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“Had we better keep on as we are?” I asked. “I don’t see what else is to be done. If we let her go before the wind, we shall get right on to the rocks.”

“You’ve a lot to answer for,” growled Hutton from where he lay, half- stupid with terror, in the bows.

Hall said nothing, but dashed his oar vehemently into the water and continued rowing.

“I wonder if that light is anywhere near Parkhurst?” presently asked Archer. “Do you see?”

We looked, and saw it; and then almost instantly it vanished. At the same time we lost sight of the lights on Shargle Head, and the rain came down in torrents. “A mist!” exclaimed Hall, in tones of horror. Well indeed might he and we feel despair at this last extinguisher of our hopes. With no landmark to steer by, with wind and sea dead in our teeth, with the waves breaking in over our sides, and one useless mutineer in our midst, we felt that our fate was fairly sealed. Even Hall for a moment showed signs of alarm, and we heard him mutter to himself, “God help us now!” Next moment a huge wave came broadside on to us and emptied itself into our boat, half filling us with water. In the sudden shock my oar was dashed from my hand and carried away overboard!

“Never mind,” said Hall hurriedly, “it would have been no use; put her round, Charlie, quick–here, give me the tiller!”

In a moment the boat swung round to the wind (not, however, before she had shipped another sea), and then we felt we were simply flying towards the fatal rocks.

“Bale out, all of you!” shouted Hall; and we obeyed, including even Hutton, who seemed at last, in very desperation, to be awakening to a sense of his duty.

The next few minutes seemed like an age. As we knelt in our half- flooded boat scooping up the water there in our hats, or whatever would serve for the purpose, we could hear ahead of us the angry roar of breakers, and knew every moment was bringing us nearer to our doom.

By one impulse we abandoned our useless occupation. What was the use of baling out a boat that must inevitably in a few minutes be dashed to pieces on the rocks? Hutton crawled back into the bows, and Charlie and I sat where we were on the seat and waited.

I could not fail, even in such a situation, to notice and admire Hall’s self-possession and coolness. Desperate as our case was, he kept a steady hand on the helm, and strained his eyes into the mist ahead, never abating for a moment either his vigilance or his courage. But every now and then I could see his eyes turn for a moment to Charlie, and his face twitch as they did so, with a look of pain which I was at no loss to understand.

“How far are we from the rocks?” asked Charlie.

“I can’t say; a quarter of an hour, perhaps.”

“Whereabouts are we?” I asked.

“When the lights went out we were opposite Raven Cliff,” replied Hall.

We were silent for another minute; then Hall took out his watch.

“Eight o’clock,” said he.

“They’ll be at prayers at Parkhurst,” said Charlie; and in the silence that followed, need I say that we too joined as we had never done before in the evening prayers of our schoolfellows?

“Charlie, old boy,” said Hall, presently, “come and sit beside me, will you?”

Poor Hall! had it been only his own life that was at stake, he would never have flinched a muscle; but as he put his arm round the boy whom he had led into danger he groaned pitiably.

“I wonder if Neil’s out looking for us,” Hutton said from the bows.

“Not much use,” said Hall. “If only this mist would lift!”