They think that she will have run down the Sands and be waiting for them; they put the boat about, and run out a little, hoping to meet her; after they have laid-to for about half an hour, waiting for the steamer, a heavy squall strikes the boat, and carries away her mizen-mast; they at once wear her head round to the land, and run into St. Margaret's Bay. The men fear that if they leave the protection of the high cliffs, the boat, as she is now partially disabled, may be blown over on the French coast by the force of the gale, and they therefore run down under the cliffs to Dover. Here they find further evidence of the terrible nature of the gale; ships are being towed into the harbour disabled; the sea is making a clean breach over the cross wall; part of the esplanade has been washed away, and the mail packets have been driven back in distress; hundreds of people, hiding in sheltered places, are watching the fury of the sea; they have for some time seen, with much interest, the gallant life-boat, with her flag flying, making for the harbour, and many come down the pier to welcome her. The life-boat, as she shoots round the head of the pier, meets the strong wind in all its force; she has lost her mizen-mast, anchor, cables, and has scarcely a spare fathom of rope left; she is fast being driven out again to sea, when they manage to get a rope to her from the pier, and many willing hands clap on, and tow her slowly along; in the meantime the harbour-master sends the steam-tug to her help, and the boat is soon safely moored in the inner harbour, and the men who have for so many hours encountered such great hardship and peril are once more upon dry land. The shipwrecked crew are well cared for by the agent of the Shipwrecked Mariners' Society; the life-boatmen go to the Sailors' Home, and under the influence of a hearty welcome and substantial cheer, speedily recover from the effects of their long exposure and fatigue. The coxswain hastens to telegraph to the authorities at Ramsgate the safe arrival of the life-boat at Dover, and there is great satisfaction felt there at the assurance of the boat's safety. While the life-boat was in among the breakers, battling with the seas, and disentombing, we may almost say, the terrified sailors from the hungry grave which yawned around them, the steamer kept her ground, as near as possible to where the captain thought the life-boat was at work, and just clear of the surf. They waited hour after hour, but no signal came from that fierce battle-field; the hoarse blast of the storm, the many-voiced roar of waters, overwhelmed all other sound; the darkness of the night, the clouds of sleet and foam engulfed all in gloom. The crew of the steamer waited on in much anxiety, and not free from great peril.