gale on to the sail, driving us at a speed of over fifteen knots. In the hollows of course we went slower. The two boats with their lug-sails kept well together, averaging fully seven knots, but whenever one was delayed from any cause, everything gave way to the captain's resolve to keep together and not be separated, as the mate's boat had no knowledge of the coast or its lights.

The course for Port Vendres was dead before the wind, if the captain's estimate of our position was correct, but on neither tack were we able to make the exact course. The starboard tack suited best, and we ought to make a point on shore north-east of our goal if we were right.

So soon as we were well started the captain ordered a sip of grog all round. And here the first difficulty arose. There was no pannikin. True, we had a bailer-we could not live without it. From the moment the boat was launched bailing was continuous all day and all the next night. But the steward, after a moment's pause, said, "I think I have something that will do." He opened the sack containing his store and drew out a small plum-pudding in a china dish. The dish would do to drink out of, and we ate the plum-pudding. The breaker of water was now broached, and when some water was poured into the white dish it was black. Moreover, it stank abominably. We had nothing to drink. O'Hara's precaution at Hornillo, at Hornillo, on which he had prided himself, was futile. We put it down

to the new breakers that had been supplied for the present voyage. It was a great blow to all, but they took it very well. They each got a sip of whisky, but without any water no one cared to eat much of whatever provisions we had.

Of course there was danger every minute. It seemed like a miracle that our small boat could have come safely even so far as we had come in such

a sea.

We sighted land land ahead through the haze when night was just falling on us. But we saw no sign of our objective. There was high land, and we thought there was a semaphore station on the heights. The captain went to the north-east for a little, but saw no sign of a lighthouse even when darkness came on. Then for a few minutes a light was seen faintly. The captain was sure it was not Fort Béarn's three flashes every twenty seconds, and after I had held the lamp for him to consult the torn-out pages of his lights-book, he determined to cruise along the coast in the other direction. So we felt our way along until 8 P.M. It was pitch dark and very cold. Luckily the sea had gone down very much and the wind was less violent, but there was a thick haze and soaking rain, with lights from a cottage close to us on shore and a roar of breaking surf. We tried to light one of the Bengal lights, but it had got wet. It appeared that we must pass the night here. We drew a little farther from the sound of surf, and tied our painter to the

stern of the mate's boat, as he had the best sea-anchor. Ours had been torn to shreds in the terrible weather when the boat was first launched.

In this way we passed the hours in drenching rain from 8 to 11 P.M. What weary work it was! Every half-hour the captain would ask the chief for the time, and then tell him that his watch had stopped. How soaked we all were, and how cold and cramped in our limited space! We ate a little at times, and thrice in the night a spoonful of whisky was served out, with a slice of cheese. It was almost impossible to get a light when we wanted to smoke, and to some of us this was a great loss. People certainly should never go to sea without having vesuvians in a water-tight case and something kept dry for striking them on.

At 11 P.M. the fog lifted, and Charlie sighted a faint light flashing three times every twenty seconds. Hurrah! Port Vendres ahoy! But for a minute O'Hara was sceptical. He said, "It is called in the book a twenty-five-mile light, and on the French coast that means a very powerful light.' Finally he made up his mind that we had made a bad shot in our position on the coast, and that the light we now saw through the haze must be at least twenty-five miles off.

The captain was not long in doubt as to his intentions. No more hanging about for him. Without any chart, and with no knowledge about any dangers that might lie between us and the light, he determined

to wait no longer and to sail straight for our haven. The sea had been comparatively still since sundown, luckily for us. But the rain came in torrents every now and then, and we were all cold and stiff in our cramped attitudes. The only men who ever changed their position during the sixteen hours we were in the boat were those employed in bailing, who relieved one another every quarter of an hour or so.

By the time we were ready to shape our course we could not find the mate's boat. Their lamp was out of order, and they had complained that they could not keep it alight. We were using the ship's bright riding-light, and had, in addition, a flashing-lamp for signalling. We lighted this to give them, but got no answer on hailing. The captain was a little anxious. Then we made use of the megaphone. The other boat turned up before long, and managed to keep their own light burning. So the chief, who was thinly clad and wet to the skin, took possession of the flash-lamp to put under his coat to help to warm himself. He was the man, after the captain, who most needed compensation after the frightful work accomplished all the previous night.

Our boat went ahead with the powerful light, and the mate followed on our course. Poor man! I was sorry for him; for often, when I awoke from a doze, I saw the skipper holding the tiller all right, but with his eyes fast closed. The

lighthouse at first was very faint, but being directly under Jupiter, that star made a good mark to steer by. Looking up one time, I saw Jupiter on our beam, and asked O'Hara if he had changed his mind about the light being Fort Béarn, as we seemed to be going towards the shore. "No,' ," he replied; "it's my fault. I am afraid I was napping." We passed several lighted places on shore, and it looked tempting to try to land; but now that we were sure of the lighthouse, it was safer safer to make for it and to take our chance of reefs and sunken rocks.

From this time, although our present piece of navigation was the most dangerous, the tension visibly slackened. Every man of us went sound asleep for short intervals, in spite of cold and wet and cramped position. We had been having a long and anxious time during the previous two days and nights.

