camper down the hill, Uncle Boz aiding him in
following up the victory.

That evening Uncle Boz showed us an apparatus for sending a line on
board a stranded ship, whether invented or improved by him I am not
prepared to say, nor whether the projectile was a rocket or a shot, or
both, fired from a gun. Hollis, the eldest of our party, who had
considerable mechanical talent, seemed clearly to understand its use, I
remember.

Great preparations had been made for Christmas Day. Such a turkey, such
a piece of beef, and such a plum pudding! We went to church in the
morning in spite of the distance, and a heavy gale blowing in our teeth
coming back. Fine old English holly, with many a scarlet berry on it,
adorned the church; and the instruments, violin, violoncello, flageolet,
etcetera, etcetera, with the voices, were in great tune and wind; and
the sermon was appropriate,--"Love, goodwill towards all men," just long
enough to send us away in a happy temper, with its leading idea or
principle in the heads, and may be in the hearts of some hearers. Our
appetites, too, were sharpened by our walk, and the keen wind and the
recollection of the appearance of our destined viands as we saw them
displayed in Miss Deborah's larder. The wind was blowing strong on
shore, not softened by its passage across the North Sea; the snow began
to fall; thickly and more thickly it came down. "Stop," cried Uncle
Boz, as we neared the cliff, "there's a gun!" We listened. The low,
dull sound of a gun came across the seething, tossing ocean, but the
ship from which it was fired was unseen. "She's a large ship,
dismasted, possibly lost her anchors, or has no confidence in our
holding ground. She is right. It is bad," he remarked; "firing to warn
us to be on the look-out for her. We'll do that same at all events,
poor souls. Where will she drive ashore, though?" Stooping down, he
listened attentively for some time, then standing up, he exclaimed,
"She'll strike not far from this to the south'ard. Bambo, we must try
to help them."

"Ay, ay, sir. Dat we will," cried Bambo.

"Then find out Dick Hawker, Sam Swattridge, and the rest. Tell them if
they'll go I'll command them, and if they won't, that they're a set of
cowardly so-and-soes--. No, no, don't say that, they'll go fast
enough."

While Bambo hobbled off to the neighbouring fishing village, where there
was a small harbour, we accompanied Uncle Boz home. Near the harbour a