seal-oil over the dry wreckage, and the
red and yellow flames shot up. It was evident to the men on the
land-wash that the unfortunate ship had escaped the outer menaces and
won within a hundred yards of the shore before striking. She was burning
oil now, in vast quantities, to judge by the red glare that cut and
stained the fog to seaward.

"What sort of channel?" came the question.

"Full o' rocks, sir; but it bes safe enough wid caution," cried the
skipper.

"Can't you show more light?"

"Aye, sir, there bes more wood."

A second fire was built still closer to the edge of the tide than the
first.

"Stand by to receive a line," warned the masterful voice from the ship.

A rocket banged and a light line fell writhing across the beach.

"Haul her in and make fast the hawser."

Black Dennis Nolan and his three companions were most obliging. They
pulled in the line until the wet hawser on the end of it appeared, and
this they made fast to a rock on the beach as big as a house.

A small light appeared between the ship and the shore, blinking and
vanishing low down on the pitching sea. The glare from the fires on the
land-wash presently discovered this to be an oil-lantern in the bows of
a boat. The boat, which contained about a dozen men, was being
hand-hauled along the line that ran from the wreck to the shore. Black
Dennis Nolan and his companions exchanged glances at sight of drawn
cutlasses and several rifles and pistols in the hands of the men from
the wreck. As the leading boat came within ten yards of the shore an
officer stood up in her bows. By this time the light of a second boat
was blinking and vanishing in her wake.

"Bear a hand to ease us off," commanded the person in the bows of the
boat.

"Aye, sir, we bes ready to help ye," replied the skipper, humbly.

"How is the landing?"

"It bes clear, sir--shelvin' rock."

"How many are you, there?"

"We bes four poor fishermen, sir."

The boat rowed in and was kept from staving in her keel on the land-wash
by Nolan and his men. The officer sprang from the bows to the icy
shingle, slipped and recovered himself with an oath. He was a huge
fellow. In one hand he carried an iron dispatch box, and in the other a
heavy pistol.

"This the lot of you?" he asked, glancing sharply at Black Dennis Nolan.

"Aye, sir, we bes only four poor fishermen," replied Nolan.

"I am glad to hear it. This coast has the name of being a bad place for
shipwrecked p