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breakers, I was looking at Manby's apparatus for saving the lives of persons on a wreck, then practising, and but for the 'singing out' of my messmates, which caught my ear, should have been too late; but I reached in time to jump in with wet feet."

About four o'clock they came up with the vessel, which proved to be a Spanish brig, Paquete de Bilboa, laden with a general cargo, and bound from Hamburg to Cadiz, leaky, and both pumps at work. After a great deal of chaffering and haggling in regard to the amount of salvage (always the case with foreigners), and some little altercation with part of the boat's crew as to which of them should stay with the vessel, T. Layton (a Gatt pilot), J. Woolsey, and George Darling, boatmen, were finally chosen to assist in pumping and piloting her into Yarmouth harbour. The remainder of the crew of the yawl were then sent away. The brig at this time was about five miles to the eastward of the Newarp floating light, off Winterton on the Norfolk coast, the weather looked squally. On passing the light in their homeward course, a signal was made for them to go alongside, and they were requested to take on shore a sick man, and the poor fellow being comfortably placed upon some jackets and spare coats, they again shoved off, and set all sail (three lugs); they had a fresh breeze from the W.S.W. And now again my readers shall have Brock's own words :-" There was a little better than a pint of liquor in the boat, which the Spaniard had given us, and the bottle had passed once round, each man taking a mouthful, and about half of it was thus consumed. Most of us had got a bit of bread or biscuit in his hand, making a sort of light meal, and into the bargain I had hold of the main-sheet. We had passed the buoy of the Newarp a few minutes, and the light was about two miles astern; we had talked of our job (that is, our earnings), and had just calculated that by ten o'clock we should be at Yarmouth." This hope proved fallacious. Without the slightest notice of its approach, a terrific squall from the northward took the yawl's sails flat aback, and the ballast which they had trimmed to windward, being thus suddenly changed to leeward, she was upset

This dreadful catastrophe plunged all who were on board the yawl or boat into the sea. "It was terrible," says Brock, "to listen to the cries of the poor fellows, some of whom could swim, while others could not. Mixed with the hissing of the water and the howlings of the storm, I heard shrieks for mercy, and some that had no meaning but what arose from fear. I struck out, to get clear of the crowd, and in a few minutes there was no noise, for most of the men had sunk; and on turning round, I saw the boat was still kept from going down by the wind having got under the sails. I then swam back to her, and assisted an old man to 'get hold of one of her spars. The boat's side was about three feet under water, and for a few minutes I stood upon her; but I found she was gradually settling down, and when up to my chest, I again left her, and swam away, and now for the first time began to think of my own awful condition. My companions were all drowned, at least I supposed

So.

How long it was up to this period from the boat's capsizing I cannot exactly say: in such cases, sir, there is no time; but now I reflected that it was half-past six p.m. just before the accident occurred; that the nearest land at the time was six miles distant; that it was dead low water, and the floodtide setting off the shore, making to the southward; therefore, should I ever reach the land, it would take me at least fifteen miles setting up with the flood before the ebb would assist me."

His

At this moment a rush horse-collar covered with old netting, which had been used as one of the boat's fenders, floated close to him, which he laid hold of, and, getting his knife out, he stripped it of the net-work, and, by putting his left hand through it, was supported till he had cut the waistband of his petticoat trowsers, which then fell off. striped frock, waistcoat, and neckcloth were also similarly got rid of: but he dared not try to free himself of his oiled trousers, drawers, or shirt, fearing that his legs might become entangled in the attempt; he therefore returned his knife into the pocket of his trousers, and put the collar over his head, which, although it assisted in keeping him

a few moments, thinking what was best to be done, he determined to abandon it. He now, to his great surprise, perceived one of his messmates swimming ahead of him, but he did not hail him. The roaring of the hurricane was past; the cries of drowning men were no longer heard; and the moon-beams were casting their silvery light over the smooth surface of the deep, calm and silent as the grave over which he floated, and into which he saw this last of his companions descend without a struggle or a cry as he approached within twenty yards of him.

