The Society told of dangerous headlands, of treacherous sands and tides all round the coast, of shipwrecks frequent, and deaths often occurring for want of a life-boat, and of life-boats, faultless in construction, only waiting the time when the Committee should have the means to place them where needed; the funds grew as the wants were realized, and the heart of the nation was warmed to the noble cause; the wreck-chart still showed a dismal circumference of casualties round the coast, marking dangerous points where many vessels had been lost; but the inner line of defence began also to show itself on the map, and the marks of the life-boat stations began year by year to confront more regularly the signs of places where danger and shipwreck were most frequent. But more of this, and the noble Life-boat Society, in the closing chapter of the book. It is time that we launched our life-boat for its real work. The waves are roaring on the Goodwin, the life-boat is at her moorings in the harbour of Ramsgate, the brave boatmen--Storm Warriors indeed--are on the watch, hour after hour through the stormy night walking the Pier, and giving keen glances to where the Goodwin Sands are white with the churning seething waves that leap high, and plunge and foam amid the treacherous shoals and banks. Look! a flash is seen; listen, in a few seconds, yes, there is the throb and boom of a distant gun, a rocket cleaves the darkness; and now the cry--Man the life-boat! Man the life-boat! Seaward Ho! Seaward Ho! But now in a boat efficient on all points, whose only career shall be to save, and not to add victim to victim, as she herself is overcome by the rage of the sea. CHAPTER VI. THE RAMSGATE LIFE-BOAT AT WORK.--STORM WARRIORS TO THE RESCUE. "Ye mariners of England, That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved a thousand years The battle and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe; And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow, While the battle rages loud and long And the stormy winds do blow." It was a Sunday night, in the month of February, a few years ago, the anxious boatmen, who kept a diligent watch, shrugged their shoulders as they cast keen glances to windward, and declared that it was going to be a very dirty night. Heavy masses of cloud skirted the horizon as the sun set; and as the night drew on, violent gusts of wind swept along, accompanied by snow-squalls. It was a dangerous time for vessels in the Channel, and it proved fatal to one at least. Before the light broke on Monday morning, the Margate lugger _Eclipse_ put out to sea to cruise round the shoals and sands in the neighbourhood of Margate, on the look out for the victims of any disasters that might have occurred during the night.