e
sat at the bow-oar, saw a narrow lead of comparatively still water in
the midst of the foam, along which he guided the boat with consummate
skill, giving only a word or two of direction to Swankie, who
instantly acted in accordance therewith.

"Pull, pull, lad," said Davy.

Swankie pulled, and the boat swept round with its bow to the east
just in time to meet a billow, which, towering high above its
fellows, burst completely over the rocks, and appeared to be about to
sweep away all before it. For a moment the boat was as if embedded in
snow, then it sank once more into the lead among the floating tangle,
and the men pulled with might and main in order to escape the next
wave. They were just in time. It burst over the same rocks with
greater violence than its predecessor, but the boat had gained the
shelter of the next ledge, and lay floating securely in the deep,
quiet pool within, while the men rested on their oars, and watched
the chaos of the water rush harmlessly by.

In another moment they had landed and secured the boat to a
projecting rock.

Few words of conversation passed between these practical men. They
had gone there on particular business. Time and tide proverbially
wait for no man, but at the Bell Rock they wait a much briefer period
than elsewhere. Between low water and the time when it would be
impossible to quit the rock without being capsized', there was only a
space of two or three hours--sometimes more, frequently less--so it
behoved the men to economize time.

Rocks covered with wet seaweed and rugged in form are not easy to
walk over; a fact which was soon proved by Swankie staggering
violently once or twice, and by Spink falling flat on his back.
Neither paid attention to his comrade's misfortunes in this way.
Each scrambled about actively, searching with care among the
crevices of the rocks, and from time to time picking up articles
which they thrust into their pockets or laid on their shoulders,
according as weight and dimensions required.

In a short time they returned to their boat pretty well laden.

"Weel, lad, what luck?" enquired Spink, as Swankie and he met--the
former with a grappling iron on his shoulder, the latter staggering
under the weight of a mass of metal.

"Not much," replied Swankie; "nothin' but heavy metal this mornin',
only a bit of a cookin' stove an' a cannon shot--that's all."

"Never mind, try again. There must ha' bin two or three wrecks on the
rock this