blown, and there on
the cliff above them was George Vyell on horseback, in his red coat,
with an arm thrown out and pointing eastward. He turned and galloped
off in that direction.

They scrambled up and followed. To their astonishment, after
following the cliffs for a few hundred yards, he headed inland, down
and across the very slope up which Taffy had crawled with the sailor.

They lost sight of his red coat among the ridges. Two or three--
Taffy amongst them--ran along the upper ground for a better view.

"Well, this beats all!" panted the foremost.

Below them George came into view again, heading now at full gallop
for a group of men gathered by the shore of the creek, a good
half-mile from its mouth. And beyond--midway across the sandy bed
where the river wound--lay the hull of a vessel, high and dry; her
deck, naked of wheelhouse and hatches, canted toward them as if to
cover from the morning the long wounds ripped by her uprooted masts.

The men beside him shouted and ran on, but Taffy stood still. It was
monstrous--a thing inconceivable--that the seas should have lifted a
vessel of three hundred tons and carried her half a mile up that
shallow creek. Yet there she lay. A horrible thought seized him.
Could she have been there last night when he had drawn the sailor
ashore? And had he left four or five others to drown close by, in
the darkness? No, the tide at that hour had scarcely passed
half-flood. He thanked God for that.

Well, there she lay, high and dry, with plenty to attend to her.
It was time for him to discover the damage done to the light-house
plant and machinery, perhaps to the building itself. In half an hour
the workmen would be arriving.

He walked slowly back to the house, and found Humility preparing
breakfast.

"Where is he?" Taffy asked, meaning the sailor. "In bed?"

"Didn't you meet him? He went out five minutes ago--I couldn't keep
him--to look for his brother, he said."

Taffy drank a cupful of tea, took up a crust, and made for the door.

"Go to bed, dear," his mother pleaded. "You must be worn out."

"I must see how the works have stood it."

On the whole, they had stood it well. The gale, indeed, had torn
away the wire table and cage, and thus cut off for the time all
access to the outer rock; for while the sea ran at its present height
the scramble out along the ridge could not be attempted even at low
water. But from the cliff he could see the worst.