with the waves towards some rocks well out. I saw him trying to stand on the rocks, but the next wave knocked him right over again. I walked down to the beach, picked up my suitcase and the benzine, and unwrapped my clothes. Stevens' watch was still going and some of my clothes were still dry. The time was 5.40 p.m. It was full tide when I landed, but the tide was going out when George landed. I went out to help him. His face was cut from the timber of the boat. He asked me to watch for Stevens. He knew I was saying my prayers all the time even when we were working on the boat. After he had a rest, he told me he would go to the settlement to break the news. I cut my life buoy rope with a sharp rock, and joined it with the leather strap from the suitcase to make a long line. I went out as far as I could, and called out to Stevens to grasp the life buoy as he was floating with only his life jacket on. I threw the life buoy out three times before he managed to get his hands in it. I dragged him towards the rocks and caught his right hand. I pulled him onto the rocks and massaged his body. The water poured from his mouth and nose. I tried to pull him to his feet but he was too weak to stand. There was no life in him, so I carried him like a baby to the warm sand. I stripped his clothes off, dug a hole in the sand, and placed him in the hole and buried him with the warm sand which I had gathered with the suitcase. At dusk George came back with a crowd on horseback. They asked me, ‘Where is Stevens—any sign of him yet?’ I pointed to the hole, where only his face was showing. The crowd went over to Stevens and spoke to him. Stevens moved and realised he was naked. He said some bad words for taking his clothes off. The crowd clothed him, and he went to Ahipara gum fields. The following day I was brought back to my home at Pawarenga. I remember this happening, when I found out that by saying my prayers, I had saved my own life and the lives of the other two men, as I could not swim myself. My prayers to Our Lord were answered. by Cecilia (Huia) Perkinson

So you've got a cold! And you're miserable — can't taste, can't smell — can hardly even breathe. Grab your woolly bedsocks, a hot water bottle and a nice big box of tissues and hop into bed. No use being a martyr. You'll only have everyone else sneezing. Eat simple meals and drink plenty of liquids. Don't blow your nose hard — you could infect your ears and sinuses. And keep your nasty old germs to yourself — cover up that cough or sneeze! DODGE COLDS — AVOID TROUBLE ISSUED BY THE NEW ZEALAND DEPARTMENT OF HEALTH 22/64