ore long, Nancy, for the services of the
new lifeboat," said Captain Boyns, rising and taking down an oilcloth
coat and sou'-wester, which he began to put on leisurely; "I'll go down
to the beach and see what's doin' at the Cove."

The captain was a fine specimen of a British sailor. He was a massive
man, of iron build, and so tall that his sou'-wester almost touched the
ceiling of his low-roofed parlour. His face was eminently masculine,
and his usual expression was a compound of sternness, gravity, and
good-humour. He was about forty years of age, and, unlike the men of
his class at that time, wore a short curly black beard and moustache,
which, with his deeply bronzed countenance, gave him the aspect of a
foreigner.

"God help those on the sea," said Mrs Boyns, in reply to her husband's
remark; "I'm thankful, Dan, that you are on shore this night."

Nancy was a good-looking, lady-like woman of thirty-three or
thereabouts, without anything particularly noteworthy about her. She
was busy with her needle at the time we introduce her, and relapsed into
silence, while her stalwart husband pulled on a pair of huge sea-boots.

"Did you hear a gun, Nancy?" cried the captain, as a terrific blast
shook every timber in the cottage--"there! ain't that it again?"

Nancy listened intently, but could hear nothing save the raging of the
storm. The captain completed his toilet, and was about to leave the
room when the door suddenly burst open, and a lad of about fourteen
years of age sprang in.

"Father," he cried, his eyes flashing with excitement, "there's a brig
on the sands, and they are going to launch the new lifeboat!"

"Whereaway is't, lad?" asked Boyns, as he buttoned up his coat.

"To lee'ard of the breakwater."

"Oh Harry, don't be too venturesome," cried Mrs Boyns earnestly, as her
strapping boy was about to follow his father out into the pelting storm.

Harry, who was tall and strong for his age, and very like his father in
many respects, turning round with a hearty smile, cried, "No fear,
mother," and next instant was gone.

The scene on the beach when father and son reached it was very
impressive. So furious was the gale that it tore up sand and gravel and
hurled it against the faces of the hardy men who dared to brave the
storm. At times there were blasts so terrible that a wild shriek, as if
of a storm-fiend, rent the air, and flakes of foam were whirled madly
about. But the most awful sight of al