On the wreck comes straight for them; the boats mizen sail is hauled flat to help the boat sheer out of the ship's way; they must manage skilfully or she will drive right over the life-boat; the helm is put hard up; the mizen catches the wind; the boat sheers, the wreck just misses her; the boat is close to her starboard quarter. Down helm, and the boat sheers in close alongside, the men in the bow pay out the cable quickly to let the boat float alongside the ship, "Jump when we near!" they cry to the crew; "jump for it! be steady, but do not lose a chance!" a sea throws the boat within a yard of the wreck, three men spring on board; a moment, and the next rush of sea sweeps the boat away and buries them all in foam. As the sea overruns the boat, the boatmen cling to the sailors who have sprung on board, to prevent their being washed out of her. "Have we got all?" "No, only three, one is left!" "Look out, then, my men; in we go again! the lee-tide is running very strongly--the cable is paying out fast."--"There is only about ten fathom of cable left," the men in the bow shout to the coxswain; he sheers the boat in, they can just make out the figure of a man at the stern of the vessel; they cry out to him: "Be ready; 'tis your last chance; you must jump for your life; we shall hardly have time to come in again;" they close in alongside; a heavy sea knocks down the men in the bow who are paying out the rope; at that moment the man on the wreck makes a desperate leap for the boat, he falls among the men; the end of the cable runs out into the sea. "Rope gone!" is the cry, but the man is saved; the ship is on the point of sinking, and they at once lose sight of her in the dark night. It is the captain who is last on board the boat; he looks round with thankfulness upon the life-boatmen and upon his saved crew: "But where is Fullarton?" he asks. "The man who jumped for the boat when the ropes parted." "He fell short of the boat, and we could not save him," is the sad answer. "Poor fellow, poor fellow! he was so terribly anxious, he could not wait. Oh! that he had only waited with us! but he was almost in despair before the boat came, and seeing you break away the second time was too much for him." And afterwards he told them the drowned sailors piteous story--what a good fellow he was, and that it was because he was to be married upon his return home that he was so anxious, and felt life to be doubly dear to him. It is about seven o'clock in the morning; the day breaks wild and cold, and dismal as weather can well be. The faint light of the dawn scarcely makes its way through the thick clouds of flying spray and foam and half-frozen snow that drive fiercely along.