Up to this time Winterton Light had served instead of a land-mark, to direct his course; but the tide had now carried him out of sight of it, and in its stead "a bright star stood over where" his hopes of safety rested. With his eyes steadfastly fixed upon it, he continued swimming on, calculating the time when the tide would turn. But his trials were not yet past. As if to prove the power of human fortitude, the sky became suddenly overclouded, and "darkness was upon the face of the deep." He no longer knew his course, and he confessed that for a moment he was afraid; yet he felt that "fear is but the betraying of the succours which reason offereth;' " and that which roused him to further exertion would have sealed the fate of almost any other human being-a sudden short cracking peal of thunder brust in stunning loudness just over his head, and the forked and flashing lightning at brief intervals threw its vivid fires around him. This, too, in its turn passed away, and left the wave once more calm and unruffled; the moon (nearly full) again threw a more brilliant light upon the bosom of the sea, which the storm had gone over without waking from its slumbers. His next effort was to free himself from his heavy laced boots, which greatly encumbered him, and in which he succeeded by the aid of his knife. He now saw Lowestoft High Lighthouse, and could occasionally discern the tops of the cliffs beyond Gorleston on the Suffolk coast. The swell of the sea drove him over the Cross-sand Ridge, and he then got sight of a buoy, which, although it told him his exact position, as he says, "took him rather aback," as he had hoped he was

chequered buoy of St. Nicholas' Gatt, off Yarmouth, and opposite his own door, but distant from the land four miles. And now again he held council with himself, and the energies of his mind seemed almost superhuman; he had been five hours in the water, and here was something to hold on by; he could have even got upon the buoy, and some vessel might come near to pick him up; and the question was, could he yet hold out four miles? But, as he says, "I knew the night air would soon finish me, and had I stayed but a few minutes upon the buoy, and then altered my mind, how did I know that my limbs would again resume their office?" He found the tide (to use a sea term) was broke. It did not run so strong; so he abandoned the buoy, and steered for the land, towards which, with the wind from the eastward, he found he was now fast approaching. The last trial of his fortitude was now at hand, for which he was totally unprepared, and which he considered (sailors being not a little superstitious) the most difficult of any he had to combat. Soon after he left the buoy, he heard just above his head a sort of whizzing sound, which his imagination conjured into the prelude to the "rushing of a mighty wind," and close to his ear there followed a smart splash in the water, and a sudden shriek that went through him, such as is heard

"When the lone sea-bird wakes its wildest cry."

The fact was, a large grey gull, mistaking him for a corpse, had made a dash at him, and its loud discordant scream in a moment brought a countless number of these formidable birds together, all prepared to contest for and share the spoil. These large and powerful foes he had now to scare from their intended prey, and by shouting and splashing with his hands and feet, in a few minutes they vanished from sight and hearing.

He now caught sight of a vessel at anchor, but a great way off, and to get within hail of her he must swim over Corton Sands (the grave of thousands), the breakers at this time showing their angry white crests. As he approached, the wind suddenly changed, the consequence of which was, that the swell

own description:-"I got a great deal of water down my throat, which greatly weakened me, and I felt certain that, should this continue, it would soon be all over; and I prayed that the wind might change, or that God would take away my senses before I felt what it was to drown. In less time than I am telling you I had driven over the sands into smooth water, the wind and the swell came again from the eastward, and my strength returned to me as fresh as in the beginning."

