'we'll try if we can get her off.'

I can see that scene with my mind's eye as though it were but yesterday.
My grandfather and Mr. Millar straining every nerve to row the boat from
land, whilst I clung on to one of the seats, and tried in vain to steer
her. I can see poor Mrs. Millar standing on the pier, with her shawl
over her head, watching us, and two of her little girls clinging to her
dress. I can see the waves, which seemed to be rising higher every
moment, and ready to beat our little boat to pieces. And I can see my
grandfather's disappointed face, as, after many a fruitless attempt, he
was obliged to give it up.

'It's no use, I'm afraid, Jem,' he said at last; 'we haven't hands
enough to manage her.'

So we got to shore as best we could, and paced up and down the little
pier. We could see nothing more. It was a very dark night, and all was
perfect blackness over the sea.

The lighthouse lamps were burning brightly; they had been lighted more
than two hours before. It was Millar's turn to watch, so he went up to
the tower, and my grandfather and I remained on the pier.

'Can nothing be done, grandfather?'

'I'm afraid not, my lad. We can't make any way against such a sea as
this; if it goes down a bit, we'll have another try at it.'

But the sea did not go down. We walked up and down the pier almost in
silence.

Presently a rocket shot up into the sky, evidently from the same place
where we had seen the flare.

'There she is again, Alick! Poor things! I wonder how many of them there
is.'

'Can we do nothing at all?' I asked again.

'No, my lad,' he said; 'the sea's too much for us. It's a terrible
night. It puts me in mind of the day you were born.'

So the night wore away. We never thought of going to bed, but walked up
and down the pier, with our eyes fixed on the place where we had seen
the lights. Every now and then, for some hours, rockets were sent up;
and then they ceased, and we saw nothing.

'They've got no more with them,' said my grandfather. 'Poor things! it's
a terrible bad job.'

'What's wrong with them, grandfather?' I asked. 'Are there rocks over
there?'

'Yes, there's the Ainslie Crag just there; it's a nasty place that--a
very nasty place. Many a fine ship has been lost there!'

At last the day began to dawn; a faint grey light spread over the sea.
We could distinguish now the masts of a ship in the far distance. 'There
she is, poor thing!' said my grandfather, pointing