such a life"? What thought _he_ as
he lay there in the bottom of the boat--terrified almost to death;
shaken and bruised by the repeated and awful shocks; chilled by the
intense cold, and drenched to the skin, with just enough life left to
enable him to cling to a thwart;--what thought _he_ on that terrible
night?

Perchance he thought of his former life of pride, selfishness, and
indifference to the woes of others. Perhaps he reflected that his own
neglect in other days had something to do with his being here now.
Whatever he thought he spoke not. His face was deadly pale. His lips
were blue. He crouched, a hopeless, a helpless, and a pitiful object,
in the bottom of the lifeboat.

Presently they struck again. Crash! Every timber groaned as the boat
turned broadside to the sea, which made a clear breach over her. The
coxswain and Bax alone stood up, both holding on to the mizzen-mast.
The rest clung on as they best could to the thwarts, sometimes buried in
water, often with only their heads above it. The tide was making, and
as the boat passed each shoal the bow lifted first and swung round--then
the stern, and it was clear again; but only to be hurled on the next
ridge, when the sea once more burst over it, sweeping away everything
that was loose.

It became necessary to alter the trim of the boat by moving some of the
men from one part to another. The coxswain shouted the order, but only
Guy Foster and two others were able to obey. All that the rest could do
was to hold on with iron grasp for bare life. With some this had become
the involuntary clutch of despair.

Thus on they went crashing and jerking from bank to bank amid the raging
wind and surf and bitter cold. None save a lifeboat could have
survived. To Bax it seemed miraculous.

"What are you doin'?" said he to one of the men near him.

"I'm takin' off my life-belt," he replied; "it'll be over all the
quicker, and I don't want to be beatin' about over the sands alive or
dead longer than I can help; the sooner I go to the bottom the better."

Bax tried to cheer this man, but in vain. At first a few of the more
sanguine spirits among them had endeavoured to cheer their comrades, but
as time wore on their efforts ceased. All gave themselves up for lost,
and no word was spoken by any one, save at long intervals, when a brief
sharp cry of agonising prayer escaped from those who looked to God for
consolation. Thus for two hours they beat ov