usness? That night in a chartered steam trawler, with
a trusty diver, we steamed out of the harbour, steering north. Our
skipper was the sea rival of the famous Captain Blandford; and the way
he drove his little craft, with the ice inches thick from the driving
spray all over the bridge and blocking the chart-room windows, made
one glad to know that the good sea genius of the English was still so
well preserved.

When our distance was run down we hauled in for the land, but had to
lay "hove to" (with the ship sugared like a Christmas cake), as we
were unable to recognize our position in the drifting snow. At length
we located the islands, and never shall I forget as we drew near
hearing the watch call out, "A ship's topmasts over the land." It was
the wreck we were looking for.

It took some hours to cut through the ice in which she lay, before
ever we could get aboard; and even the old skipper showed excitement
when at last we stood on her deck. Needless to say, she was not upside
down, nor was she damaged in any way, though she was completely
stripped of all running gear. The diver reported no damage to her
bottom, while the mate reported the fish in her hold dry, and the
hatches still tightly clewed, never having been stirred.

With much hearty good-will our crew jettisoned fish enough into our
own vessel to float the craft. Fearing that so late in the year we
might fail to tow her safely so far, and remembering the outcome of
our losing the launch, we opened the stores on the island, and finding
both block and sails, neatly labelled and stowed away, we soon had our
prize not only refitted for sea, but also stocked with food, water,
chart, and compass and all essentials for a voyage across the
Atlantic, if she were to break loose and we to lose her. The last
orders were to the mate, who was put on board her with a crew, "If not
St. John's then Liverpool."

No such expedient, however, proved necessary. Though we had sixty
fathoms of anchor chain on each of our wire cables to the ship, we
broke one in a seaway and had to haul under the lee of some cliffs and
repair damages. Often for hours together the vessel by day and her
lights by night would disappear, and our hearts would jump into our
mouths for fear we might yet fail. But at last, with all our bunting
up, and both ships dressed as if for a holiday, we proudly entered the
Narrows of St. John's, the cynosure of all eyes. The skipper and our
friend had gone to