufficient at this point. I will return to the subject hereafter. Sometimes our gallant lifeboat-men when called into action go through a very different and not very comfortable experience. They neither gain a glorious victory nor achieve a partial success, but, after all their efforts, risks, and exposure, find that their services are not required, and that they must return meekly home with nothing to reward them but an approving conscience! One such incident I once had the opportunity of observing. I was living at the time--for purposes of investigation, and by special permission-- on board of the Gull Lightship, which lies directly off Ramsgate Harbour, close to the Goodwin Sands. It was in the month of March. During the greater part of my two weeks' sojourn in that lightship the weather was reasonably fine, but one evening it came on to blow hard, and became what Jack styles "dirty." I went to rest that night in a condition which may be described as semi-sea-sick. For some time I lay in my bunk moralising on the madness of those who choose the sea for a profession. Suddenly I was roused--and the seasickness instantly cured--by the watch on deck shouting down the hatchway to the mate, "South Sand Head Light is firing, sir, and sending up rockets!"