To-day their last tot of water was served out--a mouthful apiece--and they tried to collect rain water from the occasional showers that swept past them. Everything was saturated with salt, however, so that the little they caught was undrinkable. Then they took to licking the oars, the tiller, the seats and the woodwork of the boat, in their frantic efforts to gather up the rain-drops; but the salt spray came flying in-board continually and frustrated their hopes. At last a happy thought occurred to them; they broke up the empty water-breaker and licked the inside, which they found to be saturated with moisture and delicious to their parched tongues. That night the deck-boy, who had been quietly sinking all day, passed away. They sighted land at 3 p.m. on Monday, and made what haste they could to approach it. This they accomplished late in the evening, but darkness had set in and there was a heavy northerly swell, which rendered any attempt at landing too dangerous. They lay-to, therefore, awaiting daylight. Their mast was carried away at the heel during a squall, but it acted as a sea-anchor, and in the morning they pulled in towards the shore until their strength gave out. Then two fishing-boats were observed coming out from the harbour, and they towed the survivors into Carino. The villagers, headed by the priest, came to the assistance of the boat's company, most of whom were unable to walk. The linen-keeper died as he was being lifted ashore; two of the crew, who had gone mad, refused to leave the boat, and had to be dragged out. The villagers were very kind, and carried the survivors to their cottages, while their wives paid special attention to the two women and the baby. This morsel of humanity seemed well enough at Carino, but died six days after being admitted to hospital at Ferrol. A trimmer died of gangrene in the same hospital two weeks later. The chief officer bears testimony to the splendid behaviour of the boat's crew during the eight days of hardship and exposure which they endured. Forty lives were lost through the sinking of the _Alnwick Castle_. When about 150 miles S.E. of Cape Clear, at 3 o'clock in the afternoon of 29th April, the British steamer _Daleby_ was torpedoed without warning. She was struck twice, the second torpedo blowing up all the life-boats and causing her to sink immediately. The last man to leave the ship dived off as she was sinking. The submarine then came to the surface and circled round him, but no attempt was made to pick him up. Afterwards he noticed the ship's dinghy floating a little way off, and swam towards it. The wind, however, was behind him, and kept blowing the boat away, so that he did not reach her for two hours.