an' my man joined the crowd down there. All her masts had gone;
whether they carried away, or were cut away to ease her, I don't
rightly know. Anyway, there she lay 'pon the rocks with her decks
bare. Her keelson was broke under her and her bottom sagged and
stove, and she had just settled down like a sitting hen--just the
leastest list to starboard; but a man could stand there easy.
They had rigged up ropes across her, from bulwark to bulwark, an'
beside these the men were mustered, holding on like grim death
whenever the sea made a clean breach over them, an' standing up like
heroes as soon as it passed. The captain an' the officers were
clinging to the rail of the quarter-deck, all in their golden
uniforms, waiting for the end as if 'twas King George they expected.
There was no way to help, for she lay right beyond cast of line,
though our folk tried it fifty times. And beside them clung a
trumpeter, a whacking big man, an' between the heavy seas he would
lift his trumpet with one hand, and blow a call; and every time he
blew, the men gave a cheer. There' (she says)'--hark 'ee now--there
he goes agen! But you won't hear no cheering any more, for few are
left to cheer, and their voices weak. Bitter cold the wind is, and I
reckon it numbs their grip o' the ropes, for they were dropping off
fast with every sea when my man sent me home to get his breakfast.
_Another_ wreck, you say? Well, there's no hope for the tender
dears, if 'tis the Manacles. You'd better run down and help yonder;
though 'tis little help that any man can give. Not one came in alive
while I was there. The tide's flowing, an' she won't hold together
another hour, they say.'

"Well, sure enough, the end was coming fast when my father got down
to the point. Six men had been cast up alive, or just breathing--a
seaman and five troopers. The seaman was the only one that had