He came up with the distressed fleet about four in the afternoon, and barely in time to save the lives of those poor struggling fellows. Not a boat had as yet sunk, but they were filling fast; while the crews were completely exhausted, and had given way entirely to despair.
The faint cheer they gave, when they noticed the brave little war-ship bearing down to their assistance, could scarce be heard amid the howling of the storm.
Boat after boat was emptied of its crew, old Eean, Toddie, and Fred being among the first to be hauled over the side.
Weak as she was, Toddie resolutely refused to be taken on board the gunboat, till she had seen her pet Tippetty in safety.
The half-drowned men were at once seen to by the kindly sailors, and were soon in warm hammocks or sitting around the galley fire.
The boats as well as their crews were taken in charge, but several were stove and sank; so that when at last the Sandpiper steamed into Methlin port only four remained afloat.
It was late when they got in, and the first intimation of the safety of husband, brother, or sweetheart received was from the men themselves.
But oh, what joy was there! Some might have been seen dancing, others laughing and weeping by turns, while others knelt by their humble firesides and prayed aloud. It was an affecting scene.
But scenes like these, and many far more sad, are to be witnessed only too often on the wild Scottish coasts.
Concerning this very adventure, Thorn, the sweet bard of Ury, writes in graphic language—