been used to sea-going
from a little child, put an end to it by suddenly shouting:

"It's of no good; we are only drifting out. I'm going to try and get
under shelter of the cliff."

Then, shouting to Bob to ease a little, he pulled hard at the boat's
head to get her a little to the west instead of due south, and then
shouted to our companion again to pull with all his might.

Bob did pull--I could see that he did; but we did not get under the
shelter of the cliff, for the change in the position of the boat
presented more surface to the wind, and we could feel that we were
drifting faster still.

We tried not to lose heart; but it was impossible to keep away a certain
amount of despondency as we realised that all our pulling was in vain,
and as we grew wearied out Bigley said that it was of no use to row.
All we were to do was to keep the boat's head well to the wind.

I crept after a time to Bigley's place in answer to a sign from him, for
we had grown very silent; and as he resigned his oar to me and I went on
pulling, while he crept aft to sit in the stern, it seemed as if it had
all at once grown dark above us. The shore died away, all but one spot
of light--a tiny spot that shone out like a star, one that we knew to be
in the cottage where Mother Bonnet had no doubt a good hot cup of tea
waiting for us, who were perishing with the cold and gradually drifting
farther and farther away.

We could not talk for the wind. Besides, too, it was very hard work to
talk and row in such a sea; so I sat and thought of how hard it was to
be situated as we were, and to have again got into trouble in what was
meant for a pleasant recreation.

I thought all this, and I believe my companions had very similar
thoughts as we danced up and down on the short cockling sea.

Then all at once, as the darkness overhead seemed to have grown more
intense, and the sea with its foam to give the little light we enjoyed,
we were aware of a fresh danger.

The wind and the hissing and beating of the sea made a great deal of
noise, but that loud washing splash sounded louder to us, and so did the
rattle of a tin pot which Bigley seized, and lifted the board from over
the bit of a well and began to bale.

For one of the waves had struck the bows, risen up, and poured three or
four gallons of water into the boat.

Bigley was ready for the emergency, though, directly, and we saw the
rise and fall of the tin pan as he swept it up and dow