Most happily the bowl is a wooden one, and there it is floating a few yards from them; they watch it wistfully, as they, and it, are tossed up and down by the quick waves; back the boat down upon the bowl they cannot, for it is on their broadside, and drifting away on the tide faster than they are floating: it would seem, that it must be an easy matter to pick up a bowl that is floating only a few yards from the boat; but not so now, for every moment, racing swiftly after each other, the waves come rushing on. It is strange as they watch the bowl to feel that their lives depend upon their recovering it, and yet how likely they are to perish in the attempt, and thus the men casting anxious glances at the bowl keep steadily to their work; they allow no word of fear or discouragement to be spoken; they must have mind, nerve, and muscle in full play; if a word of hopelessness is let fall, "Don't speak like that--don't speak like that, stick to your oar!" they must be words of encouragement, or no words at all, and in grim silence, except for the few words of direction shouted out by the coxswain, the men wait their fate. Suddenly the coxswain cries, "Here is a lull, round with her, sharp!" The men on the starboard side give a mighty pull; the men on the port back their hardest; one pull all together, the bowl is within reach; the coxswain grasps it with a hasty snatch! "Round! round, with her quick, quick!" and the eager men get her head straight to the seas again, before the waves have time to catch the boat broadside on and roll it over. All breathe again; they have another chance of life. Thank God! thank God! They now pass away from the Sands and get into the Gull stream, but the wind has chopped round and continues to blow a fierce gale; the sea is running very high and broken; and in that rough sea they are still in extreme danger on account of the smallness of their boat, and so many men being in her, and they have to proceed with the greatest care and caution.