lee-shore--off them fearsome sands that lie all along Lincolnshire.
Captain Goss was as bold and cool as ever, and stood by the
tiller-tackle, and steered the ship as no hand but his could do.

It was the gloaming of the night, mates, when the gale came down,
heavier and heavier--a perfect blast, that tore up the very sea, and
drove sheets of water into the air. We were a'most blinded, and clung
to cleats and rigging--the sea tumbling over and over us; and the
poor, old smack at length smashed down on her beam-ends. All at once,
the mast went over the side; and as we righted and rose on the curl of
a seaway, Bartholomew sung out, loud and shrill: 'Sail, ho!' We
looked. Right to windward, mates, there was a sort of light opening in
the clouds; something of the colour of the ring round the moon in
dirty weather, and nigh as round; and in the middle of it was a smack,
driving right down on us, her bowsprit not a cable-length from our
broadside. She looked wondrous like the _Lively Nan_ herself, and some
of us saw our own faces clustered for'ard, looking at ourselves over
the bow!

As this notion was passed from one to another, we cried out aloud,
that our hour was come. Captain Goss was in the middle of us. 'Hold
your baby screeches,' says he. 'You'll be none the worse; it's me and
the smack she has to do with.' Even, as he spoke, she was on us. Some
fell on their knees, and others clenched their fists and their teeth;
but instead of the crash of meeting timber, we heard but a rustle, and
the shadow of her sails flitted, as it were, across us; and as they
passed, the wind was cold, cold, and struck us like frost; and the
next minute the _Lively Nan_ had sunk below our feet, and we found
ourselves in the roaring sea, struggling among the wreck of the mast.
The smack was gone, and the strange ship gone, and the gale blowing