So the hours went by, and sometimes we wished that the wind had kept up a little more. We did about four knots hour, and could watch our progress as we passed the lights of villages on shore. Moreover, the light ahead was growing more distinct. Some of the crowd were nearly played out with cold and wet and want of sleep. The good old steward, sixtyfour years of age, lay silent and very miserable and prostrate with cold. I covered him with my fur rug, but it was soaking wet. Charlie, lying on his face, threw his

head on his arms and kicked out as if he was sobbing. We all still wore the lifebelts, as they seemed to keep in the heat.

From 11 P.M. till 5 A.M. we saw the light at Fort Béarn grow stronger and stronger, and at that hour dawn commenced. Then, by the aid of our chart of Port Vendres, O'Hara got our position and steered for the harbour. For a second time in twenty-four hours we were able to feel the glow of the life-giving, stimulating dawn. It was the first moment when we could really feel that all anxiety was past.

While congratulating ourselves, a mile from shore, our mast suddenly gave out, and, breaking at the step, went overboard. What a piece of luck that this did not happen earlier! We had heard some ominous creaks when rolling about after sunset with the sail down. It was easy now to row to land, and the men were only too thankful to be free to move about and ease their cramp and gain some warmth by exercise.

A fishing-boat offered a tow, but the captain refused it, expecting them to demand exorbitant fees for salvage. A pilot-boat met us at the harbour and offered to have us towed. This was declined. The captain expected to have hours of waiting, with formalities from health and customs officers, and got out his bill of health and handed it to the officer on the quay.

But the captain was all wrong. The officers were reading the ship's papers when

I rose and asked how long it would be before we could land, as some of us would give our ears for a cup of coffee. The medical officer and the customs officer immediately said, "But why wait? Come on shore. What can we do for you? Tell us what you need. All we want to do is to help you."

Then the doctor took us across the street to a café, and, oh! how good that coffee was. We had been sixteen hours cramped in the boat, and I could hardly walk, and nearly tumbled down. Afterwards I confessed this to O'Hara, and he told me that he had been in the same state. For forty-eight hours on end he had been at work, and most of the time at double pressure.

It now appeared that when we were approaching the coast our lug-sails were noticed, so different from the native "lateen." So the people soon guessed rightly what had happened. Word was passed round that a shipwrecked crew was coming in, and the whole population was there to welcome us. Our men all day were heroes. They were treated handsomely in the café with food, and all the poor people of the place came with dry shirts and stockings and suits of clothes for the men, who had lost everything, and were very grateful. The captain told them to see that these clothes should all be returned when their own things were dry. But these poor fishing-folk, and also the leading men of the port, rebelled, and assured him they were free gifts.

VOL. CXCII.-NO. MCLXIII.

The hotel took in the whole crowd at a nominal rate, and every one was asking only to be allowed to help more in any way, and they knew so well what our men needed. It was quite touching. At 9 A.M. the crew had a big meal at the hotel, and most of them slept all day till their next meal at 6 P.M.

Not a man among them had saved any of their kit- not even the captain. I felt quite ashamed of having been forced to save a few of my things. On taking them out of the boat, water streamed from them for some minutes.

The captain spent the early hours in arranging for the crew's comfort. He telegraphed to his wife, and then sent word to the owners telling them of the safety of all on board. In the afternoon he got a reply directing him to take the crew to the British Consul at Cette.

We found that there was a steamer from Algiers just come in and starting for Cette at 11 P.M. So the captain aranged to convey the crew by her. I was very sorry to part from him, but thought it wiser to stop at least one night in Port Vendres to sleep and get things dry.

Before leaving, Captain O'Hara arranged to have a notice put in the local paper expressing the gratitude of himself and crew for the kindness of everyone, and assuring them that the people of Port Vendres would always be held in affectionate remembrance.

WE resolved when we made up our minds to spend a winter in the South of France that there should be nothing haphazard about our arrangements on this occasion. We had had enough of happy-go-lucky ways on that fatal journey Cathal and I had made to the Spa. Now, when venturing so far into a foreign land, all should be thought out to the least detail. I studied guide-books and time-tables till I almost knew the Riviera by heart, and finally, with the help of friends, we discovered a pension that seemed just what wanted, in a beautiful, quiet, sheltered little spot somewhere between Marseilles and Mentone. We engaged our rooms months beforehand, and except that my mother and I contrived to lose each other on the journey, we reached our destination without mishap.

we

After all this arrangement it was a little disappointing to discover that our long-dreamtof home among the palms and mimosas was not quite all that we had hoped. It was certainly beautiful as any of our dreams. From quaint little windows we looked down over the tops of waving pine-trees to the Mediterranean washing almost to the garden walls. The November days were warm and sunny, and though the mistral blew every day for a month, it was pleasant to go to

sleep to the sound of swishing waves and murmuring trees. But the place was really not very sheltered, and although "madame" was kindness itself, her cooking swam in oil, and the stairs in her house were many and high, and perhaps we were too near the sea, and at all events before a month was over even "madame" agreed that her delightful pension was no place for "mademoiselle." Disillusioned by the result of our foresight and arrangement, we took flight one day in the middle of a gale of wind and made for what sounded a more likely spot farther along the coast, with no notion in the world of what might befall us there. At the station where we alighted Cook's man provided us obligingly with a list of pensions, and as we drove away on a tour of exploration we felt really happy and in our element once more. We had a couple of hours before sunset, and having been warned of the sudden chill that in the Midi comes into the air at that time of the evening, we felt that our fate must be settled just half an hour before the sun dipped into the sea. Cinderella at the ball was not more dependent on the striking of a clock.

How charming everything was that afternoon! The white houses round the bay, the hills rising behind with