ronger than coffee an' tea. If
they can't enjoy themselves on that, they may go to the grog-shop, but
they needn't come to _me_. My mother will be there, and she'll keep 'em
in order!"

"What!" exclaimed Slag, with a look of slight surprise. "Your mother!
Her what's bin bed-ridden for years, an' hasn't got no legs at all--
leastwise not to speak of?"

"Just so, lad. We'll lift her in, bed an' all. Now you be off to the
bow. Oars out, lads; stand by the halyards!"

They were by that time close to the pier-head, where the people were
shouting and cheering, some of them even weeping, and waving hats,
'kerchiefs, sticks, and umbrellas, almost wild with joy at seeing so
many fellow-creatures rescued from the maw of the hungry sea.

The first man who leaped out when the lifeboat touched the pier was the
coxswain, dripping, dirty, and dishevelled.

"Bless you, my gallant fellow!" exclaimed an irrepressible old
enthusiast, stepping forward and attempting to grasp the coxswain's
hand.

But Bob Massey, brushing past him, ran along the pier, leaped a fence,
and sprang up the steep path that led to the cliffs, over the top of
which he was finally seen to bound and disappear.

"Poor fellow!" exclaimed the irrepressible enthusiast, looking aghast at
Slag, "exposure and excitement have driven him mad!"

"Looks like it!" replied Slag, with a quiet grin, as he stooped to
assist the widow and little Lizzie to land, while ready hands were
out-stretched to aid and congratulate the old grandfather, and the rest
of the rescued people.

The coxswain ran--ay, he ran as he had been wont to run when he was a
wild little fisher-boy--regardless alike of appearances and
consequences. The clock of the village steeple told him that the
appointed hour had almost arrived. Two miles was a long way to run in
heavy woollen garments and sea-boots, all soaked in sea-water. But Bob
was young, and strong, and active, and--you understand the rest, good
reader!

The church had purposely been selected at that distance from the village
to prevent Bob's comrades from knowing anything about the wedding until
it should be over. It was a somewhat strange fancy, but the coxswain
was a man who, having taken a fancy, was not easily turned from it.

In order to her being got comfortably ready in good time, Nellie Carr
had slept the night before at the house of an uncle, who was a farmer,
and lived near the church. The house was in a sheltered hol