back, hoping
to establish a communication with the ship across the reef.

Emily and May Dicey stood on the beach, watching with fearful
apprehension the ship as she lay with her broadside against the reef,
the sea wildly breaking over her. "Oh! they will be lost, they will be
lost," cried May.

Emily clasped her hands. "Willy, can nothing be done for them?" she
exclaimed.

"I hope so," said Willy. "If man can help them, Harry Shafto and
Bollard will do it."

Most of the poor women were uttering cries and lamentations in their
terror for the safety of their husbands left on board. There were still
also a number of poor women and children. Willy felt more anxious for
them even than for the men.

The boat was seen coming back. "Oh, they have given it up. There is no
hope for them! Dear, dear Charles! he will be lost. I wish we had
stayed with him," cried May.

"I am very sure Harry Shafto has not given it up," said Willy. "He
knows that the only way to get the people out of the ship is on this
side. We shall soon see what he is about to do."

The part of the reef where the ship had struck was under water, and some
distance from the point of rocks which ran out from the shore. Had she
gone to pieces and no boat been at hand, although so close to the land,
the greater number, if not all, might have perished, for the surf as it
receded would have carried them off, and even the strongest swimmer
would have found it difficult to make way against it.

Harry and his brave crew were now seen to approach as near the ship as
they could venture without the risk of being carried on the rocks.
Several persons were standing on the ship's starboard bow, which was now
nearest the shore. One of them held a coil of light rope in his hands;
he hove it, but it fell short. Again and again he made the attempt. At
length a person standing near was observed to fasten it round his waist,
when, holding on by another rope, he lowered himself down. He waited
till the receding sea had gone past him, and then, as another rolled up,
he leaped on its crest, and was borne onwards, striking out boldly
towards the beach. On he struggled. Again the receding sea bore him
backwards towards the reef. He redoubled his exertions. Harry ordered
the cutter to "back in," anxious to assist the brave fellow. The rocks
appeared fearfully close. He stretched out his hand to grasp the
swimmer's arm. "Give way, lads, give way," he shouted;