rs it reflected, from azure to each deeper tint of grey,
until darkness closed in, and its extent was scarcely to be defined by
the horizontal line.

Now all was changed, The roaring of the wind and the hoarse beating of
the waves upon the streaming rocks deafened the ears of Edward Forster.
The rain and spray were hurled in his face, as, with both hands, he
secured his hat upon his head; and the night was so intensely dark, that
but occasionally he could distinguish the broad belt of foam with which
the coast was lined. Still Forster forced his way towards the beach,
which it is now requisite that we should more particularly describe.

As we before observed, the cottage was built upon a high land, which
terminated in a precipitous clift about two hundred yards distant, and
running in a direct line to the westward. To the northward, the coast
for miles was one continual line of rocky clifts, affording no chance of
life to those who might be dashed upon them; but to the southward of the
clift which formed the promontory opposite to Forster's cottage, and
which terminated the range, there was a deep indent in the line of
coast, forming a sandy and nearly land-locked bay, small indeed, but so
sheltered that any vessel which could run in might remain there in
safety until the gale was spent. Its only occupant was a fisherman,
who, with his family, lived in a small cottage on the beach. He was an
ally of Forster, who had intrusted to his charge a skiff, in which,
during the summer months, he often whiled away his time. It was to this
cottage that Forster bent his way, and loudly knocked when he arrived.

"Robertson--I say, Robertson," called Forster, at the full compass of
his voice.

"He is not here, Mr Forster," answered Jane, the wife of the fisherman;
"he is out, looking for the vessel."

"Which way did he go?"

Before an answer could be returned, Robertson himself appeared. "I'm
here, Mr Forster," said he, taking off his fur cap, and squeezing out
with both hands the water with which it was loaded; "but I can't see the
vessel."

"Still, by the report of the gun, she must be close to the shore.--Get
some fagots out from the shed, and light as large a fire as you can;
don't spare them, my good fellow; I will pay you."

"That I'll do, sir, and without pay; I only hope that they'll understand
the signal, and lay her on shore in the cove. There's another gun!"

This second report, so much louder than the for