It is like a word of life to the men, and instantly all are on the alert, they get all their strength on the hawser, and as the boat lifts again, and comes a little more on an even keel, they draw her a yard or two nearer to her anchor, but not any farther from the brig, and over again the brig slowly rolls; again and again they make desperate efforts to get beyond the reach of her dark side, and swinging yards and masts, but it is long before they can do so: at last they succeed as the water flows still more, and now they ride to their anchor a few yards beyond the reach of the brig, which they watch break up, and listen to the groaning and rending of her timbers, and the flapping of her torn sail and tangled rigging. Both the wind and tide are setting with all their force right upon the Sands, and the captain of the boat sees what is before them; where they are now at anchor will soon be one wild rage of broken sea. To get away from the sand in the face of the fierce gale and tide is impossible; and so there is no alternative, they must beat right across the Sands, and this in the wild fearful gale, and terrible sea, and pitch dark night, and what the danger of this is, only those who know the Goodwin Sands, and the dread seas that sweep over them, can at all imagine. They ride at anchor for some time, waiting for the tide to rise sufficiently for them to get over the Sands. They see the lights of the steamer shining in the distance, outside the broken and shallow water; but there is no hope of assistance from her: their lanterns are washed out, they cannot signalize; and if they could, the steamer could not approach them. The sea is breaking furiously over them. Time after time the boat fills as the broken waves wash clean over her, but instantly she empties herself again, and rises to her water-line. The gale sweeps by more fiercely than ever. The men are nearly washed out of the boat, and worse still, the anchor begins to drag. The tide has made a little, and they are being driven each moment nearer to the wreck; there may be water enough to take them clear; at all events, there is no help for it, they must risk it. "Hoist the foresail; stand by to cut the cable. All clear."--"Ay, Ay!"--"Away then." And the boat quickly heads round, and then, under the power of the gale and tide, leaps forward, flies along; but only for a few yards, when, with a tremendous jerk, she grounds upon the Sands. The crew look up, and their hearts almost fail them, as they find that they are again within reach of the brig.