hen all was darkness again more complete than ever.
They struggled down on to the shingle, where the little cluster of
fishermen were hard at work with the line. Almost the first person
they ran across was Jimmy Dumble. He was standing on the edge of the
breakwater with a great lantern in his hand, superintending the line,
and, as they drew near, Lessingham, who was a little in advance, could
hear his voice above the storm. He was shouting towards the wreck, his
hand to his mouth.

"Send the master over next, you lubbers, or we'll cut the line. Do you
hear?"

There was no reply or, if there was, it was drowned in the wind.
Lessingham gripped the fisherman by the arm.

"Whom do you mean by 'master'?" he demanded. Dumble scarcely glanced at
his interlocutor.

"Why, Sir Henry Cranston, to be sure," was the agitated answer. "These
lubbers of sea hands are all coming off first, and the line won't stand
for more than another one or two," he added, dropping his voice.

Then the thrill of those few minutes' excitement unrolled itself into a
great drama before Lessingham's eyes. Sir Henry was on that ship as near
as any man might wish to be to death.

"'Ere's the next," Jimmy muttered, as they turned the windlass
vigorously. "Gosh, 'e's a heavy one, too!"

Then came a cry which sounded like a moan and above it the shrill
fearful yell of a man who feels himself dropping out of the world's
hearing. Lessingham raised the lantern which stood on the beach by
Jimmy's side. The line had broken. The body of its suspended traveller
had disappeared! And just then, strangely enough, for the first time for
over an hour, the heavens opened in one great sheet of lightning,
and they could see the figure of one man left on the ship, clinging
desperately to the rigging.

"Tie the line around me," Jimmy shouted. "Let her go. Get the other end
on the windlass."

They paid out the rope through their hands. Jimmy kicked off his boots
and plunged into the cauldron. He swam barely a dozen strokes before he
was caught on the top of an incoming wave, tossed about like a cork and
flung back upon the beach, where he lay groaning. There was a little
murmur amongst the fisherman, who rushed to lean over him.

"Swimming ain't no more use than trying to walk on the water," one of
them declared.

Lessingham raised the lantern which he was carrying, and flashed it
around.

"Where are the young ladies?" he asked.

"Gone up to the house with two