Her top-gallant masts are swaying about, her yards swing within a few feet of them, her sails which have blown loose and are in ribbons, beat and flap like thunder over their heads. Their position seems worse than ever; but they are not this time kept long in suspense. A huge breaker comes foaming along; its white crest gleams out in the darkness high above them, a moment's warning, it breaks over them and swamps them, but all are clinging might and main to the boat. Another breaker comes streaming along; it swamps them again in passing, but now the volume of the wave seizes the boat, up it seems to swing it in its mighty arms, and to bodily hurl it forward; and then the boat crashes down on the Sands as the wave breaks, and grounds them with a shock that would have torn every man out of her, if they had not been holding on. But one great peril is passed; the mighty swing of the huge waves has carried them yards forward, and they are clear of the wreck; but at that moment they are threatened with another danger almost as terrible. The small _Dreadnought_ life-boat has been in tow all this time; it has not been wise to have her in tow, but she belongs to the Broadstairs boatmen, and neither they nor the Ramsgate boatmen like to abandon her. As the Ramsgate boat now grounds, the smaller boat comes bow on to her, sweeps round, and gets under her side; the two boats roll and crash together; each roll the larger one gives, each lift of the sea, she comes heavily down on the other boat; the crash and crack of timbers are heard; which boat is it that is breaking up? Both, if this continues, must be very speedily destroyed. Some of the men get out the oars and boat-hooks, and push for their very lives, thrusting and striving their utmost to free the _Dreadnought_, which is so dangerously thumping and crashing under the quarter of the larger boat. It is a terrible struggle in that boiling sea, with the surf breaking over them. But all their efforts seem in vain, the boats still crash and roll together; one of them is breaking up fast. "Oars in," shouts the coxswain; "over the side half-a-dozen of you--take your feet to her;" and some of the brave fellows spring over, clinging to the rail of the deck of the high air-boxes that are at the bow and stern of the Ramsgate life-boat. Again and again, all together, a fierce struggle, but without success; a big wave comes rolling on, it washes over them, but as the larger boat lifts, the men blindly thrust out with their feet, and the _Dreadnought_ is pushed clear. The men scramble, or are dragged back into the Ramsgate boat; the tow-rope is cut, and the _Dreadnought_, almost a wreck, is swept away by the tide, and is lost in the darkness, while, most mercifully, the Ramsgate boat still remains uninjured.