close to the yard, which would be called "furling" it, and which would render it altogether ineffective. In order to furl or reef sails, the men have to ascend the masts and "lay-out" upon the yards. It is very dangerous work in stormy weather. Many a poor fellow, while reefing sails in a dark tempestuous night, has been blown from the yard into the sea, and never heard of more. All the yards of a ship, except the three largest, can be hoisted and lowered by means of halyards. The top-gallant masts can also be lowered, but the lower masts, of course, are fixtures.

The bowsprit of a ship is a mast, which projects out horizontally, or at an angle, from the bow. It is sometimes in two or three pieces, sometimes only in one. To it are attached the jib-sail and the flying-jib, besides a variety of ropes and stays which are connected with, and support the foremast.

The cat-heads are two short beams which project from the bows on either side and support the ship's anchors when not in use.

Miscellaneous. The openings in the decks are called hatches; the staircases which descend to the cabins are called companions. The pulleys by which sails, &c., are hoisted, are named blocks. Braces are the ropes by which sails are fixed tightly in any position. Hauling a rope taut means hauling it tight. The weather side of a ship means the side which happens to be presented to the wind; the lee side that which is away from the wind, and, therefore, sheltered. The starboard side means the right side, the larboard signifies the left; but as the two words resemble each other, to prevent mistakes the word port is always used for larboard in shouting orders. Heaving the lead, is the act of throwing a heavy leaden plummet with a line attached into the

sea, to ascertain its depth. It is thrown from the chains as far as possible ahead of the ship, so that it may reach the bottom and be perpendicularly beneath the man who heaves it when the ship comes up to the spot where it entered the water. A peculiar and musical cry is given forth by the heaver of the lead each time he throws it. The fore-castle is the habitat of the ordinary sailors, and is usually in nautical parlance, termed the foeg-s'l.

Most of what we have just described applies more or less to every ship; but this will be seen in future chapters; meanwhile we would seriously recommend all those who have found this chapter a dry one, to turn back to the head entitled "Rigging the ship," and from that point read it all over again with earnest attention.

OUTWARD BOUND-DANGERS OF THE COAST-WRECKS IN THE GREAT GALE OF FEBRUARY 1861.

A LONG cruise now lies before us. Our ship is launched and rigged and victualled, and nothing now remains but to hoist our sails, up with our anchor, and singing a jovial song the while, sweep out before the wind across the rolling seas.

If you can echo the sentiments of that song, reader, then come with us and we will give you enough-perchance more than enough of it.

There is danger on the deep-every one knows that—but every one does not know that there is greater danger on the shallow sea. As we have explained before, ancient mariners feared the deep sea, and "hugged the land." They little thought that they hugged their greatest foe.

Plenty of sea-room and blue water is the delight of the sailor in modern days, because, blow high, blow low, his ship, if a good one, can usually ride out the fiercest storm. But when he approaches land,-then begins his real danger. Then comes the risk of quicksands and sunken rocks, or of gales springing up and casting his bark, a battered wreck, upon that dread of seamen-a lee-shore. This being the case, ships engaged in the coasting-trade are constantly exposed to greater risks than those that plough the distant sea, and when a gale springs up, all vessels that chance to have neared their desired haven are in peculiar danger at that time. Let us then begin with coasting vessels.

The records of disaster on our shores too clearly prove

the danger of nearing the land.

Our illustration presents several vessels, which although they all at times venture out into blue water, are more frequently found passing from point to point along our shores. The best way perhaps of showing the dangers to which we have above referred will be to describe some of the terrible scenes that occured during a recent and terrific gale.

WRECKS IN THE GREAT GALE OF FEBRUARY 1861.

No accounts can be more graphic than those of the newspapers of the day from which we quote.

About

"Off the Wicklow coast the storm was terriffic. eleven o'clock on Saturday morning, at full tide, a fine brig was seen beating in towards the mouth of Bray River. A few moments and she was seen to strike broadside to, the waves breaking over her in clouds of spray to the height of her topmasts. Her name, the Endeavour, Drogheda, could be plainly read. She was then within some thirty yards of the shore, and five men could be seen leaning helplessly over the side of the gunwale, with hands clasped beseechingly to those who crowded quickly to the spot. For nearly an hour the five men clung to the vessel, watching with death-stricken faces the anxious crowd, who, for the most part, could only return the stony gaze. At length, after repeated failures, one gallant boatman took advantage of a retiring wave, rushed almost under the black hull of the brig, and cast a rope right into the grasp of one of the men. With just strength enough left, he fastened this to a stout hawser, which was quickly drawn ashore. Meanwhile the vessel was madly oscillating from side to side, her masts trembling like whips, and the sails flying away in ribbons. Three of the men speedily got ashore by the rope, but two still remained behind, and seemed to be engaged in a struggle as to which was to go next. At length the youngest sprang over the side and succeeded in escaping, the last man, who was evidently fast losing strength, and who could be seen to shake as with an ague, gazing hopelessly and helplessly on the people. It becoming quite evident that he could make no effort to save himself, a gallant young fellow, James Lacy, the son of Mr. Lacy of Bray Head, at once volunteered to dare the fearful alternative of trying to reach the ship. Three times he essayed to get footing on the dark slippery sides of the rolling vessel,