A single item of this storm will give some idea of the peculiar dangers once incurred by shipwrecked sailors. Mr. Whymper writes, “The townspeople of Deal, in particular, were blamed for their inhumanity in leaving many to their fate who could have been rescued. Boatmen went off to the sands for booty, some of whom would not listen to poor wretches who might have been saved. Many unfortunate shipwrecked persons could be seen, by the aid of glasses, walking on the Goodwin Sands in despairing postures, knowing that they would, as Defoe puts it, ‘be washed into another world’ at the reflux of the tide. The mayor of Deal, Mr. Thomas Powell, asked the Custom House officers to take out their boats and endeavor to save the lives of some of these unfortunates, but they utterly refused. The mayor then offered, from his own pocket, five shillings a head for all saved, and a number of fishermen and others volunteered, and succeeded in bringing two hundred persons on shore, who would have been lost in a half an hour afterwards. The Queen’s agent for sick and wounded seamen would not furnish a penny for their lodging or food, and the good mayor supplied all of them with what they required. Several died, and he was compelled to bury all of them at his own expense; he furnished a large number with money to pay their way to London. He received no thanks from the Government of the day, but some long time after was reimbursed the large sums he had expended.” One not versed in the tales of the past might be astounded at such inhumanity; yet the case cited is comparatively a mild one. People acquainted with the history of pirates and buccaneers know that coasts everywhere were once more or less infested with land-sharks, more merciless than any shark of the deep, who enriched themselves by the misfortunes of others: and drowning sailors would be disregarded in the race for plunder. Yet this is but a shadow of the fearful tragedies often enacted. Picture a richly laden vessel, homeward bound, with scores of eager anxious hearts on board, and other scores in port eagerly waiting them. The captain smiles thoughtfully, as he murmurs, “We shall be at home to-morrow!” The mother with child in arms repeats, as she thinks of the waiting husband, “We shall be home to-morrow!” The bronzed wanderer, returning after years of adventure, wonders if his boyhood’s home is changed, as he thinks, “I shall be home to-morrow!” There is but the faintest indication of storm. On shore, cruel, sinister faces scan the sky and the distant ship as the twilight settles down, and whisper together, and scowl as they recall past disappointments. They will take care that they are not disappointed again. Their grizzled old leader will see to that.