It was eleven o'clock and pitch dark when we ran into the deserted station of Soroka. It was a mass of sidings and engine - shops, and we were faced with the necessity of complicated shunting to work our truck across the yards and down the pier, the single line of which was usually filled for its entire length with empty waggons. Leaving Grey to watch the engine-driver, who seemed anxious to uncouple the truck and return home, I proceeded to dig out of his bed the R.T.O., who was a friend of ours, and with his help to mobilise a party of Russians, They were not enthusiastic, but after an hour's hard work we were puffing slowly down the pier. Grey had walked on ahead and I was on the cab of the engine. I heard him shouting, but it was a minute or so before I understood him to be saying that there was no barge alongside and no sign of any one from the Ulidia.

The engine-driver took advantage of our agitation to make his escape, and we were left standing alone on the pier -in a state of mind which can be imagined.

There was no hope of any tug in Soroka at midnight, and we made our way disconsolately to the hut in which lived the marine corporal and half a dozen privates, who had relieved the A.S.C., and were now "Supplies, Soroka," with the idea of spending the night there.

Their mess had become a

club for us, and we were soon drinking hot tea and rum with them. This was very welcome, but it could not relieve our anxiety as to the state of affairs aboard the wreck in our absence. Perhaps, however, it stimulated us to make the decision we did.

This was to row off to the ship in one of the small boats used for the ferry-a sufficiently mad idea, for they were hardly larger than canoes, and of much the same construction.

The Ulidia was over four miles out-six miles, including Soroka channel-in the open sea. No sign of her could be seen; the night was black, without moon or stars, and there Was

fresh breeze blowing. Moreover, there were strong tide-rips in the bay. Grey probably appreoiated the risks much better than I did, but we pushed off, oarrying a lantern in the stern.

Only one of us could row at a time, and changing seats in our cockle-shell of a boat was not easy.

While we were under the shelter of the land all went well, but when we were out in the open bay our chances of reaching the Ulidia seemed very problematical.

Once a tide-rip caught the boat and turned her completely round, and several times we shipped a good deal of water.

For what seemed hours we continued to row in the direotion of tion of the wreck without

seeing any sign of her, and we were beginning to be seriously afraid that we had missed her and were rowing out into the White Sea,

We discussed the question of turning round, but the ebb tide was now running very strongly, and it was a question whether we should be able to pull back against it.

While we were discussing what to do, Grey, who was sitting in the stern-sheets, called out, and, turning round, I saw the black mass of the ship looming up broadside on ahead of us. Pulling with renewed vigour we were soon close up to her.

Both of us felt suddenly as though we must be living in some nightmare world remote from reality. The ship was there, and yet there was some extraordinary change in her which we could not understand. Then we realised what it was. She had turned completely round, and her bows were now, as near as we could see, where her stern had been before. Hurriedly we climbed over the side.

The first sound that we heard as we ran forward was the roar of the engine of the 12-inch pump. This showed that something unusual must be happening, for the pump was never run at night. Yet the ship seemed in almost the same position-except that she had turned round.

We almost fell down No. 2 hatch in our haste to get to Reay. He greeted us with a look of absolute dejection, the

only time that I ever saw him other than optimistic and confident.

"They've chucked her away," he said. "Captain G. told me to start the pump about three o'clock. I thought it was just for a trial, so I came down here and got her away. I never knew they'd started pumping all the other compartments as well.

"The first thing I knew, they came rushing to me as if they were mad.

"It seems that as soon as they got her pumped pretty well dry she floated-all except the stern of her, and that's still fast on the same rock-and swung right round with her bows in deep water.

"They can't take her away, because we haven't a tug. The Johanna has to stay alongside to give steam for the pumps through the flexible steam-pipe. In any case we couldn't go across this bay at night.

"She's leaking badly everywhere, and here in No. 2 hold I've got to keep the motorpump running full-bore to keep the water under.

"If it stops she'll fill up and go down in deep water. "Old Captain G. has been here praying me to keep it going.

"But you can't run a motorpump like steam - pump. She's been overheating and missing a lot-she's been running since four o'clock, and it's half-past two now-and I've had to nurse her all the time.

He concluded with his opinion of Russia and all Russians, and indeed it made one nearly despair to see all our work thrown away by their folly.

Reay was very tired, for he had been up night after night; but the only thing was to trust to his skill and determination, and beg him to keep the pump going, while we went up on deck-first, to relieve our feelings by talking to the Russians, and, secondly, as a forlorn hope to keep a look-out for the lights of the tug from Archangel which-if she had been sent should soon be due, Dawn found the position unchanged.

The big pump was still running, Reay standing alongside it, haggard and exhausted and almost asleep, but alive to the slightest alteration in its steady note. Grey and I, who had been pacing the deck together, and were nearly as tired, had scanned the horizon in vain for the first glimpse of smoke. As soon as it was a little more light, Grey roused out the unwilling orew of the launch and went off in the direction from which the tug should come. Soon the launch was a mere spot in the distance, and then she had disappeared altogether from sight.

I was sitting down on the bitts on the forecastle head, feeling as hopeless as I have ever done and almost asleep from exhaustion, when, look

Was it the launch returning, or was it the tug? I ran for my glasses, only to put them down again dejectedly. It was the launch. But looking up again a few minutes later, I saw more smoke astern of her, and it was not long before I could make out the shape of a big tug of the "Saint" class coming up at full speed. As she drew near, Grey went aboard her. It was evident that he had convinced those aboard of the urgency of the case.

Beautifully handled, she came alongside the Ulidia's port bow, her crew all on deck making her ropes ready, and unlashing the 6-inch motorpump she carried.

Within twenty minutes the pump was aboard and was down No. 2 hold, close to the 12-inch, with its suctions and discharge-pipes connected up, and the St Mellons was fast alongside.

The ship's own engineers could not get the pump away, being

more accustomed to steam; but Reay, leaving the 12-inch, pumping full-bore, to its own devices, put in a few minutes' strenuous work, and it was soon pouring a stream of water at the rate of 300400 tons an hour over the side of the Ulidia.

Thenceforward Reay divided his time between the two pumps, going from one to the other as either showed signs of stopping.

Grey took charge on deck

and arranged for signals to the St Mellons and to the Aleida Johanna (made fast on the starboard side) from the top of the bridge.

Then he gave the order, "Ahead-slow," to both tugs. The ropes tightened, and, even before we had time to wonder whether she would come, the ship began to move almost imperceptibly ahead without a jar or quiver

from the rock on which she had lain for over two years. "Half," and she began to gather speed.

Then "Ahead full" to the Johanna and "slow" to the

St Mellons, and she swung gradually round and headed for the pier across the bay, alongside which we intended to put her.

It was a beautiful morning -Sunday, August 31st-the sunshine brilliant, and the waters of the bay fringed with woods, flat calm.

Grey handled her magnificently, steering her to a nicety by varying the speed of the tugs.

As we came off the end of the pier the St Mellons cast off and went out astern, and the ship came alongside so gently that one could hardly feel her touch.