mpted to lower a boat with four seamen and four ladies in
it. One of the davits gave way, the other swung round, and the boat was
swamped. Three of the men were hauled back into the steamer, but the
others perished. The men would not now launch the other boats. Indeed
it would have been useless, for no ordinary boat could have lived in
such a sea. Soon afterwards all the boats were washed away and
destroyed, and the destruction of the steamer itself seemed about to
take place every moment.

While this terrible fight for dear life was going on, the lifeboat-men
were not idle. They ran out their good boat, the Constance, and
launched her. And what a fearful launching that was! This boat
belonged to the Institution, and her crew were justly proud of her.

According to the account given by her gallant coxswain, James Gilbert,
they could see nothing whatever at the time of starting but the white
flash of the seas as they passed over boat and crew, without
intermission, twelve or thirteen times. Yet, as quickly as the boat was
filled, she emptied herself through her discharging-tubes. Of these
tubes I shall treat hereafter. Gilbert could not even see his own men,
except the second coxswain, who, I presume, was close to him. Sometimes
the boat was "driven to an angle of forty or forty-five degrees in
clearing the rocks." When they were in a position to make for the
steamer, the order was given to "back all oars and keep her end-on to
the sea." The men obeyed; they seemed to be inspired with fresh vigour
as they neared the wreck. Let Gilbert himself tell the rest of the
story as follows.

"When abreast of the port bow, two men told us they had a rope ready on
the starboard bow. We said we would be there in a moment. I then
ordered the bow-man to be ready to receive the rope. As soon as we were
ready we made two dashing strokes, and were under the bowsprit,
expecting to receive the rope, when we heard a dreadful noise, and the
next instant the sea fell over the bows of the Stanley, and buried the
lifeboat. Every oar was broken at the gunwale of the boat, and the
outer ends were swept away. The men made a grasp for the spare oars.
Three were gone; two only remained. We were then left with the rudder
and two oars. The next sea struck the boat almost over end on board the
Friendship, the boat at the time being nearly perpendicular. We then
had the misfortune to lose four of our crew. As the boat made a mos