her childhood; that relentless, devilish thing that had robbed her
of her mother and of her birthright.

Even then, as she and I scampered and scrambled along the shore line,
over the rocks and headlands,--whenever she gazed out there I fancied I
detected a shudder passing over her.

For an hour, with nothing to do but pass the time, we kept on and on,
along the shore, until we reached Neil Andrews' little house on the far
horn of the Crescent, standing out on the cliffs.

We stood on the highest rock, in front of the old fisherman's dwelling,
watching the huge waves rolling in and breaking on the headlands with
deafening thundering, showering us with rainbow sprays and swallowing
up the sounds of our voices.

Rita kept her eyes away from the horrible rock, which seemed so much
nearer to us now than when we were in the far back shelter of the Bay.
And, indeed, it was nearer, for barely a quarter of a mile divided it
from Neil's foreshore. But such a quarter of a mile of fury, I had
never before seen.

Different from Rita, I could hardly take my eyes away from that rock.
To me, it seemed alive in its awful ferocity. It was the point of
meeting of three different currents and it gave the impression to the
onlooker that it was drawing and sucking everything to its own
rapacious maw.

Old Man Andrews saw us from his window and came out to us, clad in
oilskins and waders.

"Guess it's making for a hum-dinger, George," he roared into my ears.
"Ain't seen its like for a long time. God help anything in the shape
of craft that gets caught in this. She's sprung up mighty quick, too.

"Got a nice cup of tea ready, Rita. Come on inside, both of you. It
ain't often I see you up here. Come on in!"

But Rita was standing apart, straining her eyes away far out into the
Gulf.

"What is it, lass?" shouted the old fellow. "See something out there?"

"It is a boat," she cried back anxiously. "Yes!--it is a boat."

Old Neil scanned the sea. "Can't see nothing, lass. Can you, George?"

I followed the direction of Rita's pointing.

"I'm not quite sure," I answered at last, "but it looks to me as if
there was something rising and falling away there to the right."

Neil ran into the house for his telescope.

"By God!" he cried, "it's a tug. She's floundering like a duck on ice.
Steering gear gone, or something! Hope they can keep heading out for
the open, or it's all up with them," he said.

We watched the boat