He now felt assured that he could reach the shore, but he considered it would be better to get within hail of the brig, some distance to the southward of him, and the most difficult task of the two, as the ebb tide was now running, which, although it carried him towards the land, set to the northward; and to gain the object of his choice would require much greater exertion. But, said Brock, "If I gained the shore, could I get out of the surf, which at this time was heavy on the beach? And supposing I succeeded in this point, should I be able to walk, climb the cliffs, and get to a house? If not, there was little chance of life remaining long in me; but if I could make myself heard on board the brig, then I should secure immediate assistance. I got within two hundred yards of her, the nearest possible approach, and summoning all my strength, I sung out as well as if I had been on shore." Brock was happily answered from the deck, a boat was instantly lowered, and at half-past 1 a.m., having swam seven hours in an October night, he was safe on board the brig Betsy, of Sunderland, coal laden, at anchor in Corton Roads, fourteen miles from the spot where the boat was capsized.

Once safe on board, "nature cried, Enough;" he fainted, and continued insensible for some time. All that humanity could suggest was done for him by the captain and his crew; they had no spirits on board, but they had bottled ale, which they made warm; and by placing Brock before a good fire, rubbing him dry, and putting him in hot blankets, he was at length, with great difficulty, enabled to swallow a little of the ale; but it caused excruciating pain, as his throat was in a state of high inflammation from inhaling so long

now swollen very much, and, as he says, he feared he should be suffocated. He, however, after a little time, fell into a sleep, which refreshed and strengthened him, but he awoke to intense bodily suffering. Round his neck and chest he was perfectly flayed: the soles of his feet, his hands, and his hamstrings, were also excoriated. In this state, at about 9 a.m., the brig getting under weigh with the tide, he was put ashore at Lowestoft in Suffolk, whence he immediately despatched a messenger to Yarmouth with the sad tidings of the fate of the yawl and the rest of

her crew.

Being now safely housed under the roof of a relative, with good nursing and medical assistance, he was enabled to walk back to Yarmouth in five days from the time of the accident. The knife, which he considered as the great means of his being saved, he preserved with great care, and in all probability it will be shown a century hence by his des. cendants. It was a common horn-handled knife, having one blade about five inches long. A piece of silver was afterwards riveted on, covering one side, on which the following inscription was placed, giving the names of the crew of the yawl when she upset :-"Brown, Emmerson, Smith, Bray, Budds, Fenn, Rushmere, Boult. Brock, aided by his knife, was saved after being seven and a half hours in the sea, 6th Oct., 1835."

"It was a curious thing, sir," said Brock, as I was listening to his extraordinary narrative, "that I had been without a knife for some time, and only purchased this two days before it became so useful to me; and having to make some boat's tholes, it was as sharp as a razor.'

I know not what phrenologists might say to Brock's head, but I fancied, whilst studying his very handsome face and expression of countenance, that there I could see his heart. His bodily proportions, excepting height, were Herculean; standing only five feet five inches high, his weight, without any protuberance of body, was fourteen stone; his age at the time spoken of was thirty-one; manners were quiet yet communicative; he told his tale without the slightest bombast or any clap-trap to awaken the sympathies of

his

manliness of his heart, he thus addressed me just before parting: "I always considered Emmerson a better swimmer than myself; but, poor fellow, he did not hold out long. I ought to be a good-living chap, sir, for three times have I been saved by swimming."

One trait more, which he did not tell me, and I have done. A very good subscription

was made for the widows and children of Brock's companions; and a fund being established for their relief, the surplus was offered to him. This was his answer:-"I am obliged to you, gentlemen, but, thank God, I can still get my own living as well as ever, and I could not spend the money that was given to the fatherless and widow."

Fireside Fables.

A YARMOUTH VISITOR.

BY AGNES GIBERNE, AUTHOR OF TIM TEDDINGTON'S DREAM," ETC.

(Continued from page 234.)

V. THE NEW ARRIVAL.

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AVE you seen the new comer? asked the Skye Terrier of the Tabby Cat, who was sulking in a corner. "I've seen her," said the Tabby Cat. "What do you think of her?" asked the Skye Terrier.

"I think she is like all other cats," said the Tabby.

"But that is impossible; for all cats are not alike," said the Skye Terrier.

