“The first signal, however, had been seen by the folks down there, and he found the whole place in a hubbub.  Our first life-boat had arrived less than three months before; but the crew got her off briskly, and were pulling away lustily for the reef when it occurred to a few of those left behind that the sea running was not too formidable for a couple of seine-boats lying high on the beach:  and within five minutes these were hauled down and manned with scratch crews—­Dick Hobart among them.

“Three days of east wind had knocked up a heavy swell:  but the wind was blowing a moderate gale only—­nothing to account for a big ship (as she was already reported to be) finding herself on Menawhidden.  Three signals only had been shown, and these in quick succession.  We learned afterwards that she went down within twelve minutes of striking.  She had dashed straight on the Carracks, with the wind well behind her beam, topmasts housed for the night, but, barring that, canvassed like a well-found ship sure of her sea-room.  And the Carracks had torn the bottom out of her.

“The difficulty with the life-boat and two seine-boats was to find the position of the wreck, the night being pitch dark and dirty, and the calls and outcries of the poor creatures being swept down the wind to the westward.  Our fellows pulled like Trojans, however, hailing and ahoying as they went; and about half-way down the line of Menawhidden they came on the first of the Nerbuddha’s boats, laden with women and children, in charge of the fourth officer and half-a-dozen seamen.  From her they learned the vessel’s name and whereabouts, and having directed her on her way to the Porth, hurried forward again.  They passed another boat similarly laden, and presently heard the distracting cries of swimmers, and drove straight into the wreckage and the struggling crowd of bodies.  The life-boat rescued twenty-seven, and picked up four more on a second journey:  the first seine-boat accounted for a dozen:  the second (in which Hobart pulled an oar) was less fortunate, saving five only—­and yet, as I shall tell you, my young friend had (and, for that matter, still has) abundant reason to be thankful for his voyage in her; for on that night he plucked from the sea the greatest treasure of his life.

“She—­for it was a small girl of seven, and he took her from the arms of a seaman who died soon after being lifted into the boat-turned out to be the Colonel’s daughter.  She had stood by her mother’s side above the gangway while the women passed down the side into the boats:  for that noble English lady had insisted that as it was the Colonel’s duty to follow his men, so it was for the Colonel’s wife to wait until every other woman and every child had filed past.  The Nerbuddha had gone down under her as she stood there beside her husband, steadied by his hand on her shoulder.  Both bodies were afterwards recovered.