e melancholy cry
of a gull, but of a woman or child in distress.

Lutey stopped, and listened, and looked back, but, as far as he could see,
not a living creature was to be seen on the beach but himself.
Even though while he listened the sound came wailing over the sand again,
and this time left no doubt in his mind. It was a voice. Someone was in
trouble, evidently, and calling for help.

Far out on the sands rose a group of rocks which, though covered at high
water, were bare now. It was about half ebb, and spring tide, too, so the
sea was further out than usual, so far, in fact, that a wide bar of sand
stretched between the rocks and the sea. It was from these rocks that the
cry seemed to come, and Lutey, feeling sure that someone was out there in
distress, turned and walked back quickly to see if he could give any help.

As he drew near he saw that there was no one on the landward side, so he
hurried round to the seaward,--and there, to his amazement, his eyes met a
sight which left him almost speechless!

Lying on a ledge at the base of the rock, partially covered by the long
seaweed which grew in profusion over its rough sides, and partially by her
own hair, which was the most glorious you can possibly imagine, was the
most beautiful woman his eyes had ever lighted upon. Her skin was a
delicate pink and white, even more beautiful than those exquisite little
shells one picks up sometimes on the seashore, her clear green eyes
sparkled and flashed like the waves with the sun on them, while her hair
was the colour of rich gold, like the sun in its glory, and with a ripple
in it such as one sees on the sea on a calm day.

This wonderful creature was gazing mournfully out at the distant sea,
and uttering from time to time the pitiful cry which had first attracted
Lutey's attention. She was evidently in great distress, but how to offer
her help and yet not frighten her he knew not, for the roar of the sea had
deadened the sound of his footsteps on the soft sand, and she was quite
unconscious of his presence.

Lutey coughed and hem'd, but it was of no use--she could not or did not
hear; he stamped, he kicked the rock, but all in vain, and at last he had
to go close to her and speak.

"What's the matter, missie?" he said. "What be doing all out here by
yourself?" He spoke as gently as possible, but, in spite of his
gentleness, the lovely creature shrieked with terror, and diving down into
the deep pool at th