ze, though most men would have
thought the breeze fresh enough already.

As if to accommodate him, and confirm the crew in the whistling
superstition, the breeze did increase at the moment, and sent the
lifeboat, as one of the men said, "snorin'" over the wild sea towards
the harbour of Greyton.

It was a grand sight to behold the pier of the little port on that
stormy morning. Of course, it had soon become known that the lifeboat
was out. Although at starting it had been seen by only a few of the old
salts--whose delight it was to recall the memory of grand stormy times
long past, by facing the gales at all hours in oiled coats and
sou'-westers--the greater part of the fishing village only became aware
of the fact on turning out to work in the morning. We have said that
the gale had moderated, and the sun had come out, so that the pier was
crowded, not only with fisher-folk, but with visitors to the port, and
other landsmen.

Great was the hope, and sanguine the expectation of the crowd, when,
after long and anxious waiting, the lifeboat was at last descried far
out at sea, making straight for the harbour.

"All right, Bill," exclaimed an old fisherman, who had been for some
time past sweeping the horizon with his glass, "the flag's a-flyin'."

"What does that mean?" asked a smart young lady, who had braved the
blast and run the risk of a salt-wash from the sprays at the pier-end in
her eager desire to see the boat arrive.

"It means, Miss, that they've managed to save somebody--how many, in
course, we can't tell till they come."

There was a strong disposition on the part of the crowd to cheer when
this was said.

After a few minutes' further observation, the old man with the glass
murmured, as if speaking to himself, "I do believe she's chock-full o'
people."

When this was repeated, the suppressed cheer broke forth, and the
excitement increased. Soon the people with good eyes could see for
themselves that the swiftly approaching boat was as full as she could
hold, of human beings. At the same time, those who were in the boat
could see the swarms of sympathisers on the pier who awaited their
arrival.

But there was one man who took no note of these things, and seemed
indifferent to everything around him. The coxswain of the lifeboat was
spiritually absent from the scene.

"You seem to've got the fidgets, Bob," remarked Joe Slag, looking
earnestly at his friend. "That swim has been too much for '