shingle-bank that lies between the river and the sea. Two boats were
moored at the far side, another was just making the jetty, while a
fourth was returning toward the quay. It was River Andrew, faithful to
his own element, who preferred to be first here, rather than obey orders
on the open beach.

There were several ready to lend a helping hand against tide and wind,
and Miriam and Sep were soon struggling across the shingle, in the
footsteps of those who had gone before. The north-east wind seared their
faces like a hot iron, but the snow had ceased falling. As they reached
the summit of the shingle-bank, they could see in front of them the
black line of the sea, and on the beach, where the white of the snow and
the white of the roaring surf merged together, a group of men.

One or two stragglers had left this group to search the beach, north or
south; but it was known, from a long and grim experience, that anything
floating in from the tail of the Inner Curlo Bank must reach the shore
at one particular point. A few lanterns twinkled here and there, but
near the group of watchers a bonfire of wreckage and tarry fragments and
old rope, brought hither for the purpose, had been kindled.

Two boats, hauled out of reach of a spring tide, were being leisurely
prepared for launching. There was no hurry; for it had been decided by
the older men that no boat could be put to sea through the surf then
rolling in. At the turn of the tide, in two hours' time, something might
be done.

"Us cannot see anything," a bystander said to Miriam. "It is just there,
where I am pointing. Sea Andrew saw something a while back--says it
looked like a schooner."

The man stood pointing out to sea to the southward. He carried an
unlighted torch--a flare, roughly made, of tarred rope, bound round a
stick. At times, one or another would ignite his flare, and go down
the beach holding it above his head, while he stood knee deep in the
churning foam to peer out to sea. He would presently return, without
comment, to beat out his flare against his foot and take his place among
the silent watchers. No one spoke; but if any turned his head sharply
to one side or other, all the rest wheeled, like one man, in the same
direction and after staring at the tumbled sea would turn reproachful
glances on the false alarmist.

Suddenly, after a long wait, four men rushed without a word into the
surf; their silent fury suggesting oddly the rush of hounds upo