"That's what I thought. An awful coast, and not a boat there."

"Get the horse in the gig," said Dr Brandram, "while I put together
what we are likely to want. Look sharp."

Armstrong wanted no encouragement to be expeditious, and had the trap at
the door almost before the doctor had his pile of blankets, wraps, with
brandy and other restoratives, ready to put in it. In the village they
paused to buy a rope and to warn one or two stragglers of their errand.
Then in the gathering storm they drove hard towards Sheep Head.

There was no mistake about the gale now. The sky was black with clouds,
and the rain and wind struck them simultaneously as they urged on. The
warning hum had already risen to a roar, and the wave, as they raced,
crest over crest, to the shore, hissed and seethed with a fury which
could be heard a mile off.

Neither of the men spoke. Armstrong, with the reins in his hand, kept
his eyes stolidly between the horse's ears. The doctor, more agitated,
looked eagerly out across the sea.

At last, near the summit of the tall, angular headland, the gig came
abruptly to a standstill. The horse was tied up, and the two men,
scarcely able to keep their feet, staggered to the cliff edge. There
for half an hour they lay, straining their eyes seaward, with the full
fury of the blast on their faces. It was hopeless to expect to see
anything, for the rain drove blindingly in their eyes, and, though
scarcely five o'clock, the afternoon was almost as dark as evening.

"Could they possibly drive clear of the point?" asked the doctor.

"Not possibly, I think. Come down to the shore. We are no use here."

"Wait a bit; it seems to be getting lighter."

It was; but for a long time the glow served only to make the obscurity
more visible. Presently, however, the rain paused for a moment, and
enabled them to dear their eyes and look steadily ahead. Dr Brandram
felt his arm suddenly gripped as his companion exclaimed hoarsely--

"What's that?"

"Something red."

Sure enough there was a speck of red tossed about in the waves, now
visible, now lost, now returning. It was all that could be seen, but it
was enough for Mr Armstrong.

"It's the boat. She wore a red cloak. Come down, come down."

"No; stop till we see how they are driving. There's time enough."

As far as they could calculate, the boat (if boat it was) was being
driven straight for Sheephaven Cove, under the cliff on which they
stoo