“She can sail, however,” said Considine, who watched with a painful anxiety the rapidity of her course through the water. “Nabocklish, she was a smuggler’s jolly-boat, and well used to it. Look how they’re pulling. God pardon them, but they’re in no blessed humor this morning.” “Lay out upon your oars, boys; the wind’s failing us,” cried the count, as the sail flapped lazily against the mast. “It’s no use, yer honor,” said the elder. “We’ll be only breaking our hearts to no purpose. They’re sure to catch us.” “Do as I bade you, at all events. What’s that ahead of us there?” “The Oat Rock, sir. A vessel with grain struck there and went down with all aboard, four years last winter. There’s no channel between it and the shore,--all sunk rocks, every inch of it. There’s the breeze.” The canvas fell over as he spoke, and the little craft lay down to it till the foaming water bubbled over her lee bow. “Keep her head up, sir; higher--higher still.” But Considine little heeded the direction, steering straight for the narrow channel the man alluded to. “Tear and ages, but you’re going right for the cloch na quirka!” “Arrah, an’ the devil a taste I’ll be drowned for your devarsion!” said the other, springing up. “Sit down there, and be still,” roared Considine, as he drew a pistol from the case at his feet, “if you don’t want some leaden ballast to keep you so! Here, Charley, take this, and if that fellow stirs hand or foot--you understand me.” The two men sat sulkily in the bottom of the boat, which now was actually flying through the water. Considine’s object was a clear one. He saw that in sailing we were greatly overmatched, and that our only chance lay in reaching the narrow and dangerous channel between Oat Rock and the shore, by which we should distance the pursuit, the long reef of rocks that ran out beyond requiring a wide berth to escape from. Nothing but the danger behind us could warrant so rash a daring. The whole channel was dotted with patches of white and breaking foam,--the sure evidence of the mischief beneath,--while here and there a dash of spurting spray flew up from the dark water, where some cleft rock lay hid below the flood. Escape seemed impossible; but who would not have preferred even so slender a chance with so frightful an alternative behind him? As if to add terror to the scene, Considine had scarcely turned the boat ahead of the channel when a tremendous blackness spread over all around, the thunder pealed forth, and amidst the crashing of the hail and the bright glare of lightning a squall struck us and laid us nearly keel uppermost for several minutes. I well remember we rushed through the dark and blackened water, our little craft more than half filled, the oars floating off to leeward, and we ourselves kneeling on the bottom planks for safety. Roll after roll of loud thunder broke, as it were, just above our heads; while in the swift dashing rain