ys that John
Considine sent him to tell you that a large ship is driving in to shore,
and that he thinks she will strike not far from the village."

"Why, on earth," Mr. Davenant exclaimed, "doesn't he tack and stand out
to sea!"

"The boy says her foremast is gone, and they have lost all management of
her."

"In that case, God help them! There is little chance for them on this
rocky coast. However, I will go down at once, and see if anything can be
done.

"Katherine, do you see that there are plenty of hot blankets ready, in
case any of the poor fellows are washed ashore. I shall, of course, send
them up here.

"I suppose, Walter, you will come down with me."

But Walter had already disappeared, having slipped off as soon as he had
heard the message.

"Don't let that boy get into mischief, Fergus," old Mrs. Davenant said.

"I am afraid, mother, he is beyond me," her son said, with a smile. "No
Davenant yet could ever keep out of mischief, and Walter is no exception.
However, fortunately for us, we generally get out of scrapes as easily as
we get into them."

"Not always, Fergus," she said, shaking her head.

"No, not always, mother; but exceptions, you know, prove the rule."

"Well, Godfrey, do you want to go?" he asked the younger boy, who had
risen from the table, and was looking eagerly at him. "Of course you do;
but, mind, you must keep close to me.

"Ah, Father John!" he broke off, as an ecclesiastic, muffled up to the
throat in wrappings, entered the room. "Are you going down, too?"

"Assuredly I am, Fergus. You don't think a trifle of wind would keep me
from doing my duty?"

In another two minutes, the two men and Godfrey sallied out. They
staggered as the wind struck them, and Godfrey clung to his father's arm.
Not a word was spoken as they made their way down the steep descent to
the village, which consisted of about a dozen fishermen's huts. Indeed,
speaking would have been useless, for no word would have been heard above
the howling of the storm.

The vessel was visible to them, as they made their way down the hill. She
was a complete wreck. The light of the moon was sufficient for them to
see that she had, as the boy said, lost her foremast. Her sails were in
ribbons, and she was labouring heavily in the sea, each wave that struck
her breaking over her bows and sweeping along her deck. There was no hope
for her. She could neither tack nor wear, and no anchor would hold for a
moment on th