-full. He would come at any risk, and when we
histed him up on the cutter's deck, and he comes to, he shudders and he
says, 'That is too horrible. Am I a-dreaming?' But it's all use, Miss.
Even when some poor fellows is drowned, the men do all they can; and if
they fail, they forget next day."

"Could you edge us towards the cutter, skipper?" said Fullerton.

"Oh, yes. Bear up for the carrier, Bill; mind this fellow coming down."

The beautiful yacht was soon well under the steamer's lee, and the
ladies watched with dazed curiosity the work of the tattered, filthy,
greasy mob who bounded, and strained, and performed their prodigies of
skill on the thofts and gunwales of the little boats. Life and limb
seemed to be not worth caring for; men fairly hurled themselves from the
steamer into the boats, quite careless as to whether they landed on
hands or feet, or anyhow. Fullerton exclaimed--

"Just to think that of all those splendid, plucky smacksmen, we haven't
got one yet! I've been using the glass, and can't see a face that I
know. How can we? We haven't funds, and we cannot send vessels out."

Miss Dearsley's education was being rapidly completed. Her strong, quick
intelligence was catching the significance of everything she saw. The
smack with the lost mainsail was drawing near, and the doctor was ready
to go, when a boat with four men came within safe distance of the
schooner's side.

"Can you give us any assistance, sir? Our mate's badly wounded--seems to
a' lost his senses like, and don't understand."

A deadly pale man was stretched limply on the top of a pile of
fish-boxes. Mrs. Walton said--

"Pray take us away--we cannot bear the sight."

And indeed Marion Dearsley was as pale as the poor blood-smeared
fisherman. Ferrier coolly waited and helped Tom and Fullerton to hoist
the senseless, mangled mortal on deck. The crew did all they could to
keep the boat steady, but after every care the miserable sufferer fell
at last with a sudden jerk across the schooner's rail. He was too weak
to moan.

"Don't take him below yet," said Ferrier. "Lennard, you help me. Why,
you've let his cap get stuck to his head, my man. Warm water, steward".

The man was really suffering only from extreme loss of blood; a falling
block had hit him, and a ghastly flap was torn away from his scalp. That
steady, deft Scotchman worked away, in spite of the awkward roll of the
vessel, like lightning. He cut away the clotted hair, clea