The day had closed-in some time, on the Christmas eve; and, though the moon showed a bright light, yet the wind had risen as the night came on, and soon blew a furious easterly gale directly on to this dangerous coast. Amy had swept her cottage clean, and looked out some time for her grandsons, when James trudged in with a billet of wood on his shoulder, which he threw on the hearth. "I have staid later than usual, granny," he said, "to look after the horses of some gentry, who have just arrived at the Hall to spend the Christmas holidays; but the good 'Squire has sent you this nice piece of beef for your dinner to-morrow, and this wood to warm your poor limbs this bitter weather." "May heaven bless both you and your good master!" said the grateful Amy: "and may both he and his ever have good cheer and warm fires, when the cold and hard weather comes on! But, James, have you seen your brother?" At that minute, Michael opened the door: he brought with him some fine whiting on the lid of an old basket. "I have been lucky to-day, grandmother," said he; "I have caught as many fish along-shore as I sold in the town for seven groats. Here is the money; let it be put in the earthen pot, with the rest that is to buy you a red cloak this cold weather." "Thank you, my dear Michael," said Amy: "how good and dutiful you both are! The time was, when I thought that the Almighty had dealt hardly in taking from the lone widow her only son,--but he has restored me that blessing in a twofold degree; and if I could but see you take to quiet farming-work like James--" "Well," said Michael, "I will do my best to like it: though, I am afraid, I shall never get over my wish to be a sailor. But look at these fine fish! I might have sold them in town; but, I thought, as it was Christmas-tide, that you should have them for supper." Amy now began to bestir herself to dress the supper. She soon raised a cheerful blaze; but just as she was putting on the fish, the loud report of a gun at sea made her start and drop them. It seemed so close to the cottage, that the concussion made everything rattle and ring around. "Heaven help them!" said Amy; "it is some poor distressed ship's crew at sea, firing guns for help this stormy night. Oh, Michael! this is what you wish for! This is the life you love so much! Can you say you wish to be a sailor now?" "I wish," answered Michael, "I had been sailor enough to go off in the pilot-boat I saw trying to put off just now as I came under the cliffs. There's a brave ship--a king's ship, I believe,--has been in distress all the evening; and they want a pilot to go to her, for they fear she will be driven by the gale right on to the bar;--but the wind and waves run so contrary, that though they have been trying for this hour, they cannot get the boat off. Hark! there is another gun! She has certainly struck! Oh that I could help them!"