around her, but no bodies visible anywhere. Of the rest of the fleet, no
sign. Four and forty hours later the _White Star_ reached safety at
North Shields. Other boats that also headed for the open sea were even
longer in coming to port, but all, as they drew farther and farther from
land, found weather less terrible, a sea less dangerous, than that from
which by the skin of their teeth they had escaped. Some of the smitten
craft drove far to the south before the wind, and after escapes many and
incredible, reached a haven of safety, with men worn and dazed, but not
all with crews complete; too many paid toll to the sea with one or more
lives. For as long as a day and a half, there were skippers who sat,
unrelieved, at the tiller of their boat, an awful weight of
responsibility on their shoulders, human lives depending on their nerve
and skill. Some of these men had to be carried ashore, when at length
they reached safety; the legs of one were found to be so twisted and
wedged in beneath his seat, that it was only with the greatest
difficulty and pain that he was got out of the boat.

There was one boat that found refuge at Shields on the Sunday. She
arrived too late to permit of a telegram being sent announcing her
safety, but in time to allow her crew--or what was left of it--to catch
a late train to the north, and the solemn, echoing tramp of their heavy
feet at midnight in the silent street of Eyemouth brought the stricken
people from their beds with a start, and with vague apprehension of
fresh disaster. But their dread was turned to rejoicing, except for the
family of that man who came home never again. In all, on that Sunday
night it was known that sixty-four of the men of Eyemouth had perished,
and seventy-one were still missing. Of these but a handful ever
returned. Eyemouth alone lost one hundred and twenty-nine--the men of
whole families, almost of clans, swept away. Truly to her that day was
as of old had been Flodden Field to Scotland. The total number of men