"Well, I don't see anything remarkable about her then," said the Tabby.

"Is she the same colour as yourself?" asked the Skye Terrier.

"Not precisely," replied the Tabby.

"Then she cannot be exactly like you," said the Skye Terrier. "What is her colour, pray?

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"White, if you particularly wish to know," said the Tabby sulkily.

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Indeed, then she must be pretty," said the Skye Terrier, who, though great friends with the Tabby, liked to tease her. "Don't you admire her ? "

"Some people might," said the Tabby evasively. "She is not according to my taste ?"

"Is it true that she belongs to the handsome Persian race?" asked the Skye Terrier.

"How should I know?" inquired the Tabby snappishly.

"Only by observing her hair. But perhaps it is no longer than your own."

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Will you let me go to sleep in peace?' said the Tabby fiercely.

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Why, you haven't satisfied my curiosity yet," said the Skye Terrier, winking at the Spaniel, who was listening to the conversation from a corner.

"Then you may satisfy yourself. I am tired of the subject."

"Just tell me one thing is she in the parlour now ?"

"Very likely," snapped the Tabby. "But don't you always go there yourself at this time ?" asked the Skye Terrier.

"Not unless I choose," said the Tabby. "You don't mean that they turned you out, to make room for this-this beautifulthis ugly cat ?-which is it ? "

"She's just like other cats, and I was not turned out, but walked away myself," said the Tabby, with a swelling tail.

"Ah!-out of consideration for her. How kind!" said the Skye Terrier.

"I did not wish to be in the same room,"

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There's an instance of jealousy for you," said the Skye Terrier, turning to the Spaniel. "Why, I've seen the new cat myself, and she's a perfect beauty-for the kind of animal, you know,-white as snow, with long hair almost trailing on the ground. No wonder old Tabby felt cast into the shade. But she will do no good by sulking; and, however she may persuade herself that our new companion is just like other cats, she will certainly persuade no one else to believe it."

"SEEING 'S BELIEVING."

HE fact is, I don't believe it," said the Spider loftily, as he crawled over the study-table.

"Don't believe what?" inquired a handsome calf-bound Volume.

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Why, all that you have been telling me." "Pray descend to particulars," said the .Volume. "What is it you don't believe? "Why, I don't believe that men built this house, for example," said the Spider. "Don't you? Why not?"

"It's impossible," said the Spider. "But how do you know it to be impossible?" asked the Volume.

Why, I am sure of it," persisted the Spider. "How could they? The house is a thousand times as big as a man."

"That's no reason," said the Volume. "Well, then, I don't believe it because I didn't see it done," said the Spider.

"That's still less of a reason," said the Volume.

"But I never believe anything I can't see," said the Spider.

"Then you must have remarkably small powers of belief, for your powers of vision are very confined," said the Volume.

"I'll tell you what," said the Spider haugh

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or your eight put together? asked the Volume. The Spider preferred not answering this question.

"All I can say is, that I don't believe a word of your assertions. Men build this house indeed! You are just trying to impose upon me."

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"Not I! What should I want to do that for? You think too much of your own opinion, Mr. Spider. Do you know that I was old and learned long before you came into existence ?"

"Well; you haven't any eyes, said the Spider. "And I tell you, that the idea of men building this house is monstrous. Why, the fall of a single brick on a man's head would be sufficient to kill him; and yet you would have me believe that not this house alone, but all those piles of masonry that extend so far around, have been raised by men."

Just answer me one question," said the Volume. "If men didn't build the houses, who did ?"

"Why, they came," said the Spider, not without hesitation. "Or rather-at least, they have always been where they are."

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'May be not," said the Volume. "You and I have to believe many things that we can't see or prove."

"I never do; and I'll never ask you to do so," said the Spider, with decision.

"Won't you ? Well, now, that is curious. But I suppose you'll maintain that you are a Spider ?"

"Of course I am, What do you take me for ?" asked the Spider.

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