Equally remarkable was the salvage of the steamer _Milwaukee_ which, going ashore on the rocks near Aberdeen during her maiden voyage in 1898, was held so securely that there was no hope of ever towing her off again. The salvors who were called in to deal with the case recognized this in a flash, but, gifted with a vivid imagination, they determined on an extraordinary experiment. It was the bow of the ship that was caught by the rocks, but all the valuable machinery was in the afterpart. Unable to save the ship whole, they made up their minds to try to save the half that mattered, planning to operate on the vessel just as a surgeon operates on a man, but, instead of using scalpels, they sought to cut with dynamite. A belt of dynamite cartridges was fastened round the ship just forward of the engine-room bulkhead. The brainy salvage men pressed the button. Scarcely had the sound of the explosion reached their ears when they saw the ship break in two and the stern slide into the sea. They had reason to be proud of their success, for it requires courage as well as imagination to operate on a ship in this manner. Eventually they towed the stern of the _Milwaukee_ back to the Tyne, and in due course another bow was built and spliced on to the stern, thus making a new ship of her. This noteworthy instance of ship surgery was duplicated in the case of the Atlantic liner _Seuvic_ which went ashore on the Stag Rocks on the ragged Cornish coast. The untiring efforts of the salvors failed to move her, so they calmly cut her in two with dynamite and brought the after end to port, where she was made whole again! Those who get a living by marine salvage need be resourceful, masters of a hundred tricks to win ships from the grip of the sea. When the liner _City of Paris_ came to grief on the same cruel coast, the jagged rocks cut right up through her hull and held her so tightly that her position from the first appeared hopeless. It seemed that she was destined to remain there hard and fast until the sea had battered her to pieces. Whatever the underwriters thought, there was one enterprising salvage man who was prepared to match his skill against the strength of the sea. Offering to salve the ship on the “no cure, no pay” principle, he set his divers to work and little by little they blew away the rocks that transfixed the ship. It was a ticklish operation. Too strong a charge of dynamite would have injured the hull and made the case worse than ever; too weak a charge would have failed to remove the rock, so it was necessary to wed judgment with caution in this work. Bit by bit the rocks were blasted away and in the end the _City of Paris_ was patched and floated. She was taken into Falmouth harbour for repairs, and when she again took the seas she was known as the _Philadelphia_.