"Volunteers for the weather-boat!" shouted the first lieutenant; but
the order was unnecessary, for more than the proper number were in her
already.

"Plug in--lower away."

But mishaps never come singly. Scarcely had this boat gone a foot from
the davit, than the volunteer who was acting as coxswain, in reaching
out for something, inadvertently let go the line, which, in Kynaston's
apparatus, keeps the tackles hooked; consequently, down went the boat
and crew twenty feet, with a terrific crash; the men were struggling for
their lives, and the boat was stove.

But, meantime, more men having been sent into the lee cutter, their
weight caused the pendants to render, and the boat got afloat, and was
soon employed picking up the struggling crew.

Seeing this, Lieutenant Fitzroy collected some hands, and lowered the
life-boat gig, which was fitted with common tackles, got down into her
himself by the falls, and pulling round to windward, shouted to the
signalman for directions.

The signalman was at his post, and had fixed his eye on the man
overboard, as his duty was; but his mess-mate was in the stove boat, and
he had cast one anxious look down to see if he was saved, and, sad to
relate, in that one moment he had lost sight of Staines; the sudden
darkness--there was no twilight--confused him more, and the ship had
increased her drift.