eck, on that part of the sands
named the Shingles. It was the Demerara, and her crew were still seen
clinging to the quivering mast on which they had spent the livelong
night.

More work for the well-nigh worn out heroes! Away they went to the
rescue as though they had been a fresh crew. Dashing through the surf
they drew near the doomed ship, which creaked and groaned when struck by
the tremendous seas, and threatened to go to pieces every moment. The
sixteen men on the mast were drenched by every sea. Several times that
awful night they had, as it were, been mocked by false hopes of
deliverance. They had seen the flashing of the rockets and faintly
heard the thunder of the alarm-guns fired by the lightships. They had
seen the lights of the steamer while she searched in vain for them on
first reaching the sands, had observed the smaller light of the boat in
tow, whose crew would have been so glad to save them, and had shouted in
vain to them as they passed by on their errand of mercy to other parts
of the sands, leaving them a prey to darkness and despair. But a
merciful and loving God had seen and heard them all the time, and now
sent them aid at the eleventh hour.

When the lifeboat at last made in towards them the ebb tide was running
strongly, and, from the position of the wreck, it was impossible to
anchor to windward and drop down to leeward in the usual fashion. They
had, therefore, to adopt the dangerous plan of running with the wind,
right in upon the fore-rigging, and risk being smashed by the mast,
which was beating about with its living load like an eccentric
battering-ram. But these Ramsgate men would stick at nothing. They
rushed in and received many severe blows, besides dashing into the iron
windlass of the wreck. Slowly, and one by one, the enfeebled men
dropped from the mast into the boat. Sixteen--all saved! There was
great shaking of hands, despite the tossings of the hungry surf, and
many fervid expressions of thankfulness, as the sail was hoisted and the
men of the Demerara were carried away to join the other rescued ones,
who by that time thronged the little Aid almost to overflowing.

At Ramsgate that morning--the morning of the 4th--it was soon known to
the loungers on the pier that the lifeboat was out, had been out all
night, and might be expected back soon. Bright and clear, though cold,
was the morn which succeeded that terrible night; and many hundreds of
anxious, beating