d--a furious, rugged shore--unless, indeed, a miracle should chance
to pitch them into the deep, natural harbour that lay in between the low
rocks and the headland.

"Come down," said Armstrong again.

From the sea-level nothing, not even the red speck, was discernible; and
for a terrible five minutes they wondered, as they scrambled out on
hands and knees to the outmost limit of the jutting rocks, whether,
among the wild breakers, the little boat and its precious crew had not
vanished for ever.

It was all they could do to struggle to their feet, and, clinging to the
rocks, turn their faces seaward. A new paroxysm of the gale well-nigh
dashed them backwards, and for a time prevented their seeing anything.
But in a minute or two it eased off enough to allow them to open their
eyes.

"See--there--look out, look out," cried the doctor, pointing.

He was right. About a quarter of a mile away, buffeted like a cork on
the water, was a boat, and in it something red.

"Stand up and wave; it's no use shouting," said Armstrong.

Taking advantage of a temporary lull, they stood and waved their coats
above their heads. Whether they were seen or not, they could not tell.
No signal came in return; only the boat--as it seemed, stern-foremost--
drove on towards them.

"Hold on and get your rope ready," said the doctor.

"Will she clear the rocks or no?"

"We shall see. They've no oars out. Stay there while I wave again."

This time it was not in vain. There was a stir in the boat. The red
cloak was seen to wave aloft, and a faint cry mingled with the storm.

"Hold on!" cried the doctor; "they see us, thank God. I'll go on
waving."

Presently they could see one oar put out, in an attempt to steer the
boat into the cove. But in a moment it was swept away, and she drove on
as helplessly as before.

It seemed years while she gradually approached, stern-foremost, now
seeming to lurch straight towards the fatal rocks, now to stand clear
for the narrow channel. They could distinguish the four passengers at
last. She in red sat in the stern looking ahead, holding her little
sister at her side. The two lads in the middle were baling out wildly,
pausing every now and then to turn white faces landward, but returning
at once to their task. And indeed the boat sat so low in the water that
it was a miracle how she floated at all.

Armstrong stood up, his friend holding him, and waved his coil of rope
above his head.