He was puzzled, for, save a few luggers swinging from the little buoys that dotted the surface of the sea, there was not a sign of an accident by the upsetting of a boat, or of any one struggling in the water. Everything looked bright and cheerful in the morning sun, and after sculling along for some time he was beginning to think that the cry must have been uttered by some sea-bird, seeming weird and strange in the early morning, when he suddenly recalled the fact that sound travels far over a smooth, calm sea. Had he felt any further doubt it was solved on the instant by a repetition of the cry, this time clearer, and plainly to be interpreted into that agonising appeal that thrills the hearts of weak and strong alike--the one word "_Help_!" And now, plainly enough, he could see the head of some one whose hands appeared at intervals above the water, evidently in a fierce struggle for life. Whoever it was had lost his nerve and was in some peril, for though not above a hundred yards or so from the shore he was in the race of a fierce current that at certain periods of the tide ran so swiftly amongst the rocks that a strongly-manned boat could not stem its force. "It must be some stranger," thought Harry, as he exerted himself more and more. "Poor fellow! I shall never get to him in time." And then, with the big drops standing upon his forehead, he toiled on, his eyes fixed upon the drowning figure, and the feeling strong upon him of how awful it was for anyone to be called upon to yield up his life on such a glorious morning as this. At times his heart seemed to stand still with the chilling influence of the horror he felt, for, in spite of his efforts, the boat seemed to crawl over the surface of the water. He was now near enough to see that it was a man--evidently a bather--who was struggling for his life and in terrible danger. The poor fellow seemed to have gone out too far, and, in his ignorance, had been drawn into the fierce current--one that no one dwelling about Carn Du would have ventured to approach; and, unless help were soon afforded, there would be a dead body cast up somewhere by a weedy cove just about the turn of the tide. Harry Paul's thoughts were busy, coward as he was, while his heart was beating so painfully that he seemed ready to choke. "I can only do one thing," he thought--"try to reach him with the boat. If I jump over and swim, I shall get there no faster, but if I do he will seize me in a drowning clutch, and we shall both go down." A curious shuddering sensation ran through him, and the remembrance of what he had gone through on the previous day came back with a strange exactness, in which he seemed to feel once more the cold clinging touch of the net upon his bare skin, and for the moment he felt as if he were paralysed.