"We must make an effort soon," the coxswain cries; "make ready, my men; try and keep the wreckage clear; haul the boat up to the ship sharp, when I tell you: we will soon have the poor little chap." Scarcely are the words shouted out by the coxswain when some of the men give a cry--"What's that! look out! yes, he is overboard, washed over by that big sea. Where is he? where is he? There he is! No! only his cap, there he lifts on that sea--he is coming straight for the boat."--From the change and eddy of the tide, the rush of the sea past the boat is not nearly as rapid as it was, and the poor boy comes floating slowly from the ship; once or twice he has been rolled under by the waves, now he is on the surface again, and near the boat. "Here he comes! look! on that wave! Lost! no, he floats again; slacken the hawsers; now he is within reach, carefully, quick; now you have got him; he is making no effort, and floating with his head under water;" a boatman manages to hook his jacket with a long boat-hook, and pulls him towards the boat--gently the men lift him in, sorrowfully; and tears are in the eyes of more than one, as they look upon the small face. "Poor little chap! too late! too late! he is gone," they say--and think that the delicate little face and slender childlike form suggest that he is fitted rather for quiet home scenes, and home care, than for such scenes of hardship and peril as he has had to endure. "Now, my men," shouts the coxswain; "stations all! put the poor boy down here in the stern-sheets. If we do not look sharp we shall be driven upon the wreck, and likely enough all lost." "Ay! ay! all right. Get the foresail clear! All clear,--hoist as the boat sheers; stand by to cut the cable, and ship's ropes; hoist away! Now she pays round; cut the cable; all gone; round the boat flies; away she goes before the wind. Make all fast. Now come and look to the poor lad again;" and some of the boatmen with tender fatherly pity in their hearts, take up the little fellow. They chafe his hands and rub his back and limbs, and his chest over his heart, with strong rum, put a little rum to his lips, and persevering as well as they can, following the instructions given to all life-boat men, for recovering the apparently drowned, after about half an hour they have the joy of seeing him show signs of life; the men who can be spared from working the boat continue their care of him; his circulation returns, and he can drink a little water; some of the men take off their jackets which have been kept dry by their waterproof overalls, and wrap him up in them; they then spread the mizen sail above him, to prevent the seas breaking over him; and the poor lad lies quiet, gradually recovering his strength.