what help was possible, or at least to give to
the terrified people on board the doomed ship
the satisfaction of perceiving that their more
fortunate fellow-creatures on land were not
indifferent to their misery.

Hurrying, therefore, into the Ship public-
house close at hand, he drank a pint of beer
as he stood, took a couple of stout pieces of
bread and cheese in his hand, and in the
next moment was hauled up into a cart
which was going off with a quantity of fishermen
on the same errand. One only of his
crew accompanied him, and that was his
younger brother; the three hired men
declared themselves half-dead with fatigue, and
staid behind.

The cart drove along at an almost furious
rate, and there were numbers of others going
the same road, with the same velocity; while
they could see streams of young men on
foot, running along the tops of the cliffs,
taking the nearest course towards the scene of
the expected catastrophe. Long before George
Jolliffe and those with whom he went reached
the point where they left their cart, and
started forward bearing coils of rope, and
even warm garments with them, they heard
the firing of guns of distress from the
jeopardised vessel. It would seem that up
to a certain moment the people on board
trusted to be able to bring the ship under
shelter of the land, and then get an anchorage:
but the dreadful reality of their situation had
now evidently burst upon them; and the
crowds hastening towards the cliff, hurried
forward more anxiously as the successive
boomings of these melancholy guns reached
their ears.

When Jolliffe and his companions reached
the crest of the cliff, and looked out on the
sea, it was already drawing toward evening.
The wind still blew furiously. The ocean
was one chaos of tossing and rolling billows,
and the thunder of their discharge on the
face of the cliff, was awful. The first sight
of the unhappy vessel made the spectator
ejaculate "Oh Lord!" That was all that was
uttered, and it spoke volumes. The throng
stood staring intently down on the ship, amid
the deafening thunder of the ocean, and the
suffocating violence of the winds. On came
the devoted vessel like a lamed thing, one of
its masts already gone by the board, and but
few people to be seen on the deck. These,
however, raised their hands in most imploring
attitude towards the people on the cliff, as if
relying on them for that aid which they
despaired to afford. As the helpless vessel
came nearer the cliff, it encountered the
refluent force of the waves that were sent
with a stunning recoil from their terrible
shock against the precipice. It staggered,
stooped, and was turned about without
power of self-guidance. One mountainous
sea after another washed over her, and the
few human beings disappeared with shrieks
that pierced even through the turbulent
dissonance of the tempest.  The assembled
crowd on the cliff shuddered with horror, and
felt that all need of their presence was at an
end. But they stood and stared as with a
fascinated intensity on the vessel that now
came nearer and nearer to its final
catastrophe; when all at once there was
discerned an old man, with bare head and white
streaming hair, lashed to the main-mast.
He stood with lifted hands and face gazing
up to them as if clinging firmly to the hope
of their saving him. A simultaneous agitation
ran through the crowd. The ship was
lifted high on the back of the billows, and
then pitched down again within a short
distance of the cliff. A few more seconds—
another such a heave, and she must be
dashed to pieces. At once flew out several
coils of ropes, but the fury of the wind, and
the depth to which they had to go defeated
them. They were hurled against the crags,
and came nowhere near the vessel. Again
were thrown out others, and amongst these
one was seized by the old man. There was a
loud shout at the sight; but the moment was
too terrible to allow of much rational hope.
The vessel was close upon the cliff—one more
pitch, and she would perish. All eyes were
strained to see when the old man had secured
the rope round him. He was evidently
labouring to do this before he loosed himself
from the mast, lest he should be washed
away by the next sea. But he appeared
feeble and benumbed, and several voices
exclaimed, "He will never do it!" A sea
washed over him. As it went by they saw
the old man still stand by the mast. He
passed his arm over his face as if to clear
his eyes from the water—and looked up. He
still held convulsively by the rope which they
had thrown; but it was evident he was too
much exhausted to secure it round him. At
that moment the huge vessel struck with a
terrific shock against the solid wall, and
staggering backward, became half buried in
the boiling waters. Again it was plunged
forward with a frightful impetus, and the
next instant the mast fell with a crash—and
the whole great hull seemed to dissolve in
the liquid chaos. In another moment the
black stern of the ship was seen to heave
from the waves, and then disappear, and anon
spars and casks were seen churning in the
snowy surf, and tossed as playthings by
the riotous sea again and again to the
annihilating wall.

The next morning the wind had greatly
abated; and, with the first peep of day,
numbers of fishing-boats put out to see
whether anything of value which had floated
from the wreck could be picked up. George
Jolliffe was amongst the earliest of these
wreckers; but in his mind the face and form
of that old man were vividly present. He
had dreamed of them all night; and while the
rest of his crew were all alert on the look-out
for corks or other floating booty, he could not