A BREAKING WAVE CATCHING US UNDER THE QUARTER WE ROLLED OVER FAIRLY.
We were in the surf by this time, and the British barge was half-pistol-shot away, when No. 5 on the starboard hand fell over in a faint; the cockswain got another ball, this time in the wrist, that caused him to let go the tiller, and a breaking wave catching us under the quarter, we rolled over fairly end for end with a clatter. When I came up, there was a tremendous seething and bubbling in my ears, and putting out my arm I managed to catch hold of the tiller-hooks of the overturned boat, and hung on with all my might.
"Help me!" cried a voice. I looked about, and saw the wounded seaman weakly swimming alongside. I extended my hand to him, and observed that eight or ten others were holding fast with straining fingers to the long-boat.
The English barge was backing in carefully and with skill. We were not a cable's length from shore, and making for it hand over hand, swimming with the ease of a porpoise, was Mr. Spencer. I knew it was he by the gleam of gold lace on his high collar. But the seaman had grasped me so tightly that I lost my hold, and there came to me the sense that I was drowning, and did not care at all.
[to be continued.]
[A FAIRY FÊTE.]
BY EMMA J. GRAY.
"I'm to be a fairy god-mother to-night," were Mabel's words, as, sitting in the large Indian chair, her eyes glistened with anticipation.