east, to
pull the boat to their rescue.

Slowly but surely the tide rose, overwhelming the lower parts of the
rock; sending each successive wave nearer and nearer to the feet of
those who were now crowded on the last ledge that could afford them
standing-room.

The deep silence that prevailed was awful! It proved that each mind
saw clearly the impossibility of anything being devised, and that a
deadly struggle for precedence was inevitable.

Mr. Stevenson had all along been rapidly turning over in his mind
various schemes which might be put in practice for the general
safety, provided the men could be kept under command. He accordingly
turned to address them on the perilous nature of their circumstances;
intending to propose that all hands should strip off their upper
clothing when the higher parts of the rock should be laid under
water; that the seamen should remove every unnecessary weight and
encumbrance from the boats; that a specified number of men should go
into each boat; and that the remainder should hang by the gunwales,
while the boats were to be rowed gently towards the _Smeaton_, as the
course to the floating light lay rather to windward of the rock.

But when he attempted to give utterance to his thoughts the words
refused to come. So powerful an effect had the awful nature of their
position upon him, that his parched tongue could not articulate. He
learned, from terrible experience, that saliva is as necessary to
speech as the tongue itself. Stooping hastily, he dipped his hand
into a pool of salt water and moistened his mouth. This produced
immediate relief and he was about to speak, when Ruby Brand, who had
stood at his elbow all the time with compressed lips and a stern
frown on his brow, suddenly took off his cap, and waving it above his
head, shouted "A boat! a boat!" with all the power of his lungs.

All eyes were at once turned in the direction to which he pointed,
and there, sure enough, a large boat was seen through the haze,
making towards the rock.

Doubtless many a heart there swelled with gratitude to God, who had
thus opportunely and most unexpectedly sent them relief at the
eleventh hour; but the only sound that escaped them was a cheer, such
as men seldom give or hear save in eases of deliverance in times of
dire extremity.

The boat belonged to James Spink, the Bell Rock pilot, who chanced to
have come off express from Arbroath that day with letters.

We have said that Spink cam