Meanwhile the captain and engineer of the launch had passed an unpleasant time; they had stayed aboard till the rolling of the boat drove them to the larger yacht; but seeing the schooner break her two chains and drift on to the reef, they became frightened and went ashore in the dinghey, and home along the beach. Later they arrived at the station and reported "all well," and were amazed when I told them that the launch had stranded. I had just been looking from the veranda through the glass at the boats, when a huge wave picked up the launch and threw her on the beach. There she had rolled about a little, and then dug herself into the sand, while the tide fell and the wind changed. Next day the cyclone had passed, but the swell was still very heavy. Equipped with everything necessary to float the launch, we marched along the beach, which was beaten hard by the waves. We had to cross a swollen river on an improvised raft; to our satisfaction we found the boat quite unhurt, not even the cargo being damaged; only a few copper plates were torn. Next day Mr. W. arrived, lamenting his loss; for his beautiful schooner was pierced in the middle by a sharp rock, and she hung, shaken by the waves that broke over her decks and gurgled in the hold. The rigging was torn, the cabin washed away, and the shore strewn with her doors, planks, beams and trade goods. It was a pitiful sight to see the handsome ship bending over like a fallen warrior, while the company's old yacht had weathered the cyclone quite safely. During the work of refloating the boat, Mr. Ch. was taken very ill with fever, and I nursed him for some days; he was somewhat better by Christmas Eve, and we had the satisfaction of bringing the saved launch back to the station. He was visibly relieved, and his good humour was agreeably felt by his boys as well as by his employes, to whom he sent a goodly quantity of liquor to celebrate the occasion. We sat down to a festive dinner and tried to realize that this was Christmas; but it was so different from Christmas at home, that it was rather hard. At our feet lay the wide bay, turquoise blue, edged with white surf; in the distance rose the wonderful silhouette of Mota Lava Island; white clouds travelled across the sky, and a gentle breeze rustled in the palms of the forest. The peaceful picture showed no trace of the fury with which the elements had fought so few days ago.