"Ship! guns!" exclaimed the old fisherman, starting up in bed. The next minute he was on his feet, and working himself into his clothes. "She must be on the sand-bar if you heard the guns," he said. A sudden lurch of the boat almost pitched the old man forward, and the children's screams redoubled, while Mrs. Coomber hastily scrambled out of bed and lighted the lantern that hung against the wall. "What are yer going to do?" asked her husband, in some surprise; "women ain't no good in such work as this." "What are you going to do?" asked Mrs. Coomber, almost crying herself; "the boat will soon be adrift with this wind and tide, and we shall all be drowned like rats in a hole." "Nay, nay, old woman, the boat was made taut enough before I brought you here, and you think she wouldn't have broke away before this if she was going to do it? Don't be a stupid lubber," he added. "But the children, Coomber, the children. I ain't afraid for myself," said the mother, with a sob. "Well, well, the old boat'll hold the boys for many a day yet," said the fisherman; "you go in and stop their noise, while I get help for the poor souls that are surely perishing out there." "But what can you do for them?" asked his wife; "there ain't a boat besides ours at Bermuda Point, nor a man to help you manage it besides Bob." "No, no; Bob and I couldn't manage the boat in such a sea as this; but he shall go with me to Fellness. Bob! Bob!" called his father, in the same breath. "Aye, aye," came an answering shout from the adjoining cabin. "Slip into your things as quick as you can; we must be off to Fellness; there's a ship out there on the bar sands." "I'm a'most ready, dad; I heard mother call yer, and thought you'd let me go along," replied Bob. Before the fisherman put on his sou'-wester he took a black bottle from a recess, and after taking a hearty draught, he said, "It's lucky we've got a drop to-night," as he handed it to his wife; and with a parting word to her not to be afraid, he and Bob stepped out of the boat-house door, to meet the full fury of the blast, that threatened at first to carry them off their legs. The three miles' walk to the little fishing village of Fellness was no easy task such a wild night as this, for although the road was inland, it was fully exposed to the sea, and between the wilder outbreaks of the wind and rain they could hear the guns of distress, and occasionally see a rocket piercing the midnight blackness of the sky, appealing for help for the drowning men. At the coastguard station, midway between the Point and the village, they found the men on the alert, and two volunteered to go with Coomber and help man the boat. Then the four plodded silently along the slushy road, for talking was next to impossible in such a gale, and it needed all the strength and energy they could muster to fight the wind and rain.