My companion soon brought me to an opening in the hills which led directly down to the beach.  Immediately I saw lights before us moving to and fro, and the busy hum of voices came upon the wind; forms were indistinctly seen hurrying backward and forward upon the very verge of the white foam boiling from the huge billows.  Hastening to the spot, we found a number of fishermen—­their wives assisting in the scrutiny—­carefully examining the fragments of wreck which the waves were from time to time casting up, and throwing with a heavy lunge upon the shore.  Either for purposes of plunder, or for the more ostensible design of contributing to their preservation, sundry packages were occasionally conveyed away, subsequently to an eager examination of their contents.  My associate ran into the thickest of the group, anxiously inquiring as to the fate of the crew, and if any lives had been preserved.

“I guess,” cried an old hard-featured sinner, “they be where they’ll need no lookin’ after.  Last brast o’ wind, six weeks agone next St Barnaby, I gied my cabin to the lady and her children—­an’ the pains I waur like to ha’ for my labour—­I didn’t touch a groat till the parson gied me a guinea out o’ th’ ’scription;—­but I may trot gaily hoam to-night.  There’s no live lumber to stow i’ my loft; the fishes ha’ the pick o’ the whole cargo this bout.”

“Canna we get the boats?—­I can pull an oar thou knows, Darby, wi’ the best on ’em,” inquired the female.

“Boats!” exclaimed Darby; “ne’er a boat would live but wi’ keel uppermost.  I’se not the chap to go to Davy Jones tonight pickled i’ brine, my pratty Kate.”

“Thou’rt a greedy glead;—­I’se go ask Simon; but I’ll warrant thou’lt be hankering after the reward, and the biggest share to thine own clutches.”

She turned away from the incensed fisherman; and proceeding to a short distance, we found a knot of persons gathered around a half-drowned wretch who owed his appearance again upon land to having been lashed on some lumber which the sea had just cast ashore.  Almost fainting from cold and exhaustion, he was undergoing a severe questioning from the bystanders—­every one wishing to know the name of the ship, whither bound, and the whole particulars of the disaster.  We just came in time for his release; and I soon had the satisfaction to find the poor fellow in my quarters, before a comfortable fire, his clothes drying, and his benumbed limbs chafed until the circulation was again pretty nigh restored.  After drinking a tumbler of grog he appeared to recover rapidly; and we found on inquiry that he was master of the vessel just wrecked on the coast.  He shook his head on a further inquiry as to the fate of her crew.  “A score as good hands,” said he, “are gone to the bottom as ever unreefed a clean topsail or hung out a ship’s canvas to the wind; I saw them all go down as I lashed myself to the jib.”  He groaned deeply; but speedily assuming a gayer tone, requested a quid and a quiet hammock.  “My lights are nearly stove in,—­my head hangs as loose as a Dutchman’s shrouds; a night’s sleep will make all taut again.”