A fine south-westerly breeze is blowing and the noble lugger bowls along at a great speed, and reaches the neighbourhood of the Sands about a mile and a half behind the life-boat. The lugger brings to an anchor just outside the Sands, and her crew, finding that the weather has somewhat moderated, and that the sea has gone down with the tide, determine to send six of their men in their small boat into the wreck, to see if they can save any cargo or rigging; the men get to the wreck without much difficulty, and find her right over on her broadside, with her yard-arms buried some feet in the Sands; the top-gallant mast is gone; her rigging and all her top-hamper, a tangled mass, is floating and washing about in a deep hole which the eddy of the waves, beating against the wreck, has worked. The men climb on to the side of the vessel, and then lower themselves down from the weather-rigging across the deck, which is lying almost upright on its side, that they may look into the hold; the hatches are off, and they find that the hold is quite empty, everything washed out; it is difficult to get into the captain's cabin, as the vessel is completely on her side, or there may be things there worth saving; they will see to it by-and-by, and now they proceed at once to save what rigging they can. The three men on the vessel get their knives and choppers to work, and commence cutting away, when suddenly it begins to get dark, a heavy squall threatens, and a storm of snow and hail comes driving along before the wind. The men in the boat shout out, "It begins to look bad; do you not think that we had better be leaving, and get out of this?" But the men busy in the rigging are somewhat excited over their work, and answer back, "It is only a squall, a mere spoon drift, and will soon work round;" the wind, however, rapidly increases, and sweeps by in such violent gusts, that the men on the ship's side are nearly blinded with the snow, and can no longer hold on against the wind; well! they are willing to work hard and risk much, to save what they can from the hungry Goodwin Sands, even if that which they save will give them only a few shillings a man; but if they cannot, they cannot; it is not the first time, by very many, that they have returned with nothing but danger and labour for their pains. "Look sharp, men, look sharp; do you want to drown us all?" "Come down at once," is the cry from the boat; and the men lower themselves down over the slippery side of the vessel, into the small boat, which is leaping and tossing about in the waves which begin to surge up with some violence.