"Listen, Joe Slag," said Bob Massey, with sudden earnestness. "I've never yet come in after a rescue without seein' the boat hauled up an' made snug. `Dooty first, an' pleasure arter,' that's bin my motto, as _you_ know. But dooty lies in another direction _this_ day, so you promise to see her hauled up, an' cleaned, an' properly housed, won't you?" "In coorse I does." "Well, then," continued Bob, in the same low, earnest tone, "arter that's done, you'll go an' invite all our mates an' friends to a jolly blow-out in the big shed alongside o' my old mother's house. Don't tell who invites 'em, or anything about it, an' ask as many as like to come-- the shed's big enough to hold 'em all. Only be sure to make 'em understand that they'll get no drink stronger than coffee an' tea. If they can't enjoy themselves on that, they may go to the grog-shop, but they needn't come to _me_. My mother will be there, and she'll keep 'em in order!" "What!" exclaimed Slag, with a look of slight surprise. "Your mother! Her what's bin bed-ridden for years, an' hasn't got no legs at all-- leastwise not to speak of?" "Just so, lad. We'll lift her in, bed an' all. Now you be off to the bow. Oars out, lads; stand by the halyards!" They were by that time close to the pier-head, where the people were shouting and cheering, some of them even weeping, and waving hats, 'kerchiefs, sticks, and umbrellas, almost wild with joy at seeing so many fellow-creatures rescued from the maw of the hungry sea. The first man who leaped out when the lifeboat touched the pier was the coxswain, dripping, dirty, and dishevelled. "Bless you, my gallant fellow!" exclaimed an irrepressible old enthusiast, stepping forward and attempting to grasp the coxswain's hand. But Bob Massey, brushing past him, ran along the pier, leaped a fence, and sprang up the steep path that led to the cliffs, over the top of which he was finally seen to bound and disappear. "Poor fellow!" exclaimed the irrepressible enthusiast, looking aghast at Slag, "exposure and excitement have driven him mad!" "Looks like it!" replied Slag, with a quiet grin, as he stooped to assist the widow and little Lizzie to land, while ready hands were out-stretched to aid and congratulate the old grandfather, and the rest of the rescued people. The coxswain ran--ay, he ran as he had been wont to run when he was a wild little fisher-boy--regardless alike of appearances and consequences. The clock of the village steeple told him that the appointed hour had almost arrived. Two miles was a long way to run in heavy woollen garments and sea-boots, all soaked in sea-water. But Bob was young, and strong, and active, and--you understand the rest, good reader!