willing hands, began
drawing the end of the rope on shore. The swimmer still held the line
thrown to him, and several men on the pier began to draw on it. Unhappily
the thin cord broke under the strain, and within a few seconds the
swimmer had drifted out of possible help. Seeing that only wild rocks
lay south of the sea-wall, and that on them seas beat furiously, he
turned and made out for sea. In the light beyond the glare he could see
vaguely the shore bending away to the west in a deep curve of unbroken
white leaping foam. There was no hope of landing there. To the south
was the headland, perhaps two miles away as the crow flies. Here was the
only chance for him. If he could round the headland, he might find
shelter beyond; or somewhere along the farther shore some opening might
present itself. Whilst the light from the blue fires still reached him
he turned and made for the headland.

In the meantime on ship and on shore men worked desperately. Before long
the end of the hawser was carried round on the high cliff, and pulled as
taut as the force at hand could manage, and made fast. Soon endless
ropes were bringing in passengers and crew as fast as place could be
found for them. It became simply a race for time. If the fire, working
against the wind, did not reach the hawser, and if the ship lasted the
furious bumping on the sandbank, which threatened to shake her to pieces
each moment, all on board might yet be saved.

Stephen's concern was now for the swimmer alone. Such a gallant soul
should not perish without help, if help could be on this side of heaven.
She asked the harbour-master, an old fisherman who knew every inch of the
coast for miles, if anything could be done. He shook his head sadly as
he answered:

'I fear no, my lady. The lifeboat from Granport is up north, no boat
from here could get outside the harbour. There's never a spot in the bay
where he could land, even in a less troubled sea than this. Wi' the wind
ashore, there's no hope for ship or man here that cannot round the point.
And a stranger is no like to do that.'

'Why not?' she asked breathlessly.

'Because, my lady, there's a wheen o' sunken rocks beyond the Head. No
one that didn't know would ever think to keep out beyond them, for the
cliff itself goes down sheer. He's a gallant soul yon; an' it's a sore
pity he's goin' to his death. But it must be! God can save him if He
wishes; but I fear none other!'

Even