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a craft like the Surf.”

      This conversation was carried on with some difficulty, although they were standing under the lee of the wall of a cottage.

      “She rolls about heavily, Tom.”

      “She does that, sir. It is lucky we have got our moorings in the middle of the harbour, and none of the fishing-boats are near enough to interfere with her. You see most of them have got their sails and nets rolled up as fenders, but in spite of that they have been ripping and tearing each other shocking. There will be jobs for the carpenter for some time to come. Five or six of them have torn away their bulwarks already.”

      After waiting down by the port for an hour Horace returned to the house. When luncheon was over he was just about to start again for the port, when Marco said to him:

      “Dick has just been in, sir. There is going to be a wreck. There are a lot of fishermen gathered on the cliff half a mile away to the right. They say there is a ship that will come ashore somewhere along there.”

      “Come on, then, Marco. Did you hear whether they thought that anything could be done?”

      “I did not hear anything about it. I don’t think they know where she will go ashore yet.”

      In a few minutes they reached the group of fishermen standing on the cliff. It was a headland beyond which the land fell away, forming a bay some three miles across. A large barque was to be seen some two miles off shore. She was wallowing heavily in the seas, and each wave seemed to smother her in spray. Tom Burdett was among the group, and Horace went up to him at once.

      “What’s to prevent her from beating off, Tom? She ought to be able to work out without difficulty.”

      “So she would at ordinary times,” the skipper said; “but she is evidently a heavy sailer and deep laden. She could do it now if they could put more sail on her, but I expect her canvas is all old. You see her topsails are all in ribbons. Each of them seas heaves her bodily to leeward. She is a doomed ship, sir, there ain’t no sort of doubt about that; the question is, Where is she coming ashore?”

      “Will it make much difference, Tom?”

      “Well, it might make a difference if her master knew the coast. The best thing he could do would be to get her round and run straight in for this point. The water is deeper here than it is in the bay, and she would get nearer ashore before she struck, and we might save a few of them if they lashed themselves to spars and her coops and such like. Deep as she is she would strike half a mile out if she went straight up the bay. The tide is nearly dead low, and in that case not a man will get ashore through that line of breakers. Then, again, she might strike near Ram’s Head over there, which is like enough if she holds on as she is doing at present. The Head runs a long way out under water, and it is shallower half a mile out than it is nearer the point. There is a clump of rocks there.”

      “I don’t remember anything about them, Tom, and we have sailed along there a score of times.”

      “No, sir, we don’t take no account of them in small craft, and there is a fathom and a half of water over them even in spring-tides. Springs are on now, and there ain’t much above nine foot just now; and that craft draws two fathom and a half or thereabouts, over twelve foot anyhow. But it don’t make much difference; wherever she strikes she will go to pieces in this sea in a few minutes.”

      “Surely there is something to be done, Tom?”

      “Some of us are just going down to get ropes and go along the shore, Mr. Horace; but Lor’ bless you, one just does it for the sake of doing something. One knows well enough that it ain’t likely we shall get a chance of saving a soul.”

      “But couldn’t some of the boats go out, Tom? There would be plenty of water for them where she strikes.”

      “The fishermen have been talking about it, sir; but they are all of one opinion; the sea is altogether too heavy for them.”

      “But the Surf could go, couldn’t she, Tom? You have always said she could stand any sea.”

      “Any reasonable sort of sea, Mr. Horace, but this is a downright onreasonable sort of sea for a craft of her size, and it is a deal worse near shore where the water begins to shallow than it would be out in the channel.”

      But though Tom Burdett spoke strongly, Horace noticed that his tone was not so decided as when he said that the fishing-boats could not go out.

      “Look here, Tom,” he said, “I suppose there must be thirty hands on board that ship. We can’t see them drowned without making a try to save them. We have got the best boat here on the coast. We have been out in some bad weather in her, and she has always behaved splendidly. I vote we try. She can fetch out between the piers all right from where she is moored; and if, when we get fairly out, we find it is altogether too much for her, we could put back again.”

      Tom made no answer. He was standing looking at the ship. He had been already turning it over in his mind whether it would not be possible for the Surf to put out. He had himself an immense faith in her sea-going qualities, and believed that she might be able to stand even this sea.

      “But you wouldn’t be thinking of going in her, Mr. Horace?” he said doubtfully at last.

      “Of course I should,” the lad said indignantly. “You don’t suppose that I would let the Surf go out if I were afraid to go in her myself.”

      “Your father would never agree to that if he were at home, sir.”

      “Yes, he would,” Horace said. “I am sure my father would say that if the Surf went out I ought to go in her, and that it would be cowardly to let other people do what one is afraid to do one’s self. Besides, I can swim better than either you or Dick, and should have more chance of getting ashore if she went down; but I don’t think she would go down. I am nearly sixteen now; and as my father isn’t here I shall have my own way. If you say that you think there is no chance of the Surf getting out to her there is an end of it; but if you say that you think she could live through it, we will go.”

      “I think she might do it, Mr. Horace; I have been a saying so to the others. They all say that it would be just madness, but then they don’t know the craft as I do.”

      “Well, look here, Tom, I will put it this way: if the storm had been yesterday, and my father and I had both been away, wouldn’t you have taken her out?”

      “Well, sir, I should; I can’t say the contrary. I have always said that the boat could go anywhere, and I believe she could, and I ain’t going to back down now from my opinion; but I say as it ain’t right for you to go.”

      “That is my business,” Horace said. “Marco, I am going out in the Surf to try to save some of the men on board that ship. Are you disposed to come too?”

      “I will go if you go,” the Greek said slowly; “but I don’t know what your father would say.”

      “He would say, if there was a chance of saving life it ought to be tried, Marco. Of course there is some danger in it, but Tom thinks she can do it, and so do I. We can’t stand here and see thirty men drowned without making an effort to save them. I have quite made up my mind to go.”

      “Very well, sir, then I will go.”

      Horace went back to Tom Burdett, who was talking with Dick apart from the rest.

      “We will take a couple of extra hands if we can get them,” the skipper said. “We shall want to be strong-handed.”

      He went to the group of fishermen and said:

      “We are going out in the Surf to see if we can lend a hand to bring some of those poor fellows ashore. Young Mr. Beveridge is coming, but we want a couple more hands. Who will go with us?”

      There was silence for a minute, and then a young fisherman said:

      “I will go, Tom. My brother Nat is big enough to take my place in the boat if I don’t come back again. I am willing to try it with you, though I doubt if the yacht will get twice her own length beyond the pier.”

      “And

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