When within a quarter of a mile of the shore, the helm was again put down and, as the vessel came partly round, the the anchors were let go. The hawsers ran out rapidly, and the topsail, which was the only sail on her, was let go, the wind catching it and tearing it into ribbons as it was loosed. There was a jerk and a surge as the anchors brought her up, but at the same moment a great wave struck her head. The cables parted, and she again swung round towards the shore. "It is all over with us, my lad," the captain said to Roger, who was standing quietly beside him. "God forgive me, I have brought you all here to die." "It is not your fault, father. It was all for the best, and we knew when we started that there were perils before us." "Goodbye, my lads! We will die as we have lived--brave men--and may God have mercy on us all. "Now, Roger, obey my last orders. Go forward, and climb up to the end of the bowsprit. It may be that, if she strikes, you may be able to leap forward onto the rocks. They are somewhat lower, just ahead, than elsewhere." "But I do not want to be saved, if no one else is, father," Roger cried passionately. "You have always obeyed me heretofore," the captain said, quietly, "and you will do so now. Go forward at once, and do as I say. God bless you, my boy." He clasped Roger in his arms, in a moment's close embrace, and then pointed forward. Roger's eyes were blinded with tears as he obeyed the order. The bowsprit in those days did not, as now, run out almost horizontally from the ship's bow; but stood up like a mast, leaning somewhat over the bow, and carried a yard and small square sail upon it. Roger climbed up as far as the yard and then, aiding himself by the halyards, swarmed up until he reached the cap. When he did so the vessel was but little more than a hundred yards from the shore. The water was deep up to the rocks, for the waves struck on these unbroken, flying up in masses of spray which flew far over the land. On his lofty post, thirty feet above the forecastle and forty-five above the water, Roger was nearly level with the top of the rock ahead; and as the vessel rose on the waves, could see a flat land, extending far inland. He looked down. Two or three of the sailors had followed him as high as the yard, and many others were gathered on the forecastle. Some were kneeling in prayer, others had thrown themselves down despairingly on the deck, but most were standing, looking forward with set faces at the rocky barrier so close at hand. Roger looked aft. The men at the tiller had quitted it now, and gone forward. Standing and Pengarvan were standing, one on each side of the captain. The latter took off his cap and waved it to his son, and the mates lifted their hands in token of adieu.