animal was to
be seen. Half an hour's climbing took us to the brown, weather-beaten
summit of the peak. From this point eleven small islands were in
sight, none of them more than a few miles in extent; and, at a
distance of seven or eight leagues, the high mountains of the
northern main, their tops white with snow, with glittering glaciers
extending down the valleys,--the source of icebergs. There was a
strong current of air across the crest of the peak. Sweeping down from
the wintry mountains, it made us shiver. The sea was shimmering in the
sun, and lay in silvery threads amid the brown isles. Below us, and
almost at our feet, was the schooner,--our sole connecting link with
the world of men,--her cheery pine-colored deck just visible over the
shore cliffs. Suddenly, as we gazed, she swung off, showing her bow;
and we saw the sailors jumping about the windlass.

"What does that mean?" exclaimed Capt. Mazard. "Possible they've got
such a breeze as that down there? Why, it doesn't blow enough _here_
to swing the vessel round like that!"

"But only look down the inlet!" said Donovan. "How wild it seems! See
those lines of foam! Hark!"

A rushing noise as of some great river foaming among bowlders began to
be heard.

"It's the tide coming in!" shouted the captain, starting to run down
the rocks.

The schooner had swung back and round the other way. What we had read
of the high and violent tides in these straits flashed into my mind.

The captain was making a bee-line for the vessel: the rest of us
followed as fast as we could run. Just what good we any of us
expected to be able to do was not very clear. But "The Curlew" was our
all: we couldn't see it endangered without rushing to the rescue.
Panting, we arrived on the ledges overlooking the boat and the
schooner. The tide had already risen ten or a dozen feet. The boat had
floated up from the rock, and broken loose from the line. We could see
it tossing and whirling half way out to the schooner. The whole inlet
boiled like a pot, and roared like a mill-race. Huge eddies as large
as a ten-pail kettle came whirling in under the cliffs. The whole bay
was filling up. The waters crept rapidly up the rocks. But our eyes
were riveted on the schooner. She rocked; she wriggled like a
weather-cock; then swung clean round her anchor.

"If it will only hold her!" groaned Capt. Mazard. "But, if it drags,
she'll strike!"

Old Trull, Weymouth, and Bonney were at the windlas