the last flash of electricity revealed to him that two
moments more would decide her fate.

The gale now redoubled its fury, and Forster was obliged to cling for
his existence as he sank, from his kneeling posture, flat upon the wet
herbage. Still he had approached so near to the edge of the clift that
his view below was not interrupted by his change of posture--Another
flash of lightning.--It was enough! "God have mercy on their souls!"
cried he, dropping his face upon the ground as if to shut out the horrid
vision from his sight.

He had beheld the vessel within the surf, but a few yards distant from
the outer rocks, thrown on her beam-ends, with both foresail and
mainsail blown clear out of their bolt-ropes. The cry for succour was
raised in vain; the wail of despair was not heard; the struggles for
life were not beheld, as the elements in their wrath roared and howled
over their victim.

As if satiated with its devastation, from that moment the storm
gradually abated, and Forster taking advantage of a lull, slowly
descended to the cove, where he found Robertson still heaping fuel on
the fire.

"Save your wood, my good fellow; it's all over with her; and those who
were on board are in eternity at this moment," said Forster, in a
melancholy tone.

"Is she gone then, sir?"

"Right on the outer ledge; there's not a living soul to see your
beacon."

"God's will be done!" replied the fisherman; "then their time was come--
but He who destroys, can save if He pleases; I'll not put out the fire,
while there's a fagot left, for you know, Mr Forster, that if any one
should by a miracle be thrown into the smooth water on this side of the
point, he might be saved; that is, if he swam well:"--and Robertson
threw on more fagots, which soon flared up with a brilliant light. The
fisherman returned to the cottage to procure for Forster a red woollen
cap in lieu of the hat which he had lost; and they both sat down close
to the fire to warm themselves, and to dry their streaming clothes.

Robertson had once more replenished the fuel, and the vivid blaze glared
along the water in the cove, when the eye of Forster was attracted by
the appearance of something floating on the wave, and evidently nearing
to the shore. He pointed it out to the fisherman, and they descended to
the water's edge, awaiting its approach with intense anxiety.

"It's not a man, sir, is it?" observed Robertson, after a minute's
pause.

"I cannot