these boats would have
enough of work to do in attending to the wrecks in their own immediate
neighbourhood.

They followed Bax, therefore, at a steady trot until they reached a part
of the perpendicular cliff which projected somewhat towards the sea. At
the foot of this the waves which on this coast roll to the shore with
tremendous volume and power, burst with a loud roar and rushed up in
thick foam.

"Don't any of you come on that don't feel up to it," cried Bax, as he
awaited the retreat of a wave, and prepared to make a dash. At that
moment he wheeled round with the look and air of one who had forgotten
something.

"Tommy," said he, laying his hand on the boy's head, "go back, lad,
round by the land road."

"No, Bax, _I won't_," replied Tommy, with a fervour of determination
that would at any other time have raised a laugh in those who heard it.

"Come along, then, you obstinate beggar," said Bax, sternly, seizing the
boy by the arms, and throwing him over his shoulder as if he had been a
lamb!

Tommy's dignity was hurt. He attempted to struggle, but he might as
well have hoped to free himself from the hug of a brown bear as to
escape from the vice-like grip of his big friend. In another moment Bax
was whelmed in spray and knee-deep in rushing water.

It was a short dangerous passage, but the whole party got round the
cliff in safety, and hastened as rapidly as possible towards the scene
of the wreck.

We must now beg the reader to follow us to another scene, and to go back
a few hours in time.

Shortly after the sun set that night, and before the full fury of the
storm broke forth, a noble ship of two thousand tons' burden beat up the
Channel and made for the Downs. She was a homeward bound ship, just
arrived from Australia with a valuable cargo, and between two and three
hundred passengers, many of whom were gold-diggers returning to their
native land, and nearly all of whom were possessed of a considerable sum
in nuggets and gold-dust. The ship was owned by the house of Denham,
Crumps, and Company. Her arrival had been already telegraphed to the
firm in Redwharf Lane.

There was rejoicing that evening on board the "Trident." Men and women
and children crowded the high sides of the weather-worn ship, and,
holding on by shrouds, ratlines and stays, standing on tip-toe,
clambering on carronades, and peeping through holes, gazed long and
ardently at the white cliffs of dear Old England.

Som