d it was with difficulty I could place the stones
higher up. Each one occupied me for minutes, and sometimes a heavy
boulder which I had succeeded in getting up, would roll back again,
endangering my limbs in its fall.

In fine, after labouring for a long time--two hours, or more--my work
was brought to a termination. Not that it was done--far from it.
Unfortunately, it was not terminated, but _interrupted_. What
interrupted it I need hardly tell you, as you will guess that it was the
_tide_. Yes, it was the tide, which, as soon as it had fairly begun to
cover the stones, seemed to rush over them all at once. It did not
recoil, as I have often seen it do upon the beach. There it flows in
gradually, wave after wave; but upon the reef--the surface of which was
nearly of equal height--the water, at the first rush, swept all over the
rocks, and was soon of a considerable depth.

I did not leave off my exertions until long after the rocks were
covered. I worked until I was knee deep in water, bending down to the
surface, almost diving under it, detaching great stones from their bed,
and carrying them in my arms towards the pile. I toiled away, with the
spray spitting in my face, and sometimes great sheets of it breaking
over my body, until I feared it would drown me--toiled on till the water
grew so deep and the sea so strong, that I could not longer keep my
footing upon the rocks; and then, half-wading, half-swimming, I brought
my last stone to the heap, and hoisted it up. Climbing after, I stood
upon the highest point of the battery I had erected, with my right arm
closely hugging the shaft of the signal. In this attitude, and with
trembling heart, I watched the inflow of the tide.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

THE RETURNING TIDE.

To say that I awaited the result with confidence would not be at all
true. Quite the contrary. Fear and trembling were far more the
characteristics of my mind in that hour. Had I been allowed more time
to build my cairn--time to have made it high enough to overtop the
waves, and firm enough to resist them, I should have felt less
apprehension. I had no fear that the signal-staff would give way. It
had been well proved, for there had it stood defying the storm as long
as I could remember. It was my newly-raised cairn that I dreaded, both
its height and its durability. As to the former, I had succeeded in
raising it five feet high, just within one foot of high-water mark.
This would