peared all at once to move along more briskly and smoothly,
while, at the same time, the sea grew calmer.

Things looked promising.

They had approached close inshore to the rocky wall of the cliff; and,
if it had seemed formidable at a distance, it looked ten times more
imposing now that only a few hundred yards of sea divided them from it.
Its bold precipitous face appeared to ascend right up into the clouds,
while the counterscarp, or base, seemed to dive abruptly into the deep
without a slope. It was really just like a gigantic iron wall, straight
up and down and quite even in contour, without a fissure or break as far
as could be seen; and the surf made such a thundering din as it dashed
fretfully against the lower part of the cliff, that it was almost
impossible for the shipwrecked voyagers to hear each other speak.

Indeed, the whole scene could not but force their imagination to picture
what might be their fate should a storm arise just then and give them
over into the power of the billows. These were only in play now, so to
speak; but if their demeanour changed to one of dreadful earnest, the
mad waves would easily toss them as high and as savagely as they did the
yeasty fragments of spindrift, which circled up into the air like
snowflakes--flung off from the tops of the breakers after each
unsuccessful onslaught on the rocky barrier that balked their endeavours
to annihilate it.

However, there was little fear of such a catastrophe at present. Thanks
to the aid of the current, combined with the towing powers of the jolly-
boat's crew--the sail having been found useless in the little wind there
was and lowered again--the raft was proceeding steadily along at the
rate of some three miles an hour; keeping all the while at a safe
distance from the cliffs, in order to avoid any undertow, and rapidly
losing the hull of the _Nancy Bell_--albeit, the flag of the ship could
yet be seen distinctly far away astern to seaward, fluttering in the
slight breeze that expanded its folds.

Each moment, too, the coast on the starboard hand rose up nearer and
nearer, closing in sharply with that to port, thus showing that they
were approaching the embouchure which Mr Meldrum had marked out. Soon,
a little more exertion on the part of the rowers would decide whether
the naval officer had judged rightly or wrongly as to there being a bay
there--a veritable "harbour of refuge" it would be for them.

"I guess, mister," said