“So Powell, he could not bear it, and he ordered out the custom-house boats, and offered a reward of five shillings for every sailor that should be saved. It was not much, for he hadn’t much. They say he went out himself. And two hundred men were saved that otherwise must have been drowned. And he took them all into his care, and fed them and clothed them. And though they were Royal Navy men, he had a deal of bother and loss of time before the Government made up the money he was out of pocket, which he could not afford to lose. He seemed to be the very first to show that it was anybody’s bounden duty to save the drowning. But he’s never been much talked of. The stories of fighting and killing are the stories that are told. He was only a tailor and outfitter, you see, ma’am, and most folks give such but a sneer. But my mother brought all her children up to remember him and to learn from him to look out to see what their hands can do. She used to say people laugh at a tailor as the ninth part of a man; but I say nine good men were rolled into one in my great-great-uncle Powell.” “Then you have always lived in Deal, I suppose?” asked Lucy, interested in the sudden frankness of the hitherto reserved woman. “Yes, ma’am; but I’ve been in London,” she said. “When your husband was living?” Lucy inquired gently. “No, ma’am,” replied Mrs. May. “I married a Kingsdown man, a pilot. His father’s still living in Kingsdown, old and frail, but he’s saved people’s lives by scores and scores. He has been a great man in the lifeboat.” “Did your husband ever go out in the boat?” asked Lucy. “He met his death in it,” said Mrs. May quite calmly. “We hadn’t been married a year, and it was the first time he had ever gone out. It was the Lord’s will that his father should go again and again and do great things and come home safe and sound, and be living at eighty-five. But my Jarvist was knocked over and washed away before he could do anything. But the Lord knew what Jarvist’s will was, and the Lord took it for the deed.” Mrs. May stood gazing out towards the fateful line on the horizon. Lucy’s eyes were full of tears. “Oh, Mrs. May,” she said, “how hard it was for you! How could you bear to go on living beside this cruel sea in sight of that terrible place!” Mrs. May turned towards her with a wistful smile.