“Ay, dear lass, wrecked again; but safe home, thank God.”
Mrs Gaff was not wont to give way to the melting mood, but she could not restrain a few tears of joy. Tottie, observing this, cried from sympathy; and the Bu’ster, not to be outdone, willed, began, and carried into execution, a series of true British cheers, that could not have been surpassed, perhaps could not have been equalled, by any boy of his age in or out of the Royal Navy.
Chapter Two.
Wrecked, Rescued, and Resuscitated—Mrs Niven receives a Surprise, also the Gift of a Child.
On the same dark tempestuous night of which I write, a little ship was wrecked on the east coast of England.
She had sailed from the antipodes, had weathered many a gale, had crossed the great ocean in safety, had sighted the lights and the cliffs of “home,” and was dashed to pieces at last on the rocks within two hours’ sail of the port to which she was bound.
Hundreds of ships, great and small, were wrecked on the coasts of Britain during that memorable gale. The little ship to which I refer was one of the many in regard to which the newspapers said, “she was dashed to pieces, and all hands perished.”
But in this particular case all hands had not perished: two lives had been spared, unknown to journalists and coastguardsmen.