Most of our folk were already vigorously underway towards South Tickle.
“Lives afore salvage, lads!” my father shouted from his punt.
My sister caught my arm.
“’Tis a big steamer, Bessie!” I cried, turning.
“Ay,” she said, hurriedly. “But do you go stay with mother, Davy. She’ve sent me t’ Tom Turr’s by the path. They’re t’ fetch the wrecked folk there. Make haste, lad! She’ve been left alone.”
I ran up the path to our house.